Our Ghosts Are The Same

Dragon Age 2

Chapter 28: There Will Be Blood

A/N: Merry Christmas. I'm still alive.


Why had they done this? Facing down this demon alone? While they were tired and wounded and did he mention they were alone? Tactically, it went against everything Aedan had been taught about strategy. Even myths and fairy tales he had read as a child backed this up. When the hero went in alone he only survived because of a last minute rescue. They needed support.

True, Hawke was a one man cannonball. This sort of nonsense was normal for her. But, Aedan, he knew better. So why had he run off this face this demon alone and spare the rest of the castle what he had brought to them?

Oh. It was guilt.

"Hawke!" Aedan shouted over the snowy battlefield. They were wading in nearly knee deep snow now and it was starting to fall again, obscuring their vision. "I think this demon lured us out here."

"No, no, no! We lured it out here. I clearly recall us feeling very responsible for this entire mess and deciding that... oh, shit. We are going to die."

Another arrow missed him by inches. Bloody demons. Always too chicken shit to face him in a fair fight. Using the image of his mother to fight the battle for it? Unbelievable. Now, if the demon really wanted Aedan to believe the illusion was real then the demon would have known the real Eleanor would have kicked his ass ten minutes ago.

Aedan knew Hawke was seeing someone very different. She was aiming higher than he was and ducking lower. She was facing someone with a much longer reach and taller stature. Must have still been her father. The demon was showing them both two very different faces. Fighting together became difficult. Aedan couldn't see the spells Hawke was dodging and she seemed rather indifferent to the arrows Aedan could clearly see whizzing past her ear.

They were going to need to try something else.

Ah, but she would never agree to it.

Best to not give her a choice then.

Neither of them were at their best, but Aedan had been the one bedridden for days on end. He staggered from the effort of just swinging his blade. Not to mention that, well, mages in a tight spot were more dangerous than he could ever hope to be.

He made his way to her, wading through the snow with great difficulty. "Marian," Aedan rasped and then shouted so she could hear him over the battle. "You're going to need to use me."

She startled and her last spell fell short of its mark. She was fading fast. "Oh, the plan from day one was to use and abuse you, Cousland, but I don't think this is the time to be discussing such risque things."

There was a battle going on that they were losing. Aedan needed to cut off her banter quick. "Do I need to open up a wrist or what?"

"Don't do that!" Hawke shielded them for a moment, her magic wavering but holding. She bit down on her lip, looking at him for a long moment. Aedan almost regretted asking her to do this. Then he really regretted it.

Hawke took her father's staff and shoved the blade through his chest. Aedan didn't feel the physical pain of it, it was almost as if the blade wasn't there at all. But there was a great draining feeling as his blood was suctioned out of his body and into Hawke? Into her staff? He wasn't sure and before Aedan could figure it out he fell backwards into the snow.


Fenris let his sword fall. The demons had stopped miraculously multiplying for nearly an hour now and there was nothing to do but let the cleanup crew take care of what little remained. All he wanted was a moment's rest and to see that Hawke was well and get the fuck out of Ferelden. This weather far from suited him.

The witch appeared at his side, her fingers knotted together in worry. Fenris opted to ignore her, keeping his eyes down and working on cleaning off all the demon blood he'd been slipping in.

"It's distracted."

Merrill still was terrible at reading body language. Fenris grunted and looked up at her. "What?"

"That's why," Merrill gestured to the now seemingly demon free castle, "the spirits have stopped coming. Whatever spirit that was causing this is distracted."

Distracted? He almost said perhaps they killed it already but he smiled bitterly instead. There was little chance of that with their current, past, or future luck. "Let's hope it stays distracted," Fenris started and then froze. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Where's Hawke, Merrill?" He stood now, his dirty blade back in his hand. "Where is she?"


She had taken too much. Aedan hadn't moved from where he fell and Hawke had to take care not to trip over him as she traversed the battlefield. She grimaced and used her stolen strength to corrupt the blood of that fucking demon. It was not a killing blow by any means, but she watched her father, or the demon that had stolen his face, stagger backwards and clutch his sides in pain.

It was familiar. Her father's last moments had been wracked in illness. Bethany had been at his side, her still developing healing skills unable to help. The eldest had known better than to even try.

