Hawke dreamed.
She'd talked about her time in the Fade at night with father a few times, and only once with Bethany. Never with mother, and especially never with Carver.
As a child, she'd built a safe place. She could reach it from anywhere, a testament to the impossible geography of the Fade. It was teeming with objects and things and places she'd seen when she was little - a statue from a chantry, the large tree just outside Lothering, little statues of how she pictured the Grand Cathedral or the ruins in Tevinter. Over time, it gained more things.
But now she realized some things were smaller or simply gone. The portrait of Bethany had grown smaller. She'd hung a wall-sized portrait of father when he died; it was replaced with dwarven wall paintings of the Free Cities.
It seemed that the home itself was not the modest farm, but the high-ceiling estate in Kirkwall. Vials and jars from Anders' clinic sat on a table. Varric's cards. Isabela's blades. The ball of string Merrill used to get around. The dog's favorite blanket lay beside her favorite chair. And outside the windows, the little farm had grown tiny, and Sundermount stood just beyond.
And she sensed them. It had taken her a while to identify which type of demons they were, but the longer she had been in Kirkwall, the stronger they felt, until one day, she realized they were demons of rage and pride and desire. She'd never heard of powerful demons working together to capture a target - but then, she hadn't paid too much attention to her books back in Ferelden. She kept them at bay, always. In a moment of doubt, she'd spot them on the summit of Sundermount, or in her shadow, but she kept them away.
Tonight, things fell from the shelves of their own accord. The portraits crashed from their nails. The walls gained holes. The Lothering tree was leafless. They sensed her doubt as it crushed her and whispered, voices audible over the sounds of shattering glass.
Don't you want to show everyone who you really are?
You ought to teach them not to get in your way.
Don't you want your family back?
They emerged from shadows, crept in through windows. They extended their hands.
Teeth closed around her ankle. She jerked awake, almost falling out of her seat. The dog had his teeth bared and when he saw she was staring at him in frozen terror, he let out a low growl and settled his head in her lap again. His look was reproachful.
Hawke couldn't meet his eyes and instead looked into the fireplace, scratching his ears in appreciation.