The Last "Anna" Memory

To the relief of the sane, the darkspawn horde was in remission. The refugees started piling up in Lothering. The Hawke residence took in two families. One was a human couple with a vulnerable grandmother, and the other was an elven couple with a small girl. To everyone's stunned surprise, Devon made a friend. Willingly.

But not everyone was relieved in the house. Carver came back, much worse for wear, and was horrified to find out what had happened. He wanted to kill his father, a confused old man who couldn't even recognise him. Malcolm had retreated into a shell, despite not being aware of anything he may had done.

Leandra couldn't look at him, and avoided him like the Blight. She tended to the refugees, and that left Bethany completely in between. She had to give up her post at the Chantry, and left Esme to heal on her own. Hawke refused to let that woman look at Holly. She didn't need a second opinion of how dead she was, and very frankly, if she'd heard any nature of comment from Esme she would not have held back violence.

They had a small funeral near the forest, which Hawke eyed fixedly like a madwoman. She was merely a ghost now. She couldn't even hold a conversation anymore.

When they came back for the wake, Devon kept bothering her, showing Hawke her used up crayons, and when she started dragging the bud of it over her hand, she lost her temper and scared her.

Bethany took Devon to her, and looked at her in horror. "Never, ever talk to her like that again," she said firmly.

Hawke was mortified, retreated to her bed, and did not leave it for a week.

Bethany watched over Devon, who was very agitated every day. She had no idea how to explain to her that her mama was broken, and her sister was never coming back. She distracted her with everything she could. Watching Malcolm at the same time was very hard for her. There was just no way to make it right again. The family was broken. The house was tainted. If the Blight hadn't destroyed them, this would.

The door to Hawke's bedroom opened. Carver and Bethany came in. She was under the same blue covers, on her side against the wall, wasting her soul away.

"Sister, we need to tell you something," Bethany tried, sitting at her bedside. Carver kept standing, crossing his arms.

"What?" Hawke barely said, staring into empty space. She even sounded like a phantom.

"Daddy's gone," Bethany said, putting her hand on her.

"He passed away this morning," Carver said, contained.

Hawke closed her eyes. "Okay," she said.

They looked at each other. Carver shrugged in horror. Bethany pursed her lips, nodded softly, and they left.

Sunrise, Lothering

What gave Hawke life again, or something like it, was the news another week later, that three more kids had died unexpectedly. She pushed her way into families' houses, horrifying people, inspecting their childrens' corpses before they went into the ground. She became a woman unhinged, but the truth was there in Bucky's spell, the markings of blood magic.

There was a vampire in Lothering, and it was not Malcolm Hawke. He was already buried, and in her hate and misery, she hadn't gone to his funeral. The village became more and more divided on the Hawkes, as well as the murders. But this wasn't about redemption for her. She wanted the vampire's head. That was all she could see, all she could dream.

The people of Lothering blamed it on the refugees, and there was growing unrest. It didn't matter that another three children, from the refugee camp this time, had also vanished. The refugees blamed it on the villagers, saying they stole their children in petty revenge. People fought each other in the streets, in the fields. Two elves were lynched next to the Chantry.

Now more than ever, Hawke was convinced she had made a mistake not finding out the whole truth with blood magic. What the hell kind of righteousness was this, when nine more people were dead?

And the pain worsened in her stomach when she went over the details of her father's death. He became lucid one day, became agitated, grabbed Bethany tightly, and was very incoherent. She asked him what had really happened and he said his mind was "locked by magic" and to "ask Devon", which Hawke did not believe for a second when Bethany told her. He was so overwhelmed his heart gave out.

But the new events changed everything. He didn't do this. He didn't.

What to ask of Devon, though? She couldn't even speak. She wasn't even there, in the alleged forest. She was in bed the whole time. And she wasn't going to interrogate a vulnerable child about such things.

But then Bethany came to her one day and said ominously, "I got Devon aquarelles."

