Hawke wondered, in the lightest terms possible, if the Maker himself was about to come down and screw her life up even more. Granted, she had conspired with a mage to blow up the Chantry, albeit unknowingly, and had then sided with the mage in question. And yes, she'd pretty much destroyed most of the Kirkwall templar force, had been unable to stop the First Enchanter from turning into whatever the hell that thing was, and had then ran away with the mage who pretty much started the in-city war. And yes, she was aware that she wasn't in the Maker's good books at the moment, but that didn't mean he was going to make it worse for her, right?
Wrong.
They'd been running for days. Calmly, gracefully, Hawke had walked out the city of Kirkwall, waited until she was sure that no templars were following, and then they'd all fled. To her disappointment, Fenris had separated from them mere hours after they left Kirkwall; Aveline followed a day later after a heartfelt goodbye, Bethany went back to the Wardens, and it left only her, Merrill, Varric and Anders. And recently, the latter had been giving her the strangest looks, as if he were really seeing her for the first time, or was having an epiphany.
She hoped it was the latter; somehow sleeping with him wasn't high on her list at the moment. A week ago, it might have been, but considering he hadn't spoke a word to her since they'd left Kirkwall, despite her sacrifice to become a fugitive to be with him, there were higher things on her agenda.
After five days of running endlessly, only ever stopping for the needed hours of rest before they could up and run again, Hawke had relented and decided they should find the nearest tavern and drown their sorrows for the next few hours. They'd wandered into a valley in the mountains and had found a village that wasn't on the map; curiously, it had felt as if they'd walked through a veil once they'd entered through the trees to the small village, but Hawke paid it no mind. After all, the 'Dancing Bear Tavern' had wiped away most coherent thoughts once she'd seen the sign.
They returned once she'd entered and looked around.
She backpedalled on her thoughts, because honestly, the Maker really had come down and decided to screw her life up even more.
Because if she wasn't mistaken –and she hadn't taken any potions that could induce hallucinations – then The Hero of Ferelden was sitting on one of the stools at the back of the tavern, playing with a ginger tabby cat.
Wiping at her eyes furiously, she vaguely caught Anders' concerned look at her before she shook her head and pinched herself on the arm harshly. Looking back up still didn't help; The Hero was still sitting there, playing with the tabby. And looking oddly resentful towards the cat too, although Hawke really couldn't tell from the distance from which she was standing. Anders placed a hand on her upper arm, but she jerked back and rubbed her temples.
"Oh dear Maker, I swear I'll become a priest and then a mother if you'll spare me the hallucinations. And I'll be a good one; I'll deflect mages for their sins and I'll tell every Templar that they're doing the right thing." Hawke looked up again; yes, The Hero was looking resentful towards the cat.
"I can't say I approve of that very much." She wasn't sure if it was Anders or Varric who spoke, but it was more than likely the former. Either way, Hawke turned to look at her three companions.
"Varric, Merrill, go drown yourselves in liquor for the rest of the evening. You, come with me." She looked at Anders for her last sentence, and she could see the mage visibly hesitate before he followed her. She weaved through the tables in the tavern until The Hero of Ferelden was in clear view.
"Are you feeling okay?"
"Look over at the table just to your left and please tell me I'm not seeing things."
"Well that depends; are you talking about the dwarf that's vomiting everywhere or the elf playing with the- oh Maker…"
"Oh well that's brilliant. She's here for you, isn't she? If we leave quickly, we can make it to-"
"Calm down, Hawke. She left the Wardens before I did; she's not here for me." Anders' voice was calm, unusually so, and it took a moment for Hawke to realise that Justice was influencing his actions, if only a little.
"I know that tone; if you tell me she has a vendetta with Justice, I may feel the need to kill someone." Hawke, usually composed, felt a jolt of fear. The Hero could be working with the templars; she could be hunting them down as a response of Hawke having eradicated her entire clan barring Merrill or to demand justice.
Ironic how it could come down to that word.
"I'm going to go talk to her. I'd be a fool to think she hasn't noticed us." Anders moved towards the table she was sitting at, stopping directly in front of her and waiting for her to look up. She sneezed before she did, and Hawke realised how her eyes seemed to be watering terribly as she kept one finger looped around the pink bell collar that was on the cat. The Hero looked up, one eyebrow raised as she studied Anders carefully.
"I preferred you with the tattoo; it complimented your cheeks so charmingly, you know. I worked so hard on it, too." Hawke, who had been expecting something entirely different from the woman who had killed an Archdemon and stopped the blight, had to remember how to pick her jaw up from the floor. Anders' had had a tattoo?
