ALL HAIL THE MIGHT BIOWARE! It's their world; I just play with it!
I have not, currently do not nor will I ever make money off of this story.
Warning;
Rated M for:
Adult Language
Violence
Sexual Situations
Drug and Alcohol References
Review/favorite and not only will I love you forever but I'll be sure to immortalize you when I upload the next chapter!
And, in case my summery wasn't clear enough, this story will revolve around Raphael and Anders...two dudes! Don't like it? Don't read it!
Chapter One: To Kill A Mocking Hawke
A well placed kicked to the chest sent Malcolm Hawke sprawling onto the ground. He glanced to his left to see that the kick had broken his staff in half and was currently rendered
useless. "Fuck." He cursed inwardly and spat a wad of blood onto the ground. With a wry smile, Malcolm sat up and glared up at the towering Templar agent. "Who teaches the
Thedas Templar Organization to fight? Surely, it must be the Orlesians." The remark earned him a backhanded smack with the Templar's heavy plate gauntlet. "Maleficarum
scum!" The Templar growled, spewing phlegm through gnashed teeth. Malcolm lurched forward, braced himself with his arms and coughed more blood onto the already blood
soaked earth. After wiping his face with his emerald robe sleeve, Malcolm donned a surprised veneer and looked around. "Maleficarum? Where?" Turning his attention back to the
Templar, he coyly added, "Maybe you should do your job and go get them." The Templar roared with righteous anger and stomped on Malcolm's outstretched hand, breaking it.
"Oh, you delectable tease! Careful now; I like it rough, big boy." The red faced Templar aimed a kick at Malcolm's head that was avoided by Malcolm rolling onto his back.
Malcolm laughed with maddening mirth as he continuously rolled to avoid the Templar's furious stomping. "Now Father, what have I told you about frolicking with the Templar
agents? They tend not to play very fair." Malcolm and the Templar cocked their heads to see a raven haired mage striding over dead darkspawn and the corpses of local
townsmen towards them. "Too right you are, Raphael; this one is a hellish brute and absolutely no fun at all. He's really quite a bore." Malcolm shouted across the field to his son.
"You, Templar; how about you fight someone who's weapon is not broken?" Raphael sneered and pointed his staff at the bewildered man. "In the name of the Maker and his
prophet Andraste; The Order dictates..." "The Order dictates that you ramble off some nonsense and smite me with your holy sword of justice, yes? I have a better idea." With a
half cocked smirk, Raphael held out his hand and let low, yellow flames engulf it. "Let's get right to the good part." Raphael let out a battle cry, causing the flame to engulf his
hand in brilliant azure flames and lobbed it at the Templar's chest. The Templar grunted as the fireball made contact and flung him to far end of the muddy battlefield. "You'll pay
for that, mage!" The Templar hollered as fought to stand but only managed to flail like an overturned turtle. The agent managed to stand up but before the hapless Templar could
caste his anti-magic spells, Raphael dragged the bayoneted tip of his staff against the ground and cut a a line in the dirt. From the line burst forth a wave of ice shards that chased
the Templar only a meter before the tips pierced and hoisted the man off of his feet. Although the ice crystals were already thawing, they had done what they were intended to
do; to pierce every major organ of the agent. Hot blood sprayed forth and colored the disappearing ice briefly with crimson. "M-m-maker...preserve..." Was all the agent
managed to choke out before bleeding out and slumping to the ground with a thud. "That's...that's my boy." Malcolm hollered and slowly got to his feet, using his unbroken hand
to push himself up. "You've been practicing." Malcolm said with a small smirk as Raphael came up to him with an identical look of bemusement on his face. "Of course I have.
