I heard the "ask him who went too far" dialogue for the first time a couple of weeks ago and Hawke actually having a reaction to it has been in my head ever since, so I included it in one of my WIPs.
“Hawke is the exception, not the rule,” Fenris said, voice tinged with annoyance. “Not all mages can be trusted with freedom.”
“And locking us all up and abusing us is the solution to that?” Anders snapped. “By now, you must see what an injustice the templars are.”
“Must I? I see templars trying to control what they have good reason to fear,” the elf retorted.
Hawke's eye twitched as he fought the urge to join in the argument. He and Fenris had only just come to an understanding. The last thing he wanted was to ruin that now.
“But they go too far,” the healer insisted.
“Talk to Hawke about his mother,” Fenris growled. “Ask him who went too far.”
The leader of their little group stopped dead in his tracks at the mention of his mother. He still had nightmares about that day, three years after it had happened.
“You can't hold all mages responsible for that!” Anders shouted, angered by the evocation of the incident.
The knight-commander had used his mother's death as an argument, too, after he'd stepped in between her and Orsino. Hearing his own friend do the exact same thing made his blood run hot in his veins.
Varric seemed to have picked up on the change in Hawke's mood, if the look on his face was anything to go by. Of course, he wasn't going to say a word, because he never got involved in this argument, but at least he was listening.
The mage fought valiantly against the anger bubbling up inside of him, not wanting to upset the delicate balance he'd achieved with Fenris, but the battle was lost when the elf said,
“It doesn't take all mages to cause this. Only the weak ones.”
“That's enough!” Hawke snapped, his shout echoing as the noise bounced off the walls of the buildings along the docks.
Everyone froze and stared at him with wide eyes, like halla suddenly face-to-face with a predator. He stared back, blinking silently, startled by his own outburst.
“I…” he opened his mouth to apologize; to say something to lighten the mood and smooth everything over, but fate seemed to have other plans.
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I have way too many WIPs and every single one of them is handers featuring my custom Hawke, Fáelán. They live in my mind rent free at all times. Here's a bit from three of them.
I don't know who to tag for this, so instead I'm going to personally invite anyone who wants to participate to do so! And feel free to tag me in it if you do, so I can read it c:
#1
I started this one today; Fáelán's lost too much to drop everything and run to Skyhold to join the Inquisition out of a moral obligation. If the Inquisitor wants his help, he's going to have to make it worth his while.
***
The atmosphere is… tense, as Varric hands the letter Hawke sent in reply over to Cassandra. He's uncharacteristically quiet– no quips or sarcastic remarks. Possibly because he's still reeling from what his friend has written as well.
‘Varric,
The war is keeping me rather busy. We're on the move constantly; I couldn't tell you where this letter is coming from if I wanted to. Which I don't. No offense, of course, but you are awfully friendly with the Chantry these days, and… present company would be at risk if they could locate us.
That said, I do acknowledge that Corypheus is my responsibility. You know, since I had to free him in order to escape Vinmark Chasm. I could've sworn he was dead– you watched me strike the bastard down myself. If he's out there somewhere, then he's doing something to the Wardens. I've already asked Aveline to take Carver somewhere safe and keep an eye on him, so he's going to be fine.
I suppose you think I ought to be willing to just drop everything and run to the rescue– after all, that is how you wrote me in the Tale of the Champion. However, you of all people know just how much running around solving everyone's problems out of a sense of moral obligation has cost me over the years. You cannot expect me to do so now, when I've damn near nothing left to lose.
I'm not planning to leave you to deal with this yourself. I'd be an awful friend if I did, and I do still consider you a friend. Even if some of your depictions of my life's events were… less than accurate, and maybe even a little insulting. Regardless of that, I…
I can't leave him, Varric. I'm done putting my loved ones at risk just because people ask me to. The templars and the entire Starkhaven army are hunting us– hunting him. If I leave, and they find him, I… He's all I've got left. It would kill me to lose him.
I do want to help. Of course I want to help. But loss has made me a little selfish, I'm afraid; I will not simply stop what I'm doing and rush over because it's the right thing to do. If your Inquisitor wants me, then I want something in return.
A pardon. For both of us. If we're with the Inquisition, Sebastian cannot hope to touch us, and a pardon from the Herald of Andraste himself would protect Anders from whatever the Chantry wishes to do to him. I will join you, but he has to come with me, and the Inquisitor must grant us both political asylum. If you can promise me that, I'm yours.
Take care,
Hawke’
***
#2
An idea I had a while ago that I only just started working on yesterday, about potentially curing Anders of the blight using the same thing Merrill did to cleanse the mirror.
