Idolatry
AU, based on a prompt I read in someone else's story: The Hawke's flee to Tevinter rather than Kirkwall, Hawke kills Denarius and inherits his property, including Fenris who is still a slave. Mine is a little different because Malcolm Hawke is still alive. This story will probably be long, since there is a sub-plot I created in addition to the prompt, and I want to try and delve into the personal changes the character's go though deeply.
Cameo appearances and smex will ensue, but again, there is a plot! Hope you enjoy!
Rated M for language, violence, adult content, dark themes.
Prologue
'Clang!' Steel rang sharply against steel.
A rumble of flames silenced the cries of warriors.
"Run!" a mother's voice, desperate.
Footsteps, scattering and thundering. Fevered and worried panting, strained in the cold night air.
"STOP Apostate, in the name of Andraste! The Order dictates!"
The thin scream of an arrow breezed sharply overhead, a feminine yelp of pain and the sound of staggering brought the pursued to a stop.
"BETHANY!"
A cloak woman turned, ferocious blue eyes marked the men who would soon find their graves. She raised her hands up like an offering, hair standing on end like a midnight halo.
"No, Hawke! She'll be alright, keep running! Stay your hand..." the warning was swallowed as the wind sizzled. Knives of electric light flashed and rippled, spearing the pursuers, cooking them in their armor.
'Thump, thump, thud,' they fell.
'Thump, thump, thud,' they died.
Gasping and crying replaced the stillness the tempest had brought.
"Maker, no..." Her mother fell to her knees, a dozen corpses lying in her wake. "How could you do this to us?" Whether she beseeched the Maker or her daughter, Hawke was unsure.
Deep ragged breaths dragged themselves from her lungs, tears streaked her cheeks, but she was not sorry, never sorry for the death of men who attacked her family. She was sorry for the death of men who knew no better, sorry for proving to the Templars, the dangers of unCircled mages.
Galloping hooves marched closer and Hawke turned, staff raised.
"No more, please," her mother sniffled, sick with the stench of death.
"Leandra?"
"Malcolm!" The woman turned and ran for him as he jumped from the raincloud steed.
"What happened?" he asked gently, as though the words would break her.
"Templars...saw her face...she went hunting in the woods with Carver, bandits attacked. Some nearby Templars came to help." Leandra sighed and calmed herself, looking into her husbands eyes. "They saw her face and they knew..." All eyes fell to Hawke, Carver helping Bethany closer to the group.
"How did they know me, father? I thought you-"
"I rescued you from them, but I couldn't just kill them-"
"BULLSHIT!" Hawke and Carver yelled together. Bethany flinched, blue light flooding her features as she healed herself.
"We can't stay here," Carver said, not the least bit remorseful over the twelve dead men. "We have to move again."
"Where will we go? Fereldon seems to be losing its tender hand toward the mages." Bethany was mournful.
"We can go to Kirkwall, my family has an estate there." Leandra wanted something familiar and solid. Carver shook his head.
"That place is crawling with Templars! We need someplace quiet for father and the girls!" Carver shouldn't have been so harsh, but he detested his mother's weakness and pity. She wanted so badly to live a lush and simple life, with birthdays and tea socials and Chantry banquets on the holidays. A romantic life where the woman who sacrificed everything for love was in turn rewarded with loving abundance.
Life was not fair, and she hadn't caught on.
They should've never stayed in Lothering. A town this small with a Chantry was a terrible idea when three of the five members of your family were mages. But she had never lived on a farmstead before, wanted to till the land and break a sweat. Imbecilic dreams of a lost childhood...
"I have...made arrangements in case of an emergency like this," Malcolm spoke, red hair bright even in the darkness. "I had hoped it would never come to this but...well, at least we made it seventeen years here." His voice was wistful and resigned, as if he knew it would've never lasted and he missed the years anyway.
"Where?" Leandra's voice a whisper.
"Tevinter," he exhaled. The collective silence was smothering, full of dread and confusion.
"What?" Leandra finally questioned, astonished and ready to fight the points before they were made.
"The Tevinter Imperium. My cousin is a magister and I have...friends that work in the overseas slave market and-"
"No."
"Hawke, I don't think that-"
"No!" Hawke sheathed her staff and turned away from them. "I will...hand myself over to the Chantry tomorrow and-"
"What?" gasped the family.
"AND you can go on living safely somewhere else! Amaranthine, Starkhaven, Orlais, anywhere but Tevinter." She spat the last word, already walking back toward the farming village. Her father's hand on her shoulder stopped her. "This is my fault." Hawke hanged her head. Guilty, not for the first time, over being a mage. "I need to be responsible, take care of my family." Her lip quivered but she remained tense.
"No, sister!" cried Bethany. "If it's not you, it's one of us." She pointed to her father and herself. "No matter what happens, we need to stay together!"
"Listen to your sister!" Leandra added. Carver held his tongue. He didn't blame Hawke, but he agreed with her, would've done the same thing in her place.
"I don't want to lose you, little one. Life will be different, hard. But we will be free to be mages. And maybe after a time, we can return here, once tensions have eased. It's bound to happen," Malcolm cooed, wrapping his eldest in a strong hug. Hawke sobbed once and returned the gesture. "Bethany, Leandra, gather our things, Carver, ready the horses and carts. You and I," he smiled sadly at Hawke "We'll...take care of the bodies."
The boat creaked, a loud bellow of grump as it swayed side to side. They had been mercifully spared storms, but consequently the winds had been light. Fifteen days out to sea and many were ill or restless.
