A/N: This'll be a shorter story than some of my rest, but it's been kicking around in my thoughts. Did a play through completely opposite of my other snarky, Anders-loving Hawke, and this is what came to mind... We'll see where it goes! Working on it and another (Anathema's Anchor's sequel, Casus Belli), and others too haha - but I wanted to share this one first!
Siobhan Hawke clutched her blade, wide-eyed at the glowing statue left of Knight-Commander Meredith. The eerie silence was finally broken by the clink of mail and plate as the templars stepped towards her. As Fenris touched her arm, the Order sank to their knees.
"Champion," the Knight-Captain said. "You have saved us once again."
"Have I?" Hawke asked, paling considerably.
The rooms were cleaned and sunlight shone in the high windows, but Hawke could not shake the shadows that clung in the memories of the Viscount's Keep. Her quarters now it seemed. The air echoed with the bustle of new servants and the city guard, though she had shut the door on them all. Let them work. Let them flutter with hope and promise. A coat of paint over where the beetles scurried and insects that already gnawed the framework once more, waiting for their piece and chance at power.
She wandered onto the balcony that overlooked Hightown, unable to keep her gaze from drawing to the blackened hole where the Chantry had been. Leaning on the banister, she hung her head, scarce moving as the door behind her opened and closed.
Fenris tread across the room on silent steps, knowing better than to intrude more than needed. When he drifted into the sunlight beside her, he touched the small of her back, "Siobhan."
"That's me," Hawke quietly replied, still staring over the city. The pyres. The pyres were burning with all of the dead. They had been burning for days. A pyre upon which Anders would not find himself. Earth that Merrill wouldn't embrace, no roots nourished from her remains. Would any of the mages find peace?
"Aveline has been asking for you," he quietly said, leaning back against the railing and crossing his arms. "Maker knows what she expects to learn from me."
"You don't think you're afforded any respect or power as my right hand?" Hawke quietly said.
A small grin quirked the elf's lips, "I wouldn't be so bold to consider myself such. But perhaps I should?"
"What do you wish then, my wolf," Hawke finally looked to him with heavy eyes. "What would you ask of your viscount?"
"I would be content to see you smile," he said and pulled her closer. She allowed the intimacy, laying her head upon his shoulder to look over the city again as he spoke. "Is not the world right, now?"
"How could it be after all I've done?" she whispered.
"You've done what was best for everyone," Fenris reassured her, turning her cheek to let their lips meet. She softened into his arms and he pressed her back against the railing, letting their foreheads touch as he continued, "Didn't Sebastian say you've done the Maker's work? Isn't that all any of us can do?"
"He did," Hawke replied, closing her eyes as he ran his fingers into her dark hair. But how could he know, she thought. How could anyone know what their Maker deigned?
"Yet that doesn't seem enough for you," Fenris rumbled.
"Is it that obvious?"
"While I won't deny learning to read your signals took some years, I like to imagine I've gotten good at it," Fenris said with a close-lipped grin, cradling her close.
Hawke closed her eyes and leant into his arms, sighing into his neck, "It seems like after all these years, I finally have the chance to reflect and it's all catching up with me. Stay with me tonight?"
"Of course," Fenris replied.
"The Fade isn't nearly as cruel when you are near," Siobhan whispered, slipping her hand into his.
"Dreams?" Fenris asked, twirling his fingers into her shoulder-length black hair.
"With what little sleep there is to be had. Perhaps it is merely a symptom of age," Hawke replied, turning her face until his fingers graced her cheek. She sighed and squeezed his hand, "Mage or not, we all have our demons."
"Perhaps," Fenris said. He breathed deep and squeezed her hips before pulling her closer, "Tell me."
"There are so many, it seems ridiculous sometimes by the light of day. Things that... I can tell myself it is over and done - that the past is the past - but I cannot help thinking I could have changed any of it," Siobhan drew a shuddered breath, hugging her arms between them. "It goes back to Bethany - no, even further to Carver. Choices I made that let people die."
