A/N: This is an idea I had as a dark retelling of the Champion's story. Depending on the interest in the tale, I may continue with it, so please review and let me know what you think.
Disclaimer: Dragon Age is owned by Bioware, I just like to fool around.
People have often asked me how I managed to make so much money as a Fereldan refugee, especially my good friend Varric. For all his spy network and connections, I'm honestly surprised he didn't find out sooner. Now with the destruction of the chantry, as I run from the destruction of Kirkwall, I am left with nothing once again and may have to fall back on an old job. But before I get ahead of myself, perhaps I should start at the beginning, or near the beginning.
My name is Cordelia "Dia" Hawke, I'm an apostate. I know everyone knows my story, or they think they know my story. Varric, though he did try, couldn't really give you all the details so I'm hear to fill you in. It's time the world knew that the infamous apostate, who sided with the mages with the lover who blew up the chantry, never had it easy in the beginning.
I won't bore you with the tale of how I got to Kirkwall. You know the story: barely escaped Lothering, darkspawn nipping at our heels, meeting Aveline and her husband, baby sister being killed by an ogre, being saved by Flemeth and finally arriving in Kirkwall, the city of chains. Home of the self-righteous bitch Meredith Stonnard, the woman I loathe more than anything. But again, I'm getting ahead of myself.
My family's arrival in Kirkwall wasn't friendly; in fact we were down right hated. Hated for not being Kirkwallers, not being Marchers, and most importantly for being a "blight" on their fair city. Fair city my arse, this city has more problems then it ever knows what to do with and I should know, I tried to fix them all. Tried being the operative word, and Varric's mumbling in my ear that I'm getting off point again.
Gamlen, my sleaze of an uncle, made us wait for three days in the gallows. Three days! I'm an apostate, do you have any idea how nerve wracking that can be? Watching the templars pass by several times a day, and praying they don't notice my magical ability. Finally after his arrival, we found out that not only had he spent all the family fortune and lost the estate, but we were going to have to work for a year to pay off the coin to get into the city. I tried to suggest catching a new boat and going somewhere else, but Carver wouldn't hear of it, he insisted we stay, so we stayed.
I spoke to Athenril first; she needed us to talk to a merchant in the Gallows and make him pay money he apparently owed the elven smuggler. The guy paid me two sovereigns to walk away, I did. Aveline wasn't happy about that but I argued that we had just a few coppers in our pockets between the four of us and two sovereigns was big coin. When we talked to Meeran, he wanted us to kill some corrupt nobleman who'd been double dealing. This, this I could do. We killed the nobleman and his lackeys without too much trouble and Meeran quickly got us out of there before the templars came to investigate the magic being used in the courtyard. Thus began our year of indentured servitude.
Servitude, it's what it was. We didn't get paid; we worked for free either killing or guarding people with enough coin to pay the Red Iron. My brother seemed to enjoy working as a mercenary, his swearing vocabulary nearly doubled. Meeran couldn't keep his grubby paws off me the few times Carver wasn't around. He insisted I "belonged" to him, and he could get his money in any form he chose. This wasn't the first time I had to trade sexual favors for freedom, so I let him. I know fair readers this was not the turn you expected, but living as an apostate and depending on the quiet of others to keep your secret, should it be learned, required some drastic measures to survive. I learned that the hard way one year living in Lothering.
I nineteen and was away from the farm, swimming in a small river. Father had given me permission to take the afternoon off after learning a new spell. I believed I was alone, so I was without my clothes or smalls, I didn't want to have to dry them, and they were sitting on the bank ready for me to slip into them again once I was done. I was enjoying the feel of the hot sun beating down on my long black hair, the cool water caressing my voluptuous female body. The babbling of the stream made it difficult to hear anything other than my own breathing until a lecherous voice rang out from the bank where my clothes were resting.
"Well, well. A little mage undressed and ready for me," the templar sneered at me. "It must be my lucky day."
"Please sir," I replied, trying to cover my nakedness in the clear water. "I'm not a mage. I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't lie to me girl," he spat. "I can sense the magic on you."
I was terrified for my life. My staff was on the shore, hidden in some brush well out of my reach. The templar was also covering the only stretch of bank that was easy to climb out of, it's why I came to this spot. I was treading water but unsure what the templar wanted from me. Even though I was nineteen, I had never even kissed a boy before, let alone been looked at the way the ugly templar was looking at me now. Being an apostate in hiding didn't allow one to pursue romantic involvement.
"Come here," he ordered, so I swam to the edge of the tributary but didn't climb out.
"I said come here!" he yelled, pointing at a spot on the ground right in front of him.
I slowly walked out of the brook and stood on the spot he indicated, trying to cover my naked curves and looking at the ground. He grabbed my chin and forced my face to look at his own, smiling at me before bruising my lips with his own.
"You're a sweet thing," he tried to coo after breaking the painful kiss. "Let's see how untouched you are. If you scream, I will take you to the circle."
He threw me to the ground, and pinned my arms above me with one strong arm. I tried to fight, kicking at him without screaming. He hit the side of my face and while I was stunned from the pain he pinned my legs too. His gloved hand probed my sex, and when he discovered my intact membrane, he laughed with glee and malice.
"Oh this is going to be fun," he grinned as he began fumbling with his templars skirt, and pulled his erect member free. Again he warned me: "You scream and I take you to the circle."
He forced himself inside me, and I howled with my lips closed, the pain so terrible. I bit my lip to keep from screaming, as he raped me, groaning out his satisfaction at my tight channel. He grabbed my full breasts, pain lancing through them as well. He was too strong, and my freedom was at risk so I let him take what he wanted. I had to survive. After a few moments of him violating me, he shuddered and I felt a warm liquid fill my womb.
