OOC: This story is set after the end events of Dragon Age 2. Probably like many others, I've often wondered what happens next. This is my version of events.
I think I've captured the characters that people know and love. However, Hawke is personal to each of us that play the game so this Hawke is MY Hawke. I hope you like her!
I've currently only completed the first 2 chapters. I shall 'test the water' with these and if the response is good, more will be added as they are written.
I do hope you enjoy reading my story though I am happy to hear constructive criticism if you feel it is called for. Please be gentle with me though. This is my first ever work of fan-fiction and I put a lot of myself into writing these two chapters. I'm mentally exhausted, lol.
Chapter 1
An intense heat raged from within the dark haired woman's chest and the deafening sound of her own heartbeat seemed to grow louder as the inferno burned. Running so fast now that she almost feared her boots would combust as well, she had not turned to look back in some time and she dare not think on her destination. To let her mind consider that at such a time would only cloud her judgement with unanswerable questions. Her usual instinct to fight had been superseded by the certain knowledge that flight was the only option this time. She felt shame at that, mentally chastising herself for her cowardly behaviour. This was one woman no one would ever have dared accuse of cowardice. But that was her past wasn't it? Those days where gone, replaced with a life of hiding, checking and running.
Running as she was again right now. Running through thick woodland, far harsher territory than the open landscape she'd fled from only minutes earlier, but the density of this place and her honed dexterity granted her a small amount of reassurance that she would once again be able to outmanoeuvre and outlast her pursuers.
As she swiftly moved between the combination of great Oaks and dense thickets, branches clawed at her exposed skin, tiny scratches that where guaranteed to sting all at once when the adrenaline stomped pumping and the opportunity came for stillness. For now, the only pain came from the tightness constricting around her lungs. The core of her still aflame despite the wetness of her skin and the cold winter wind that threatened to freeze each bead of sweat as it formed. A sudden thought flashed through her mind as she entered a small clearing. Her daggers, had she had a chance to secure them in their scabbards in her haste to escape? As she tried to force some clarity into her thoughts, no easy task when every part of her being was engaged in trying not to die, it occurred to her that much time and many miles had passed since she had actually heard the hoarse hunting cries of her assailants . There in that small clearing deep within the Brecilian Forest, she dared to pause, straining to hear, over her own grating breath, any sounds that may betray the location of those from which she fled. Alert as a fallow deer, her whole body taut in preparation, ready to run again should the barks of the hunting hounds break through the vegetation. With characteristic quick thinking, she used this brief respite to raise her arms to reach for the pommels of her twin daggers, should they be at her back where they belonged. Her lips where momentarily drawn into a small smile of relief as her grasping fingers met their target. If her other senses had failed her and this was to be the place where she would truly have to meet the Maker, then at least she would go out with a fight. No one would deny that to this rogue, not today!
An eerie stillness enveloped the forest as the colourless full moon cast its celestial light onto the crystallised ground below. The wind had dropped now and every sensible creature had gone to ground lest they perish, frozen along with everything else the night air touched.
The moonlight created odd shadowy patterns at the edges of the clearing as it shone through the branches of the surroundings trees. It was from one of these shadows that a figure emerged. A tall, willowy male silhouette, seemingly fine framed at first glance but the undulating curve of muscle tone revealed strength and a well-built form. As the moonlight was suddenly cut off by a rare stray cloud, the clearing was no longer bathed in light and the shadows merged into one, shrouding everything into near blackness. The figure looked briefly startled buy the new scene, turning his head this way and that as if trying to search for the source of the shroud. Still he maintained a direct course, not faltering from the direction he had been heading before the lights went out. He moved almost silently across the clearing finally stopping before an indistinguishable shape on the ground. He knelt down on one knee and without pause lifted the shape into his arms in effortless determination. With that, he turned back in the direction from whence he came and, with an obvious air of urgency, moved swiftly out of the clearing, disappearing into the thick woodland beyond.
As the moon made it's familiar journey across the night sky, light shifting and meandering to create new and magical scenes, every one different from the next, the figure journeyed with determined speed despite his obviously heavy load. Never stopping, never faltering, he continued. Over uneven ground, though the most unforgiving vegetation, he twisted himself like a serpent winding his way through a maze of roots, bushes and trees. The figure moved so swiftly that time seemed to be trying to catch up. And yet time was of the essence and no matter how much haste the figure employed, his strained muscles and steely resolve gave away the fact that his journey may have already taken too long. Time could be so cruel and as if in an attempt to outrun it, leaving it gasping and exhausted in his wake, the figure made a final push to sprint on faster. A groan of agony was forced from his mouth as he lunged at his second wind. With that final bolt of energy that, had the figure been a man of faith, he may have believed to be Maker given, he emerged at last into another clearing in the same forest. Unlike the other, this one was alive with the soft flickering of torch lights. Their warm and welcoming glow revealing a number of small tents arranged haphazardly around a central campfire. His presence had obviously been both noticed and expected as almost immediately a thicker set man rushed out from one the tents and joined the other man in a heartbeat. The man who had been resident was carrying a staff. His features where stern and jagged, his dirty blonde hair scraped back into a short ponytail. His garments would have been considered fine had they not been torn and covered in much more than mud.
His expression was one of deep concern as the figure carefully placed the shape he had laboured with so exhaustively at the stern mans feet.
In the orange haze surrounding the camp, the shape was now clearly human and as the head fell to one side the soft black hair followed suit revealing a beautiful but lifeless female face.
"Hawke!" the man with the staff gasped.
The figure, who was now on his knees beside his precious cargo craned his long neck to look up at the man. His flock of bright white hair moved back behind his Elven ears and his eyes, filled with a look of excruciating mental anguish, desperately sought the eyes of his companion.
"Help her Mage…please!"