Have you seen all the darkspawn around? I've have unlimited opportunity to get my technique down." Malcolm clapped his son of the back with his unbroken hand. "And I see
you've been working hard on your staff crafting...flawless work, son. I see you still have a flair for silver and the smithing of it." Malcolm admired the staff for a moment and
gently touched the blade affixed to the top of the staff. "I learned from the best." Raphael said brightly. Malcolm flicked his black hair our of his silver eyes and merely laughed,
"Well of course you did; that goes without saying. Now, I wonder...have you found a way hide the blade?" Raphael rolled his eyes and tamped the ground with the bottom of his
staff. Everything, including the blade, collapsed in on itself and the staff now resembled a thick and intricate cane. Malcolm let out a boisterous laugh and clapped his son's back
again. "The student has surpassed the master." Malcolm said with undeniable pride. "That goes without saying." Raphael said playfully. Malcolm's previously joyous face suddenly
contorted into a pained expression and he gazed down to his chest. "Father, what's wrong..." Raphael eyes followed suit and as his eyes found Malcolm's chest, he gagged at the
sight; the tip of a barbed arrowhead stuck out of Malcolm's chest. "Father!" Raphael whimpered as Malcolm collapsed in his arms. Carefully, he laid is father on his side and turned
to face the Templar archer in the distance. "Coward!" He yelled to the Templar archer fumbling with the quiver strapped to his back, "You would attack a man while his back is
turned?" Raphael charged the man, feeling his mana surge like righteous fire within him. The Templar slung his quiver around his heavy plate but the strap got stuck, causing the
arrows to tumble to the ground. Raphael quickly closed the distance between them and grabbed the archer by the throat. "I'm just...doing...the will of the..." Raphael didn't let
him finish. Raphael forced him up against a nearby tree and held his jaw open. With his free hand, Raphael covered the Templars screaming maw with his palm. The Templar
struggled violently as water started cascading into his mouth. In vain the Templar tried coughing out the water filling his lungs only to infuriate Raphael further, resulting in an even
stronger stream being forced into his body. Terrified brown eyes started to roll back as the Templar slowly drowned. With a final few thrashes and wriggles, the Templar slumped
dead at Raphael's feet. "Raph...ael..." Malcolm choked out and Raphael hurried to his side. "Dad...I'm sorry, this is going to hurt." Raphael mumbled before placing one hand on his
father's chest and one on the barbed arrow. With a quick jerk, Raphael ripped the tip off and flung it away from them. "There isn't...much time." Malcolm choked out, spraying
blood onto his robes. "You must...get the letter in my...in my...pocket..." Malcolm coughed up another mouthful of blood and weakly reached into his robe pocket. He pulled out
a rolled up piece of parchment and shoved it into Raphael's hand. Raphael clutched the letter in one hand and his father's hand in the other. "Dad...I don't know any healing
magic!" Malcolm laughed slightly and squeezed Raphael's hand tightly to his chest. "It's my fault, Raphael. If I wasn't looking for my friend, I wouldn't have been...killed."
"Don't...don't say that! You'll... you'll be fine!" Raphael's silver eyes were slowly being tinted red by the tears falling from them. "Shh...it's okay. Tell your mother that you found
me like this. You know how...how she'll act if she thinks it's...your...fault. It's not...never...never blame yourself for..." Malcolm sighed and his grip loosened. "Father...FATHER?!"
Raphael roughly shook the man who would never answer. Raphael stood and aggressively wiped the tears from his eyes. "Damn it...damn it all." Raphael muttered as he opened
the letter:
Raphael,
If you are reading this, then I have passed on to the Void, the Fade or where ever godless apostates go when they die. I, with a heavy heart, leave the care of our family in your
hands; the eldest and most magically gifted of my children. Duncan, an old friend of mine from the Grey Wardens, believes that this occurrence of darkspawn in the south is not
to be taken lightly. I ventured south to find out for myself and I fear that he is correct; a true Blight is upon us. I feel the sickness and I hear the darkness calling out. A horde
of massive proportions is marching north and it will only be a matter of time before they hit Lothering. It is not safe there! I need you to gather the family and take them away
from Lothering, if not from Ferelden entirely. My son, you were an endless joy as a child. You were always laughing, caring for your siblings and practicing so hard on your magic
and staff crafting. You were and still are such an intelligent and talented mage. I dare say that given some more training, perhaps in Tevinter, you would become one of the
more powerful mages that has ever roamed Thedas. I am infinitely proud of the man that you have become. It is with a great sadness that I must now bid you goodbye.
I love you, son.
Raphael held the letter out in front of him and with a sigh, set it aflame. He inwardly damned his father for mentioning to his magical talents in the letter for if he had not, he would
have kept it. Being an apostate in Ferelden was dangerous enough. Having anything on you that would mark you as such was the equivalent of wearing a brazen sign that read,
"Quick, send for a Templar agent! I am maleficarum and I've come to devour your young!" As the ashes of the letter blew away in a gust of wind, Raphael knelt down on one
knee and laid his gloved hand upon his father's broad brow. He peered into his fathers eerily similar silver eyes before he ran his hand over his father's face and closed his father's
eyelids. Raphael stood solemnly, placed his hands and arms parallel with Malcolm's body and spread his fingers wide. With a solemn and cracking voice, Raphael recited a eulogy
that he had heard his father give once long ago. "Born from the ashes of a star we are, in death we will be ashes once more. I give your body to Mother Earth, to nurture her as
she once nurtured you. Goodbye, father." Raphael engulfed his father's corpse in a fierce, quickly spreading blue flame and rendered his body to ashes. He gazed one last time
upon the make shift effigy before he turned heel and raced as fast as his long legs would carry him towards Lothering.