***
The Alienage was very quiet this time of night. Little flecks of blue light danced around the great tree in the centre. Hawke could feel the presence of magic, ancient and unknowable to humans, thrumming in the tree like a heartbeat. It was oddly calming, like the wise words of an old friend, assuring him that things would be alright. As he walked towards Merrill's home, he paused to place a gentle hand on the trunk, staring up at the branches that stretched out into a sky clouded with smoke from the foundries, like a hundred arms reaching to the heavens.
His father had taught him that magic was an old, old thing, and that it was everywhere. The scope of their understanding was barely scratching the surface, and many things they thought they knew may in fact be wrong. It was for that reason that Malcolm Hawke never stopped studying; why he made such a good teacher himself. There was so much more to magic than what the Chantry allowed the Circle to teach its captive mages, and Hawke found himself driven at times by that same thirst for understanding as his father.
Sometimes, he would steal away outside of the city and experiment with the naturally strong connection he had with spirits and the Fade, pushing the boundaries of what he could achieve, and teaching himself new spells as a result. He was no stranger to trying new, potentially risky things in the pursuit of knowledge, though he did always ensure that no-one would be hurt if things went wrong. Hawke was curious, not irresponsible. He knew his spirits, knew not to trust his senses in the Fade, and he could defend himself from demons if need be.
Demons both intrigued and frightened him. He felt their presence, just as he could the presence of a spirit, but there was always something off. Like the slightly sour smell of milk that's just barely started to turn; if you don't pay enough attention, you may not notice it, but the difference is distinct when one knows what to look for. Demons were a lot like that.
Hawke had been torn between fascination and horror when Merrill revealed that it was a demon that had taught her how to cleanse the mirror shard of the taint corrupting it, using the power of blood. Surely it had done so in hopes that it could use her in some way; a demon never does anything for free. But… to cleanse something of the taint? That was as close to a cure as anyone had ever come, and it was nothing short of impressive.
Every mage feels the temptation at least once, to prick a finger and let their blood and mana become one. Hawke could never deny that– he'd felt it, in his darkest, most desperate moments, but he always held back. He always resisted, because he feared the consequences; what it could do to his loved ones, if they were just in proximity to them. Hawke wasn't about to let a demon use him to hurt his friends. Besides, some of them hated the very idea of blood magic.
Unfortunately, that group contained one man in particular who might just benefit from the use of it– the only person Hawke had ever loved as a partner. The way Anders spoke to Merrill, the way he spoke of his disdain for mages using demons to fight back against the templars… if there even was a way to help him using whatever methods Merrill learned from her demon, there was still the fact that he hated blood magic and the demons that taught it to people. Even if it could free him of the taint in his blood, he was more likely to refuse than accept, if the cure for his affliction required the use of a power he so detested.
It would sort of make sense though, wouldn't it? The taint was a sickness acquired by exposure to darkspawn blood. The Wardens used it in some sort of ritual to give themselves temporary immunity, as well as their strength and ability to sense darkspawn. Perhaps it was the use of magic drawn from uncorrupted blood that was the key to a cure, and they would just never know, because using blood magic was considered the greatest evil a mage could commit. There could be a way to stop the taint from killing a person, and because the Chantry forbade the use of blood magic, it would never save anybody.
After what he'd seen in Vinmark Chasm, Hawke's personal feelings on blood magic had become… complicated. Knowing his father had used it to renew the seals and keep Corypheus locked away where the awakened darkspawn could hurt no-one because the Wardens couldn't eliminate the creature instead had left him with a lot of questions about the ethicality of using it himself. Sure, they'd forced his father's hand, but… was it really such a bad thing that his father's magic helped keep the seals intact? The original spells had been cast long before the Chantry outlawed such magic, and blood had been the only thing strong enough to hold such a powerful darkspawn. The fact that the Wardens had used a dangerous, oft-evil magic for good had kept him up ever since returning from that little adventure.
Well, that and the memory of striking Anders down after his lover attacked them as Justice fought to protect his host from Corypheus’ calling; the way he pleaded for help, the way the spirit battling Corypheus for control seemed to physically pain him, the sudden appearance of shades when Justice finally managed to force the darkspawn out, and the attack as the spirit, confused and furious, lashed at everything in sight like a frightened animal. Both Anders and Justice were hurt by Corypheus, he knew. They still hadn't spoken of the incident.
Hawke himself had essentially used blood magic to remove the seals, so they could kill Corypheus and escape the prison. He'd gone the extra mile and unbound the demons his father sealed away at the Wardens’ behest so they could be slain, too. And he couldn't deny that the stave that had been used as a focus for those seals was incredibly powerful. It was literally the best one he owned, and he'd been favouring it ever since he'd first acquired it in that old tower. Perhaps he was already technically a maleficar, because the weapon's power came from those blood seals. Really, what was one spell that might spare his love a lifetime of suffering?
***
#3
And last but certainly not least, here's a funny passage from the dragon egg longfic; it's still happening, I just didn't want to burn myself out working on it exclusively.