She hadn't used, really used, blood magic for quite some time. There was the strong arm contest in the Hanged Man and the little skirmish back at her estate, but she hadn't used someone else's blood since the Blight. It always seemed wrong, like stealing but worse. But Aedan had offered and they were losing and there was no one around to see.

She hated the demon for stealing her father's face but she stared at it anyway. The image of her father was fuzzy, like her memory was now after admittedly being hit on the head more than a few times.

But there he was. Just as she had remembered. Tall and those wide shoulders that sometimes had made it hard from him to reach that itchy spot on his back, the spot only Mother could reach. She and her siblings had all inherited that dark, thick hair from Father. Only his was tinged with grey, like Hawke swore her own would soon be if Kirkwall continued on as it had been.

"Father," the word stuck in her mouth after so many years of neglect.

The demon stared at her with her father's eyes. It quickly changed tactics.

"You let that man decapitate your mother. You let him keep her in a sewer. Her last moments were in a sewer."

Her eyes began to cloud over but she quickly shook her head. Perhaps before Aedan's sacrifice the demon might have had her but she was stronger now.


He borrowed boots from one of the castle guards. And by borrow Fenris meant he and Merrill tried to track down Hawke and before they could make it out the door there were twelve Fereldens dragging them back inside until they were appropriately dressed. He wasn't before but now he was glad for the interruption. The wind stung his face and made his eyes water, blinding him when the sun reflecting off the snow wasn't.

He let Merrill lead. Even in his current state he knew the witch could navigate Ferelden forests far better than he ever could. They kept close to the castle, hoping desperately to find tracks that hadn't been covered over by the wind. They found no tracks, but there was blood.


She was winning. Sure, it was mostly due to Aedan's not so little contribution and the fact this guilt demon wasn't used to fighting fairly. It worked through lies and dreams and bullshit hallucinations.

Hawke felt sick at the exhilaration a fresh supply of blood gave her. She could easily see how this could become addictive. How blood mages could dabble in the art as a last resort and then never turn back.

The next cut of her staff would be the last. "Stop wearing my father's face." The words come out quieter than she meant them to. She'd kill this demon, regardless of what it looked like but she asked anyway. The demon was pressed up against a tree, eyes the same color as Bethany's darted back and forth. Hawke moved forward, shoulders hunched from exhaustion. Just once more. One more would do it, she was certain.

What happened next happened very slowly. The demon sprung forward, shards of ice deadly as knives flying from its hand. Hawke turned to dodge them, was surprised at how easily the frozen daggers were avoided, and then saw the demon's true target.

There were two figures emerging into their makeshift arena. One was sprinting towards them, tripping though the snow, hair blending in with the winter background...

Fenris, she thought and then she reacted.

He cannot dodge the ice alone; the snow drifts were working against him too well. Hawke doubted he could even see the clear icicles coming his way. There was wind blowing loose snow in his eyes, the sun reflecting and blinding. Too many obstacles.

Hawke raised her hand. She didn't think. There was blood, warm blood running through Fenris, lyrium too, and it is a simple enough thing to use his blood against him. His limbs became temporarily under her control, just enough to make him duck, nearly falling face first into the snow. There was shock on his face as Fenris was jerked downwards; Hawke could see that clearly enough. The icicles thudded harmlessly into the snow behind him.

Ears ringing as her head pounded from overexertion, Hawke turned back to see the demon slumped over on the ground. They were so damn close. Hawke muttered a mantra, "One more, just one more..."

There was a shout she couldn't quite catch. And then she did. "Blood magic?!"

The cat was out of the bag. Actually, the cat had torn the bag to pieces, buried it, and pissed on its grave. This realization was a heavy one. She's only snapped out of it by a sudden push from behind.

Aedan was whispering in her ear, breath fogging from the cold. "Focus. Finish this."

He helped her guide the staff to her father's heart. The blade caught on Malcolm's shirt and paused. Thoroughly exhausted, the demon gave no resistance.

Together they pushed the blade deep into the demon's chest, waiting until it stopped heaving shallow breaths and stilled.


Aedan would have liked to say that he and Hawke returned to Highever Castle carried on the shoulders of their comrades and boasting of their victories. Actually, he wouldn't have liked to say that. Aedan hated pomp and circumstance. But he would have liked to say that he and Hawke had walked into Highever on their own two feet.

