When tension in Kirkwall comes its climax and red light bathes the city and debris fills the sky, Hawke is stunned by the beauty of the red light and can't seem to look away. F!Hawke/Anders one-shot set at the end of Act 3.
Author's note: This is part 1 of a 2 part short. Thanks for reading!
She couldn't look away. Red stained the sky, swirling debris filled the air, and screams filled her ears. The pillar of light that sprang from the Earth was hypnotizing, it called out to her, commanding her to look at it. The light was singing like a siren and she had never seen anything so beautiful. So utterly divine. For a moment she thought perhaps the Maker himself had returned, for nothing could match the brilliance of it. It consumed the world, and consumed her very being. And despite all her losses for that one moment she felt completely whole.
Everyone around her averted their eyes, shutting them tight or pressing their hands to their faces. Could they not see the beauty of this? Could they not hear the call of the light? How could they bring themselves to look away from something so beautiful? She could not fathom why anyone would reject this gift, this offering of total pure beauty.
Then in an instant it was gone, and she felt so utterly empty. One moment the world had been filled with the most brilliant light and now it was an abyss of darkness.
In the darkness she made out voices, quiet and muffled, but still there. Angry voices, screaming about destruction, compromise, and Justice. In all this she tried to find the call again, she tried to find the light, but it was gone. All she could hear now was the faint call of something that sounded like her name. Hawke. Hawke. Hawke. It repeated over and over until she realized that it was someone in the darkness calling out to her.
"Are we dead?" she murmured quietly, acutely aware of every whisper that came from her mouth. As if she had just heard her voice for the first time.
"No." This voice was different from her own; different from the voices calling her name. It sounded pained, worried, and numb all at the same time. So familiar to her yet, the tone so foreign. So broken. Anders.
"Then why is everything so dark?"
"Dark?" Anders voice hitched and she could imagine that pained look she had seen so many times that would be painted on his face. But she couldn't see it now, only the memory of it in the sea of darkness.
"Is it night then? I've never seen the world this dark before. It's like the darkest night. Or as if I was engulfed by the Black City. Anders, can you conjure a light so we can see? Where did that light go? It's so dark now."
She could feel a single tear run down her cheek, warm and wet, mourning the loss of the red tower of light that had graced the world for that beautiful moment and then had left the world so dark.
She felt a warm hand on her face, large and calloused, but gentle; the feel of hands that healed. A pulse of magic flowed over her eyelids hot and cold at the same time and she could smell the magic. She had never been able to smell magic before, but now it seemed to attack and overwhelm her senses. The scent was indescribable, nothing compared to it. It was a sweet and rich scent, but not one that belonged to anything she had ever come across before.
Anders' scent was intermingled with it. His scent of elfroot, parchment, ink, and home. He was standing so close to her, the heat of his body coming of in waves bathing her in it's warmth. His warmth felt like sunlight on her skin, beating down on her hot. But it held none of the light she sought, only comforting heat.
"Hawke, I'm sorry." She could hear so much in every word now. Pick out every inflection. Feel what each word meant to him as it left his lips. These words felt like the night he had come home crying, having lost a dozen patients, all children. Why would he be so heartbroken over simply not being able to create a flame?
"For what? Don't have enough energy to conjure a flame? That's not a problem, love. I can do it." Hawke lifted her hand and felt the warmth of the flame and smelled the scent of magic, but the world still was black.
"No, Marian, you're blind."
Then the warmth disappeared and Anders' hands vanished. The rough feel replaced with the wind and the feel of her hair in her eyes. Normally she would push it away, but it didn't seem to matter anymore. Now that the world was cold and dark. Forever.
But at least she still had his scent enveloped around her. Her mind was a daze and these little things like warmth, scent and sound are what it clinged to. It had nothing else. Save for memories and the vision of that light. It filled her mind and overtook her. And the thought that she would never see it's likes again shattered her. That light was all she could think about, not what it caused, but just the pure beauty of it, and that beauty had blinded her. She thought maybe mere mortals were not made to see such beauty, but she had. Now she would never see again. Punishment for taking what was not her's to see.
"The light..." she gasped back a sob, "It was so perfect, so beautiful. And now it's gone and I'll never see it again. I'll never see anything again."
Loud steps assaulted the ground, angry and fierce. The steps reached her, landing right in front of her. Smelling of incense, candles, cold metal and revenge. Sebastian. His breath hot and angry on her face.
"Do you even know what that light did, Hawke?" Sebastian sounded different. Broken. Changed.
"I know. I know what happened. I watched it. You shut your eyes. You all did. But I watched. I saw." Hawke tried to face where she thought Sebastian's voice was coming from, but soon felt two hands gripping onto her arms pulling her violently to face him. Holding her towards him, his fingers digging into her flesh, not caring for the bruising. Just caring that she was listening.
"Then how can you mourn it? All it caused was destruction. Your city is in ruin. That light was never beautiful," a heavy sigh from Sebastian's lips grazed Hawke's face, "Nothing is beautiful anymore. You must be mad."
"I'm not mad. I just saw it and knew. You didn't. It was beautiful. That light..."
"That light killed innocents. That 'perfect light' started a war that is going to shake the very foundation of Thedas. Thousands more will suffer and die because of that light and all you can do is mourn the loss of it! Anders did this Hawke. He made you blind, he murdered all these people, he murdered Elthina. And for what? So malificars can run free and you could see a pretty light only to be struck blind by it moments later! And all you can talk about is how beautiful it is? Damn you, Hawke." She heard him spit. Spit. She didn't need to see to know who it was aimed at. He had a right to be angry.
Losing family tears you apart, changes you. Elthina was all he had left. But she had no one and nothing. Save for Anders. And Anders was never allowed to have anyone. Never allowed to have someone to mourn.
"Leave her alone, Sebastian. She didn't do this. He did this." A deep growl came from behind her.
"How do you know she had nothing to do with this? They are both malificars. For the Maker's sake they lie together! How could she not know of his plans." Sebastian threw Hawke out of his grasp aside, his heavy steps stopping, feet grinding into the dirt ground. No doubt face to face with Fenris.
"She didn't know." Anders whispered, "I lied."
"What a surprise." Spit flew against Hawke's cheek as Sebastian's thick Starkhaven accent filled her ears. She had never heard so much bitterness in him.
"Heal her, abomination. You did this. Fix it. Now." Fenris' voice sounded like pure venom, attempting to poison Anders' with words.
"I can't." Anders' voice was so quiet, so broken, that Hawke wondered if any but her could hear it.
"Fix it!" She could feel the pulse of Fenris' brands, the scent of lyrium thick in the air. So thick she could almost taste it.
"Quiet!" Hawke shrieked and the world became suddenly silent. Putting her hand out, reaching out for Anders, her hand beckoned him to her. He answered that call and she felt his hand take her's and place it on his chest.
"Anders...please. Just try." Hawke brought her hand to feel the look on Anders' face. Her fingers traveling to his furrowed brow and smoothing it.
"I..." Anders' voice was cracking as Hawke brought him close pressing herself into his embrace, forcing him to hold her and whispered in his ear.
"Please, love."