Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dragon Age Series.

Author's Note: This fic will not in any way shape or form be friendly to Anders, especially early on. While he is dead in this fic, it will not be kind to his memory, or his choice to blow up the Chantry. This fic is from Hawke's POV entirely, and that means that we're only going to see her perspective, as a general rule. If you are offended by extensive criticism of Anders, or will be offended by Hawke expressing a desire that she'd killed him or let the Templars take him or something before he blew up the Chantry, then this isn't the fic for you. Hawke went full friendship with Anders, but she chose to kill him after he blew the Chantry up, and we'll explore her reasoning and logic for her views on Anders in the , you have been warned.

Author's Note 2: I would invite anyone who is interested to check out my tumblr, .com - you'll find writing updates, metas, occasional writing excerpts, and I do various prompt fics there. My blog doesn't have a lot of DA content on it right now, and I can't guarantee that will change, so it might not be the average reader of this fic's speed, but it's there if you're interested.

Author's Note 3: Thanks are extended to RogueHunter06 for beta-reading services! Moreover, this is my first attempt to seriously write anything for Dragon Age - if anyone thinks I have someone OOC or if I get some point of lore wrong or the like, please, feel free to (politely) correct me. I'm always trying to make sure I get my characterizations and lore right.

Champion of the Inquisition

By Alkeni

Chapter 1: The Mark

Kiandra Hawke had led a varied life in the last ten years – refugee, smuggler, trouble-shooter at large in Kirkwall, eventually even Champion. And, for the last two years, she'd been a wanted criminal on the run from the Chantry and the Templars.

But at no point in her life had Kiandra woken up on the cold stone floor of a prison cell. And she'd definitely not woken up in a cell without any memory of how she'd gotten there, or even what she'd done for the last... she wasn't even sure how long.

Well, Kiandra thought to herself as she straightened up, settling on her knees and ignoring the rattling of the chains around her wrists for the time being, there's a first time for everything.

Looking around the room, Kiandra made a quick inventory – the chamber was small, and lit only by a single flickering torch. There were four guards along the walls, all of them watching her closely and pointing swords at her. They weren't templars, she could tell that much. But she didn't recognize what she could see of their uniforms.

There are enough people that want my head at this point, I'm sure. With little to work with around her, Kiandra made a quick mental list of what she did have. She wasn't wearing any armor, just a simple shirt and pants, and not a set she'd ever owned. So someone must have stripped and redressed her at some point. And, unsurprisingly, she didn't have a weapon. Both of her daggers were gone.

The only pain she felt was in her left hand. Looking down at it, Kiandra blinked in surprise. "What the-" Her left hand was glowing a bright green color, with some sort of mark she couldn't make out underneath all the glowing. Without any warning, her hand throbbed, sending pain spiking up her arm, enough to drive all thought out of her mind.

"Argh!" Kiandra grabbed at her wrist, doubling over. As her hand throbbed, she remembered. Where she'd been. What happened. Some of it, anyway.

The Conclave – she'd come to the Conclave, to do what she could – up to and including turning herself in to the Divine's judgment – to make up for her part in causing this war. To atone for not realizing what Anders had been up to – for doing everything she could to help and protect him every step of the way; for tricking herself into believing that he had actually tried to free himself from Justice.

I had so many opportunities to just kill him, or let him die. If I'd taken one of them, we wouldn't be here. There wouldn't be a war. Meredith had been insane, but without Anders providing her that excuse...

And of course, Meredith being insane was in part her fault as well. It was her fault that they'd found that damned idol in the Deep Roads.

Merrill had, unsurprisingly, been against the whole plan. They'd argued... in the end, Kiandra had left the woman she loved behind and come here. Her throat felt tight as she recalled the final words of their argument. And then...

Kiandra was drawing a complete blank. I came to the Conclave... and then... She'd snuck inside, intending to present herself to the Divine, or at least someone close to her, and then...