"Go clean up," he ordered after the tremors of his climax had passed. I slowly rose from lying on the ground, the pain embracing my body made me move slowly. I looked down at my legs, and silent tears fell as I saw blood and semen on my thighs. "If you tell anyone, I will find you, kill your family and take you to the circle. You will meet me here every week or the same thing will happen."
I submerged in the cool water, wanting to die as his words entered my ears. Every week he was going to rape me. Every week I had to find a way to survive this torture. My family needed to survive, I needed to survive. I had to act as though nothing was wrong, my father was too astute. Thankful for the healing magic father had taught me, I healed my face, the red welt beginning to purple where he struck me with his gauntlet. I also healed the sore muscles and flesh between my legs, so it was easier for me to walk. I stayed in the stream, waiting for my shame and tears to fade before getting dressed and heading home.
Father was none the wiser that day, and for three years after I met with the templar to ensure my family's survival. As time passed, as sad as it is to say, it got easier. Three years of sexual abuse makes you numb, makes you jaded, it turns you hard. My father began to notice the change, slow as it was. My laughter wasn't so free, my jokes became forced, my smile never quite reached my eyes, I shied away from contact, and I spent more and more time alone. I should have realized my father was watching me so closely, maybe if I had, I wouldn't have met the templar that day.
I had gone to meet the bastard of a templar at our normal time, in our normal spot. Spring was in the air, but the air still held a chill as winter tried to keep its hold on the area. I was running late because father had been trying to keep me home. So when I got to the stream, the templar was already there waiting for me. He hated when he had to wait. Today was going to be filled with pain.
When I grew close enough to him, he struck me for making him wait. Then he forced me to kneel, as he withdrew his penis and I had to pleasure him with my mouth. Granted for me it wasn't really pleasure, more him holding my head as he forced himself in and out. If I got any ideas about using teeth to cause him pain, he always pulled out clumps of my hair. I stopped using teeth a long time ago. He closed his eyes as he hammered away at my mouth, moaning in joy at his sex slave. I closed my eyes too, trying to block out the sights and sounds. Suddenly warm droplets were falling on my face and the smell of copper infused the air. The templar gurgled, and I popped my eyes open to witness a familiar sword sticking out of the templar's chest. The templar fell over dead, and I turned to see my father's face: rage, shame, and resignation etched into every line.
"What have you done?" I screamed at him, getting up from my knees.
"Protecting you," my father replied, wiping the blade clean on the templars skirt.
"No, that's what I've been doing for three years," I cried out.
"Three years?" Malcolm rounded on me. "This has been going on for three years and you didn't tell me?"
"He said he would kill you all if I told," I shouted. "He said he would take me to the tower. You've always taught us about survival. Sticking together. That's what I did!"
"Is that what he told you?" my father questioned. "Is that what he made you believe? That you had to sell yourself, your innocence, in order for us to survive? Oh my sweet girl. Dia, this is what is wrong with the templars. Men like that man."
"It worked," I pointed out. "I kept the family safe for three years. I made sure he never found out about Beth or you, and I made sure he never killed Carver and mother. And now what are we going to do? The templars at the chantry will know he's missing, I know Ser Bryant doesn't turn you in because you heal the people but they won't let a murder go unpunished."
By this time father noticed the welt on my face, and when he moved to touch it, I flinched away from his touch. Sadness entered his eyes, as his hand glowed blue to heal away the mark of where I had been struck. I waited until the healing warmth faded before our shared violet eyes met again.
"How are we going to fix this?" I questioned again.
"We wait, since I killed him with a sword instead of magic there will be no trace of a mage crime," my father explained, looking at the body. "There has been some bandit activity near the highway, maybe we could take the body there and dump it. The chantry will think he was killed there. Go home and get the horse, we'll use Clover to get him out of here faster."
I hurried to the farmstead to follow father's orders. Before grabbing Clover, I went inside and grabbed a large blanket, in order to cover the templar's body. The twins and mother were getting one of the fields ready for planting, so they weren't anywhere near the house or barn. I saddled Clover, got on and rode out to the river where my father and the dead templar were waiting. I had only been gone about an hour, but already there were three templars standing with my father. Even from my 30 meters, my father met my eyes but I knew enough not to go any closer. I watched in horror as one of the templars stabbed my father in the gut before the group picked up their comrade and carried the bastard away.
Once they were out of sight, I rode to father. Jumping off Clover before dropping her lead on the ground, she had been trained not to move in these instances. I ran to his body, hoping I wasn't too late to save him.
"Dia," he gurgled out. "It's time for you to take care of the family. Look after them."
"Maybe I can still heal you," I insisted, my shaking hands turning blue as they hovered over his abdomen. As soon as my magic probed his body, I knew it was too late. The templars blade had hit on of his lungs, as well as several major systems. He was dying in my arms and it was my fault. "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do."
"I know," Malcolm sounded resigned to his fate, blood spilling from his lips as he tried to talk. "I'm just sorry I wasn't able to protect you sooner."
"This is my entire fault," I began to cry as I watched my father's life slip away right before me.
"No sweet girl, it's mine" father insisted. "Tell everyone I love them. Remember to take care of them."
Despite my father's words, I knew they were untrue. I hadn't protected the family and now father was paying the price. It was my fault. My tears poured from my purple eyes as I watched father's eyes grow dim. I kissed his forehead, as he used to kiss mine when I was younger, before he took his final breath. I stayed there with father's body, crying over my failure but I vowed to protect the family as I couldn't protect him.
Dusk was settling over the area when the twins and mother found me clutching father's body. They had seen Clover from the farmstead, and came to find out what was going on. They mourned father's death at templar hands. I gave them the time they needed and stepped away, not deserving to participate in the death I had caused.
I never told the family what happened, why it happened, they only knew father had been killed by templars. That was all they needed to know.