She showed her a doodle of the twin beds, with what seemed like Devon on top, Holly on the bottom, and a tall, black-clad dark-haired woman. Her eyes were two green spots.

Sunset, The Chantry

Hawke rushed to the Chantry with one of her dogs, passing unsuspecting Templars. Bethany took them away to chat, knowing this was going to be over very soon. She told them the whole story.

But when the door banged open, a spectre was coming. Esme was startled, as she was healing refugees.

"Leave," Hawke growled. Anna the dog seconded.

The people walked past her, out of the Chantry. They looked for Bethany and the Templars and said, "Something's not right. You better go in there."

It felt like she had no feelings at all when she saw Esme. They were all, all gone. She felt almost serene. She felt so very clear-headed. With a snap of the fingers, the doors and windowed locked shut.

Esme ran into another chamber. She broke the door down. The woman brought her magic out, and they fought. In one overlook, the dog bit her leg and unsteadied the mage. Hawke overpowered her into a mirror and broke her legs.

"You are not moving ever again, you vile cunt," she said.

She searched her, took everything, broke all her potions and poultices to the ground. But when the last shards scattered on the ground, she saw Esme's legs bloodied, her hand bleeding over them. The mirror... would have only wounded her at the back... The shards came up in the air, both big and small, and swarmed in and stabbed them all over. Esme stood up and ran back in the main hall.

Hawke was fallen and bleeding massively. She crawled over to the whimpering dog, but it was too late for Anna.

She crawled over to the spilled axolotl juice on the ground, and wailed in pain as it much too rapidly and violently closed her wounds. She forced herself up with magic, and ran after the bitch.

Esme was halfway out the door. Hawke looked up at the chandelier full of burning candles. She took out her disinfectant, wrapped it in her compress, set it aflame, and force magicked it into the clasp. The roaring flames engulfed Esme as the chandelier fell around her. A spiky cocoon of ice grew out of her as she screamed in pain.

Hawke countered it with more fire, but her mana was near exhausted, and then... her body started contorting against her will. Esme willed the blood in Hawke's veins to walk inside the fire with her.

She couldn't... no, no, she couldn't, not this way!

Her scream echoed through the walls, and she willed her body back in her conscience. Her closing wounds popped all open, pouring blood out, and charged all of it to water down the flames and tackle Esme to the ground.

She had her now. She had her.

"THIS IS FOR HOLLY!" she screamed.

She wanted to blind her, stab her eyes out!

"I WILL SEE YOU IN HELL AND I'M GONNA FUCK YOU AGAIN THERE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!" her husky voice reverberated sadistically.

Her blood, Esme's blood, it was all mingled together, painting their funeral.

Then the Chantry doors broke open, Templars pouring in.

The last thing she saw was a shield punching her in the face.

Nighttime, Chantry

She woke up, strapped to a bed, her magic collared. She still had no mana, either.

Esme was in the other bed. Alive.

"No, no, no, no, NO!" she shouted.

Chantry-clad people came over her, force-feeding her a liquid that knocked her out again.

She woke up again and pretended to be asleep for a long time. Templars were still in the room, watching her.

She couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe it!

She watched in tears as Esme breathed. She noticed her straps had no runes on them.

Hawke imagined Esme's powerful sway with the Circle and the Templars, imagined her making it all up, telling them Hawke did all the murders. She imagined getting lobotomised. Never seeing Devon giggle ever again. She couldn't, she couldn't take it. But she was completely powerless now.

And just when all seemed lost, there was a feminine scream. It sounded like it came just outside the door. It woke Esme up.

The Templars moved onwards, and when no one was there, they searched the perimeter.

Hawke was breathing rapidly. She couldn't get out of the straps. She couldn't will any magic. Fuck!

Please, please, please help me. Someone. Please!

Esme was breathing agitatedly too, being left alone with her. And just when she took her eyes away from Hawke, she saw one.. two... four demons appear. They simply loomed over her, watching.

