A/N: Since our family friend passed away, I've been wrestling with my muse. So I want to apologize to those who are, and have been, following my works in progress. This is not an update, but instead is a little mini series I found shoved into my brain with claws. It's demanding to be written. I hope you all enjoy this stand alone mini series – even with my lack of updates.
Happy Halloween! Hope you enjoy my little tribute. :3
Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age.
"I want the truth dwarf, not your bullshit, about what really happened at the Chantry. What really tore Kirkwall apart? It wasn't the mages and the templars like we'd like to believe, was it?" The Seeker folded her arms across her armored chest, her tone demanding she not be dismissed.
The Seeker was not so easily fooled; she was quite perceptive, Varric had to admit.
For once, Varric faltered. He wasn't sure if he could continue on with the lie he normally spread, afraid she would see right through his falsities. Not a soul had, thus far, but all it took was once. Although, Varric told his lies for a reason; even he had a hard time believing what occurred that day and he'd been there. The screams of pain, the blood, the chaos; in the end, covering up the incident had proven to be the only course of action left to them, lest bedlam spread throughout all of Thedas.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," he pointed his finger sternly, "and this, is me warning you."
Cassandra scoffed. "I doubt what you have to share is anything I have not encountered myself."
"I wouldn't be so sure, Seeker. I really wouldn't." Varric shook his head, a bitter smirk on his lips. He leaned back in the chair and steeped his fingers in front of his mouth. "It started out as it always did; Meredith and Orsino bickering like spoiled, whiny little brats and wanting to involve Grand Cleric Elthina. Hawke got wind of their argument and, after gathering together our band of merry misfits, raced toward Hightown. She knew, we all knew, something big was going to go down...little did we know how big it really was. No shit, we had no idea. None. What. So. Ever."
"Anders! What have you done?" Hawke took a step toward her ex-lover, her heart thundering in her ears. There was a gleam in the mage's eye that made her weary and she had no doubt that Justice was behind it; just as he'd been behind their rather ugly parting of ways. Hawke had found out the hard way just how unstable he really was.
"I've done what needed to be done!" His lips twisted wryly. "I'm taking away the compromise because there can be no compromise!"
"Anders!"
"What have you done mage?" Knight-Commander Meredith sneered as she took a menacing step toward him, her hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword. Ready to take his head at a moments notice.
"What needed to be done," he repeated solemnly.
Hawke's eyes widened as the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. She had to shield her eyes from the sudden burst of light streaming out of every pore in the Chantry. Heat erupted and she cried out, thinking for a brief moment that she'd been caught in an explosion, but after a moment it all faded. She expected chaos, fires, death; but there was nothing. It was the same as it'd been moments before. Anders' brows furrowed in confusion and he swung around to stare at the Chantry; why he looked so taken aback, Hawke didn't know.
"Anders...?" She took a step toward him only to be hit with the truth. All the pieces fell into place; the changes in him, the quest, the chantry diversion, his confusion – he'd been planning the destruction of the Chantry! And she'd helped him!
Fenris stepped up beside Hawke, his intense moss gaze meeting her golden one, a lock of white falling across his brow. "He meant to do something unforgivable."
"I know," she whispered, overwhelmed; how could Anders have done this to her?
"It seems to have failed," he muttered. His words spoke the truth but the tension around them continued to escalate. Anders was frustrated that his plan had failed and continued to argue with both the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter.
Hawke was the first, and only one, to notice the Grand Cleric's presence at the top of the Chantry steps.
"Grand Cleric!" Her cry caught the attention of all those assembled. All eyes swung to where the Grand Cleric stood, Hawke taking the steps two at a time to reach her. She stopped as she came face to face with the older woman, taking note of how...wrong Elthina appeared.
The Grand Cleric stared at her with eyes of creamy white. Her skin was blotchy, giving her the appearance of someone who'd taken gravely ill. Was she even breathing? The older woman sniffed at the air, then suddenly turned her vacant gaze upon Hawke. Her lips pulled back in vicious sneer, teeth coated in blood and what appeared to be flesh – of some sort. Hawke stumbled back as Elthina rushed her, teeth snapping much like a hungry wolf. Snap, snap, snap – then a horrendous scream. A young templar rushed forth, intending to help or calm Elthina, but as soon as he was in reach, the deranged woman took hold of the young man and tore off his helmet. She howled and lowered her face to his neck, Hawke watching, horrified, as her teeth took hold of his flesh and tore it free. Her nails tore at his face. Blood gushed as his gurgled scream echoed off the walls in the courtyard. She dug her teeth into him again and again, tearing, rending, eating him, until he fell to the ground, still as stone.
