Garrett Hawke/Anders yay

Default Male Mage!Hawke is such a badass in that trailer video god damn I have to watch it every time I put the game in. And the battle with the Arishok in the game was horribly disappointing because I had to run around waiting to hit him when he rushed me. So I took my favorite parts from the trailer and the game and made an epic battle out of them :D I hope you agree, yes. Some of the Arishok's attacks really hurt ow.

And for the record, I don't hate Fenris. Anders does :D I do kind of hate Isabela though. I TRIED to help, and ughhhhh what a bitch. I need more friend points next timeee okay I'm done.

Hawke was going to fight the Arishok. By himself. He challenged the bloody qunari leader to a fight to the death. Anders was not happy. That idiot Fenris shouldn't have said anything-! Said elf probably just did it to make Hawke take the whole fight upon himself. Selfish bastard…

"This is exactly why I tried to teach you to heal." Anders clenched his jaw as Garrett smirked back at him. That infuriating smirk—couldn't the man tell he was serious? He would surely die without help!

Apparently not, as he kept at it. "Come on, I've fought worse. Ogres, remember?"

"Those things aren't intelligent, Garrett. The Arishok, he's a warrior. He'll tear you apart…" Anders forced himself to look stern, instead of betraying the complete terror inside him. That wouldn't make for a strong argument.

"Anders, they'll tear us all apart if I don't do this. It's better do just settle this one-on-one instead of putting everyone in danger. You know that." Was that sincerity? Not a hint of sarcasm? Unheard of.

Anders stayed silent, his eyes boring into Garrett's skull. How could he argue with that? Not that it ever mattered—Hawke did what Hawke wanted, no matter how bloody terrifying or dangerous. Everything was his problem… even saving an entire city.

Garrett put a hand on his fellow mage's shoulder in reassurance. "I'll be fine, trust me."

"Not without me to heal you. You always get yourself hurt." Anders frowned, deeply.

Garrett smiled sheepishly. "I guess I'll have to be more careful, won't I?"

Anders frowned as Garrett pulled away. He'd give anything to take his place, but he wasn't the fighter. He was a healer, and he just happened to know how to set fools on fire. He himself would be torn apart by the Arishok. If anyone could win this battle, it was Garrett Hawke.

It didn't mean he should, though. Anders fumed in frustration at the… at the injustice of it all. None of this should have happened, and now Hawke was going to pay for it all-! It was all he could do to contain himself while Garrett readied himself for battle. The world around him muffled as his thoughts dominated his consciousness.

He felt a hand on his arm, wrenching him back to reality. He looked down at the dwarf next to him, a concerned look staring back at him. "Stay with us, Blondie. Hawke needs you right now."

Anders didn't feel his terror show through, but it probably didn't matter. Varric could see through anyone, especially him. He watched helplessly as the person he cared for the most went off to fight what could very possibly be his last fight.

Hawke might have looked the picture of calm, but his mind was racing. The Arishok had two weapons. Two! And they were giant! It was like he was a rogue on bloody steroids or something. Getting hit with those would hurt. A lot.

Maker, if he didn't calm down, he really was going to die. He didn't deny that it was a great possibility… but he still had a chance. He just had to concentrate. Focus. Stop making stupid jokes for once. That would be difficult. He took a deep breath and stepped out onto the floor where the qunari commander was waiting, rather impatiently. Couldn't he wait just a little longer to die? Of course qunari were proud, and confident in their ways, but you'd think they would be in less of a hurry to fight to the death. Or maybe he was just sure he would win. That was a reassuring thought, Hawke. Shut up.

He took a deep breath, and drew his staff as he came to a stop in front of his enemy. Sure, Isabela's little stunt had pretty much caused all of this to happen, but the Arishok was the one who ordered the slaughterfest. He would have to be punished. And for that to happen, Hawke couldn't die. It was that simple.

He set his jaw, tensed, and charged.

He had no idea what the qunari's strategy was, but he himself was on offense. He wailed on the Arishok relentlessly and didn't give him a chance to attack, forcing him backward. But the qunari's blocking made sure none of the hits actually connected. None of this was working—so he got up close and attacked again, only to have it forced back at him. The Arishok was about to go on the offensive.

