Twilight's Dawn
A Dragon Age 2 FanFiction
A (rather longwinded) note from the Author
Before you set out on this story-within-a-story (and continuation thereof) there are a few things that I would like to point out before you begin.
While I am attempting to take great pains to not mention a first name for Hawke, or any physical characteristics in an attempt for the reader to best imprint their own version of the hero in the game, there are certain liberties that I did need to take in order to make the story work.
First off, there is no way that I could possibly work around the fact that the main character is a female. Second, as I have never played through the game as a Mage I have no idea of the characteristics or mannerisms of the younger twin Carver to use in the story, furthermore allowing Bethany to be the surviving sibling allows for a little sway between the main character being either a Rogue, or a Warrior class character. I do not intend to have any long drawn out battle sequences at any point throughout this story so if the issue does arise the characters weapon choice and style will remain semi-fluid between the two styles by allowing the use of dual wielding a longsword and dagger as was available to both classes in the original installment of the series.
Thirdly some game choices had to be made in order for the story to progress and (eventually) reach its natural conclusion. The choices made are as follows:
During Act 1:
All party members were recruited; furthermore, all companion quests were also completed during this act.
Bethany was left at home during the expedition into the deep roads and was therefore taken to the Circle.
The white-lily serial killer quest was taken its first stage completed
The Wayward son quest was completed and Varian was sent to the Dalish camp
The Bone Pit quest was completed and the PC became a partner in the mining franchise
Main character raised 50 sovereigns by herself and DID NOT accept Dougal's offer
The main character is (obviously) romancing Anders
Lastly, all sexual/overly risqué parts of the story have been removed as I wish to keep the rating on this story on rated T. There is an uncensored version of the story that I am hosting on my own website that you are free to read should you so choose.
That being said I hope you enjoy the story. I'm trying my best for everything to remain as canonical as entirely possible, which leads to a great deal of cross referencing on the Dragon Age Wikia, as well as double checking my strategy guide to make sure everything is error free. If there are any logic/story related errors, I do humbly request that you call me out on them so that they can be amended.
I hope you enjoy the story in its entirety, and again, if something seems wrong please inform me of it.
Sincerely,
Katherine
Chapter One
The storm was not far off on the horizon now, dark clouds rolled ever closer to the shore as the sky groaned louder in its desire to reach the shores of the wounded coast. Wind whipped at Hawke's tunic as sea spray shot above the rocky outcrop in a wave of foam and debris.
"Let's get the last of these rods in the ground." Hawke called over her shoulder. "Then we will take refuge in the caves and gather more reagents. After the storm thunders past we will load up the wagons and head out."
Avaline shook her head with a the smallest of smiles playing on her lips as she re-affixed one of the metal rods that one of the workers had planted into the sandy beach before making her way to Hawke.
"Seems a waste to only make glass when a storm comes through, explain to me again why you don't get some of your mage friends to hit these rods with a few lightning bolts?"
"Magical effects remain in the glass." she replied absently. "The last thing we need is the Templars asking around the market why raw glass is being shipped out with a glowing blue glaze already cast around it. Besides," Hawke hitched a thumb over her shoulder to the group of men setting up the last of the rods. "Gives a few men who would otherwise have to resort to thievery an honest day's work."
'And the interesting texture of the glass grants a fairly hefty financial return.' she thought to herself. Varric had been most helpful in her efforts of obtaining exclusive rights to 'Kirkwall Coast Glass' an enterprise which had originally been thought of as both foolish and a complete waste of coin. Then again, most businesses didn't have a close friend who had the ear of half the merchant and smith caste of Orzammar wrapped around his finger. That little detail-and the fact that the glass was unique only to Kirkwall-was what made the glass so rare and expensive.
The proceeds had gone to keep her family established, create jobs for those who were otherwise without them, and open a few political doors which would otherwise have been closed to her without enough coin to 'grease the wheels'... among other private projects.
"Looks like the last of the rods are in, I'll signal the men to push the carts inside and start hunting for deep mushrooms and elfroot throughout the caves. Do you still have those maps?" Hawke smiled and patted her side pack.
