I do not own anything. This all belongs to Bioware.
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Her eyes were heavy with sorrow. Around her, bodies were laid in an almost artistic pose. This is what was coming. This is what Kirkwall had become. Meredith's smoking statue like body meant nothing. The grotesque mass of flesh Orsino had become meant nothing. The Templars kneeling to her and the Mages running meant nothing to her. The body of her once friend, once lover, was fresh on her mind. Anders was on her mind. As she turned away from the deceased, her thoughts drifted to him. Why? Why had it come to this? Her sister's body was moved away from Orsino's. Hawke did not want that freak's blood to taint the only pure thing in magic. Why had so much blood been shed?
"You did the just thing, Hawke."
Who? Who had the audacity to speak to her right now? Looking clearly with cold, hardened eyes, she saw the Starkhaven Prince with a smug look on his face. He obviously believed siding with the Templars was the holy thing to do. She spun on him, grabbing his chainmail around his neck and speaking words like snakes, ready to bite.
"This was not a win, none of this is just. It just isn't." She brought the startled man's face closer to hers so he could feel her breath on his nose. "My sister is dead, my love is dead. And if I moved to help either thousands more would be killed. You tell me which is just."
Letting him go, she stalked away. He reeled back a bit before Varric caught and balanced the Prince.
"Now isn't the time to mess with her, Choir Boy."
And what made it worse? What made the entire, Maker forsaken thing worse? Him. HE was the reason. It was HIS actions that caused this. HIS fault. If he would have just….listened…
If only he had listened…
But that was no matter. None of this whole mess mattered anymore. Her home was gone, her lover gone, her remaining family was gone. Everything, just…gone. And for what? A piece of Lyrium, a paranoid Mage's ideas of freedom?
Aveline rushed to her. She regarded her friend with cool interest. Blood caked on her breast plate and her hair was matted with sweat and ash. Her face was frantic, as if another fight would break out. This was once a proud, unwavering woman from Ferelden, and now she looked as scared and tired as a Mabari pup.
"Hawke, everyone made it. We lost no one but…Anders. Listen, Hawke, we need to-"
She held up a hand to silence her friend.
"No Aveline, YOU need to. I am done. I'm leaving, but Kirkwall needs you. It needs you now more than ever. Please, my friend. Stay strong." After a tight, short hug. The two women parted without a tear. Aveline kept looking at her like she looked at Anders. Pained and betrayed, with a mix of loss. But Aveline was a strong woman who didn't need her anymore. That puppy look she saw moments ago faded into the war hound she remembered. She was not needed by Aveline.
Did anyone need her?
Merrill was gone. Of course she was; why would she have stayed? Varric had a mournful look on his face. Well, she suspected he would be making his own goodbyes soon. Isabela never returned. The woman she thought her friend stabbed her in the back and took off. Sebastian had his country to return to. It was sad really, she could count her friends on one hand. And they'll be leaving her.
And of course there was the broody one.
He was leaning against the pillar, half saddened and half smug. She fought the urge to smash his face in. Where would he go, she wondered. He had few memories and very little people skills. He could read some, that was true, but he honestly didn't need her to teach him now. They never got along to begin with. Sure, there was an attraction, but after he left, it was Anders who was there. Anders was the one who loved her, not this smug, prejudice…person.
The yard was silent as they all took their leave, meeting in front of her damaged house. Orana came bursting out, soot and blood streaking her clothing. Hawke took her in her arms, hugging the sobbing woman and assuring her all was well now. Poor girl had lots of burns. She'd have to see Ander-
No. She's have to find a healer.
Months went by after that with no word from anyone. No one came by to fix her mansion. Why would they? Everyone was worried about the blighted Chantry.
Now, alone in her home, she picked though the rubble. There was a small noise behind her, but she didn't look. What was the worst it could be? A templar come to arrest her, or a blood mage wanting her as a sacrifice? Honestly, she'd take either about now.
"I apologize if I am intruding," a velvety voice said slowly. Her skin prickled.
Blood and Spite. The moody spiky one was here. She didn't look up as she replied, fearing she wouldn't hold her composure for much longer. She would get through this a day at a time, alone.
"Come on in, my home is as much yours as anyone's now."
"Can we talk civilly?"
"We could," she pulled her desk from some rubble. The letters were tattered and torn. Three of the legs were broken and the paint was beyond revival. "But I don't want to hear it."
"You killed the monster."
