So, I started writing this oneshot a year ago and just got around to finishing it. I can be seen as Hawke/Anders, Hawke/Fenris(if you squint really hard), or platonic, whatever tickles your fancy.
Some in-game dialogue is used within, I don't claim ownership of that.
Otherwise, constructive criticism is welcomed.
Liam Hawke was a cocky bastard.
Rightly so; the mage was in high demand.
Hawke spent days upon days completing menial tasks for the citizens of Kirkwall and even his closest companions had yet to decide whether he did it out of the goodness of his heart or simply for the gold that came with being such a Good Samaritan.
To balance out his admirable behavior during the day, Hawke spent his nights in the Hanged Man drinking and winning card games with his closest acquaintances. Most of his companions were convinced the man was cheating—which he was.
Overall, the man seemed untouchable; nothing bad enough had befallen him to shake his cheery and joking demeanor. He had been strong for his family when his sister passed. He had arrived in Kirkwall to be sold into servitude and laughed about it. His brother had joined the Templars while he was off in the Deep Roads. He had faced the Arishok and joked with him. And still, Hawke smiled, he joked, he helped others.
Suffice to say, Anders was shocked when Hawke had stopped smiling, joking, laughing.
He could not blame him, though.
When Hawke came to Anders asking for help to find his mother with a frantic gleam in his eye, he had thought he had been joking. Hawke was quite the actor after all.
He had of course, agreed—How could he not? Ever since meeting him, Anders(and the rest of Kirkwall, apparently) had had a soft spot for Hawke. So he had tagged along with Hawke, beside Varric and that insufferable Fenris. All three of them could hardly keep up with Hawke, rushing as he was.
The three companions had only gotten a few words out of Hawke on the way to their destination, and none of them could really put it together, "Mother's missing…A bouquet of white lilies…"
Varric had thought that Hawke was overreacting; he had seen Leandra just the day before. She couldn't have been missing. Probably late, he had reasoned.
Fenris didn't appear all too bothered by the situation—or at least he was trying not to. The elf's hands couldn't seem to sit still; they fiddled with the hilt of his sword and the clasps on his armor, trying to maintain the appearance of calm on his face. He'd reasoned that if Hawke was worried, it was probably well worth it. Not that he'd show it.
Anders, for his part, didn't know what to think. Fenris certainly had a point, he'd never seen Hawke so distressed. However, Leandra was only missing for a few hours at this point.
Answers came in the form of a young street urchin. Leandra had been seen with some sort of crazed man. Anders himself felt worry pool in his stomach; He couldn't imagine how Hawke had felt.
The second the urchin yielded the needed information, Hawke was off. They followed a trail of blood supposed to be left by the man who was with Leandra, their trip silent save for Hawke's mutters of "More blood…" and "Where is he taking her…?"
Anders had thought the tense search would be over once they had reached the foundry—That they would open the doors and find Leandra tending to a poor injured man. Or at least he had hoped dearly that that would be what they'd find.
They weren't so lucky, as Fenris barely avoided landing a bare foot in yet another puddle of blood.
They were led to a trap door, and then through several corridors; not a sound coming from Hawke as he picked up the pace.
They finally reached their destination, finding the apparent culprit bent over a high-backed chair with a giddy look upon his face. Hawke stepped forward to announce himself, clenched fists and eyes quite obviously ignoring the chair. In retrospect, Anders believed he had known what he would find if he had strained to see what was sat there.
Few words were exchanged between the apparent blood mage and the resilient young Hawke before the figure who had been seated in the chair rose and turned to them.
What they saw was horrifying. There was Leandra—And Alessa, and Ninette, body parts crudely sewn together and walking with a horribly off-balance gait. Anders resisted the urge to vomit; he could hear Varric was having the same problem. Fenris, for his part looked deeply troubled, his brow furrowed and his eyes moving between Hawke and his mother.
Undead mother aside, the most terrifying thing to happen that day, happened next.
Hawke let out a pained whimper and his eyes were opened wide, a glossy sheen obvious in them. He appeared to be resisting the urge to sob outright.
The sound was alien to Anders. He'd only ever heard the man laugh, joke, and even yell on occasion. However, now that the pathetic sound had passed his lips, Hawke caught and effectively silenced himself. He wiped his face of the desperation it had held only seconds before and promptly began to wipe out the demons that the other mage had summoned. Varric and Fenris, for their part had been too distracted to notice among the sounds of battle, but Anders hadn't missed it. Anders had heard it and his heart broke for Hawke.