"From all you've said, you couldn't prevent your brother from stepping in that ogre's path. And it does little good to think about the Deep Roads," Fenris murmured, touching her arm. "You keep telling me not to... dwell on my past. Sound advice, isn't it?"
"You do enjoy buttering me up," Siobhan replied, looking over his shoulder. The colour was draining from her features though, the memories surfacing. The blood was on her hands, she could feel the warmth. Hear the way his breath sputtered as his lungs succumb to the fluid. His blood was on the cobbles and the sky was alight with fire. "How many people have I killed? How many were people I knew?"
"I was never under the particular impression you and Anders got along," Fenris replied more coldly.
"No, I know," Siobhan's voice softened, and she put her hands over his, and his posture relaxed. She looked at their grasp, "Is it so wrong to question one's life? Here I am at the precipice, looking over the world and what has been wrought through my actions. It is only natural to reflect."
"Indeed," Fenris said, leaning to nuzzle his cheek alongside hers. "Aveline is still waiting. When we're done what is needed for the day, we'll spar, and I'll balm your muscles."
"Always knowing the right things to say," Hawke replied sweetly, meeting his gaze. She chuckled, "Hard to resist your hands all over me."
"That's the plan," Fenris grinned, relinquishing her arm as they turned back towards the keep. Hawke's posture straightened, her features hardening as she returned to her duties.
"Serah Hawke, it's a pleasure," Saemus Dumar said, bowing with a hand upon his breast. "I had not been sure you had received my invitation."
"I am flattered more than I might say, messere" Siobhan replied, turning with him towards the doors. "And please, Siobhan is fine. Or Hawke - everyone seems to like that best."
"I apologize," Saemus said, holding the door for her and motioning down into the keep gardens. "Perhaps I yet remain my father's son in that regard. I would not wish any impropriety. Saemus as well then."
"Saemus it is," Siobhan chuckled. "I imagine your father isn't impressed that you wished to speak with me."
"Admittedly, I hadn't broached the subject with him," Saemus' lips quirked. "Your family's name is like wildfire these day - what with your foray in the Deep Roads and the return of the Amells. But we have had interesting conversations."
"It is rare to meet individuals more interested in talking," Siobhan said, clasping her hands together as they walked amidst the gardens. "As much as I enjoy wielding a sword, I'd gladly trade it for a book or a cup of tea and a good friend."
"That is impressive," Saemus smiled absently. "Here - the starbright is blooming, and it affords a pleasant view of the city."
"I'm not familiar with that," Siobhan said, cupping her hand around the brilliant white flowers to inhale the sweet scent. "Flowers in Ferelden often smelt like feet, or only bloomed one day a year it seemed."
Climbing the short wall around the courtyard, they sat and looked down over the tiered port. It was mid-morning, and the sun warming the stone buildings gold.
"Are things improving for you here?" Hawke finally said, glancing to him.
Saemus exhaled slowly, shaking his head and looking at his hands, "My father may believe so, but there is so much he refuses to see."
"It must be difficult to live up to your birthright," Siobhan mused, "When it seems you are drawn to a more..."
"Peaceful life?" Saemus offered.
"Yes," Hawke smiled apologetically.
Saemus nodded, "I haven't given up on the qunari - quite to the contrary. Though with Ashaad gone, it has been... more difficult. But I believe we have a lot to learn."
"What of your faith to the Chantry?" Siobhan frowned as she asked.
"I hope the need to dedicate oneself to a faith does not supersede the desire for knowledge and understanding," Saemus furrowed his brow, glancing at her. "Don't you wish to belong? To remove all doubt and know where you are meant to be?"
"I do," Siobhan slowly smiled at him, before glancing away. "I know this is where the Maker wants me to be. That my purpose is here. I will do His work."
"Yet how many die by your hand, serah?" Saemus quietly asked.