"Funny; I much preferred you drunk and making silly toasts. Wait, no I don't, because you don't get drunk, and you drug me." Anders answered as she sneezed again, and Hawke had to wonder as to why she was sneezing so often and so violently.
"You still caught up on that?"
"I should be; it took me a week to remove that damned thing from my forehead."
"You shouldn't have tried to; I told you in the letter that it'd take at least a week to come off. And from what I heard, you left mere days after I did." The Hero switched her hand that was holding the cats collar to her other one, and Hawke noticed the rash that was crawling up her arms.
"Indeed. I told them I was going to look for you."
"And what a splendid job you did. It only took you five years. From what I heard, you went to Kirkwall, then to the deep roads, and then shacked yourself up with a rogue. I can't imagine Justice was pleased." She sent him a knowing look, tilting her glass in his direction before taking a sip from it.
"How did you know about that?" Hawke asked, butting in and looking at the elf in curiosity. The Hero of Ferelden laughed.
"I wasn't the Warden-Commander of Ferelden for nothing, you know. Although I suspect the whole 'Killer of the Archdemon' status helped. I'd know my Warden charges anywhere, especially Justice." The elf looked back to Anders. "And besides, you didn't have the spine to blow up a Chantry on your own." She paused, looking at Anders as if she was waiting for some form of retort. When the mage kept silent, she rolled her eyes. "See, this is why funny men and serious fade spirits just don't mix. I preferred you in the old days, when you got so drunk you'd insist on showing the keep 'Anders' spicy shimmy.'" She knocked back the rest of her drink.
"You don't mind that he destroyed the Kirkwall Chantry?" Hawke asked, sitting down on a chair opposite the elf and pulling off her gauntlets. The Hero laughed.
"I most certainly do not. I hated the Chantry growing up for attempting to force my people into giving up our gods; I hated my own gods the day I watched my lo… my best friend get enveloped in darkness from a mirror. I gave up on them once I had to kill him." Hawke noticed the flash of overwhelming sadness in the elf's eyes before it completely disappeared, and the Hero tipped her tankard upside down as if mourning the loss of the alcohol. Anders sat down next to Hawke, looking at the Hero before frowning.
"What happened to you, after you left?"
"I went to the Deep Roads, to sort out some bad business with an old Thaig. A month later, about two years after the end of the blight, I found Morrigan. She warned me of change, an inevitable one that was coming, and then completely disappeared through the mirror. I had to go back to the ruin where everything started, but only little bits of the mirror remained. I'd wanted to know what had happened to the shards, but I found out soon enough. My entire clan wiped out by a person I once called friend in childhood. But that was four years ago, about a year after your deep roads expedition."
"And after that?"
"I went back to Amaranthine, quickly, to pick something up. I disappeared off the map for a while, before Alistair sent an armed set of soldiers after me. I agreed reluctantly to go back to Denerim, which was around the time I suspect you met him in Kirkwall. But he was a fool; I killed an Archdemon, a dozen armed soldiers weren't going to keep me locked in that carriage for long. I broke free and came here, just like I was ordered to." At that, Hawke stood up quickly, unease settling in her stomach. She grabbed at Anders' upper arm, but he only looked at her in confusion.
"And who, exactly, ordered you to come here?" Hawke asked sharply, interest disappearing and being replaced with suspicion. The Hero of Ferelden laughed and rolled her eyes.
"Oh calm down cupcake. I think you'll find that you already know who ordered me here. The damn old hag who talks to bloody much." The elf scowled before sneezing, glaring down at her tankard before looking up. Anders shook his head.
"You said in that letter that we'd meet again, but that you had to leave because of 'an old witch.'" At Anders' words, Hawke swore.
"Shit. Flemeth? You know Flemeth?" The elf nodded.
"She saved my life. And, indirectly, the life of everyone in Ferelden. If she hadn't saved me from the top of that tower, I wouldn't have lived to rally an army and defeat the Archdemon. The blight would have wiped Ferelden out entirely." She paused, and then looked at Hawke. "We inavertedly led most of the horde to follow us when you were escaping Lothering. If we hadn't headed north with Morrigan, there'd have been a heck of a lot more Darkspawn that would have followed you." Again, the elf sneezed.
"Commander, why do you have that cat on you when you know that you're allergic to them?" Anders' asked suddenly, and Hawke had to agree with him. The elf sneezed again before giving him a wicked glare. Her finger that was looped around the cat's collar twisted, turning the bell towards the back of the cat's neck and showing the small tag that rested next to the bell. Engraved messily onto it were 'Ser Pounce-a-lot' and a small heart. Anders' cracked a grin for the first time in days.