"Grand Cleric!" Hawke stood frozen as Sebastian rushed toward the Grand Cleric, distraught; this was his friend, his confidante, and Maker damn him if he didn't try to help her. Yet as he drew close, more sisters and brothers spilled out of the Chantry, eyes milk white and skin blotchy, some sporting assorted wounds that turned her stomach. Sebastian's cerulean gaze widened as they spilled forth like a plague, washing over the templars and mages scrambling about. Hawke and the others could only watch in horror as the scene unfolded; never could Hawke have envisioned anything so gruesome.
Movement caught her eye. The templar that Elthina had attacked moved. His body gave a violent spasm, then another, before a horrendous howl of pain ripped free from his mangled throat. He flipped over, quickly, eyes opening, as white as all the others, skin blotchy, teeth snapping as he grabbed a young mage's ankle. The young girl screamed as he yanked her down, sinking his teeth into the flesh of her shin. Hawke stared, wide eyed, as he tore a chunk of the muscle free before diving back in for more.
"What's happening?" Merrill screeched in fear.
"Blood magic," Fenris hissed, brandishing his sword as one of the creatures stormed their little group. He cleaved the man in twain, blood splattering to further coat the tainted courtyard. They'd slain a number of crazed men and women, but never had Hawke felt so affected. She didn't know what to feel, how to feel; everything was out of control. Fear pumped adrenaline through her body.
"I would never use blood magic!" Anders snapped defensively.
"Whatever you did, abomination, has caused this!" Fenris accused.
"Then it was a mistake! I have no idea what's been done!"
"Fenris is right," Merrill began in a shaky whisper, "this is blood magic."
"You know this for certain?" Hawke turned toward the young elf, brows drawn tight over her eyes.
Merrill nodded once, a sharp jerk of her head downward, eyes on the ground. "I've seen it once before."
"This is not the time to discuss this!" Fenris howled, warding off two more teeth-snapping attackers. They took every chance they could to try and get the elf with their chomping mouths, their flesh and blood tainted nails.
"You got a plan?" Varric shouted as he let loose a bolt; the arrow flew with unparallelled precision, finding its home right between the eyes of the closest attacker. "I'd sure as hell like to hear it!"
"There's no plan for this," Isabela muttered. "How do you plan for this? They're eating each other!"
"We need to get out of here!" Hawke swung her staff around to shoot forth a lightning bolt. The smell of burnt and dead flesh nearly made her gag. The air was rife with the scent of blood, the sound of screams; the longer they remained, the worst the situation became. The creatures were multiplying. Each victim who fell to one, became one. She wanted to stay and fight but it was unwise to do so when they knew as little as they did; they needed to retreat, regroup. She needed more information. "Back to the Hanged Man! Now!"
It was easier said than done.
Getting back to the Hanged Man was a nightmare. A real life nightmare, far worse than anything Hawke could have imagined. The qunari invasion paled in comparison. She'd lived with these people, talked to some of them, even helped them with errands and the like back in the day when she'd needed gold for the deep roads expedition. Now those people were gone. In their place were vicious creatures out for blood; each one Hawke passed was worst than the last. One would be missing an eye, bitten from its face – another would have broken limbs, exposed entrails, and chunks bitten clean out of its body. She didn't want to hurt these people, as horrendous as they seemed, but as they raced through the city, she had little choice. These people she used to know wanted to hurt her – eat her – and she wasn't about to let that happen, to her or any of her friends.
The path to their little space of safety was an unsafe one. Many times they were forced into confrontation with these people – these creatures – to keep from being bitten themselves. Each strike seemed so surreal, as if they'd stepped into a nightmare or a horror themed play. They raced through streets running with rivers of blood; streets littered with struggling bodies, splattered remains. When they finally did reach the Hanged Man, they slammed their way inside and, as the others barricaded the doors, Hawke scrambled her way behind the bar where she promptly lost her breakfast. Her body heaved again and again, until there was nothing left but the remembered sights and smells of the gory chaos outside in the streets.
