Crumbling Facades
It started not long after she was named the Champion of Kirkwall. Maybe even a little before. At this point she wasn't even sure anymore. After all it was all too easy to mistake an illness for something else entirely. Especially considering all she's seen, all the choices she has had to make. It was enough to make even the strongest of men lose their stomachs. If not already lose their minds. So when occasionally she found herself heaving over a bucket, the strong smell of blood still lingering on every part of her along of the remains of whatever monstrosity she'd had the misfortune of crossing, she did not think much of it. Not even when it began happening more and more often.
It was only when she found herself emptying the contents of her stomach all over an enemy in the midst of battle, much to the equal amusement and disgust of her companions, that she finally saw fit to make her way to Anders' clinic. Completely prepared to suffer his protectiveness and the gentle chiding that would surely follow.
Never one to beat around the bush she asked with her usual air of drollness, "Give it to me straight Anders. Am I going to live?"
When all she got in return was a stony silence she turned to her fellow mage in question. Straightening at the seriousness inherent in his eyes she frowned, worry creeping in on her at the set of his expression.
Discomfited by his sombre reaction she shuffled nervously under his burning gaze before finally voicing her worry with a quiet, "Anders, you're scaring me."
At that he merely stared, his light brown eyes bearing a tinge of disappointment and what looked like disbelief. Whatever it was that was wrong it had him shaken and that in turn made her more than a little anxious.
"I always thought you had some sense than this Hawke," was the first thing he said when he finally deigned to speak.
His jaw tensed.
"He would wish us all bound by the Templars rather than see us free and yet you-" he cut himself off and swore out in his obvious frustration. Then pinning her with a forlorn look desperately implored, "Why him? Of all people, why did it have to be him?"
Although they tolerated each other she was more than aware of the mutual dislike that existed between Anders and Fenris. It was no secret she cared deeply for them both. Nor was it a secret that before her night with Fenris she had seriously flirted with the idea of being with Anders. That up until she realized her fondness for him was brotherly at best he was already taken with her. A fact in which only served to add much unneeded fuel to the already burning animosity between the two. So it was without even having to hear the name that she knew. It didn't take a genius to figure out of whom he spoke.
"Fenris?" she asked in her confusion. "What in Maker's name does any of this have to do with Fenris?"
"Everything," came his heated response, his eyes burning as he turned on her with a glare.
At a loss she unwittingly felt her eyes water and to her absolute horror she found herself suddenly bursting into tears.
In between the sobs that would not stop she managed to choke out, "Is there something wrong with me?"
Concern overcoming his evident frustration he instantly rushed to her side.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I don't even know why I'm crying like this. I never cry like this."
"No, I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn't have reacted like that," he gently told her, expression softening in the face of her distress. "As for the crying, well, that's perfectly normal in your state."
Upon hearing those words she frowned. "What do you mean my state? What is going on? What is wrong with me Anders?"
At that he sighed once more.
"You are experiencing what is called a mood swing," he explained carefully, before adding, "You better get used to it because it's going to be happening a lot more often."
Confused and more than a little upset she demanded, "What in Maker's name are you on about?"
He met her eyes with a level stare.
"Nothing is wrong with you Hawke," he answered. "You're just a bit pregnant, that's all. Nearly nine weeks to be exact."
Certain he was having her on she wiped away her tears. Just as she was about to call him on his rather tasteless teasing she finally met his steady gaze. There was not a joke to be found. He was serious. He was actually serious.
"That's not possible," she denied, her eyes wide with shock.
Looking extremely uncomfortable he hesitantly, and filled with so much awkwardness it was almost painful to watch, asked, "Did you take precautions before… you know? A potion? A spell maybe?"
At a loss she shook her head and feeling like an idiot felt her cheeks heat up as she stuttered out, "No- I... I even know I... didn't realize I needed... I mean I-"
"Then it's entirely possible," he interrupted with an air of finality, cutting her off before she could unwitting reveal any more than she intended.
"Maker's breath," came her devastated cry, the reality of it all only just beginning to sink in. "I can't- I just can't."
For a moment there was nothing but silence.
"There is an alternative," he reluctantly offered, refusing to meet her eyes. "I don't make this offer lightly and the only reason I even know how to do this is because sometimes they would come to me."
He took a deep breath, the torture written all over his face as he forced himself to continue.
"You know that not all have been as fortunate as I," he started slowly, eyes clouding with the memory. "When I was in the Circle some of the girls would come to me after... after suffering the attentions of a Templar."
Not wanting to hear any more she quickly shook her head.
"I…" she began to say, her eyes flooding with the tears she just couldn't stop. "This is my child Anders. My family. Maybe the only family I have left."
Although she knew that he was still alive, as a Grey Warden her brother was all but lost to her. Her father. Her sister. Her mother. They were all gone.