So he flipped his staff around just in time to glance the sword away, and gave the qunari a brutal hit to the face with the back of his staff.

The commander grunted, stumbling to the side. Hawke stepped backward and reset his stance. He watched as the qunari spit blood from his wound, and then charged. Hawke quickly dodged a cut to the middle, and when the qunari brought the weapon around to trip him (or perhaps cut him from the knees down), he expertly knocked the giant axe from the commander's grasp. He stabbed his blade at the Arishok and nicked his side, then dodged another swing of the qunari's sword. And with a growl he rushed forward, going in for the kill.

The Arishok stepped back, and kept going. Hawke kept up his pursuit, forcing the Arishok backward further ad further, until he leaped into the air to land a Mighty Blow. The qunari stepped to the side just quickly enough for Hawke's blade to slam into the floor, sending pieces of stone tiles flying. Hawke swung his blade around again, attempting to remove the qunari's head, but he only managed to slice a few locks of the Arishok's hair. He leaned in and swung again, but didn't expect the commander to reach out with a hand and grab him by the throat.

The Arishok's grip was unreal. If he were any weaker, the force of the Arishok pushing him backward might have broken his neck. He stumbled backward, dropping his staff, and grabbed the Arishok's wrist for support. He winced as he received a nasty headbutt to the forehead, but quickly recovered. Then he reached out himself, and burned the hell out of the qunari's face, above his right eye.

The Arishok roared in pain and released Hawke, allowing him to gasp for air and scramble for his staff. He grabbed it off the floor, set his footing, and decided it was time for some magic. He sent a huge fire wave at the Arishok, who easily blocked it with his sword, then reached for his axe.

Well. That didn't work so well. Were qunari immune to all but superheated metal gauntlets? While Hawke hesitated, the Arishok sent a huge shockwave at him, knocking him backward a little. And before he knew what was happening, the Arishok was right in front of him, swinging both of his weapons at the same time. He managed to dodge the first strike and the sword from the next, but the axe left a deep gash in his abdomen. He stumbled backward, falling to one knee.

Anders gasped quietly and clenched his fists. Hawke's organs didn't seem to be falling out, but it was still deep. Bleeding a lot, too much. He would have difficulty standing. Though he relaxed slightly when the Arishok didn't attack again right away.

Hawke must have felt the same way, and he took full advantage of the pause. He snapped his staff around and shot a lightning bolt at his opponent, who barely sidestepped in time for the bolt to explode against a pillar. The Arishok turned back and glared, hefting his weapons again. Hawke pulled himself to his feet, holding his abdomen, and jerked his head up just in time to block a downward two-handed strike—albeit poorly. His staff was knocked from his grasp, and as his mind fought to process what made said staff fall as he received a brutal sword hilt to the face.

Hawke stumbled and fell onto his back, and forced his brain to wake the blighted hell up and process the giant sword coming at his face. He rolled out of the way and stumbled to his feet, grabbing his staff at the same time. That was way too close. Wake up, Hawke, or you'll lose your head-!

The Arishok roared, and swung his sword to try and cut the mage in half, missing by inches. Hawke stumbled again, and kicked off of one foot to dodge another strike. He tried not to think about how much blood he was losing as he hefted his staff, and blew another fireball at the qunari. The Arishok blew it away again, not phased in the slightest. Apparently qunari were immune to the elements… which was unfortunate because Hawke's specialty was elemental. He backed up as the qunari attacked again, aiming to separate his head from his body, and he ducked just in time to avoid the attack, and counter with a stab to the abdomen. The Arishok dodged enough to avoid the brunt of the stab, and kicked the smaller man away. Hawke flew backward and rolled to his feet unsteadily, and narrowly missed losing his head again, but received a deep gash in his leg instead. He hissed and limped backward as the Arishok lifted his weapons once again. He would never be able to move fast enough.

Good thing he was a mage. He raised the strongest ward possible. It would have to be enough.

Luckily for him, the Arishok's blades crashed against the force field, and the qunari staggered back from the recoil. It gave Hawke just enough time to find his footing again, and ignore the pain in his leg before attacking again.