***
“Say, wasn't there a cult in Ferelden worshipping a high dragon?” Varric wondered.
“Yes, in Haven,” Anders said. “Where the Hero of Ferelden found the Sacred Ashes. They thought the dragon was Andraste.” That had been one of the Warden Commander's most interesting tales from his adventures across Ferelden during the Fifth Blight. He'd told many such stories at Vigil's Keep.
“They thought a dragon was Andraste?” Sebastian echoed.
“Oh yes, they had a whole strange offshoot of Andrastianism they were following, complete with a Revered Father instead of a Mother.” Anders smirked, amused. “I thought you'd have heard about the recovery of the ashes?”
“The Chantry must not have thought it necessary to include those details,” the prince said confidently. “How is it that you know these things?”
“Heard it straight from the Hero himself,” Anders replied with just a hint of smugness. “He was an old friend from the Circle in Ferelden before he was my Commander. We talked… among other things.” he added with a cheeky little wink.
Isabela's eyebrows shot up, her mouth curving in a knowing grin. “Oh, you have got to tell me how he was. He's a mage too, right? Did he have any special tricks of his own?”
It was at that exact moment that Hawke returned with a towel to soak up the spilled ale in one hand, and a new drink in the other. He stopped a few feet away, caught off guard by the shift in the atmosphere, just in time to hear Varric ask, “isn't the Hero of Ferelden an Amell? Wouldn't that make him Hawke's cousin?”
“Well, that's a change of topic I wasn't expecting to come back to,” Hawke laughed good-naturedly.
“Is the Hero of Ferelden really your cousin?” Sebastian asked him as he began to clean the mess he'd made of the table.
“Sure is! I ran into him just before Carver returned from Ostagar. He looked well, all things considered.” The pieces fell into place, and by the time he finished mopping up the table and sat down again, he clued in. “The Hero of Ferelden became the Warden Commander, right?” Hawke laughed. “Poor Carver. He's stepped out of my shadow and right into the command of another mage he's related to. I'll bet that's why he still seems so bitter in his letters.”
Anders, where he sat on Isabela's other side, had suddenly lost that smug look on his face and gone a little pallid. He stared at Hawke with wide eyes, desperately trying to conceal the mild horror on his face. Isabela glanced at him in a way that told him she was absolutely going to say something, and the healer found himself wishing he could melt into the floor.
“Anders, you and Lucian were both at Kinloch Hold… did you know him before the whole Hero of Ferelden thing, or was he just your Commander?” Hawke asked innocently.
Varric was just barely containing a smirk, there was a spark of amusement in Fenris’ eyes, Merrill was giggling as she began to realize what was going on, Sebastian was turning red as he busied himself with his drink, and Aveline looked very much like she would prefer to be back at the Keep right about now.
“Oh, he knew your cousin alright,” Isabela drawled, leaning closer to the mage. “In fact, he was just telling us exactly how intimately he knew him.”
Hawke's eyes went wide as he turned his attention to Anders. “Did you fuck my cousin, Anders?”
Several things happened at once as soon as the words left his mouth:
Isabela cackled, extremely satisfied with herself.
Fenris let out an honest-to-Maker laugh, the likes of which none of them had heard from him before.
Merrill's giggles consumed her entirely, the elf nearly falling out of her chair as she reeled back in it.
Sebastian choked on his drink, his eyes squinting like he really wanted to laugh but was fighting the urge for the sake of propriety.
Aveline brought a gauntlet-clad hand to her face and snickered behind it.
Hawke, red as a beet, excused himself once again– this time to get some air.
And poor Anders dropped his head onto the table, groaning like he was dying.
***
That's all for now. I hope whoever reads this enjoys the previews!
Omg this looks so fun thank you for the tag @softeasun!
RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous, and tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then you post a snippet or tell them something about it.
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All of mine start with "the one with/where" because I think I'm funny.
The One Where Hawke Has a Breakdown in The Chantry
The One With the Amnesia (answered!)
The One Where Hawke Commits Vandalism
The One Where They Actually Talk About How Merrill Basically Has a Cure for The Blight
The One Where Hawke Tries to Help Anders and Justice
The One Where Hawke Heals Anders This Time
The One With The Dog Lords
The One Where I Project My Suffering Onto Hawke (Again)
The One Where Hawke Sings
The One With The Dragon Egg
I'm not sure who to tag so I'll just invite anyone who would like to do this to do it! And tag me in your post because I want to see, hehe.
Thank you! Here's a sentence from the same fic as the last one, but a different chapter:
It definitely wasn't like he'd lost all of his immediate family over the seven accursed years he's lived in the City of Chains, and therefore killing Anders should both be easy and not at all distressing.
You're welcome to guess the context if you want! I think this one might be pretty easy.