At first Hawke thought it was the runeless straps, allowing Esme to summon demons, but then she saw Esme look at them in horror. She convulsed and thrashed.

Hawke recognised the demons as the prisoners inside her head. Crowley, Bucky, Murmur and Ravena, in their full demonic form. They weren't even real. Crowley's huge spiky leg was ghosting through the bed's texture. How did they... how could Esme see them?

She saw Ravena glance towards her and wink, and they all faded away.

Esme was not breathing.

She cried in terror, alerting the Templars. One of them took out their gauntlet and checked Esme's pulse. The helmet shook no to the others.

Three days later, Outside the Chantry

Hawke sat cross-legged on the floor of the cage, with her arms up falling behind through the square holes.

The Templars brought in a Qunari in the cage next to hers. He looked just as flacid and dejected as she did. His cage did not have magic-blocking runes.

Carver came to visit. He squatted next to her and pocketed her some bread.

"Andrei came back last night," he said to her.

Hawke nodded, staring into empty space. "How's Devon?"

"Can't get enough of that elf kid and Aunty Bemany."

Her eyes flickered, a first smile in forever. "She said Bemany?"

"Yeah, I mean, close enough, right?" he said, chuckling. He looked down, and changed tone. "They're having the funeral now. I'll try to keep him away."

"Fuck him," she vociferated slowly. "He can go in the ground and crawl in with her."

"Yeah..." Carver said, unsure.

"And how's her other son, hm? Did the blood of seven innocent kids finally cure his ailments?" she growled.

Carver looked down again. "He's... walking."

"Then why the fuck isn't he in the cage next to me? Huh?!"

"Because he says he didn't know about Esme."

"Fucking liar!" she protested. "He's got to stay away from our sister, you hear me?"

Carver's head was going in the ground.

"She believes him."

She slapped the cage hard. "No she fucking doesn't! What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know, she's crazy!" Carver said in agreement.

The Revered Mother and her Templars came to talk to the Qunari. He seemed very open about his crimes, and had no qualms with his impeding execution. But then the Mother turned to her.

"You will join the Qunari," she said.

Carver sprung up in protest. "Are you crazy? She's innocent!"

"Many would disagree, young man," she said.

Hawke came up through the square holes. "So I find the Vampire of Lothering, while your Templars sat back, dicks in their hands, and now you execute me." She squinted and sneered at her. "You don't want your mommies in Denerim to know how much you shit the bed."

"We have much bigger problems than one deranged apostate," the Revered Mother said calmly.

"And which one is that?" Carver protested.

The Revered Mother said nothing, and took her Templars with her. He looked like he was about to go after her.

Hawke grabbed the rails and told Carver to come back. "You need to grab the family and leave, as soon as possible."

"No, no. No way," he said.

"Listen to me, okay?" she said aggressively. "I am a fucking scapegoat. The Hawke name is dead now. You guys have to pack up and run as far as possible, before they get Bethany too."

Sunset, Outside the Chantry

Her cage rattled as someone kicked her awake. She looked up to see Andrei, who spat on her. He was holding Devon. Maker, what the fuck was he thinking?

She didn't get to speak as his voice torched and froze her at the same time.

"Come on, chin up now, I want to see the look on your face," he said sadistically. Her heart came into her throat. He turned his back to her and left with Devon towards a Templar caravan.

"You fucking bastard, you didn't even come to her funeral!" she screamed and hit the cage. He didn't say anything, just kept on walking. "No, you can't do this! Bring her back to me, I am her mother! You can't do this! You have no fucking rights to her. You abandoned her! You can't fucking take her from me, you creep! You let your whore mother murder my child!" she shouted and pleaded and thrashed in the cage.

She tore her wrist open in the metal, but the blood magic attempt only made her sick and in pain. She screamed and wailed, as she saw him hop into the caravan with Devon.

The image of Devon looking at her in that caravan, rapidly becoming smaller, destroyed her soul forever.