He couldn't fall, not here. He had too much to lose. Everyone had so much to lose. If he died here, the world would lose a lot more than just one Garrett Hawke. It would be complete and utter destruction. He had to win. He gathered all of his strength and willpower and laid into his opponent, relentlessly. He simply gave to opportunity for the Arishok to counter. He ignored the burning in his muscles and his growing exhaustion, but it was taking its toll. He clenched his teeth when he realized that every single hit was being blocked, and the Arishok was in no way expending his stamina.

He was seriously going to die if he didn't do something fatal, fast.

Before he could figure out what exactly he could do that would be fatal, the Arishok kicked him again, knocking the air out of his lungs. He stumbled, gasping, and staggered backwards. By the time he found his footing again, the Arishok was charging at him, with the intent on running him through.

He dodged. It was all he could do.

By some stroke of luck, he was quick enough for the huge beast to run right past him, the air rushing past him and raising the hair on his arms from sheer proximity. He rolled to his feet, spun around, and stabbed the Arishok in the back with his blade.

The Arishok roared. The blade was deep, certain to do some damage. Hawke yanked the blade out and allowed himself a smirk in relief. If he could hurt the qunari just as he himself had been injured, he just might have a chance!

Then he felt a giant blade run through his abdomen. The Arishok had stabbed backward to catch him off guard. Shit.

"NO!" Anders clamped a hand over his mouth. Garrett was going to die. He was seriously going to die for no blighted reason because the rest of them didn't want to fight. He gripped his staff, and held it in front of him, readying a healing spell.

A strong hand grabbed his wrist. "Blondie, no!" The dwarf hissed under his breath. "You heal him and they all attack!"

"And what do I care? We're all dead if he dies anyway!" He tried to control his volume as the dwarf was doing, but all he wanted to do was scream. He had to do something, right now, and no stupid dwarf was going to get in his way—

"You really want to die that badly, Anders? Because that's exactly what's going to happen if you interfere. We will all die." He gripped Anders' wrist tighter, as if to get through to him more. "We don't know what's going to happen after, so stay out of it!"

The fact that Justice didn't approve of his feelings is probably what stopped him. If Justice had approved of Anders' relationship, he probably would have taken over immediately, gone on a bloody rampage, and gotten them all killed. But he was silent, and all Anders could feel was a lump forming in his throat. He was completely helpless.

Hawke fumbled and dropped his staff, stunned by the sudden turn of events. He had been so sure that he could win, and then this. This was a dealbreaker. He was dead. The last time this kind of thing happened, Anders was there, and he was back up and running in five minutes. But not this time. Had he finally failed?

He only hoped the Arishok would be merciful. And maybe take Isabela's head in exchange for the freedom of Thedas. Seemed like a fair trade, to him.

Then he cried out in pain because the dear Arishok thought it would be fun to do more than stab him through the gut. The qunari had turned around, seething with pain and anger, and grabbed the hilt with both hands. Then he lifted Hawke into the air, and threw him across the room.

All Anders could do was gasp into his hand as he watched Hawke roll to a stop, motionless, his blood saturating the soft carpet of Viscount's Keep.

He whimpered, softly. It would be so easy. All he had to do was cast a simple spell, and Hawke would get up again, ready to fight. And Anders would be right by his side. He wouldn't have to watch this nightmare happen. But Varric still had his blighted hand on his wrist, reminding him that Hawke would seriously be angry if he interfered. The stupid, stubborn bastard was getting himself killed. And Anders couldn't fucking do anything.

The Arishok grunted. He was still standing. It wasn't fair how strong this guy was. He had literally thrown their last hope of survival across the room like a ragdoll. And Hawke still wasn't moving. The Arishok took one last, long look at his fallen opponent, then gave an angry roar. It was one of dominance, meant to further intimidate his new subjects. It wasn't necessary. Every human in the room would submit even without the victory roar.

