A conflicted Hawke spends some time in the Fade. Timing is in Act 3, though some events do not follow game timeline. I think it works better for the story, but that's my opinion. You know how you can give me your opinion…review!
The woman awakens atop a bed of silken fabric, enveloped beneath a soft cover filled with the down of white geese. She rolls to the side, sighing contently. Her eyes flutter and fall upon the form of her companion, lying beside her. He also stirs. Rolling toward her, the chocolate-coloured hair that is normally pushed back falls haphazardly into his icy blue eyes. She reaches a hand out to brush the errant strands back out of his face and he smiles at her.
"Good morning, my love," he says to her, his thick brogue resting on the 'r'.
"Ah, and a good morning it is. The sun is shining. I believe I can hear the birds chirping. And I wake to find you next to me," she replies.
"And where else would you expect me to be?" he questions, raising an eyebrow. He moves his hand to rest gently on her hip. She smiles coyly at his advance.
"Nowhere but here, my prince." She removes his hand from her hip and takes it into her own. He pulls her hand to his lips and gently brushes them against her knuckles. She removes herself from his grip and exits the bed. In a state of partial dress, she meanders over to the closest window, pulling open the heavy drapes to admire the day. The sky is a brilliant blue, clouds swirling in ethereal patterns across it. Her eyes lower towards the stately grounds of Starkhaven's royal family. A family that she was now a part of.
She smiles to herself as she feels the arms of her prince snake around her waist. His fingers weave into hers and she glances down at the golden bands they exchanged to represent their commitment to each other. Leaning back into his embrace, she thinks back on the day of their marriage vows. It was a day quite similar to this one. The sun shone brightly, birds chirping in the distance. The sky swirled with wonderful soft clouds. The breeze blew lightly, rustling the leaves on the trees. Everything about that day was perfect.
And every day since then was perfect.
She leans her head back on to his shoulder. He would sometimes ask her if she missed Ferelden. Her answer was always the same. "Yes, but it rains too much in Ferelden," she would reply without missing a beat. It never rains here. The trees and grasses are always green, and the flowers always in bloom. She loves it in Starkhaven.
It never rains here.
Something feels wrong about that. She pulls away from his embrace and turns to face him. The sight of him in almost less of a partially dressed state than her own makes her almost forget what she is about to ask him, but she forces herself to avert her eyes from his body and she regains her composure.
"Sebastian, my love?"
"Hmm?" he muses. He looks down at her, smiling.
"Tell me about our wedding day," she requests.
His face changes, morphing from a smile into a look of puzzlement.
"What do you want to know about our wedding day?" he questions.
Her face scrunches up, as if she tries to recall something, but cannot.
"I…can remember how beautiful the day was. It was a day just like today," she replies, "but I have no memory of our wedding. I cannot recall the gown I wore. I cannot recall who was in attendance. I cannot even remember seeing you on that day."
"Did you bump your head, love?" he asks teasingly.
She recoils from him, a look of panic spreading across her face.
"No! This isn't right. Something isn't right. Why do I have no memory of our wedding?" She looks back down at her hand, seeing the silver band on her finger. "I should remember –" She stops suddenly. The band was gold before! What is going on?
Suddenly her wits return to her and she pushes Sebastian away from her.
"Get away from me…demon," she hisses.
His lips curl into an unnatural smile and he advances towards her, moving to place his hand at her cheek.
"Oh love," he says, "I do forget how your imagination tends to run away with you. Come, let's go back to bed. Perhaps I can refresh your memory of our wedding night instead." He gives her a wicked smile and reaches for her hand to pull her towards the bed.
She shakes his hand away violently.
"Don't touch me! You are not Sebastian! I don't…I don't even love Sebastian! What kind of twisted…?"
She sees the walls around her begin to liquefy into puddles of melted rock. The clouds out the window disintegrate, leaving behind floating islands, covered with abnormally-shaped trees and broken buildings. Colours change – a haze settles all around them. She looks at the image of Sebastian and he also begins to change. His blue eyes blink into red, the tanned skin dissolving into a sickly grey hue. His body increases in size to a grotesque form. A demon of pride takes shape in front of her.
"Silly mage," the demon murmurs. "This is not about love. This is about power. You wish for it, do you not? A title? Influence? What better place for you than within the ruling family of Starkhaven? Something to be proud of, no? And the prince makes a dashing accompaniment."
"No," she replies.
"Your offspring would be stunning," it continues. "And I could ensure that none of them would be subjected to your awful torment. They would never possess your arcane abilities. Your children could be nobility, without interference from that horrible Circle."