The citizenry moved out of the way as Hawke strode up the makeshift path towards the wooden building - the impromptu chantry she had ordered built upon the ruins of the old. So they would have a place to go, so there would be hope. They needed it to look to. Like they needed her. Fenris followed on her heels, and slipped into one of the rows inside as she continued forward.
Hawke ascended to the lectern of the small building, and the people of Kirkwall packed in behind her, filling the makeshift pews and lining the back until the air was close with their bodies. She raised a hand to them and the room silenced, and she looked over the sullen faces. The bulk of the Divine's army had arrived that morning, and what was left of the Gallows had filled with their rank.
"I thought it best to reflect on the words of our Maker's most beloved - she who lost her all and found herself in a foreign land. Many of you know the same sting - many of you feel the same fear," Siobhan clearly said, but as she spoke there were shadows in her heart. "But we will find peace once more at His side."
A soft murmur of assent went through the crowd, and Siobhan's eyes roamed to Fenris, whose unwavering gaze rest on her.
"Andraste 19, verses five through seven," Siobhan said, looking down at the charred wood used in the podium.
.
"But we who have sinned
fall short in the Maker's sight.
By our wrongs He did turn His eye.
.
Righteousness comes not in man's hand
but by the way of our Creator.
This I knew in my heart.
.
Know in your heart this truth,
and by our lips and tongues
all will know of His light,
and be renewed through the Chant."
.
Hawke bowed her head as the murmured reply traveled through the room, unable to find solace in the words that had carried her for so long. When once the Chant had been a light in her heart, a beacon when all others went out, it now rang as condemnation in her ears.
"Thank you, Viscountess," the brother beside her said, clasping his hands together and looking over the congregation, before taking her place when she stepped down to kneel at Fenris' side. Prostrate alongside the masses.
It was only afterward when she wandered amidst the former site of the chantry with Fenris that Hawke spoke again. There were workers clearing the rubble – it seemed they never made any progress.
"I received word today that the Circle in Ferelden rebelled," she quietly said.
Fenris stopped in his tracks, and she turned around, hands clasped behind her back, "What happened?"
Hawke looked skyward to where the towers and bells of the Chantry had once sung to her, "The missive I received from King Alistair indicates that violence was narrowly avoided. The Knight Commander negotiated a truce and... he granted the mages their independence."
"We cannot sit idly by when our supposed ally is letting maleficarum run amok," Fenris snapped, and he stalked further down the path. He lowered his voice when he realized the workers were staring. Hawke waved to them, offering a politic smile, and they bowed their heads before continuing their chore.
"And what do you propose I do, my love?" Hawke said, following his eyes as he shook the momentary anger from his limbs.
Fenris closed his eyes before exhaling, "I don't know."
"They are living together in peace, you know, the templars and mages," Siobhan said under her breath. "His majesty wrote of it with the highest praise. It is a school for mages now, where they can choose to go. They propose expanding the docks into a village where families can live - there's land nearby recovering from the... What?"
"And you merely believed it? I'm surprised at you, Sio," Fenris said, voice softening. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips.
"I thought you would like to know," Hawke shrugged, watching his lips. "Perhaps you'd rather see the letter yourself."
"No, I apologize," Fenris replied, turning her hand to kiss the palm.
"They sound much more reasonable," Hawke softly said, "Than the mages here. Less desperate to press others under their thumb..."
"Perhaps. But how long will it last? When will it not be enough?"
"Maybe it is how the Circles were intended to be," Siobhan said, and they held hands as they walked deeper amongst the ruins - nearly to where the altar used to be. "It is men who pervert the will of the Maker."
"Meredith was proof enough of that," Fenris sighed. "Will it strain relations with Ferelden?"
"I don't think it can be escaped," Hawke tiredly said. She stopped and pulled from his grasp, kneeling to brush away some of the dust and stone to retrieve something. Fenris slowly walked over, as she wiped the grime from the sheared face of a statue. "I don't think we can risk the loss of an ally. Who knows what else is coming."