During the rest of the battle, Hawke remained silent. He didn't even call to Anders for healing, which he had needed several times. He was being reckless. Perhaps he had just stopped caring?
"Mother!"
Once the last demon fell, Hawke rushed to catch his mother as she wobbled dangerously.
He had regained emotion in his face, however, Anders had never wanted to see this emotion. Not ever. The sadness in Hawke's teary eyes was too much.
"There's nothing I can do, his magic was keeping her alive." Anders was loathe to admit it. He didn't want Hawke to lose the only family he had left, he wished he could do more, but he didn't think he could stand to hear Hawke ask him to save his mother. Because he just might have tried.
"I knew you would come…" Leandra's voice was weak, Hawke's eyes were watering.
"Don't move, Mother. We'll find a way to—"
"Shh…Don't fret, Darling. That man would have kept me trapped here. But now… I'm free."
Hawke frowned a bit at that, but let his mother continue.
"I get to see Bethany again…And your father. But you'll be here alone."
By now Varric had bowed his head and turned away in an attempt to give the mother and son privacy. Fenris had followed suit, but Anders couldn't tear his eyes away. Was there really nothing he could do?
"I love you. You've always made me so proud."
And with that, Leandra was gone.
Anders took a step forward, ready to comfort the man from the imminent breakdown. He, in all honesty, was expecting the man to be overcome with sobs, start yelling, anything. What he got though, was nothing. Hawke's face was blank as he shut his mother's eyes and gently lay the body upon the floor.
That was a week ago.
Anders had decided to let Hawke alone to mourn in peace for a day or two, which had proven to be exactly what Hawke had wanted, since the man hadn't left his estate since. He had even missed his weekly visit to the Hanged Man. Everybody else had assembled regardless, though the gathering had a much more somber tone that night and many of the group had left before an hour had passed. Before much longer, only Fenris, Anders, and Varric remained sat around that table.
The three had sat in silence for what felt like an eternity until Varric cleared his throat, "Blondie, you've gotta go talk to 'im." He said bluntly, though his eyes never left the mug he was halfheartedly drinking from. Anders had been waiting for that. Though he couldn't say he hadn't been hoping Varric would ask Broody to do it instead.
Sure, Hawke was one of Anders' closest friends, but that didn't make the idea of comforting him all that appealing to him. What he had seen that day wasn't Hawke, it was a shell of his former self, without smiles, laughter, or emotion of any kind. How was he supposed to offer comfort, if the man wasn't feeling?
Okay, that was silly. Of course, Hawke was feeling something—He hadn't left his estate in days! But he wasn't expressing them, and that was completely unlike the man. Hawke, generally, was a very happy person, always with a smile on his face, and a joke on the tip of his tongue, though he was prone to fits of anger as well.
Anders sighed and snatched the drink from Varric's hands and chugged down the rest of whatever alcohol he had fancied that night(despite Justice's protests) and said, "Fine." Though it would be uncomfortable for him, he'd need to suck it up for Hawke's sake.
Varric looked taken aback for a moment before letting out a quiet chuckle, "Go get 'im, Blondie." He then turned and waved over the barmaid. Fenris made eye contact with Anders and nodded in acknowledgment. Or permission. Anders didn't put much thought into it, rather he just nodded back and left the Hanged Man to make his way to Hawke's Estate.
It had taken far less time than Anders would have liked, having absolutely no trouble from the hooligans of Kirkwall, unfortunately.
Anders stood in front of Hawke's estate, trying to work up the courage to knock on the ornate, wooden door. Just as Anders let out a long sigh and raised his arm, the door was thrown open and Gamlen Amell stormed out the house, roughly pushing past Anders whilst muttering angrily(sadly?) to himself.
Anders took a moment to calm himself before raising his arm again and knocking on the doorframe. He was answered by that cheerful dwarf that watched over the home—held down the fort, as Hawke had said—and his equally cheerful son.
"Oh hello, Messere!" His cheerfulness now sounded forced. Anders cringed and offered an equally forced, polite smile, "Hello. Is Hawke in?"
The dwarf's face seemed to light just a bit, "Yes, yes. He's up in his room, hasn't left there for days, messere." He paused to stroke his beard several times, "You'll go and have a word with him, yes? I worry about him, up there all by himself. He'll drive himself mad!"
Anders's smile took on a sad quality, "As if he weren't mad already." He said in jest, because what else was there to do? Being equally as depressed as Hawke would only spread the wretched emotion to everybody else; if that hadn't happened already.