"I can't. Even if he hates me for this I just can't," she cried helplessly. "Not for him. Not for anybody."
More than sympathetic he wrapped his arms around her, offering what little comfort he could. With a tenderness she did not deserve he gently kissed her forehead and selflessly offered, "I'm here if you need me Hawke. I will always be here."
Thankful for his support and hating herself more than ever for not returning his feelings she held onto him, burying her face deep in the warmth of his tunic as she gave in and allowed herself to cry.
For what felt like the first time since she arrived in Kirkwall she wasn't Hawke the mercenary, the survivor, the protector. Nor was she Hawke the leader, the Champion. In that moment she wasn't any of those things. In that moment she was only just Hawke, the woman still nursing a broken heart, the woman so scared and afraid of what was to come she wanted nothing more than to just run and hide. To get away from it all and not have to face the world that was so intent on breaking her.
In the weeks to follow Hawke did the only thing she could think of. Like the coward she was she retreated behind the walls of her Hightown estate. Not leaving unless it was to see Anders for a checkup or accompany Orana to the markets. For the most part she'd succeeded in practically secluding herself within her room, intent on hiding the sight of her swelling belly from the rest of the world. Even though she knew many would find it hard to tell the difference she still could. To her it was clear as day. The roundness of her stomach, so unlike how it was before. It made her self-conscious, almost paranoid of being discovered - of having the news spreading before she had the chance to tell all those closest to her. To have it be known before she had the chance to tell the one that mattered most. Before she had the chance to tell him.
Although she knew her seclusion worried them, the merry band of misfits she'd come to call friends, she wasn't ready to face it. Not yet. So when all but one they would come to her, often to invite her out or try and entice her into yet another grand adventure, she would politely turn them down - tell them she wanted to enjoy her peace while it lasted. And though she was certain her secret still remained she couldn't help but notice how sometimes Merrill would just stare at her, eyes drifting down to her stomach every so often whenever they spoke. Or how whenever she would reject a drink from whatever bottle Varric saw fit to gift her with Isabela would give her a speculative and far too knowing look.
Content to remain in her blissful bubble she was wholly unprepared to find Fenris of all people pacing at her front door. Acting on autopilot she invited him in and felt her stomach turn at the thought of what was to come. It was the inevitable she'd been avoiding. Telling herself it wasn't her fault if she never got the chance. If she never saw him. Now faced with the very man she'd been so intent on avoiding she knew she couldn't run any longer. She had to tell him. He had to know.
Once inside she turned away from him. Certain he would see right through her she concentrated hard on the raging flames in the fireplace as she politely asked, "What can I do for you Fenris?"
"Your friends. They are worried about you," was his rather blunt reply. Straight to the point as always.
"Ah, so that's it," she found herself saying, not quite sure whether she should be disappointed he did not seek her out on his own or relieved he cared enough to come at all. "Look, we both know you do not wish to be here. So now that you've come you can go back and tell them what they've already seen for themselves. I am fine. More than fine. Perfect even."
Silence.
It was he who saw fit to break it first, "Are you truly?"
Making the mistake of turning she found herself instantly captured by him. By the intensity of his eyes, the slight furrow of his brows and the ever sensuous curve of his lips. In that moment all she could think of was how he had looked at her that night, how he had kissed her with so much tenderness and how those lines on his brows had eased so readily beneath the gentleness of her touch.
With a steadying breath she cheerfully replied, "Why wouldn't I be? I'm the Champion of Kirkwall, endorsed by the Chantry itself. It's what I've been working for all this time. The certainty that no one can touch me." She forced a smile. "What more could I want?"
Again there was silence.
"You are still a very bad liar Hawke," he stated with a deep frown. "Are you really okay?"
Unable to help herself she asked, "Are you still asking me at their behest or is this at your own?"
For a moment she was sure he would not answer and though he eventually did it was only to ask, "Does it matter?"
Knowing it was too much to hope for she let out a weary sigh and quickly shook her head. Then somehow managing to keep her emotions at bay she uttered, almost brokenly, "No. I suppose it doesn't."
"Hawke," he began, his deep voice softening. "You must know that I… that I do care about you."
The real kicker was that she did. She knew he cared for her. He wouldn't be here if he didn't. Wouldn't still follow her under the guise of repaying a debt that had already long been repaid. Many times over.
"And yet I am certain you will hate me for what I have to tell you," her mouth decided to blurt out before her brain could fully comprehend what it was saying.
Frown deepening he gave her a searching look but said nothing. Did nothing but wait for her to go on. To tell him herself exactly what was wrong.
Knowing she had him, had his full attention and that it was now or never she took another deep, steadying breath and before she could even think to back down told him, "I'm pregnant."
