Hey everyone, how are you guys? So, this is another Dragon Age fanfiction, but my first one of Dragon Age: 2; the others are on Origins/Awakening. I really hope it turned out okay and that you all enjoy it! A little warning, this is slightly AU, but I do hope you still enjoy the story anyways.
And just so you could get a small idea, a little background information that doesn't really matter to the story, but in case you would just like to know more about Hawke in this fanfic. Hawke's name is Kathryn Hawke, she is a mage, black hair, bright blue eyes, slightly tanned skin, a dark purple/brown tattoo going around her eye and on her forehead, dark brown eyeshadow around her eyes, and is more on the sarcastic side. [The cover picture for this story is a picture of her.]
Thank you for reading! :)
And I want to thank my sister for revising and editing this one-shot! You're amazing and I never would have updated this or even finished writing it without you! :)
Please comment/review and let me know what you think of it, all opinions are certainly welcomed. I would greatly appreciate it, thank you!
I OWN NOTHING; I DO NOT OWN DRAGON AGE.
"Without An End"
. . .
Without an end, there can be no peace. It gets no easier. Your struggles have only just begun…
The words that the Witch of the Wilds known as Flemeth once spoke to her echo in her head as the dagger slowly seeps into the side of her body; the blade cuts through her flesh with ease. The crimson liquid spills around the dagger and trickles down her side.
Her lips part and a painful, almost surprised, gasp spills from her mouth, followed by a mumbled groan. Her crystal blue eyes stare into the man's dark ones, trying to search for something unknown even to her.
Her knees feel weak and she feels them growing shaky, ready to collapse at any given moment. She holds herself perfectly still, not daring to fall and give the man the satisfaction of watching her struggle. She will not allow herself to fall into weakness.
The corners of the man's lips curve upwards into a smirk as he keeps a tight grip on the dagger that is still deep inside her. He waits a few moments, the silent stare down remains until he suddenly curves his wrist, twisting the blade inside of her.
She clenches her jaw and bites down on her tongue, forcing the ensuing cry to halt. Her breathing increases tremendously, but she keeps her focus straight and tries to ignore the excruciating, burning pain in her side that is slowly spreading throughout her body.
"You're... You're just like the rest of them." She chokes out as her eyes shift to his Templar uniform. She knows there are some good Templars, but she is fully aware of all the corrupted ones, all the ones that would do just about anything and everything just to make sure mages no longer exist, or they're at least Tranquil.
"May you rot with the rest of them all." The Templar spits as he roughly yanks the dagger out and forcefully shoves her to the muddy ground.
She grunts when her body collides with the ground and her hands instinctively reach over to the wound. Her blood seeps through her fingers, painting her lightly tan skin a shade of crimson. Her raven hair falls in front of her face, shielding it as her expression slowly twists in pain.
"A champion? You're no champion." The older man sneers, "You're a bloody mage! You do not have the right to have that title!" He pulls back his boot and then kicks Hawke's side at full force.
Hawke closes her eyes and falls deadly silent. If it were under any other circumstances, she would have easily been able to take down this Templar, probably with her eyes closed. She has dealt with much worse than this one corrupted Templar, but she made the mistake of a lifetime that now might cost her even her life.
She had let her guard down.
Hawke just got into a fight with Carver and although that is nothing new, once he brought up Bethany, things changed. Instead of fighting with him, she stormed out of the estate.
The Templar kneels down beside her head and brings the blood strained dagger to her throat. He could practically hear her heart pounding in her chest and he gladly watches her swallow hard as she envisages his next move.
"You are nothing but a pathetic mage that should be caged." He presses the blade against her tan skin of her neck and holds it there while he bends his head down to press his lips to her ear. "Now with you out of the way... I can start eliminating the other mages. One. By. One." He smirks as he adds, "And I'll start by killing off your little boy toy."
Hawke could feel her blood boil as he threatens Anders. It is one thing to hurt her, but to threaten the man she has found herself falling in love with? She wants to so badly kill the bloody bastard, but she can't.