His recently broken leg ached in the cold and that coupled with the large amount of blood loss meant Aedan had been forced to lean heavily on Merrill. The journey back to the castle was awkward, painful, and slow. The only one who had it worse than him had been Fenris. The man was only mildly injured but his friend had had just used blood magic on him. A skill the Champion of Kirkwall was not previously known to possess. He wasn't taking it well.

Shortly after the demon had finally died, Hawke had fainted. Maybe it was just a ploy to avoid confrontation, though it seemed convincing enough. Either way, Fenris had slung Hawke across his shoulders in order to carry her back.

Aedan didn't envy him that; Hawke was a tall woman.

The state of Highever might have surprised him if Aedan hadn't seen it in a worse condition. Recovering from this would be slow, especially in the winter. He doubted the majority of the castle had the heart to rebuild again.

Fergus and Anora had to show a united front, especially with all the nobles leftover from the wedding still here. The ones that were alive, anyway. The headache was starting already.

His brother and Anora had survived. Evidently while Hawke had been in charge she had kept Fergus out of the worst of the fighting. Not all of the fighting. That would have been impossible.

Merrill helped Aedan limp to the nearest bench. Aedan more of fell into it. "Bring my brother to me," Aedan rasped. "And food."

The last time he had eaten had been before the fade nonsense. He must have lost a lot of muscle mass while being bedridden. Getting that back... Aedan certainly wasn't looking forward to it. He wasn't as young as he was when the Blight had started. Rebuilding was going to take much more effort than simply maintaining his physique had.

One half of a loaf of bread was stuffed into his hands. Aedan ate it without question, getting at least four bites in before he looked up to see who had given him the gift.

"Fergus," Aedan said evenly between bites.

"That thing is dead. That's the report I got from Fenris, the elf." Fergus quickly took up the other half of the bench. "Didn't get many details from him, though. Once Hawke had been taken care of he headed for our wine cellar."

Aedan shrugged. "He's earned it. If he wants his pay in the form of fancy wine I say let him have it." There was another pause while Aedan drinks from the canteen his brother handed him. "And what of Hawke? Is she well? Last I saw her she was out cold."

"She has frostbite; might have to remove part of a finger, might not. She's still out. Hard to say when she'll wake up."

Aedan caught his brother looking at burn marks from spells that were now permanently imprinted into their home. He clapped him on the back. "We've come back before. We'll be strong again. And we have Anora this time. She'll be able to pull some strings. Bring in resources."

Fergus gave him a quick smile and then startled. "Maker, look at your hands. You're frostbitten, too. Time to see the healer, little brother."


Her face was cold and when Hawke rubbed at her nose, attempting to warm it up, she was greeted by a rough brush of cloth. She started, moving her hand in front of her face for closer inspection. The pinky on her left hand was gone; the rest of her hand was covered in gauze.

"I was sure that I had ten fingers this morning." Hawke sat up and then slid back down into her bed. Her head was killing her, along with many other body parts. Most of them, in fact.

"Frostbite," someone explained and Hawke surveyed the room in shock. She had never been the most observant person in the morning. Cousland was stoking the fire, his back to her. He raised a hand in solidarity, revealing a gauze wrapped hand. "I lost one, too."

"I've always wanted a twin," Hawke admitted, trying to sit up once more. "Never thought it was fair that Bethany and Carver got one and I didn't."

"I wouldn't say we're twins, exactly. You don't quite have my dazzling smile." Hawke choked on her laughter and ending up coughing into her sleeve for a minute. Aedan waited until the fire rose before coming to her bedside. "You've slept through most of the reconstruction, lazy, but considering you helped finally kill the demon I think we can let that go."

"Send my payment to Kirkwall. The Hanged Man, preferably. I think I sold my house to a bunch of mercenaries."

He seemed amused. "You're going back to Kirkwall? Do you think the Templars are going to allow that?"

"It's my friends that I'm worried about." She smiled wryly. "I think Fenris noticed how I, ah, helped him out with the demon. And he might be remembering a few other times he and the others dodged arrows or spells that they shouldn't have. Those times I wasn't so obvious, though."

"You used your blood magic on him. To save his life, sure, though I doubt that's the part he'll focus on."

"Do you think he'll tell Varric?"

"Marian, I don't know these people."

Hawke sighed. "I need to talk to him."

"And I'll arrange that, but Hawke," Aedan looked down at her sympathetically. It scared her a little. "There's some people that need to talk with you first." Before she could ask, Aedan answered. "We sent word to the Ferelden Circle once the demon situation deteriorated. And the Templars, they're here, but now that the demon's taken care of..."