"You have my cat!" He scooped the cat up from the table, holding it up in front of him and inspecting the tabby before crushing it close to him; the cat meowed in contentment. Once the cat was away from her, the Hero relaxed visibly, taking a balm from the pack beside her and dipping her hand into it, before rubbing the ointment on her hands over the rash.
"It took me ages to track that blighter down. Everyone seemed to know a Jack or a James who had recently acquired a Wardens cat. I only knew it was him for two reasons; the owner had kept that damned collar I got you for him, and he greeted me accordingly with a lovely scratch at my face." The elf pulled on a very thin pair of gloves over the ointment on her hands before pulling on her gauntlets. Hawke glanced over Anders, who was softly stroking the cat's head.
"How long have you had him with you?" Anders asked, and Hawke leant over to slowly run her fingers through the cat's fur. It purred, and Anders smiled.
"Four years. I took him with me when I disappeared from society, and we lived pretty okay in the forests. I was prepared to keep him for years, no matter how horrible he is, because I knew you'd appreciate it. But I'll admit, when Asha'belannar showed up and told me to come back here, I was glad to know that he'd soon be off my hands. He got rather agitated after she visited me." The elf shot him a sarcastic smile, giving the cat a scowl.
"From that look, I take it you didn't get attached to the poor thing?" Hawke asked, a smirk on her face. The elf narrowed her eyes.
"I'm allergic to cats. I've spent four years away from society with an animal that makes me sneeze every thirty seconds and gives me a rash wherever its damned fur touches me. I swear my dog was the only thing keeping me sane."
"Where is Duster?" Anders asked, and Hawke assumed that that was the name of the dog she was talking about.
"Outside somewhere; the bartender wouldn't let him come in. But I had to wait inside for you both." She took on an oddly serious look, one that Anders had only seen on her face a few times during their time at Vigils Keep.
"Why did you have to wait for us, exactly?" The elf gave a sigh at his question.
"You know that any Warden who kills the Archdemon dies, don't you? And it was such a miracle that I survived, yes, you know that. But I convinced Alistair to take part in a ritual with Morrigan; when I killed the Archdemon, its essence would go to a child that was conceived in her womb the night before the battle. Morrigan gave birth to a child nine months later, one that was infused with the essence and soul of the old god." She'd never told Anders this before, and along with his shock came the shock of Hawke.
"What type of magic is that?" Hawke asked before she could stop herself. The elf shrugged.
"Ancient magic, since before the time of Arlathan even. It was Flemeth's ritual. But both Morrigan and Flemeth predicted the fall of the Chantry; already, four circle towers have heard news of what happened in Kirkwall and are rebelling. As we speak, the Chantry is preparing what they call 'Seekers of truth' who are on a mission to track down both The Champion and The Warden. Hawke and myself, in other words. They think we're the only ones who can stop the looming war; my old friend is one of them."
"I'm not sure if you noticed, but I aided a mage in blowing up the Chantry. I'm not sure the Chantry is my biggest fan right now."
"They do. I trust the word of Flemeth, even if I shouldn't. We can't help them, not yet." The Hero looked darkly at Anders and Hawke as she spoke, shaking her head and taking a steady breath. "We need to make sure they never find us. It doesn't matter if they find Anders, he's not the one Flemeth was concerned about. I'm certain it's got something to do with Morrigan too; her child would be six or seven by now, and I'm sure that's the age that mages start to show magic." The elf stood up, untying her tunic to reveal shining Dalish armour beneath it, and she strapped her bow to her back.
"What about Varric and Merrill?" Hawke asked indignantly, looking across to the bar at them. The Hero shook her head.
"They can't come, not where we're going. And I couldn't face Merrill even if you paid me to."
"Hold on, you can't just expect me to get up and go." Hawke protested, but Anders' looked over at her.
"I don't think we have a choice, to be perfectly honest." The mage answered her, and hesitantly stood up. Hawke knew that Justice was mainly influencing his actions, and wanted to know just why Justice –or vengeance – was so keen to follow the Warden.
"I don't like this." Hawke muttered, but the elf turned to look at her with an oddly upset look on her face.
"This isn't even the beginning."
A/N: Hey! Heres another one shot from me! If you don't understand bits of the beginning of this, then you'll understand by reading 'An unexpected toast' and 'A penny for your thoughts?', but you should be able to pretty much guess what's going on.
Anywho, my attempt at making a one-shot about both Hawke and the Warden without giving away details such as names, hair colour, eye colour etc, apart from the fact that both are rogues and the Warden is a Dalish, which were necessary facts. The end of DAII really intruiged me, and I wonder what really happened to make both The Warden and The Champion disappear; I really think Flemeth had a hand in it, to be honest with you.
Anywho, read and review, I'd like to know what you think!