"And it would all be a charade," she scowls. "A vision cooked up in my mind by you. And for what? To prove you can sway another mage in your dream world? No. Release me from this dream, demon! I demand it!"
"I will release you, human...for now," the demon answers. "This will not be the last we encounter one another. You will not resist your arrogance forever."
And suddenly there is darkness.
Hawke opens her eyes and sees open sky. She sits up abruptly, taking in her surroundings. She recognizes this area. She is near the Wounded Coast. They have camped here before – though usually in a tent. To her left, she sees a smoldering fire – remnants of the night before. Her tent is to her right. She sighs, realizing that she either fell asleep before she managed to get into her bedroll, or fell asleep while on watch. She wasn't sure what was worse.
Unexpectedly, the dream comes flooding back from her memory banks. She shivers, thinking of the demon's words. Does she truly want power? Would she go so far as to marry the prince to get it? She shakes her head to try to clear the vision of the demon morphing from the body of Sebastian. She had decided to help him years ago simply because of his circumstances. No one deserved what befell him. They so rarely got along since that point, but at least they were civil now. But enough to fall in love? Hardly. That should have been a clue. That pride demon had it all wrong.
Besides…she is in love with the elf. Fenris is and has been supportive of her endeavours, despite the fact that she is a mage, and he doesn't like mages. She admits to herself that is just a bit of an understatement on her part – he despises mages. Particularly if his arguments with Anders were of any indication. Despite all of that, the two are drawn to one another in a peculiar way. And suddenly her reason for being near the Wounded Coast is recalled – they are tracking some slavers who have ties to the apprentice of his former master, Danarius. Fenris did not hesitate to destroy the life of the witch Hadriana, but not before discovering some facts about his family. Namely that he was not an only child. His sister still lives – somewhere in Tevinter likely. He asked Hawke to come with him to act upon a lead he discovered, and she agreed. She will always agree where he is concerned.
Hearing rustling behind her, she turns to find the source of the noise. Fenris stands with two fish that he has poked through with a pointed stick. He has a satisfactory smile across his lips.
"You're up early," he says.
"Ah, so I didn't fall asleep on watch then," she says. "Good to know."
He chuckles at her, placing the fish on the ground next to him.
"No, dear woman," he notes, "you were exhausted after our journey here, had a few too many sips of the dwarf's personal stash of ale, and fell asleep at the fire. Which was truly a shame."
"Oh?" she questions, raising an eyebrow.
He steps in front of her and extends a hand. She takes it and he pulls her to her feet and into his arms.
"Yes. You see, I was in a particularly good mood last night. The moonlight apparently does funny things to me – especially when I've had too many sips of the dwarf's personal stash of ale," he declares with a sly smile.
"Oooh," she pouts, "I'm very sorry that I missed such an occasion."
"Indeed," he replies, "you will be sorry." He reaches down and squeezes her upper thigh. She moans as her head falls back and he moves in to kiss her neck. He nips at her and pulls away quickly. "But not now. Now we have to move on. We have some work to do."
She groans outwardly, clearly disappointed.
"Duty calls, is that it?" she complains.
He nods.
"We must make for the slaver caverns before they realize that we are in the area."
"Of course. I am not complaining – you understand that, I hope," she says.
"Hawke, if I didn't understand, you would know," he mumbles. He cups her chin in his hands and kisses her softly on the lips. "Let us hurry. If we can return to Kirkwall by this eve, I have stolen a small supply of the dwarf's ale for more private consumption tonight. Perhaps at your estate?" His eyes narrow suggestively at her and she smiles in response.
Fenris prepares a quick breakfast of the fish he caught that morning and the two eat quickly. They prepare for the rest of the journey to the caves. They arrive within an hour and survey the entrance. There is no movement, and no sign of recent activity. They approach the cave entrance cautiously and enter into the darkness.
The cavern is too quiet, and she can hear her footsteps echo. Strangely, she cannot hear the footsteps of Fenris. They continue ahead and they begin to hear voices. The deeper they go into the cave, the louder they become. They sneak in quietly and come to an opening in the cave where they can see figures gathered. There are only about five of them – easy enough for the two of them to handle. They stand out of sight for a few moments, listening to the conversation of the figures ahead.
They speak of nothing in particular until one of them mentions Fenris' name, and she reacts. She steps towards the opening and swipes her hand through the air, casting a wide swath of ice across the ground. It catches three of the slavers completely off guard and they are frozen to the ground for moments. There is just enough time for the elf to jump into the fray, slicing wildly through the air at them, shattering one, and seriously maiming another. Hawke whips her magic up in a frenzy, blasting the remaining two backwards off of their feet. She can hear Fenris cackling to her side.