"The storm will blow past us in a few hours, tell the men they have free run of whatever other loot they find in the caves, but make sure they remember not to forge deeper into the tunnel system until an area has been cleared of anything that might cause them harm." Avaline rolled her eyes.
"As if I would allow anything else." Hawke gave her a friendly slap on the shoulder.
"And that is why I wouldn't trust anyone else with their safety, and why I send a fair portion of the refined poultices to the city guard as an extra thank you for their assistance in this venture."
"With your regular tours of both Darktown and Lowtown at night, I feel that half the city guard would happy assist you in whatever chores in the area you feel you need assistance with. I've actually started getting complaints about there not being enough action on patrols lately."
"I certainly have no idea what you are implying Avaline." Hawke shot her companion a sideways grin, "While it is certainly true I sometimes venture into the seedier parts of town to pick up certain items, vigilante work is not strictly speaking... legal."
"I would never imply you were doing anything illegal, but I think we both are aware that your increasing ventures into Darktown have absolutely nothing to do with picking up packages. But I suppose when you choose to visit your friends is your own business." Avaline turned and left before Hawke could stutter out a reply, leaving her alone to school the crimson from her face before rejoining the others inside of the caves.
~ 2 ~
To have called the unloading in the warehouse chaos would have been more than kind. While some of the Ferelden refugees had experience working dockside, the majority of her hired men were oblivious as to how the materials that had been gathered were to be stored, while other workers were more intent on making sure that their share of the perishable goods never left their line of sight.
The process had gotten easier over the course of the previous year at least. Hawke had developed a reputation of being more than fair in her dealings with her workers, and after the last of the glass had been stored behind locked doors, and the rest of the goods were checked for quality and then divided up amongst the men, she felt confident that the few crates she ordered delivered directly to her estate would find their way safely home to be stored in her cellar, ready for whomever needed them.
Confident that her man of business would handle the rest, Hawke signed her name on the shipping manifest and pressed her signet ring into the wax, confirming that 20 cases of Kirkwall glass would be leaving for Ferelden in two days time and would from Denerim make the long journey west to the city of Orzammar where they would be shaped and sold for outrageous prices.
"I swear, I've never seen someone so appallingly blessed by the Maker as yourself. One might be inclined to believe the heavens themselves bend before your will."
"Varric." Hawke greeted the dwarf with unrestrained affection. "Isn't it interesting how you always know where I am?" She leaned down and offered the rogue merchant an awkward hug. "If you continue in your pursuit, I will be forced to believe you harbor tender feelings for me."
"I'm afraid you are simply going to have to cry your tears elsewhere Hawke, you know Bianca would never allow me to share myself with another woman." She held a hand to her chest and gasped, bringing the other to cover her eyes.
"Oh but dear Varric, you promised our love would span the seasons! Be still my wounded heart, for I have surely been stricken a blow of death! Save me from my pain oh sweetest of poisons!" Varric couldn't help but laugh as she brought her hands to her throat and proceeded to make gurgling noises.
"If you are done with your horrible acting, perhaps you could help me out with a little problem." The dwarf motioned for her to follow him as he headed in the direction of Lowtown. "Blondie has been sulking all afternoon." Hawke raised an eyebrow at the news.
"Sulking? Why would he be sulking? Oh, maker! Please don't tell me that he and Fenris got into another row with one another. I am in no mood to go play 'patch up the hurt feelings' at the moment."
"Nothing so extreme I assure you. I think he is feeling a little put off that you didn't invite him on your little trip to the coast." He held up a hand to cut off Hawke's protest, "He's been at The Hanged Man most of the afternoon grouching at me and glaring into an empty tankard. I'm assuming that as of late he hasn't been having as many patients to keep him occupied, and the man has more energy than a box of nugs on the best of days." Varric shrugged and added on a lower note, "He kept growling that mages should be able to wander around as they please, and if the City Guard couldn't accept that a mage was there to protect and heal them should something occur, then the whole lot deserved to be bitten on the ass by a venomous spider." Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose and furrowed her brows.
"I'll speak to him, and figure out a way to get him home safely, or to the estate without being noticed if it should come to that. Is there anything else I should be aware of?" Her tone of voice made the remark into more of a plea that there wasn't anything else to add.