"Come on, Hawke. Get up…"

Even at this point, Varric's faith didn't falter. It was futile. They'd lost. Anders tried to tell himself that it was a bad dream, that he had not just lost the one thing he could not live without. He hadn't just lost the one person who understood him, who accepted him without question. But the sobs of the people around him made it impossible, and he felt himself about to join them. He tried to maybe numb himself, to cut all emotional ties he had with the dying man in front of him before he snapped. It wasn't working well. His insides clenched, the lump in his throat growing. It was different than the anger and despair he felt when he saw oppression. That was pure hatred surging out in an explosion of violence. This… All he wanted to do was scream.

He was so focused on not screaming that he barely noticed Hawke's shifting body.

He was moving. He was trying to push himself up off the floor. He was moving. He heard Varric's surprised chuckle and resisted the urge to slug him. It wasn't fair that he could be so sure, have so much faith. Anders had given up already, and now it was too painful to have hope again. Why didn't Hawke just hurry up and make up his mind so the nightmare could end-!?

The Arishok looked just about as amused as Anders. He growled, still in a lot of pain, and feeling himself growing slightly weaker. This one was annoyingly stubborn. He should save himself and his people further embarrassment by submitting himself to defeat while he still had some dignity. Fighting for this pitiful species was bad enough, but the mage was giving himself up for them as well. These people were not, and would never be, worthy of their champion. It was infuriating.

"It is finished! Lie down and sleep. These people do not deserve your pain."

Hawke coughed painfully, holding his abdomen as he pushed himself up onto one knee. He couldn't stand. Terrible fighting stance, Garrett. Now what? He spit blood from his mouth, but couldn't think of a reply. He simply looked at his opponent, and ignored how much ridiculous pain he was in. He just wanted to lie down and sleep. But he couldn't. Not while he could still lift a hand. His staff lay too far away to reach. No matter. This would have to be the last attack, anyway. No melee attack was ever going to take this guy down. He would have to put all of his strength in this last spell. If it didn't work, then… well, he had done what he could. Everything. This was everything.

And if it did work, then he had better get some serious recognition after this. Maybe a title, or something. That would be nice.

The Arishok clenched his teeth and growled. "You will all submit to the Qun!" And he charged.

Hawke raised a hand and gritted his teeth. He focused on grabbing the qunari by the arms, then thrust his hand at his enemy.

A portal opened, and a dark, arcane hand grabbed the qunari by the shoulder. The Arishok was pulled to an abrupt stop, eliciting a roar of pain. Hawke quickly thrust the other hand out, grabbing him by the other shoulder. The Arishok struggled, livid that something could keep him from moving-! It was unheard of! To his credit, it took all of Hawke's concentration to keep him there. Had it been anything else, say a darkspawn, Hawke would have done it easily without a second thought.

Hawke's muscles screamed. His mind was no better. If he didn't finish it now, the Arishok would. He had to. HE HAD TO.

He pulled his hands apart, controlling the giant hands that held the Arishok. He tore the qunari commander in two.

The room was silent. The battle had taken such a drastic turn, a turn that only one person in the room could have possibly predicted. It was the perfect storybook ending, the triumph of good over evil with sheer determination and will. Varric grinned. Since the room seemed to be completely stunned, he decided to snap them out of it. Hawke needed help, so this needed to end.

"He did it! We won!"

Then the room exploded. People were practically screaming in gratitude and relief. The qunari started to file out of the room, heading to the docks without a word. Kirkwall was safe again. And Anders was already halfway across the floor. Hawke registered his victory for a moment, then allowed himself to slump to the floor. He felt warm hands on him, closing his wounds immediately. He could sleep soon…

"Garrett, stay awake! I need to make sure you're okay first." Anders had to shout over the crowd. They were quickly closing in, and their other two companions did heir best to hold them back. Seriously, didn't they have any decency? Their champion's blood was all over the floor, and they wanted to fawn over him. Idiots. He fought to keep his hands from trembling by focusing on how angry he was.

Garrett struggled to stay awake, and just breathe. It didn't hurt that much to breathe anymore. How nice. "You're really good at that… This is why I keep you around."

Anders could barely hear him over the screaming. He wanted to shoot fire at them all, give them a fraction of the pain Hawke had suffered because of them. He couldn't bloody concentrate with all the noise! "Don't talk! Just look at me!"

"Sounds good… I like looking at you."

"Shut up, already!"