Everything seemed to stop then. Monster? Anders was a lot of things but never a monster. Without a word or thought, she unclasped her dagger Tine and swung it through the air. It flew as gracefully as an arrow and Fenris narrowly avoided it. He wore no weapon, nor any armor. He had a look on his face that pissed her off. Bad. He said that particular word on purpose, with the intent of enraging her. She took Bodice Ripper and flipped it in her hand, not caring about retrieving Tine. With a quick slash, she was on him. He stepped aside or blocked when it called to. Every angry move she made, he could avoid. Their dance together was elegant and smooth, all but the tension in the air seemed tight. She slashed at his torso and he gracefully evaded her, not showing a crack on his face. Their shadows showed the grace and pace of their short battle. Every step or misstep could be proven lethal to him, yet was void of emotion as she tried to kill him. The tip of her blade singed his hair and for a fraction of a second his eyes grew wide. Her own eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
"Hawke-"
"Don't talk, fight."
He grunted and she only saw a blur of blue before he had her pinned to a crumbling wall. She struggled to push him off but he held Tine in his other hand, pushing the blade to her throat. She dropped Ripper and glowered at the elf, who had such a pained look it hurt to look at him.
"Hawke! Stop this!" he all but cried out. As if it was her blade against his throat.
"What do you want? What do any of you want?" She screamed at him.
"Hawke, stop this. Hear my voice, remember me!"
She stared at him for a long moment.
"I remember. I remember your touch. I remember your kiss." Her face grew hard. "I remember you leaving, and I remember having to fight with Templars because of you!" She all but spat the words at him. He sobered and looked at her steadily. Sighing, he held the blade to his own throat and pulled her hand to the hilt.
"Kill me now, Hawke, if that will ease you."
Her grip tightened and she held tight to the blade. After staring into his eyes for a short while, she gave a small shout of frustration and flung the blade into the wall. Before he could relax, however, she punched him squarely in the jaw, causing him to reel backwards.
"I defended YOU when you were called a DOG; I ask you DON'T call him a MONSTER."
He rubbed her jaw. Damn the woman could throw a punch. He looked at her face again and he saw just how much this war tore at her. Her face was rid of any bit of humor. Her lips looked dry and cracked, and her eyes looked like she'd never laughed in her lifetime. Hawke leaned against the crumbling stairwell, putting all her weight on the handrail. She ran a scarred had through her hair and sighed deeply.
"I can't kill you. Maker, I can put a knife in his chest but not yours. Why?" She shuddered in what he'd guess as a repressed cry. He took that moment to come near. Not too close, he wouldn't dare that, just close enough so she wouldn't have to raise her voice at him.
"I have not blown up a Chantry." His voice was not in joke. He was serious. But Hawke chuckled softly, and that eased out some tension in the air.
"What did you come here for?" She asked softly. "Not to be my punching bag, I bet." She added a bit ruefully.
"No," he stated, equally as soft. "I came to ask something of you I have no right to ask." She started to say something but he silenced her with his eyes. Please, they said. Let me say it. "Kirkwall is not where you can stay. You need to move, you need to find a new life. As do I." Fenris noticed how the light of the moon shown through the hole gaping in the ceiling. Was it night so soon? "Come with me Hawke, I can't restart again, alone."
"Anders-"
"Is dead. You did not love him, Hawke. You know that. I only ask you travel with me. If I am overstepping my bounds I will simply leave tonight and be out of your hair." Hawke looked around her. Her wealth meant nothing. Her title meant nothing. Even if she became viscount, would her law mean anything? No, he had the right idea. She needed to start fresh somewhere too. But she didn't have any more family left. She had no friends left save her Mabari. Could she do this alone either?
No, she thought, looking at Fenris. Maybe, in a few years, she wouldn't be alone. She could have a stable life, a normal job. Should she go with him while the ashes of her last love were only just starting to cool? She did love Anders, and she loves Fenris. Anders was gone and Fenris made no move to show he had any other motives for this. That both calmed and disappointed her. Running away with an elven slave? What would mother think? She gave the elf a curt nod, and could visibly see his muscles relax.
"Alright," she found herself saying. "We'll go now, to Antivia."
"Now?"
"I want this business done. And Fenris?"
"Go on."
"I did love Anders. Watch your tongue, or I might carve it out of you." She smiled gravely. Her attempt at a joke made him smile in turn.
"It might be enjoyable to see you try."