"Merrill stopped by the estate, poor girl forgot you were going to the coast today. She had a nice chat with your mother though; I made sure she got back to the Alienage safely; however," Varric shot her a small smile. "Your mother was kind enough to attempt to teach Merrill how to cook." For a moment Hawke thought she would faint.
"Dear maker, I'm not going to have to replace the kitchen am I?" she said weakly.
"No. Just a few pots and pans, apparently Merrill decided the water was taking much too long to boil and 'just wanted to help', your mother said she understood and didn't make a fuss, but then-" Hawke held up her hand.
"Too much for one day, I beg you, no more." Varric smiled up at her and shook his head.
"It's your own fault for making such an eclectic group of friends. Personally I feel you should just be happy that both Isabella and Fenris kept a relatively low profile. Isabelle showed up right before I left the tavern, she promised to keep an eye on Blondie for me while I was gone, and Fenris hasn't shown up at all."
"Thank the maker for small favors." Hawke grumbled as they walked down the steps toward the open air market. "Varric… was Anders really that upset…" but she couldn't continue and let the words die as the dwarf gave her a knowing smile and pushed her in the direction of the tavern.
"For all her intelligence and ability." The dwarf mumbled to himself "That girl can have some very obvious blind spots at times. Then again, Blondie is the only one who seems to be remotely aware of his feelings, and damned if I know if that is for better or worse." Rolling his shoulders Varric went back about his business.
~ 3 ~
"Would you stop sulking and play with me already?" The pirate leaned over the table and poked the mage on the nose. "It's so boring when all you do is pout. You aren't even getting irate over my taunts and teasing. You are absolutely no fun." Anders peered at the woman over his mug.
"I'm not sulking, and you smell like a brewery." The pirate huffed and slapped a hand against the table.
"So you didn't get to go to the coast, why would you want to go anyway? It was positively storming out there for the better part of the afternoon, and the trek back through the mud UGH!" she threw her arms up in the air in exasperation. "You could get your foot caught in the mud, sprain your ankle, and then what good would you be to all the beggars in Darktown?" When all the mage did was look back down at his mug Isabella let out an agitated sigh before giving the young man a sly look and maneuvered herself by his side on the bench.
"Maybe you just need to take your mind off of things for a bit." She said slyly, draping an arm over his shoulder and pressing her right thigh against his left. "I would be more than happy to distract you for an hour…" she leaned close to him for a second to whisper into his ear coyly. "Or three, or even longer if you prefer." Anders was about to attempt a particularly pithy reply when a familiar voice spoke up behind him.
"I'm not interrupting am I? I would hate to disturb such an intimate moment." Anders jumped involuntarily, almost knocking Isabella backward off the bench. The pirate would have laughed at the mage's obvious discomfort if she hadn't felt slightly pissed about being nearly knocked to the ground.
"Hawke! Your back!" called Isabella gaily as the mage schooled his expression and gave the object of his uneasiness a measuring glance.
"You weren't hurt were you?" he began cautiously, "I'm well aware of the Qunari bands that travel the coast and of the spiders that live in the caves… I was worried." Hawke simply rolled her eyes and grinned.
"I'm absolutely fine, you will remember that we had the city guard patrol with us, and Avaline was also present. Besides, the Qunari that camp along the coast are far more interested in hunting game than attacking travelers, and the rogue bands retreated further up into the hills during the colder weather to be more sheltered from the sea wind." Her face contorted suddenly and she sniffed the air. "Are you drunk?"
"Might as well be." Piped up the pirate. "He has been drinking rather steadily since this afternoon. I've never seen him drink that much before." She reached up to poke Anders in the back, causing him to take a half step forward. "Look-it him. He can't even keep his balance."
"I am not drunk." Snarled the mage who looked at Hawke almost guiltily. "I'm fine. I just wanted to make sure you returned safely. Now that I know you have…" he moved to walk past, but at that exact moment a boot hooked his ankle and he began to tumble forward slightly. Hawke managed to prop him up with her shoulder before wrapping an arm around his waist.