The Templar raises his head and right before he could slice the crimson drenched blade across her throat, an arrow cuts through his armor and plunges into his chest.
Stunned and paralyzed, the older man looks down at the arrow; his mind tries to process what is happening. He weakly crumbles to his knees and when he looks up, he comes face to face with none other than the storytelling dwarf, Varric Tethras, aiming Bianca straight at his head.
Hawke's vision begins to blur as black spots cloud her sight. She tries to keep her head up so she could see what is going on, but exhaustion consumes her body and she lets it fall flat against the ground. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and then her eyelids flutter closed.
She could faintly hear familiar voices shout out her name and she could slightly feel the memorable, gentle hands hold up the upper part of her body. She feels her head roll into someone's lap and she fights through the agonizing pain to find the energy to open her eyes.
"You're going to be okay." Anders whispers as he readjusts her body so she is lying back on the ground. He positions her body so she is lying flat on her back and he slowly moves his hands above her wound, blue magic immediately falling from the palm of his hands and his fingertips.
"A… An- Anders…" She stutters between pants; it feels as if her chest is tightening and she's slowly suffocating. She looks up at him, her eyes pleading, almost begging him to do whatever he could to just take away the pain. Her side is burning; the pain continuously engulfs her body as the moments tick by.
"Don't speak." Anders says in a soothing, but firm and demanding tone. As he concentrates on his magic, he watches her body squirm, "I need you to stay still, love."
Hawke nods her head as she tries to breathe in steady breathes as Anders attempts to heal her. She bites down on her bottom lip, her sharp teeth eventually drawing blood.
Skillfully and with experience, she tries to push her mind to a different place as she tries to remain perfectly still. As her eyes search for something – anything – to linger on to get her mind off the constant pain, she spots Carver standing to the side, staring intensely at her.
She opens her mouth to whisper his name, but only a strained gasp escapes her dried, chapped lips. She squeezes her eyes shut when another wave of pain takes over and as much as she wants to scream until she no longer can; her screams are wedged in her throat. Her cries linger in her throat and the only things that manage to escape her mouth are the small groans she makes here and there.
"Sister…" Carver whispers to himself as his eyes roam his older sister's bruised and bloody face. He could only imagine what bruises are already starting to form under her armor.
It's my fault, Carver thinks, I made her run off. Our fight is probably what distracted her. He knows she would have been able to singlehandedly take down this Templar with her hands tied behind her back and her eyes screwed shut. He may have this rivalry with his sister, he may hate how she is a damn mage and he is always living in her shadow, but never once would he wish this on her.
As much as he tries to convince himself otherwise, he knows that he loves her and at the end, that is his sister and he will always have her back.
Anger boils in Carver's blood as he glances over his injured sister who is desperately trying to hold onto life by a thread. He watches helplessly as Anders tries to heal her, as he tries to repair all of her injuries and the fatal wound to her side.
Small bursts of flames erupt in Carver's eyes and he finds himself blinded by hatred and vengeance. He takes out his Longbar Blade and stalks over to the Templar that is still on his knees, looking straight into Varric's eyes. He is pleading for his life and Varric is waiting for the update with Hawke's health before making any decisions regarding the corrupted Templar.
"You!" Carver growls through clenched teeth as he towers over the older man, "If you've got a problem with my sister, you've got a problem with me!"
He brings his blade to the man's throat and shakes his head, "I do agree with the Templars; I have never been a fan of mages and growing up in a family mostly of mages… I hated it. The thing is, the mage you just beat and almost killed is my sister!"
"That mage deserved it! Mages shouldn't be running around freely! They're dangerous and need to be restrained! They all need to be dealt with!" the Templar cries out, his eyes glowering into Carver's.
Under any other circumstances, Carver may have agreed with him, but not this time, not when it comes to his sister's life. He presses the sharp blade against the man's throat and clenches his jaw, "Well, this time, you picked a fight with the wrong mage."