It wasn't immediate, barely even noticeable if she hadn't been so in tune with his every breath, every movement. Like a tightly wound coil he tensed. Expression guarded he gave her a stiff nod and in a tight voice offered, "I guess congratulations are in order. For you and-"
He gritted his teeth.
"- that mage of yours."
As if struck she stumbled back.
"No. Maker no. You think Anders and I," she gasped, her eyes burning with both the pain and humiliation of what his words revealed to her, of what he seemed to truly think of her and her feelings for him. "We are just friends. We have always been only just friends."
He scoffed.
"From what I heard you do not leave your house unless it is to see him," came his cutting remark. "He is the only one you see regularly. So tell me Hawke, what else am I to think?"
She clenched her fist.
"You don't get to do that," she yelled in response, suddenly angry. At him. At herself. At everything. "You don't get to make me feel like this. Like I'm somehow betraying you if I were to choose to be with someone else. You left me Fenris. You were the one who left. You have no right. No right at all."
Averting his eyes he ran a hand through his hair, his expression becoming pinched as murmured, "You are right. That was out of line of me. I don't know what came over me."
Far from comforted she wrapped her arms around herself.
"It is none of my business," he continued, the words sounding almost like a mantra on his lips. "None of this is my business. I shouldn't have come in the first place. I am sorry to have bothered you."
As he made to leave she quickly reached for him. Like a replay of their first night together his markings glowed at her touch. Without warning he turned on her, a growl on his lips as he grabbed her roughly by the arms. Although she was expecting it the force of his reaction still shocked her.
"It is none of your business," she snapped the moment she regained herself, not even trying to escape his grasp despite the pain.
Defiantly she met his eyes and tried her hardest to hold the tears at bay.
"But do you know what is Fenris? The fact that I am pregnant. The fact that I am almost three months pregnant."
It took a moment but the instant it registered he instantly paled.
Grip tightening he gave her wild look and uttered, "You…"
"It's yours Fenris. This child I'm carrying is yours," she all but blurted out.
"That's not possible," he murmured, his disbelief apparent. "You can't-"
"Yes I can," she abruptly cut him off. Unable to stop the tremor in her voice she forced out, "And I… I am determined to go through with this, to have this child, to raise it."
Seeing the frown deepening on his brows she swallowed hard.
"I'm only telling you this because you have a right to know," she continued with a shaky breath. Allowing her eyes to meet his she forced herself to go on. Forced herself to bite out the words even as her heart ached at the clear displeasure apparent in his gaze. "But let me make this clear. I do not want anything from you Fenris. You do not have to be a part of this child's life if you do not wish. I am fully prepared to raise this child on my own. I just... I just wanted you to let you know about this life we created."
"And what kind of a life would that be?" he growled at her, hands holding her still in his bruising grip. "Born from an elf and a human, never to be accepted as either."
Taken aback by his reaction she found herself cringing at his anger and while expected it still hurt.
"This child will be accepted Fenris. It will be loved," came her vehement declaration. "If not by the rest of world, then by me and all our friends."
"And that's it. That will be enough then?"
Defiantly she met his heated glare with one of her own. Refusing to be cowed she held her head up high and with a conviction greater than anything she's ever felt in her life answered him with a simple and heartfelt, "Yes, it will."
Certain it was nothing but a trick of the light she saw something flicker in his eyes, something that she couldn't quite place. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't read him. Couldn't even begin to figure out what was going on in that head of his. Not that it mattered. Because in a blink it was gone, leaving nothing more than the anger she was only too well versed with.
"Then what of your family's great legacy Hawke," he sneered hatefully, eyes narrowing in evident disgust. "Your father a mage. Your sister. You. What chance would it have? What chance does your blood even give it?"
Tears burning in her eyes she tore herself out of his grasp, hands automatically coming to rest on her slightly swollen stomach as she stumbled in her haste to get away – to free herself from the burning accusation in his eyes. An accusation she could do no more than weather.
"Tell me this Hawke, would you be able to do it?" he asked suddenly, sharply. "If the child is born a mage would you be able to do what is needed? Would you be able to stand idly by and see your child be made Tranquil? Would be able to do it yourself? Would you have the strength to kill the demon that may come to wear your child's face?"
Averting her eyes she refused to answer, knowing that she could not. How could she when she couldn't even bring herself to imagine the possibility. Even though she couldn't find the words her silence was answer enough.
"I will have no part of this," came his steely resolve as he lowered his head.
With his eyes hidden from her all she could see was his jaw tensing. For a moment he seemed to struggle with himself. No doubt struggling for the words she knew would devastate her. The words she knew would completely diminish what little hope still remained within her already battered and extremely bruised heart.
Turning away from her he spat out, "I will not be part of this abomination in the making."
Without another word he stormed out and not for the first time in her too short life Hawke completely broke.