"You enjoy destroying them, don't you?" he asks rhetorically. "It feeds your anger."
"Not now, Fenris!" she snarls at him. She focuses her attacks on the slaver injured from the ice swath. Using the blade on her staff, she slices at the man until he falls.
"Yes…I can feel the rage building up in you now," he cackles. "More…more!" Three new shadows appear in front of them, and she continues to fight them off.
"Fenris…more are coming! You need to focus!" she cries at him.
He laughs maniacally.
"Yes, and more will continue to come. More food for your anger!"
She freezes an oncoming attacker in his tracks and looks towards the elf. He has stopped attacking the slavers and is watching her fight alone.
"Fenris! Help me!" she screams.
In an instant, all motion in the cave grinds to a halt, slavers that she has blasted away from her telekinetically frozen in midair, as the others advance on her position. She looks at them, mouth agape. Her gaze turns suspicious…and towards him. His snarl is familiar, but not that of the elf she has come to love.
"Not again," she says dejectedly.
"No, not again," he agrees, "but it is similar. Pride it seems is not something that you will falter to. But your anger is another thing. Are you not furious about the way I have been treated? The way my former master haunts my existence? Could you not use your rage for my benefit? So that we may live forever to fight the chains that bind me?"
"You are not Fenris!" she exclaims. "For if you were, you would know that you rejected me. You pushed me away many years ago. I hate you for that!"
"Yes," he hisses, "you can let it all out." He walks towards her with his arms extended to embrace her.
"Come no closer, demon!"
"Why, Hawke," the demon replies, as the visage of Fenris melts into a fiery plume. "You never let us have any fun."
"You will let me go," she states, "or I will destroy you."
"You? Destroy me?" The demon of rage roars at her, and seconds later she releases a blizzard of wind and snow at the flaming figure. It swipes at her, burning her face with its flaming fingers. She sends pulses of cold magic from her staff as she allows her mana to build up again to prepare for a larger attack. The demon attempts to set her aflame, but she is quick to jump to the side as it hurls a ball of fire in her direction. She spins around and pitches a blast of ice at the demon, causing it to shrivel and shrink back into the ground. It is gone, and she is left in the dark.
She realizes she is on her back again and bolts straight up.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," she hears a familiar voice. She looks towards the voice and finds Varric, sitting at her writing desk. She is in her estate, in her bed chamber.
"Varric…what…what are you doing here?" she stammers.
The dwarf puts down the parchment he was examining and gets up. He walks towards the bed and leans against the large bedpost near her position.
"It was my turn to keep an eye on you," he replies, matter-of-factly. "You cracked your noggin pretty good today. Blondie made sure to fix you up right, but he wanted someone to keep an eye on you. Since he's at his clinic with patients, he couldn't be here. And Aveline left a couple of hours ago for the barracks. So here I am, your knight in shining armour. Or, at least a shiny tunic with a nice belt."
She smiles at him.
"Thank you Varric," she says. "I appreciate the babysitting. You would not believe what I've been through."
"Yes I would," he challenges. "I just told you, you smacked your head. I know exactly what you've been through."
"No," she giggles. "I mean, while I've been knocked out. I've been in the Fade dealing with…demons."
"You mages and your Fade," he says, frowning. "I can't imagine how any of you get any sleep at all with all that Fade-walking you do. I think Blondie lives in the Fade most of his days."
She laughs at the comment.
"Truly though," she continues, "it has been a battle with these demons. They seem very intent on taking over me – or at the very least, commandeering me so that I remain in the Fade with them. I'm not sure what that would accomplish."
"Well then, Hawke," he says, "how is it that you know you are not still in the Fade now? And that I am not simply another demon sent to entrap you in your dreams?"
She hesitates before answering. After all, the dwarf makes a good point.
"A dream within a dream within a dream," she considers. "An interesting quandary Varric. Are you saying that you are a demon of desire? Sent here to woo me with your chest hair and the promise of an interesting face to chest height ratio?"
"Well played, Champion," he retorts. "Though while I am a living paragon of manliness, and the height difference does certainly put a little butterfly in my stomach, I am a one woman man. And my heart belongs to another."
"Bianca," she replies.
"The one and only," he says, smiling at her charmingly.
She sighs.
"Alas, my friend, I suspect that my time in the Fade has thus come to an end."
"How's that head injury feel?" he asks, reaching to a spot above her left temple. As his fingers brush the location, she winces in pain. "That good, huh?"
She nods.