Nothing. The next thing she remembered was... spiders. A veritable army, chasing her up some sort of... mountain or... and then a woman and then...

Kiandra was jolted from her recollections by another stab of pain from her hand and then the sound of the door opening, a Nevarran-accented voice ordering the guards to lift her to her feet. Gritting her teeth against the pain spiking up through her arm, Kiandra threw one of the guard's hands off of her shoulder.

"I can stand on my own just fine," she snarled. Kiandra didn't recognize the new arrival either, or the stylized eye on the front of her armor. She was tall, muscular and her armor was heavy, as was the shield currently slung over her back, clearly marking her as a warrior used to slogging it out on the front lines. Her dark hair was cut short, like Kiandra's, and she had a pair of short scars on either side of her face.

"Leave us!" The armored woman ordered the guards, and as Kiandra watched the four leave, she noticed another woman standing in the shadows by the door. She couldn't make out much in the way of the woman's features under her hood, but she seemed familiar for some reason.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you now, Champion!" The swordswoman barked at her.

"Kill me or don't," Kiandra snapped, rattling her chained hands, "but if you're going to kill me, then at least do me the courtesy of unchaining me and giving me my armor back. I have the right to die with some dignity." Whoever this woman was, she probably blamed Kiandra for what had happened in Kirkwall. Fully and completely.

I have my share of the blame, but it was hardly all mine. Hawke could only blame Varric's sensationalized stories about her for creating that view, even if that isn't what he'd written.

"Dignity?! After what you did? The Conclave is destroyed! The Divine is dead! Everyone- everyone who was there is dead, all save for you."

Kiandra's breath caught.

The Conclave? Destroyed? The Conclave had some of the most powerful mages and templars in attendance, not to mention the Divine's protectors... what could possibly have destroyed the whole thing? Barrels and barrels of Qunari gaatlok? Dragons?

But if the Divine was dead...

"There's never going to be peace now," Kiandra said aloud in horror, realizing just what that meant. Justinia had been the only major voice speaking for peace between the mages and the templars. The world was truly going to completely collapse now. With no peace coming between the mages and the templars and Orlais at war with itself, Ferelden still recovering from the Fifth Blight...

There'll be no end to it. All the madness will create more of itself.

"No, there won't. Thanks to you!" The woman grabbed the front of Kiandra's shirt and shoved her backwards a few paces. "Did you decide to emulate your friend Anders? To outdo him? Was starting this war not enough for you!?"

Recoiling at the anger and accusation in the woman's words, Kiandra responded the best way she knew how: she lashed out.

"How dare you, you self-important bitch?!" Kiandra raised her voice loud enough to reverberate around the small cell. "I don't know who you are, or what you think you know, but don't you dare accuse me of wanting to do what Anders did! I killed him for what he did, and if I could have known what was coming, I'd have killed him long before then!" Involuntarily, Anders' last moments flashed across her mind, the way he'd calmly accepted death, the way his body had twitched as her killing blade cut through his spine... the way his blood had washed over her hands...

The blood of a man she'd called friend.

He had to die. To pay for what was to come. But that hadn't made it any easier.

"I killed him, for the deaths he'd already caused, for the deaths that I knew were going to come. I killed him, and if you want to blame me for not killing him sooner, for not somehow finding out what he was planning and stopping him, then fine. But don't you dare suggest I would ever want to do as he did. And I certainly didn't destroy the Conclave or kill the Divine!" Kiandra could tell that her mind was rejecting the whole concept, the whole idea that all those people were dead.

She wasn't processing it. She was just experiencing guilt and rage. And she was aiming it all at this woman.

Her accusations stung Kiandra.

This war is my fault... if the Conclave was destroyed, then all those deaths are my fault as well... the destruction of the Temple of Sacred Ashes is my fault. And the fact that more would die because of this war - all of it would be her fault.

