Author's Note: This is a six chapter story I have had rattling around in my head for a while now. The Following Story takes place in The Chant of Darkness Universe. Six months have passed since the destruction of the Chantry in Kirkwall. It is not necessary to read Chant of Darkness to understand what is going on, this is just a companion piece. I of course do not own Dragon Age; I just like to play here.
Sword of Mercy
Part one: Broken
She ran, panic ate her resolve, sweat burned her eyes. She ran past the pews, past the great statues of their prophet. Where was it? Where in the sodding void was it?
She knew it was here somewhere, if she found it maybe she could stop…
"Hawke."
His voice rang out, a death knell in her heart.
She turned.
He stood before her. His blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, his black robes seemed to shine brighter in the candle light of the Chantry. His eyes, eyes that once watched her with such love and affection, were cold and mocking.
How could he do this to her? He was her love, her life.
"I told you I would break your heart," he laughed mockingly. His eyes began to glow; lines of magic ran like veins across his skin.
"It begins," the voice was her love's but not his; it was the voice of Justice, the voice of vengeance, the voice of a murderous monster.
The world turned red as magic crackled around her, stone cracked, glass shattered. She tried to scream as her flesh vanished, as the world around her burned. Vengeance stood before, her lover was gone, destroyed by the weapon he had unleashed. Only a mad laughing skeleton remained.
A vision of the death.
The world exploded around her.
IOI
"ANDERS NO!"
Marian Hawke's scream shook the silent darkness, her heart raced, sweat poured down her skin. Her eyes darted around their darkened camp. The night time sounds of the forest slowly slowed her pounding heart. A sad sigh escaped her lips.
Another nightmare, Maker save her.
She rose from her bedroll and made for the small nearby stream. She splashed cold water on her face trying to erase the last of the violent images from her mind. She regarded the face she saw reflected in the cool moonlight. Her blue eyes were cold and empty; the red scar that ran across her nose seemed more pronounced. Her short black hair was streaked with gray, but that did not really surprise her, her Mother had told her long ago that it was common for women in their family to go gray before their time. Mother had been completely gray by the time she was thirty five. Father had called her his silver fox. So it was not surprising that Hawke would start to gray at just thirty one.
Of course, between the stress of her life as champion and the problems in Kirkwall she looked about fifteen years older than that, add on to that that she was having nightmares now. It was no surprise she looked so haggard
Who needs nightmares when you live my life?
Her life had become a waking nightmare. The Seekers of Truth hunted her; she was an accessory in the death of Grand Cleric Elthina. The Templars hunted her, she had fought to defend a circle that no longer was worthy of her protection. She had also freed Bethany, Bethany her beloved baby sister. Her sister's freedom had been what had driven her for so long, as things in Kirkwall had fallen apart within the circle Hawke became of obsessed with freeing her sister before something bad happened to her.
As it turns out something bad did happen, but it allowed Hawke to free her sister, the only good thing to come out of that horrible night.
The night the Chantry of Kirkwall was destroyed.
The night she murdered the man she loved.
Hawke cursed angrily under her breath, fighting back tears that she would not allow to flow.
Bethany was in hiding now, starting a new life somewhere in Ferelden, somewhere safe.
Somewhere far away from the Champion of Kirkwall.
Somewhere far away from the sister who loved her.
It was better that way, better for the both of them.
They were camped somewhere outside of the city of Tantervale. A month from now Hawke hoped to be outside of the Free Marches entirely. She could no longer stay here. Even if she was not being hunted by the Chantry's attack dogs.
This place hurt too much, it was too full of memories.
"Are you well Hawke?"
Fenris's calm even voice did much to sooth her nerves. Of all her companions, only Fenris remained, the silver haired Tevinter elf was likely the only friend she had left. He had promised her he would not leave her; he had promised Bethany that he would not leave her, which was the only reason that her sister had been able to board the ship for Ferelden.
"I'm fine Fenris," she sighed running her hand through her graying dark hair, "Just…another bad dream."
The elf sat by the fire, its flames reduced to glowing ambers, she could almost make out the slight glow of the lyrium markings on his skin. Her friend was agitated, or at the least annoyed.
"The Abomination hurt you badly," the elf snorted, "if he was not already dead I would kill him myself."
An angry retort tried to spring from her lips, but she stopped it, Fenris had always spoken his mind, it was one of the things she respected him for.
Anders, part of her wished she could turn back time, either to save him or send him back to death again for what he had done.
But he was dead and he would stay that way; he had died in the streets of lowtown, died after setting off a fire that had nearly destroyed all of Kirkwall.
He had died by her hand.
And as his heart had beaten its last, her heart had broken into a million pieces…
Damn you Anders, damn you and your accursed mission.
And Damn me for not saving you.
Hawke snarled coldly at her own weakness, there was no place for it in her heart now. She needed to shut it away, to make it grow cold within her.
It was the only way she would stay sane.
IOI
The elf ran through the forest, as fast as its child's legs could carry it.
Free, after eight long years finally free.
Voices rang out in the darkness, the elf was being pursued, Agents of the Master, that bastard Claudius, and Cassius as well, the master's apprentice.
We could turn and fight?
The elf rejected the suggestion, too many hunters; Cyrion had not risked his life so the elf would be recaptured so easily.
We cannot out run them.
I know.
So what are we going to do?
The elf had no idea.
For the first time in years the elf prayed, prayed to the Maker who had abandoned them eight years ago when the Tevinters had snatched them from their home in Denerim?
Help me please. Please sweet Maker save me, save us.
The elf's prayers were about to be answered.