Hawke was quiet, brooding meditatively. On their journey to the docks, her father had told them what their lives were to be like from now on, the dangers and pleasures of who they would be. Not as many personal restrictions as living in Fereldon, but certainly more obligations and social protocols to live by if they wanted to be convincing.
It was one cage for another, in Hawke's opinion.
As the journey commenced, the coil in Hawke's stomach tightened and twisted. Her freedom to practice magic openly would have to supersede the fact that her father would be, "lord and master" of the family.
It's not living, it's survival. Hawke sighed. It wouldn't be forever. And maybe, maybe, some good would come out of living in a place where mages held power. She clenched her teeth with the lie.
She felt eyes on her and looked away from the sea and over her shoulder. An elf, about her age, watched her peacefully. Sandy-blond hair fluttering softly and glittering emerald eyes full of yearning.
She had seen him before, had smiled at him, conversed with him lightly on few occasions while they had both opted to eat dinner away from the others. Her red lips parted in greeting but she blushed and smiled shyly. She wondered if he was to become a slave and her heart dropped. What could be done? She glanced over to him again, his head was tilted, pondering. Hawke pondered too. Her father was talking with several merchants, mother was politely chatting with a group of cleric scholars from Denerim, Carver was laughing with several of the captain's men, and Bethany was playing with several children as their tired mother's watched, happy for the distraction.
Hawke bit her lip; it may be the last chance for her to make a choice of her own for a very long time. She walked toward him, doing her best to look covertly smoldering as she did. He perked up, surprised but willing. She traced her fingers up the side of his arm gently before whispering,
"Take me to your room." He stood and walked ahead of her, fingers holding hers.
She wanted this, but couldn't help but feel nervous, as she'd only done this twice before.
She was fifteen, he seventeen, the older brother of one of Carver's friends.
And training to be a Templar.
He had been clumsy, and she had had no idea how to please him, content with running her hands all over his sculpted body that first night while he kissed her everywhere.
It had hurt, but didn't last long.
The next and last time, he already had his armor and was being sent to guard mages in the Circle.
"I know you're an apostate," he said sadly as he looked at her. She stood rigidly, full of fear.
"Are you going to-"
"No. I...want you to be free." He moved closer then, kissed her tenderly. He pulled his armor off and explored her body fully and hungrily, knowing this would be the last time for him. She could hardly believe what was happening when she had an orgasm, her first, and magic hummed throughout her body, reacting to his lyrium. "Maker!" he cried, but not in anger.
She did her best to reciprocate, using her mouth and tongue on him sloppily, but he moaned all the same. When he entered her, it felt good, and she came again in just a few thrusts. He tried to make it last, she could tell, but as he moved quickly a few more paces, he climaxed, holding her gaze the whole time.
They had fallen asleep together, woken at dawn where he told her good-bye, thanked her sweetly for making him a man.
Hawke returned to the present. It had only been two years, but she had learned a lot more about men since her time in Lothering; shopping with gossiping and bored farmers wives. She was also nervous because he was an elf; attractive and slim, different.
His room was small, a bed, a nightstand, a chair, and a porthole. It was enough. She unbuttoned her cloak and he stopped her hands.
"May I undress you?" he asked, voice deep. She nodded and held her hands out to her sides. He was careful, folding her clothes and placing them on the chair neatly. She wondered if this was his first time with a human...or with anyone for that matter. He looked over her body, pupils dilated, and cupped her sizable breasts, kissed her neck wetly.
Her breath caught and she pulled on his vest.
"May I undress you?" she asked, panting. He nodded slowly, stepping back. He was wearing much less, a vest and loose trousers, she laid them on the chair quickly. His slender body was defined nicely, though he seemed a bit frail. He was so smooth under her fingers. He kissed her hard, pressing her against the door, sliding a finger into her heat. She whimpered in pleasant shock.
He worked his hand against her as they kissed, tongues darting out every few breaths. She moaned loudly as she came and, wasting no time, he moved them toward the bed. She sat as he stood above her and she boldly licked his neck from the hollow to his ear, which she traced with her finger. He groaned desperately and she tried to lay back but he held her wrists.
"Please, you be on top?" He held his eyes shut as she held his hips.
"I've never...I'll try," she answered. He laid down and she hovered over him, feeling exposed as the cool air tickled her skin. He put her hands on his chest and she didn't breathe as she lowered herself onto him. "Mmm!" She remained still for a few seconds, him panting softly beneath her. She moved her hips to the left, trying to adjust herself, and that movement made them both groan. She rolled her hips sideways again, than front and back, and circular. Over and over. As a sheen of sweat broke out on their skin, she tentatively moved herself up and down, moving faster when he called out her name.
She watched him, he watched her, their faces red and lids heavy. She held his hands and moved forward, he propping her up.
She almost cried.
They sought their last comforts, last freedoms in each other's arms. His life would undoubtedly be worse than hers, and this, she was the last thing he wanted to remember.
"Oh, Kal..." She came again, seconds later, he released himself into her.
She laid on him fully and he absently stroked her hair, she kissed his jaw.
"Thank-you, serah," he said softly. She smiled at the coincidence.
"For what? That certainly wasn't your first time." He chuckled.
"No, but...if I am purchased by a human master, I want to remember your face, your smell, your touch, Hawke." He kissed her forehead. She shivered, it was a bittersweet sentiment. "This way I'll always know that not all humans are bad." A few seconds passed, respecting the moment between them, before Hawke replied,
"It's also nice to know that elves can be this good." He actually seemed charmingly embarrassed. They stayed that way for a long time, pretending. Pretending that they were lovers on a romantic voyage, that their destination was someplace pleasant and warm, as the ship drifted lazily toward their new lives.