"Apparently this may take some time before the pain goes away. What did I hit my head on?"
"Don't rightly know," he replies. "Blondie didn't say much about what happened. Just that he did all he could and he'd visit once he was done with his patients for the night."
She sighs and looks out the window. The moon is shining into her windows, causing items on her shelf to glimmer almost magically.
"Varric?" she says. "Can you tell me a story?"
"Can I tell you a story?" he scoffs. "Who else would tell you a story?"
She smiles and moves over to make room for him to sit on the bed beside her. He begins to tell her a tall tale about one of his other favourite storytellers, Isabella. The tale discusses her adventures on the open sea, as she fights off raiders along the coast on one of her many journeys to Ferelden. Hawke listens intently, until her eyes begin to droop. She yawns once…then a second time. Varric's voice is intoxicating, plying her mind into a malleable putty. On her third yawn, her eyes widen. She stops Varric from continuing for a moment.
"Wait," she says. "You said that Anders would visit me when he was done with his patients for the night."
"That I did," the dwarf says, nodding.
"But it must be the middle of the night," she protests. "He should be here by now. We should check on him."
"Relax Hawke," he replies. "You have nothing to worry about. Blondie's a big boy and he knows how to take care of himself. Now just close your eyes and listen to the story so that you can fall back asleep."
She freezes and looks directly at him.
"No Varric," she replies. "I want you to go and make sure he's okay."
"Don't be silly, my friend," he says. "You just need to relax. Go to sleep, and Blondie will come by in the morning."
She looks around the room and begins to notice subtleties that she did not notice before. Pictures in the wrong place. Trinkets on a shelf instead of her desk. The story Varric tells…about Isabella. The woman who abandoned her friends in their battle with the Qunari. The bitch!
"You are not my friend," she declares. "You demons are really starting to piss me off!"
The would-be dwarf chuckles.
"Too smart for your own good, Hawke. You need to let us in. You're in a terrible place right now, and this will make it all so much better. So much easier. All you need to do is just close your eyes and sleep."
A demon of sloth.
She snarls at it and jumps backwards off of the bed. She feels where he pointed out the head injury and realizes that there is no pain.
"You tricky bastards," she says. "This ends now. I am leaving these dreams. You will no longer trap me in my mind."
"You, my dear, have little choice in the matter," the demon replies as Varric's face yields to the demon's torturous form.
She backs away from the bed and begins to make her way towards the door of the room. The demon stands and looks at her.
"I grow tired of this farce. I cannot be bothered to hold you in this dream any longer. But you will be back. You can be sure of it. Everyone always comes back," the demon says nonchalantly.
The moonlight fades from the window and the candles in the room are extinguished. She is once again left in darkness.
Her eyes are closed when she begins to feel pain in her abdomen. She is afraid to open them, not knowing what she will be waking to. She does not recall the reason for her dread, but knows that she has been placed in odd circumstances. She remembers Sebastian. And Fenris. And Varric. But does not know why they come to mind. There must be a reason, and she fights to remember it, but fails. Squeezing her eyes tightly, she can see flickering behind her eyelids. She must open her eyes. She must know where she is.
Slowly, she opens her eyes to allow the slightest sliver of light to pierce through. The flickering is from a candle on a nearby table. She cannot tell where she is from this small view, and opens them wider. The ceiling above her…it looks familiar. She is lying on her back looking up. She hears the sharp intake of breath and turns her head to the right. She sees the healer, sitting beside her on a stool, head barely propped up by an arm resting on its elbow. He appears to be sleeping. And she knows they are in his clinic.
"Anders," she whispers hoarsely. The sound barely registers in her throat, but it is enough to wake the light sleeper that he is.
He wipes at his eyes, and they narrow as he looks at her.
"I'm relieved to see you conscious," he says. And he does certainly look that way – like a weight has been lifted from him. He also looks exhausted. Dark circles are present under his eyes, and his face looks pale and drawn.
"Anders…what happened?"
"Blood mages," he replies, scowling. "Got caught by them in Darktown. We were on our way back from gathering supplies from the bazaar and ran into them. Bastards injured you quite badly." He places his hand very lightly at her abdomen – where the pain is emanating from. "They had some band of idiot raiders with them too. One of them came out of nowhere and just…dragged a knife right…through you." He chokes the words out, as if by saying them, the wounds will reopen.
"You…saved me?" she whispers.
He nods.
"Thank you, Anders," she says quietly.
He leans forward and takes her hand gently.
"I was afraid I was…that we were going to lose you," he replies.
"I'm still here," she says. "I…don't know why…but things haven't…felt right."