It happens so quickly that not even Varric knows what fully happens in that brief second. Carver's blade rips across the Templar's throat and the blood splatters onto Carver and Varric. The Templar's body limply falls to the ground, his eyes still open, but no longer filled with life – only emptiness.
Carver glares down at the man as he slowly puts his weapon back. His eyes stay glued to the man's slit throat, but only when he feels Varric's hand rest on his shoulder, he snaps out of his thoughts. "What?"
"You killed him." Varric simply says without remorse, although confusion is plastered on his face as his eyebrows slowly furrow together. "Never thought you had it in you, Junior."
"Shut up, dwarf." Carver says in a low, demeaning and threatening voice, "I did what I had to."
"Ha! Don't need to tell me that. I would have gladly done it myself." Varric shrugs, "Although it does make better sense that you did it, I suppose."
"Does it now?"
"Of course!" Varric grins as he rests Bianca on his shoulder, "Younger brother takes a vengeance path to protect the Champion of Kirkwall, aka, his older sister. Perfect story right there."
"Keep me out of your stories." Carver warns as he curls his hands into tight fists at his sides.
Putting up his hands defensively, he shrugs, "Whatever you say, little Hawke, but my mouth sometimes does have a mind of its own."
"I told you already, do not call me that."
"Would the two of you stop the bloody bickering and shut your mouths!" Anders calls as he stops the spell and watches Hawke's body go limp. Carver and Varric are both at Hawke's side, concern filling their eyes when they watch her all of a sudden go limp.
Anders lifts one hand as he calmly says, "Don't worry, she's alive." A tired sigh escapes his lips as he runs his fingers through Hawke's hair, "Thank the Maker my magic was strong enough to heal her completely."
A thick layer of sweat covers Hawke's skin and her heart rate has slowed down to a clam, steady pace. Some pain is still flowing through her body and most of her energy has been drained, but she's alive.
Without saying a word, Carver nods towards Anders, silently thanking him. Anders offers him a sad smile and then turns his attention back to Hawke, who is only just starting to open up her eyes and come back to them.
Anders gently strokes Hawke's cheek with his thumb, "This will never end." Carver and Varric both tear their eyes away from Hawke to look at Anders, silently questioning his sudden comment.
"This rivalry between the mages and templars… it will never end." He closes his eyes for a brief moment, "There will never be an end to the constant fights and disputes between the mages and templars."
"We'll figure it out." Carver mumbles as he kneels beside his sister, "My sister always has a plan and when she doesn't, well, she makes it up as she goes along and if it works out well in the end, she pretends that was her plan all along."
"The templars will never give up. Not until every last mage is locked away, tranquil, or dead." Anders bitterly remarks while he rolls his eyes, "They are determined to end every mage!"
"Just like mages are determined to stop every templar." Carver narrows his eyes at Anders. He doesn't agree with the templars that go around killing mages for fun, but he isn't fond of mages either, especially of blood mages.
Hawke stirs as her eyes start to focus once more, landing on the Anders face. The corners of her mouth twitch upwards into a small smile as she whispers in a tired, hoarse voice, "Anders…"
"Shush, love, don't strain yourself." Anders smiles down at her, "Everything will be okay. We are going to take you back to the estate now and you could get some needed rest."
"Mmm…" Hawke's eyes fall close once more and gently Anders lifts her up in his arms and looks over at Varric and Carver, "Let's head back so she could rest comfortably."
As the three of them head back to the Hawke Estate, their eyes fall on the Champion. Her face is marked with cuts, and bruises are scattered along her skin. The wound on her side is now healed, but the scar remains, along with the stain of crimson that is on her skin around the wound and her armor.
Anders, Carver, and Varric all share the same thought as they stare at Hawke. This war between the mages and templars will never end and what happened with Hawke… it only proved it to be true; it proved this endless fight is nowhere near its end.
As long as there is this remaining conflict…
There can be no peace.