"Be that as it may, I would feel personally responsible if you somehow managed to forget where you live and end up on the wrong side of Darktown," a small smile spread across Hawke's face. "If there was a right side of it to begin with. Come on old son, before you head back to your delightful clinic, I think it would be best if you took a hot bath, you really do smell awful." She swung him around to her right side and re-wrapped her arm around his waist. "Now throw your arm over my shoulder or I'll scold you well enough to put even the oldest Revered Mother to shame." Ignoring the mages grumbles Hawke waved a small goodbye to Isabella as she gently tugged her charge out of the tavern and in the direction of Hightown.
At least he didn't bring that thrice damned staff with him today. She thought to herself with a hint of amusement. On a normal day she didn't think twice about running into Templars, but on a normal day she had another person standing beside her who was capable of fighting or looking intimidating… or both.
"I can walk just fine you know." Anders finally said with a hint of stubbornness. Hawke's response was simply tightening her arm around his waist.
"Maybe you can walk just fine, but you obviously can't feed yourself." During their short walk, Hawke had become uncomfortably aware of how narrow his hips were. She had always known that he had been lean, but she had never realized how bulky his clothes must actually be, if anything he was rail thin.
"Comes from living a life devoted to charity I'm afraid. I don't exactly have coin to spare on extra food."
"I seem to remember extending the same offer to you that I extended to Merrill, 'You are always welcome to share my home and my table' or did you just happen to tune me out at that particular moment? I seem to recall there being an entrance to my estate right outside your clinic door, you find it easy enough when you need potion ingredients. Speaking of which." Hawke placed a well aimed kick against the estate door, only to have Bodahn almost immediately pull it open.
"Welcome home my lady," the dwarf's eyes immediately lit up, "and Serah Anders! I'll see that an extra place is set at the table for dinner."
"Enchantment!" Came a welcoming call from the ante-chamber.
"Enchantment indeed." Glowed Hawke at the young dwarf. "Could you also see to some extra bathwater? Anders will be requiring the larger of the two washrooms, I'll take the smaller one." Sandal clapped his hands together and made his way to the back of the estate.
"I do not need-" the mage began.
"Anders!" Leandra said warmly as she hurried down the stairs. "We weren't expecting you, are you staying for dinner?" Before the mage could muster a sufficient protest the woman had grabbed his arm and led him into the dining room, coaxing him into a warm bowl of soup as she barraged him with a series of questions regarding his well being.
Content that Anders wasn't going anywhere anytime soon Hawke hurried up the stairs to change out of her traveling gear and into some less muddy attire. After Bethany's removal to the circle and the move into the Amell estate, Leandra had decided it was her duty to look after Hawke's companions and make sure everyone was always fed, and absolutely nobody had the heart to deny the woman's affection, Leandra had even managed to coax Isabelle into a sweater on one occasion stating that "You poor dear, you will catch your death of a chill in such an outfit!"
Hawke snorted at the memory before making her way back down the staircase and to her worktable, leafing through the few notes that had arrived during her short absence. Nothing appears to be in dire straits as of today at least. She thought to herself mirthlessly. It seemed like the only gossip thrumming through the streets these days were in direct relation to the stranded Qunari, and while Hawke was eager to get as much political power behind herself as possible, she had no real desire to be the driving force behind a mass ousting of the Arishok and or his people.
Truth be told as long as they continued to spend sovereigns in the city she didn't have a problem with them at all.
Hawke was just finishing scratching a few notes into the margin of one of the missives when Anders finally made his way out of the dining room-Leandra still on his heels.
"Really dear you must have a hot bath and let us launder your clothes for you." The middle-aged woman twitted over the mage. "I already feel awful enough, eventually allowing you to go back to that clinic of yours in Darktown to sleep, honestly." She sighed and picked at the lint stuck in Ander's feathered pauldrons. "We have enough rooms here to house all of Hawke's friends; I don't see why you all would rather live in a tavern or even the Alienage for that matter."
"While I would very much love living in this estate with you my dear lady," began Anders as he picked up Leandra's hand and gave her knuckles a quick kiss. "My being in residence here would cause you nothing but trouble I assure you. At this time I am content to remain at my clinic in Darktown, trust me my dear when I say that there are plenty of thankful patrons who make sure I am fed regularly." The mage lied smoothly, "The last thing the underbelly of Kirkwall desires is for me to waste away of malnutrition."