Bodahn offered a half-hearted chuckle, "I'll leave you to it, Messere." He said, turning and sifting through mail that had been sent to Hawke, not opening it, but sorting it into several increasingly large piles.
Anders let his eyes linger on the dwarf's back for a moment before turning to the staircase with a frown. He could feel what little resolve he had worked up crumble as he realized just how quiet it was. A fire was crackling in the fireplace, though it didn't seem as welcoming as it had on previous visits to the estate; Not without Hawke's voice filtering through the rooms, laughing or, as Hawke would say 'shooting the shit' with the two dwarves or his faithful mabari hound.
Said hound lifted his head from where it rested upon his front paws as Anders made his way up the stairs, his tired old eyes following him as his short tail made a few hopeful wags. Though Anders preferred cats, he had a soft spot for the hound. "Hey, boy," he greeted quietly, patting the hound on the head briefly before taking a breath and pushing open the bedroom door, a task he could say with confidence, he'd never had to do before as the door was always open when he'd visited the estate in the past.
He hesitated at the door, unsure of how to proceed. Anders took a moment to take in the room. Hawke sat on his bed with his back turned to the door, having not even flinched when he entered, his crumpled housecoat hanging open and revealing the loose undershirt underneath, his hair greasy and unkempt. a far cry from his usually immaculately put together self. Apparently a fire had been lit in the fireplace, but it had long since dwindled to embers.
"I know nothing I say will change it," Anders moved from his place at the door, crossing the room to stand beside the bed, "I'm just," he sighed, "I'm sorry." Hawke didn't look up, but his tense shoulders slumped as he rested his elbows on his knees, gaze still fixed on the dying fire.
"You were lucky to have her as long as you did," he continued, he could swear Hawke's eyes became wetter at that, sending a pang of guilt through Ander's already heavy chest, "When the pain fades," he quickly added, "That's all that will matter." Anders felt a small(emphasis on small) wave of relief wash over him as Hawke's face lifted in an unconvincing smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. At least he's listening, he thought.
What small smile Hawke had fell from his face as he spoke, "I didn't try hard enough to save her…" He took a deep breath in and let his face fall into his hands as he released it, "Maker, I should have seen the signs."
"We all see clearer in hindsight," Anders sighed, taking a seat next to Hawke on the bed, "But it wasn't your fault, you couldn't have known this would happen," He put a hand on Hawke's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze, "She wouldn't want you to blame yourself."
Hawke ducked his shoulder away from Anders, "You don't know my mother," he snapped. Seconds later, he turned to Anders, looking him in the eye, mouth open and ready to form an apology.
Anders beat him to it, not about to let the man apologize for something he didn't mean anyway, "No, and I'm sorry I never will." He resisted the urge to replace his hand on Hawke's shoulder, instead giving him a sad smile, "I'm here for you, whatever you need."
That was all the invitation Hawke needed to shift closer to Anders, eyes wet again as he leaned his head on the blonde's shoulder taking comfort in the soft feathers there, "You're a good man, Anders." He sighed, eyes fixed on the fireplace again, fingers picking at a loose thread on his trousers, "She would have loved you."
Anders didn't say anything to that, just rubbed Hawke's back as he continued to speak, listening intently as Hawke babbled on for almost two hours, telling stories of his mother and talking about how much she would have loved all of their companions if only she had had the chance to meet them. He had started crying in earnest at some point, but didn't acknowledge it, rather he stubbornly continued to speak until he ran out of things to say.
A short while after Hawke had finished speaking, only occasionally sniffling, anders gave his shoulder one last squeeze, "Do you feel any better?" he ventured.
"Not quite," Hawke sighed, a small sad, but genuine smile spread across his face, "but I will. Thanks, Anders."
Anders shook his head, "Don't mention it." He smiled at the now dead fire, "Like I said, whatever you need."
"Anything?" Hawke asked, sounding more like himself than he had since this whole ordeal had started.
Anders didn't hesitate, "Anything." he said in earnest.
Hawke responded by turning his face and wiping his runny nose on Ander's feathered shoulder before standing and fixing his housecoat, seeming to have come back into himself, "Well, I suppose I've wallowed enough, are you hungry?" he asked before briskly walking out of the room.
Anders, though he was glad Hawke was in higher spirits, stared disgustedly at his now snotty shoulder, "Hawke!" he squawked, "That's disgusting!"