IOI
Fenris hated seeing Hawke like this; he missed the glib beautiful woman who had stood with him against Danarius. He missed the woman who had faced a giant rock wraith in the deep roads without fear; he missed the one who had killed the Qunari Arishok in single combat.
He missed Hawke period.
The Abomination had broken her, may he rot for all eternity. For almost six years he had this woman in his heart and in his bed, and he threw it all away for what… a political statement, a desire to become a martyr?
If the Abomination had wanted to die Fenris would have gladly obliged him, there was no reason to bring such pain down upon Hawke, the woman he had claimed to love…
…and Fenris's heart's desire.
He had watched her so long from afar, content to be her friend. He would rather have Hawke in his life as a friend than not at all, but that did not stop the yearning in his heart.
He had no skill with words, to sooth her mind and heal her heart, so he waited, just as she had waited for him. It had taken a long time, but in the end she had freed him from the self-destroying hatred that the Magisters had burned into him over a life time of pain.
Now it was Hawke who was lost, lost in hatred and anger.
She blamed herself for what the Abomination had done. Love had blinded her to the fact that the demon, Fenris refused to think of the creature as a benevolent spirit, had warped the former warden until the man that Hawke had loved was gone.
He had used her, he had manipulated her. The markings on the elf's body flared at the thought. He had murdered dozens if not hundreds of innocent people. Hawke felt responsible, and the death of the Abomination had done nothing to erase her guilt. She blamed herself for the Chantry, the mages, and the madness that had swallowed the Knight-Commander in the end.
Her hate continued to grow.
Twice they had been attacked by bandits since leaving Kirkwall, and twice Hawke had slaughtered them without mercy. Cold laughter spilled from her throat, her eyes flashed with savage glee, she had wanted to destroy, and destroy she had. She gave no quarter, she even ran down two that had tried to flee.
Hawke was becoming someone he did not know.
She refused to talk to him about this. It was always "I'm fine Fenris," or "Don't worry Fenris."
But he did worry, he could not help it.
Something needed to change…and soon.
Sighing, the elf returned to the work of cleaning their blades, he suspected they may need them soon.
IOI
There, you see it, light!
It is probably more hunters, apprentice.
Or it could be help.
The voice within the elf was silent…thinking.
We have no choice.
The elf bolted for the weak light from the dying campfire.
The hunters closing fast.
IOI
The sound of voices and of people moving quickly through the forest brought Fenris and Hawke to their feet. The Tevinter elf tossed Hawke her great sword before drawing his own. Years of fighting together had forged them into a solid fighting unit. The call of battle filled their ears, making them sharp.
Fenris's markings blazed. Whoever would deem to attack them in their own camp was in for a big surprise.
A small figure bolted into the camp, eyes wide with fear. It was a young elf, fourteen maybe fifteen if Fenris was any judge.
"Help me," the elf boy shrieked, "For the love of the Maker please help."
"It is okay," Hawke growled, get behind me. The terrified boy obeyed taking shelter behind the armored woman.
The boy's pursuers emerged. Hate flowed through Fenris's veins. He knew the armor the men wore, and he recognized the robes that their leader wore.
"Hunters!" he hissed.
Savage joy burned in Hawke's breast.
Hunters. Slavers.
"Good," she sneered, bloodlust flashing in her eyes. Finally, someone worthy of her wrath, she hadn't killed slavers in such a long time; she feared she was getting out of practice.
"I am Claudius," the robed man announced, he was blonde with a cruel hooked nose; he regarded the two warriors and the boy hiding behind them. "Stand down woman, and call off your servant," he said motioning to Fenris, "this slave is our property."
Fenris sneered, servant? Well at least they were not after him, and they had not called him a slave.
That title apparently belonged to the poor boy cringing behind them.
"You are a long way from home serah," Hawke said coolly, "and last time I checked slavery was illegal in the Free Marches."
"The boy is our property," Claudius growled, his soldiers tensing, "you will back away from him now or there will be consequences."
"I think he will stay right here, thanks." Hawke purred her gauntlets tightening around her great sword, "and so shall you, what is left of you anyway."
The Tevinter looked perplexed, the two were greatly outnumbered, and they acted like he was the one in jeopardy.
The Tevinter snorted, stupid little bitch.
"You should learn your place woman," he sneered arrogantly, "Before someone carves up your face again," he said pointing at her scar.
The scar had been left by a rage demon; it had clawed her face while she had been fighting underneath the foundries of Lowtown, trying to save her…
No! Don't go there!
Quentin's face sprang into her mind, the bastard who had murdered her Mother.
The mage who murdered her mother.
A mage like the man she had loved, the man who betrayed her.
His face quickly morphed into Anders'.
I told you I would break your heart.
"I know my place," Hawke snarled at the Tevinter, "standing over your broken corpse!"
The Tevinter chuckled arrogantly, his men advanced.
"And who do I have the pleasure of slaying," he laughed, "I'm sure my Master would like to know."
"Who am I?" Hawke laughed, Fenris glanced nervously at her, and he could see how close she was to losing control.
He almost felt sorry for the hunters…
Almost.
"I am death," Hawke said coldly, "this is damnation," she said motioning to Fenris, "we are the destroyers of worlds. The Maker sent us; he wants you to make peace with your gods. Because we are the last living souls you shall ever see. Go to him now, knowing that death has decided that this is the night you come with her."
The Tevinter raised his arm, ready to call for the attack.
He never got the chance.
Hawke darted forward, Fenris at her back.
The dying had begun.
Author's Note: If you have read Chant of Darkness you know that Bethany is not quite as safe in Ferelden as Hawke had hoped. That is it for chapter one, I will try to have two up soon.