It's really not fair to when he uses that smile. Hawke thought to herself as she saw a slight blush creep up her mother's cheeks and shook her head.
"Anders will stay in the guestroom tonight." Hawke finally intervened, lest her mother faint in a fit of woo-ing hysterics. "After he has a long hot soak in the washroom. Sandal has already heated the water for both of our baths." She grabbed his hand and started leading him down the hallway. "I'll make sure he gets put to bed Mother."
"Oh." Leandra said breathlessly, "Oh of course, goodnight dears!" she called after them-still fanning the heat from her cheeks as they ducked away into the washroom.
"You do realize she will only get more insistent as time goes on." Hawke informed the flaxen haired mage as they walked into the stone room. "She has a soft spot for you; sometimes I think you remind her of my father." As she moved to untie the straps of her soft kid house shoes she noticed that Anders hadn't moved. "I'm not saying she wants to take physical advantage of you Anders, what is wrong with you today?" She wagged one of her slippers at him.
"Nothing really… it's just." He looked behind himself at the washtub that was sitting in the middle of a large stone cubby and wrung his fingers slightly.
"Oh." Hawke rolled her eyes. "That's where I'm bathing, I'm tossing you into the bigger bath." She stood and flung back a curtain and pointed to a stone tub. "The water is better heated here, and the tub is big enough for you to soak in for awhile. I'm taking the smaller one with the hip bath." When Anders didn't look any less nervous she finally snapped. "For mercy's sake Anders, I am well aware you are not some innocent virgin, and I promise I won't peek in on you."
With a disgusted snort she stomped into the smaller cubby and jerked the privacy curtain closed behind her. Leaving Anders to his own thoughts and hygiene.
~ 4 ~
It was a nice washroom, and he hadn't exactly had warm water to bathe in since he left Vigil's Keep four years ago, so instead of looking a gift horse in the mouth, the mage removed his robes and slid into the warm water and began to wash the grime and grit that had accumulated on his skin.
If there was one thing that he did not entirely mind about the tower (and oh how it burned him to even think it), he never had to worry about being able to take a hot bath or having clean clothes, if the mages were going to be prisoners they were at least well looked-after prisoners.
A little too well looked after. He thought with a growl and slapped a washcloth into the water, feeling a dark cloud welling in the back of his mind. Watching, always watching, waiting for a single misstep, a single reason to bring all their might down upon an innocent who had done nothing to deserve a punishment other than be born what they were.
Stop it. STOP IT! Anders pressed his hands to either side of his head, covering his ears and attempting to force down the train of thought. Luckily enough he succeeded, the dark thoughts receding into the back of his mind, but he could always feel them there… lurking, waiting for a break in his resolve so that they could come rushing forward and overtake him, letting Vengeance exact his very special brand of justice upon the world.
He reached back behind his head and tugged the leather thong that restrained his hair loose and proceeded to scrub himself completely clean. If he was going to be blindsided into staying at the estate, he was not going to be responsible for ruining a nice set of linens.
Thank Andraste for small cantrips that keep lice at bay. He thought to himself as he finished his scrubbing and crawled his way out of the tub. Once those little buggers set in, you practically have to burn your skull with a fireball to remove them completely.
When he noticed that his actual clothes had been replaced by a long soft house robe he actually felt a little insulted. They don't have to keep my clothes hostage. He thought to himself irritably tying the silk belt around his middle and frowning at himself.
Hard to remember to eat when a spirit is sustaining your body past the breaking point. He really hadn't noticed that he had lost so much weight. His muscles had dwindled to far past lean, his arms, once-"thicker than his head" the Warden Commander had once jested-had become almost spindly. He couldn't remember the last time he was this thin since he had first hit puberty and couldn't scarf down food fast enough to catch up with his growing height.
Sighing, and suddenly feeling much older than he had any right to, he rubbed his hands over his face and began to make his way to the guest bedroom when a movement from the second washroom caught his eye. Before he even realized he had moved to the edge of the curtain his breath hitched in his throat and he couldn't help but stare.
He couldn't see anything that he hadn't seen before, she was submerged in the hip-bath and the soap filled water obscured the body that lay tauntingly beneath, but it was what she was doing that captivated his attention.