After a few minutes, the worst of Hawke's wounds were closed. He wouldn't be bleeding out anymore. But he would need rest. He wouldn't have the energy to address his adoring fans. Anders helped him to his feet and tried not to think about how much blood was left in the carpet at that one spot. Hawke was alive by sheer force of will. It was insane. He had to get him out of here. He took Hawke's arm over his shoulder and helped him walk while the others kept the people at bay. Fenris seemed to do a wonderful job without saying a word. At least he was good for something.

As they made their way out of the battle area, they were approached by the First Enchanter, and the Knight-Commander. Anders' stomach tightened in suspicion—He wondered if the woman would turn on them now that they weren't needed anymore. He held his staff in a death-drip as he thought of ways to dismember the woman in front of him.

Meredith came to a halt in front of them, blocking their path. Anders stopped, and the crowd quieted. They too realized just what this situation entailed. Anders and the Knight-Commander locked gazes for a few seconds, until Meredith broke eye contact to focus on the man leaning against him. Hawke raised his head in confusion, then disbelief. Was she seriously going to do this here? What did she want? She already had his brother, did she want him as well? He wasn't sure he could go willingly. Though ninety-five percent of the fight was gone from him. Worst timing ever.

The woman visibly clenched her jaw. Why was she hesitating? She opened her mouth, and spoke with conviction.

"It seems Kirkwall has a new Champion."

The room erupted in cheers once again, revering the Champion of Kirkwall. Hawke raised his eyebrows, wearily. She wasn't here to take him in. How nice. He actually got a title! He wasn't expecting that.

Anders jolted him out of his reverie by addressing the Commander, curtly. "Excuse me, Hawke needs to rest. Good day." He pulled Hawke along, past the Commander as the people cheered.

"Don't I get to celebrate a bit? I just saved the city." Hawke smirked.

"Later. When you don't have to lean on me to walk, fool."

He had practically had to carry the man down the long flight of stairs that led from Viscount's Keep. He would remember this, any time Hawke was thinking of doing something stupid like this again. He helped him to the Amell estate, and sat him on a stool to finish healing his wounds. And the man would not shut up the entire time.

"I think I left my staff there…"

"Fenris grabbed it and set it in the living room. Hold still!"

"I can't help it, I'm kind of excited. I just beat a qunari leader. I am amazing."

Anders sighed. "You really don't need any more reason to love yourself."

"You're right. That's why you're here." He smiled, innocently.

"No, I'm mad at you."

"Come on, I had it all under control. Did you ever doubt me?"

"Yes, actually! I thought you were dead when you hit the floor."

"Ah, I see. Your faith is overwhelming." Anders ignored him, and kept working, healing all the smaller wounds. "You know, usually when you strip me half-naked, we do things that are a little more fun."

"You're injured."

"And you're healing me! I feel perfectly fine. And I need to show you my appreciation."

Anders finished with his leg wound and grabbed his arm, hauling him along to Hawke's bedroom.

Hawke stumbled along before he found his balance—he was still very weak—and frowned. "Come on, you're not that angry, are you?"

Anders pulled him into the bedroom, shut the door, and shoved Hawke up against the wall roughly. Hawke was shocked and confused until soft lips met his in an aggressive kiss. It was completely out of the ordinary… and not entirely unwelcome. He relaxed and reveled in the body holding him in place. Anders was strong, when he wanted to be…

Anders broke away after a few seconds. "Do you have any idea how bloody terrified I was?" He attacked Hawke's neck, claiming it roughly.

Hawke panted, almost overwhelmed by Anders' sheer dominance. "I have a pretty good idea. Your face was priceless when I ripped him in half."

Anders pulled back and sputtered. "How would you even know? You were collapsed! And—it was because your blood was all over the floor, idiot!"

"If you fawn over me this much, I should get hurt more often."

"Don't you dare." He glared, completely serious. "I will tie you to the bed and make sure that never happens."

"… What makes you think I wouldn't like that?" Hawke smirked, deviously.

"Shut up!"

"Make me."

Anders clenched his jaw, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward. "Oh, I intend to."

Hawke had to keep himself from grinning.

A/N: And then there were sexy times because I hate writing it. Hope you enjoyed it anyway!