"Hawke." Fenris met her when she returned, concern etched in the lines of his brow. His bare hand found the nape of her neck, his thumb tracing her skin soothingly – at some point he must have discarded his gauntlets, she realized. His touch had the desired effect. She felt herself relaxing, the nausea beginning to ebb. "Are you alright?"
"That's kind of a loaded question, Fenris." Her lips twisted into a frown. "I have no idea what's going on but everything...what we saw...I can't get it out my head."
He glanced away uneasily. Although he didn't withdraw his hand, his touch was suddenly tense. She laid her hand over his. After a long moment, he returned his gaze to her. His voice somber, he told her, "It isn't something you'll be able to forget easily, Hawke. Merrill is not the only one who's seen this before." He rarely spoke of his time as a slave to Danarius but Hawke knew not a moment of that time was pleasant; if he hadn't already killed the Tevinter magister, Hawke would. Again and again.
"You've seen this before? Do you know what is happening, Fenris?"
"I do. Come," he took her hand and led her back to where their group sat around one of the tables. Anders openly glared at their joined hands but Hawke didn't pull away. She couldn't handle his fluctuating emotions at the moment, not when he was responsible for all of this. Ignoring his glare, she didn't let go of her elf's hand as they sat with their anxious friends.
"What in the hell is happening out there?" Isabela shouted. She was the only one agitated, pacing the room, finding whatever alcohol she could get her hands on. "There isn't enough booze in all of Thedas for this," she muttered.
"It's blood magic," Merrill insisted again.
"She is not the only one who's seen this happen. I have as well." All eyes swung toward Fenris at his quiet admission. Hawke squeezed his hand under the table. "Blood magic is everywhere in Tevinter. They may not broadcast it out in broad daylight but every magister knows the power blood magic gives them over all others. An army of undead...a magister would be nigh unstoppable, wouldn't they?"
Anders scowled. "So this army of undead...where is it?"
Fenris leveled his gaze on the mage, his fingers suddenly very tight around Hawke's. "The magisters tried it in an enclosed environment. As vicious and efficient as these abominations are, they do not follow orders. The magisters could not control them – what the magisters cannot control, they destroy."
"Merrill," Hawke turned her gaze to her shaken friend, "you said you've seen this before; what happened?"
"I may have exaggerated a bit. I did not see it myself but I heard stories of the incident, oh! Oh so many cautionary tales. It was said the undead were summoned and it spread throughout the clan like a plague. It is why the clan has dwindled so. The Keeper tells us so, often."
They all began to talk around her. Hawke let them as she turned her thoughts inward; neither Fenris nor Merrill had mentioned the bites, but she had seen it happen. She had not been able to look away. Through all of the chaos around her, Hawke had been frozen. The deranged Elthina had bitten the templar and, within minutes, the templar had risen again – whatever affliction the Grand Cleric had, she'd spread it through that bite. Hawke was sure of it.
"It's the bite," Hawke said, interrupting the commotion.
"What is?" Aveline's eyes were now intently on Hawke. Soon their illustrious leader could feel all of them staring.
"The way it spreads – it's the bites. I watched Elthina bite that templar – "
"That was not Elthina!" Sebastian snapped from where he stood, leaning against the wall. No one seemed more disturbed by all this than he. Only he had been so close with Elthina and she'd been the first of the undead, the first they'd seen take out the flesh of another; she was to be the image forever burned into Hawke's memory.
"I watched that creature bite that templar," Hawke said, trying to be considerate. "That's when the rest of them came pouring out of the Chantry. But I couldn't take my eyes off that templar. Within minutes, he became just like Elth -," she stopped, catching herself before continuing, "...that creature. I saw it all the way here. I was watching for it."
Somber silence settled over the table. No one could bring themselves to deny or stand against her words. When it came to this, they were all clueless – even Anders, who had caused it. Finally, Anders pushed himself up from the table, eyes flaring ever so briefly. "We have to stop it. If a bite is all it takes, it's going to spread fast. If even one gets out of the city, Thedas is doomed."
"Then why are we sitting here wasting time?" Sebastian shoved himself up from the wall. "How long could it take for them to wipe out the city before moving on?"
"Not long," Hawke whispered with a shudder. Fenris squeezed her hand with a nod. "We need to get out there and stop it, before it's too late." She only hoped they weren't already too late.