It was a simple thing really; Hawke was merely raising an arm up out of the water and scrubbing away grime and mud with a small pumice stone before lightly brushing a washcloth over the smooth surface of her skin. But only she could make it appear as though it were a part of some grand and elegant ritual.
It was all he could do to tear his eyes away. She looked almost sacred in that small hip bath, humming a soft tune to herself as she made a such simple act appear to be something both artistic and beautifully female.
Hawke had an uncanny ability for such things, and he was more than aware that he was not the only person who noticed her. Her very presence had an eerie ability to not only intimidate, but to also put those who were troubled in a state of peace. It was what made her so skilled at diplomacy-well, that and her quick-witted tongue-she could silence even the steeliest Templar with a single glare, or gently coax an unruly child into drinking the foulest smelling tonic by mumbling reassuring nothings.
But she was more than just clever, she was beautiful, she was dangerous.
And Maker help him, he was in love with her.
He tried his hardest to resist the way she pulled at him. He had even tried to distance himself from her by instigating an argument over something trivial until she-in a fit of rage or disgust-finally stormed out of the clinic and refused to speak with him for over a week, but he eventually found himself back at the estate, apologies pouring from his lips like a treacherous poison, begging her to forgive him, which she did with a chuckle and a hug that sparked a warmth that spread further than his cheeks.
He could feel Justice's resentment building in the back of his mind, that other self rising up to tell him that this was not right. He had made his choice to become an abomination, and to attach himself to this young innocent would be nothing short of evil.
He wasn't… good. At least not anymore.
He knew on some level that she felt something for him as well (she had eluded to as much in conversation on more than one occasion), and in the hope that the Maker would listen to the prayers of an abomination he had sworn all manner of penances if he would turn his gaze upon the misguided young woman and sway her heart elsewhere. As much as he hated the former slave, he would have gladly held a celebration if Hawke had decided to return Fenris' advances, if only in joy of her being safely beyond his reach.
He had done everything he could to deter her, made every attempt he could to force her to turn away from him. He was terrified to even have her think of him as a friend. He had ranted and explained that even barring the fact that he was an abomination; she could never be at peace with him in her life. She was finally able to build something for herself here in Kirkwall, could she so easily brush her mother's well being aside?
"It is not a life that I am entirely unfamiliar with. Do not forget ser mage, that my father was also an apostate during his entire presence throughout my life. If that is the card you wish to play with me, I'm afraid you will find that my personal experience has dealt me naught but trumps."
That point having failed him he had returned to his main point and raved about the fact that he was currently possessed by a spirit who had been corrupted by the very own hatred that he had borne inside of his own heart. She had seen him unleash that primal fury that fateful night at the Chantry. How could she justify willingly putting herself at risk with him when he was so appallingly volatile?
"I didn't see an abomination that night. I saw a man who was pushed beyond grief, beyond reason. Were it Bethany who turned around and faced me with her forehead stamped with that accursed sun, I assume that my very own flesh would have split open in an effort to release my rage."
Such was her way. No matter what argument he placed at her feet she had this annoyingly brilliant ability to sidestep the actual question and quietly mount a counter attack in her own defense. Her ability to formulate a coherent reason past the depth of her own unreason had grudgingly earned her Justice's own special blend of respect and loathing.
That little fact scared him most of all.
She had no sense of self preservation, no… sense, and every day that she remained in his life he felt his resolve slowly crumble. Every laugh, every hug, every soft brush of her fingers against his hand, they all stroked a fire in him that he had thought had long since been stamped out.
He wanted to touch her, taste her, and entwine himself with her so tightly that one entity could not be distinguished from another. He wanted…
To get out of this hallway very quickly.
He had been standing in his reverie for such an extended period of time that he had forgotten that Hawke would eventually finish her bath. Closing his eyes and walking out the washroom door he made his way to the guest bedroom and slid underneath the covers.
Sleep did not find him very easily; however, his mind kept wandering back to that single slim arm rising out of the bathwater, droplets of water falling from her fingertips and causing ripples in the bathwater, and ten little words swam through his head, chipping away at his heart and mind.
Ten little words that kept him from sleep, words which kept him breathing, hoping, fearing. Words that tortured and tore at his soul.
"My life is my own Anders, as are my decisions."