"Cousland, don't you dare-"

"They're more interested in you."


Hawke had turned ghostly pale. Aedan bit his lip, and chapped as they were, caused it to bleed. "Do they know?" she whispered.

He didn't know what to tell her. "I don't know if he's spoken to them. But I promised that I would bring you to them as soon as you were awake. I conscripted one of their more troublesome mages and I'm not back on their good side yet. I couldn't refuse."

Sliding out of bed, Hawke limped over to the nearest window and peered outside. "Do you think I could make it?"

"The fall would kill you."

"What if I tied a bunch of sheets together? Used them to repel down?"

"I'm not going to acknowledge that question." Aedan grabbed one of her arms and guided her away from the window. "Let's get you dressed. The sooner we figure out what these templars want, the sooner we can plot against them."

She tugged against him. "I need to speak to Fenris first."

"The templars," Aedan began. Hawke interrupted, shouting, "Fuck the templars!"

Aedan added that to a long list of things Hawke shouldn't yell but did anyway. "Keep it down. They were in the dining hall last I looked."

She was off. Hawke tugged free of his hold and Aedan watched as she stumbled down to the dining room. He hoped the templars the Circle had sent were still in the library where he left them.

Limping after her, Aedan winced with each step. His own visit with Merrill hadn't gone well. A finger had to be amputated, sure, but that was the small price to pay for one dead demon. It was the leg that was the worst of it. He hadn't felt it at first, the shock had prevented it, but Hawke had royally fucked up his leg. The bone was healed, but not perfectly. He'd need a cane for the rest of his life.

Most of the castle was under repairs and would be for a long time. Aedan ducked underneath a ladder, stopping to hand a few boards up to the construction crew. By the time he caught up to Hawke, she had found her ragtag team in the middle of breakfast. The small one, Merrill, was wrapped around Hawke's waist. "You should have told me," the elf said, sounding angry and sad at the same time.

The dwarf was surprisingly quiet, staring at Hawke like they had never met before. Only Isabela seemed unperturbed. She continued to eat his food and drink his wine like nothing was happening.

Hawke herself seemed stricken. Aedan wasn't sure if he had ever seen her at a loss for words. The dining hall was quiet, save for the metal clinking of Isabela's fork and knife.

"I, ah, need to know something." Hawke began working on peeling Merrill off her. "There are templars here to see me, b-but before I... I have to ask." It was obvious who she was directing her questions to, though Hawke refused to look at Fenris. "I don't want to go in there b-b-blind. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, b-but if you could puh-please..."

Hawke was stuttering. Aedan was as uncomfortable as the rest of the room. Hawke never stuttered. She was too glib for her own good. She spoke with people as if they were rehearsing a play and she was the only one who had looked at the script. No one could keep up with her delivery. It made arguing with the woman all the more tiresome.

Varric broke the silence. "None of us have talked with the tin cans, but Maker, Hawke, why did you keep this from us? How did you keep this from us?"

"It's not as if I' ve been making blood pacts with demons or dancing naked under the fool moon," Hawke joked, though her voice was shaking. Varric's words had done little to calm her nerves. "I mean, I have done that last part but it wasn't blood magic related at all."

"You used it on me, Hawke."


That was when she knew that this was it. Her long, drawn out romance with Fenris was over. His voice dripped with hurt and betrayal that she couldn't fix. Maybe it was better this way. She could never be what she wanted to be for him. Stable. Normal. She could go on.

She was such a disappointment. He came all the way to Ferelden to find her and...

Oh, she loved him still. Even seeing how he looked at her now she loved him, but that didn't make up for how she had hurt him.

It wasn't this last instance of blood magic; it was the years of it. All done in secret because she was afraid to lose her friends. She had lied by omission. Dozens of times.

And suddenly she wasn't stuttering any longer. "I'm a blood mage. Should have told you all that a long time ago, but here it is now." Hawke considered standing on the table to make her speech and decided that was too much. "I don't make pacts with demons. I don't sacrifice babies. I don't even get near babies. They're messy and smelly and usually bite me."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Fenris had no plate in front of him. Hawke doubted he had eaten anything since their last encounter. "You know what blood magic can lead to. I thought you of all people understood that, Hawke."