"Then explain what you were doing there!" The armored woman got in her face. "Explain how you were the only one to survive? Explain this!" The woman grabbed her left arm and lifted it up as the glowing light crackled with energy, sending more pain spiking up from her hand. Kiandra almost doubled over again as the pain went completely through her, but pure stubborn pride forced her to stay standing, biting her lip until it bled. Finally, this fresh flash of pain ended and she spat blood onto the floor before speaking.

"I was there to do what I could to put this war to an end. I was there when it started and I wanted to be there when it ended." She looked down at the mark. "I have no idea what this is... I have no idea what happened at the Conclave." Her voice broke a little as she realized there was a complete blank in her memory. She'd arrived there, at the Conclave... and then...

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No detail too small or large to have escaped her mind, it seemed.

"No memory? You expect me to believe that?!" The armored woman snarled in disbelief, grabbing at Kiandra again. This time, Kiandra was ready and she responded, moving just enough to escape her hand and wrapping the chain connecting her wrists around her assailant's arm.

"One false move and I'll break your wrist," Kiandra hissed. Before she could say or do any more though, she felt a blade digging into her stomach. She looked down to see a small knife in the woman's other hand, pressed against her.

"You even try it and I'll gut you, Champion."

"If you're going to kill me, then do it," Kiandra repeated, unwinding the chain from around the other woman's arm. "But killing me won't make me know what this thing on my hand is, and it won't be justice for a crime I didn't commit!"

"Hold, Cassandra. We need her." The hooded woman finally stepped into view, and Kiandra immediately recalled where she'd seen her before. Where she'd seen that face, that red hair.

"Sister Nightingale?" Kiandra remembered her as the woman the Divine – no, the former Divine, Kiandra corrected herself– had sent to try to convince Grand Cleric Elthina to leave Kirkwall before it was too late.

"Hawke," the other woman responded, then she looked back to the armored woman – to Cassandra, apparently. "We need her. And I believe her when she says she doesn't remember. You heard Varric's story. Do you really think Hawke would destroy the Conclave?" Heard Varric's story? Somehow, Kiandra didn't think that she meant that Cassandra had just read one of Varric's books about her. Had she interrogated Varric? she wondered, silently burning with questions and rage.

If she's harmed him, she's going to pay for it.

"Why else would she have come? How else could she be the only one who survived?" Cassandra demanded.

"I don't know," Nightingale answered. Approaching Hawke, she spoke, her voice stern and level. "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

Kiandra shook her head. "I remember arriving at the Conclave, sneaking in. And then... I remember – I was running, from... well, spiders. What seemed like an endless wave of the things." Kiandra took a step back, away from Cassandra. The other woman didn't try to stop her from doing so, at least. "There was... a pyramid, or a mountain, or something. I was running up it, trying to get away, and then... then there was a woman. I took her hand when she reached out to me, and..."

Unable to recall anything else, she shrugged. "And I woke up in here."

"A woman?" Nightingale looked over at Cassandra, and the two seemed to share some sort of silent communication. After a long, quiet stretch of time – well, it felt long – Cassandra turned away from her.

"Go to the forward camp, Leilana." Cassandra looked back at Kiandra. "I will take her to the rift." Rift? What the hell was that? It sounded ominous, certainly.

"What did happen? What in particular is it that you think I've done?" Kiandra demanded.

"It's easier if I show you," Cassandra replied unhelpfully. "Come." She approached the door.

"That's it? We're just walking out of here?" Kiandra held up her hands, jangling the chain between them.

"The chain stays on for now, Champion. I know how deadly you can be even without a weapon." Don't tell me she actually believes those stories about how I killed a dozen Coterie assassins armed with nothing but a soup-spoon... Honestly, Kiandra had no idea where that one had come from. It was too insane even for Varric.

Lacking any other option, Kiandra held her tongue for a change and followed Cassandra out of the cell. Once she was actually outside, she'd have a better chance of escape anyway.