"Well, of course not," he jokes weakly, "you've had a blade tear open your stomach. That can't feel right at all I would imagine."
She smiles at him faintly. Her face changes as panic sets in – her dreams, and the demons, come flooding into her mind. She remembers the deception – the tricks her mind has been playing on her. She fights back a tear as she balls up her hands into fists.
"No, no, no," she cries out. "This can't be happening again. This has to be real."
Anders looks at her, puzzled. He takes both of her hands now, holding them in front of him as he gazes at her.
"What do you mean? What's happening again?"
"Get away from me, demon!" she demands.
He drops her hands and looks at her in horror.
"I'm not…Justice is not a…demon," he says sadly.
"No, no…what are you now? Are you of desire? Do you tempt me now with the one man that I cannot refuse? Do you taunt me with my feelings for him?" She is shaking and looks on the verge of vomiting.
Anders sits still and silent for moments, unsure of what is transpiring. He has not broken his gaze with her, and her face displays terror. He does not know what she has been through, but senses from these reactions that it has been an ordeal.
"Hawke…you..." He does not know where to begin to understand what is happening. He slowly reaches for her hands again. She begins to recoil, but hesitates and lets him take them into his hands. He allows some of the mana within him to flow through his hands into hers. She relaxes at the feel of his familiar magic for a time.
"It is you," she says. "I…I think it's you, at least."
"Of course it's me," he replies. "Who would it be?"
She turns away from him finally.
"I keep…waking up," she begins to explain, "but I'm not waking up. It's just another layer of a dream…another layer in the Fade. I…how long have I been…?" She turns back to face him once again.
"Out?" he finishes for her. "The better part of a day."
"A day?" she exclaims, surprised. "I feel like I have been battling through these layers for months."
"You know that's how the Fade can behave sometimes," he explains, and she nods.
"I was afraid," she says. "I was afraid because you said you'd come, and you didn't come. And Varric wouldn't go to find you. And…"
"And?"
"But he was just another demon."
He looks at her, brushing a hand through her hair.
"I will always come for you," he says quietly. "No demon in the Fade could stop me from doing that."
"But you could…you could still be a demon of desire…preying on my deepest emotions. The ones that no one knows but me," she says, sighing. "And how would I ever know?"
His hand roams to the side of her face, as his thumb wipes an escaped tear from her cheek. She looks terrified, and he desperately wishes to comfort her. To prove to her that she has indeed woken up and is safe with him.
"You would know because I…I…love you," he admits to her finally, after so many years of holding back. "And what demon of desire would ever say that?"
Her eyes blink in slow motion, as she attempts to search for the truth in his face…in his eyes.
"Do you…do you mean that?" she asks, full of hope.
"I do," he replies. "I have waited too long to say it to you as it is. And perhaps this was not the best time to tell you…considering…"
She shakes her head slowly.
"No…no," she says, "it's a fine time. I just…I was…afraid."
"Afraid that you were trapped in yet another dream?" he asks.
"No," she replies. "Afraid that you were just a demon in disguise. That you weren't really…you couldn't really love me."
"Does that mean that you might feel…the same way?" he asks, hopeful. "Because…what you said. About not being able to refuse…and your feelings…?"
"Anders…I have wanted to tell you my feelings for…so long," she begins. "I should never have waited. I…can't live without you. I love you."
He leans forward and finds her lips with his, pressing them softly together. She responds by gently touching his face with her fingertips. The kiss lasts for moments, but they are lost forever in it. When it ends, she begins to look around. She has spent enough time in this clinic to recognize that most everything is in its place. Nothing is strange about it. Nothing is strange about him. Her hand flies up to the outline of her jaw and she feels the familiar bumps of the long scar she has had since her battle with the Arishok. This must be real, she thinks to herself. There are too many things that the demons would get wrong that are right. He notices her touching the blemish and sighs.
"I'm afraid you'll have a new one to add to your growing collection," he says, softly touching her stomach again. "I did everything I could to heal it, but that bastard did a horrible number on you."
"It's okay, Anders," she replies. "It's okay. You saved me. You saved me and now I am here with you."
He bends forward again and kisses her forehead.
"Rest love," he says. "I'd prefer that you don't move around too much until you heal fully from your injury."
She smiles at him and closes her eyes. He pulls the blanket up over her and blows out the nearby candle. Sitting back down on the stool, he looks at her silhouette in the darkness. He is satisfied that he has seen the last of her suspicious looks. She believes that she is no longer in the Fade, and he is who he appears to be. It is enough for him. He hopes it will be enough for her.