Her dead mother and the words of her father, granted the demon version of father, flashed in the front of her mind. Hawke shook her head. "I don't regret it," she said, her own eyes as wide as her friends. She heard Aedan shift behind her. "I regret that I can do this at all. But I don't regret that it saved you. It's saved all of you," she continued. "Anytime an archer had you in their sights and their aim faltered at the last second... That was me. That..." She seemed aware of the heavy silence once again in the room. "Might want to leave this out of your stories, Varric."

"Believe me, Hawke. I have no idea how to spin this in your favor."

Hawke had nothing else to say. Merrill would forgive her quickly enough. As would Isabela. Varric would take time. Fenris, though, that would never be forgotten.

There was nothing more to be done here. "Okay." Hawke gestured for Aedan to lead the way. "Now that everyone knows I'm a blood mage, let's go see those templars of yours."


They weren't his templars, but Aedan decided to let that go. He wanted to leave that room as quickly as possible. Awkward couldn't even begin to describe it. There were hurt feelings and grudges forming and a lot of other emotions that Aedan wasn't equipped to deal with.

They limped onward. If Hawke noticed that he was favoring one leg she knew better than to say anything. Getting to the library was difficult; they had to climb over a large pile of debris to even reach the door. Hawke made jokes the entire journey which was how Aedan knew she was panicking.

He opened the door for her. She paused and when she saw that he made no attempt to follow her inside, Hawke said, "Hey, so I never got to ask. How was that kiss?"

"I don't think 'now is not the time' could even begin to cover it." Aedan shoved her inside.


There were two of them. One was asleep, his throat exposed as he leaned back in a chair. The other was flipping through a book, eyes skimming the pages until Hawke loudly cleared her throat.

The reader closed the book and sat up straight. "Are you Hawke? You look a little dirty to be the Champion of Kirkwall." He smacked his sleeping companion and the man awoke with a loud snort. "But you have been losing against a, what, guilt demon? Maker, the damned things are getting more and more specific."

The previous asleep templar wiped at his eyes. Looked like an archer. "I'm Basil. We've been waiting for hours."

"Sorry about that," Hawke shrugged. She took a seat in front of them. "I've been unconscious so it probably wasn't intentional."

"No harm done," the other waved a hand in the air. "I'm Captain Elton. We're from the Ferelden Circle but we've received some word from the Kirkwall Circle-"

"Whatever they said it's a filthy lie."

Captain Elton frowned. "The First Enchanter said you were Kirkwall's only hope. He wants you to come back to the city." A letter was reproduced. "You may read it as you like."

Her face felt warm. "Oh. Let me see that." She skimmed the letter, skipping filler details like "Meredith's gone mad", "she'll kill us all", and things like that. Hawke asked, "Mind if I hang on to this?" She rolled the letter up and stuffed it halfway down the back of her waistband before she got an answer.

"That's fine. But our First Enchanter would appreciate it very much if you'd head back to Kirkwall."

Basil agreed, "Our Knight-Commander insists as well. As soon as possible."

Ah. This sounded about right. Ferelden wanted to make sure she stayed Kirkwall's problem. Or perhaps Eamon had had a hand in this. He needed her back in Kirkwall to spy. She decided to laugh the threat off. No one joined her. "Well, I'm certainly not staying in Ferelden for the weather."

"I think our point had been made," Elton stood up and bowed.

"If it hasn't, we're saying get out of Ferelden while the getting is good." Basil didn't stand when Hawke made to leave and if she was someone who cared about etiquette she might have been insulted.

Hawke grabbed a servant on her way back and had them give Varric a quick message. If she needed to go back to Kirkwall Varric probably already had a way back. He wouldn't come to Ferelden without a fool proof escape plan.

She had been on the fence about going back to Kirkwall, with her family estate gone, but the first sign of trouble brewing and she was already running back to fix it. That habit was getting increasingly poor for her health.

She needed to pack her things. And find her dog. She returned to what was serving as her bedroom, hoping to wash up and gather her belongings. Aedan was waiting for her, freshly shaved and clean. He was wearing a new set of clothes and...

"Is that a cane?"

"Freshly carved," he lifted it up so she could see. "Now, let's discuss your earlier question. The kiss. You know the one before you stabbed me."

She could never stop herself from blurting out random information before. There was no sense in stopping now. "I'm going back to Kirkwall."

"I think I like my topic of conversation better."