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Day 1- Refugee | Slavery | Vengeance

After the darkspawn attack, Lothering was completely destroyed. Everything Vespera had ever known was gone, along with any belongings of her father. She took a moment to grieve, before directing her family away from Lothering to the unknown.

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Protag dividers by @kogarashi-art

Word Count: 100 @daheroweek

Hawke bent down and placed the bundle of bread and cheese into the man’s outstretched hands. He had a visibly broken leg, healed wrong. He offered gruff words of thanks, a Ferelden accent heavy on his lips. Before she had even finished standing several children swarmed around him. She retreated back to leave the family in peace.

“Wasn’t that your food for the day?” Varric asked. Hawke just shrugged. She would manage.

Day 1 of Hawke Appreciation Week - Refugee

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Hawke is about to depart from Ferelden when she meets someone who seems familiar.

1.2k words

Word Count: 300 @daheroweek

Sometime in 9:11 Dragon

Hawke marveled at the baby who slept against her chest. His squishy head was covered in a thick mat of impossibly thin wisps of black hair; short fingers balled up into soft fists. Mother had set her into the corner of the bed, leaned up against the wall, and told her not to move with him. She was barely breathing, not wanting to move or upset him. Hawke did not know people could be made so small. So soft, and fragile. Bethany was even smaller, but Mother would not let her hold Bethany yet.

“We’re gonna be best friends, Carver.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Sometime in 9:18 Dragon

“Sister! Wait!”

Hawke looked back to see Carver struggling to keep up through the dense brambles and fallen logs. She glanced back ahead then hurried back to him. Carver was the only one who liked exploring the woods with her.

“I got you!” She grabbed him by the shoulders of his tunic and helped haul him over the massive slippery log.

“I could do it,” Carver protested weakly even as he threatened to lose his balance again.

“I know you could.” She refrained from touching him as he jumped down onto the soft earth.

“I’m strong.”

“Strongest brother I’ve got.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Sometime in 9:26 Dragon

“I can do that,” Carver’s voice cut in as Hawke put down the Templar’s sword. She was sweating heavily from swinging the blade. Hawke always attended Chantry services with Bethany. This time, Carver had come along. One of the Templars was letting the youngsters “try” his sword.

“Yeah?” Hawke bantered, and Carver answered with a scowl. He was always scowling, taking everything as an insult. And it felt like he was specifically mad at her.

“Better than you did,” he said sharply as he grabbed the sword from her hands.

Word Count: 271 @daheroweek

“You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?”

Hawke stood alone in the Chantry.

“She went looking for love and you send her a killer? What? Was that supposed to be funny?”

The Chantry was hollow, silent. Nothing answered her words, or the firm, angry fall of her boots with each step.

“You cannot conceive, nor can I, of the apalling strangeness of the Maker’s will, says Brother Green. I don’t know who’s ass he was kissing, because I think you’re just vindictive.”

With each slow, intentional step toward the statue she felt the rage rising inside of her like a tide.

“What was Carver? A warning shot? That was her son. What did she ever do to you except praise your name? Yes, she married a mage. It’s a sin. We’ve all committed many sins.”

Hawke stopped at the last pew, lifting her eyes up to Andraste’s face. Just another woman who had served the Maker and died. For what?

“Did she displease you, you feckless thug? Did I? I’ve protected the workers in the Bone Pit. That wasn’t good? Stopped countless gangs, saved children, fed the poor, protected this city. Was that not apology enough for you?”

Hawke waved the funeral announcement through the flames of the candles, letting it catch. She watched the flames race up the dry paper until they reached the name. Leandra Amell Hawke. Beloved Mother. Hawke dropped the paper, letting it flutter to the floor of the Chantry. Then she stepped on the blackened, smoldering remnants, grinding it into the stone.

Word Count: 306 @daheroweek

9:34 Dragon It always started as murmurs. Whispers. Excited gossip passe behind long fingers. But it never stayed quiet. Someone would approach her. Or shout it out, announcing her.

“Champion!”

There was no corner of Kirkwall she could walk through anymore. The title followed her with a dogged determination. At first it had thrilled her. The city that once refused to see her now turned to follow like sunflowers. And she was the sun. From invisible to unmistakable. Time turned thrill to tedium to irritation. These people did not know her. They did not care. Their reverence started to feel like ownership.

9:37 Dragon Running again. Maybe not for her life, but only maybe. The city was awash in a fury she could not quell this time. Not when she was the center of the storm. How quickly the weather turns. Champion to villain. The people who praised her at dawn now threw trash at her door of her home. Her mother’s home. They screamed threats through broken windows.

Villain. Monster. Betrayer. Murderer.

She was right though. Meredith was the monster, not her, corrupted by red lyrium. Killing innocents never solved anything.

But she was the one on the run. Leaving everything behind. Again.

9:41 Dragon Word reached Kirkwall faster than feet ever could. This city that ignored her, loved her, hated her, ushered her home in a flood of adoration and praise. More than Champion, she was their Hero. It chafed. Grated against her conscience like the rough floors of Gamlen’s hovel on her skin. The attention had never appealed to her, but having been victim to the whims of the mob, it was so much worse this time. Merrill stood at the steps of the Viscount’s Keep with their daughters. Bethany and Isabela with her. All smiles.

Word Count: 100 @daheroweek

“Well, well, what have we here?” Hawke couldn’t help it as she came to a stop.

Flemeth’s laughter had an ethereal quality as it bounced off the rocks and dirt. She turned, looking the same as she had almost a decade before. If she had a sovereign for every time she had met Flemeth while fleeing for her life…

“Oh, I still like you.”

Hawke was careful to stand in front of the others. Merrill, Fenris, even Sebastian. Bethany was at sea with Isabela. She was not losing anyone else.

Word Count: 100 @daheroweek

So this was where Mother grew up. A whole set of tiles in Hawke’s head slid into place. So many questions about Mother answered in an instant. From riches to rags to riches again. Mother was already up the stairs, making comments about changing decor, Bodahn following. Beast was a boneless lump in front of the massive fireplace. Sandal was gaping at the chandelier with disturbing fascination. She envied their instant comfort. This did not feel like a home. It felt like a museum. As if she was walking on some priceless rug in muddy boots.