TW: Institutional abuse—threat, neglect, bullying, coercion, violence, allusion to SA
Afternoon, Gallows Underground Tunnel
Varric was very stressed, and on top of that, his back kept hurting for some reason.
"So… ready to turn thirty?" Varric said conversationally.
"We're breaking into the Gallows, Varric," Fenris said grumpily.
"Exactly," Varric said. "What better time for existential questions?"
"Calm down, Varric," Hawke said. "We'll be in and out. Quick like a bunny."
Isabela snorted.
"Something funny?" Fenris said in a calmly threatening tone.
"Nope…" Isabela said, swallowing her entire lips. "I'm sure you last a long time."
"Not at tolerating shit humour," Fenris said.
"Making fun of men is the best humour," Isabela said, holding her palm out to Hawke.
"Uhm, yeah, well… that wasn't… I don't think…" Hawke stammered.
"You can make all the dick jokes in the world, Isabela," Fenris said, unimpressed. "Just try not to make them racist."
"Boy, racism this, racism that," Isabela said tiredly. "You're making this a full-time job."
"Sounds like a good shift of focus to me," Anders said, shrugging.
"I'm just tired of it," Fenris said.
Hawke got closer to him and whispered, "What about your little nickname?"
"That was different. I called myself that. One time."
"Yeah, but you also taught it to a bunch of teenagers. Probably the whole Alienage if Merrill heard about it."
"Well…" Fenris said, poker-faced. "Drunk and sad people make mistakes. You should know."
"Yeah..." Hawke said, staring inwardly.
"I just don't think policing language works with humour. Humour's supposed to be scandalous," Isabela said. "And it doesn't mean anything."
"Humour's 'supposed' to be a lot of things..." Varric said, tired and conflicted. "Witty, original, thought-provoking—"
"We can't be stellar comedians all day," Hawke said, shrugging. "But lazy jokes where the punchline is directed downwards, are stupid and boring and overdone."
"Silly me. I forgot to get my PhD in Comedy," Isabela said sarcastically.
"Let me give you an example that hits home," Fenris said, walking. "It starts as a joke. The running gag is 'Aveline's a man because she has upper body muscles'. So, women who tank or body-build or have intimidating stature aren't 'worthy' enough of a badge of womanhood. Then you've got idiots who use that argument in earnest to define what a woman is. Next comes a furious brain-storming session on everything else that should be 'of a woman'. Suddenly it becomes clear to them that more and more women these days are acting like men, and their competition for world domination has just doubled. Then you wake up with an army of angry old men who are complaining, 'Where all the womanly women who smile and cook and clean and submit to their husbands?'. Before you know it, the angry old men have outlawed abortion, made your ownership of a bank vault conditional to your husband's permission, and say goodbye to your smut club, because it's illegal for women to read now."
"You went from zero to a fucking thousand," Isabela complained. "That will never happen."
"It happened," Fenris said. "Save for the reading motion, which never passed, that was Tevinter when I left it."
"Jeesh," Varric said.
"There is terrible power in a joke," Fenris said. "When you tell a story, when you make a piece of art, when you take reality and make it ugly. Like a virus, it replicates and grows from mouth to mouth, until you've got a veritable monster."
"Like mages are all ticking time-bombs?" Anders said, scoffing.
Fenris smirked. "I never joke about that."
Hawke looked at him, unimpressed. "Take the 'all' out, then I'll take you seriously."
Fenris chuckled. "Fair enough."
The rest raised their eyebrows, suspicious of their waking state.
"No more racist jokes, then," Hawke concluded.
"Can we joke about anything anymore?" Isabela said.
"You have the whole world to make fun of. You're smart and creative. I'm sure you can come up with jokes where the punchline isn't 'Haha. This person is marginalised'."
"I have a feeling your 'BFF' will also get tired of it soon," Fenris said.
Isabela looked down, sighing. "Fine," she said. "Men aren't marginalised, are they?"
"Nope. Dick jokes are welcome," Hawke said.
"Even encouraged, to some authors…" Fenris said.
"Only if they're complimentary," Hawke said, winking.
Fenris cleared his throat.
"Are you blushing?" Isabela said, laughing.
"I'm just hot," Fenris said.
"Mhm," Hawke said with a grin.
Fenris smiled back despite himself. "We are underground and I am dressed for the cold season."
"Hah, look at him crack up a smile like he's not made out of stone," Anders said, amused.
"Enough," Fenris said.
"It's okay to blush and smile you know," Isabela said teasingly. "Or do you always have to be a stony, manly man?"
"Oof," Anders joined in. "That's some toxic masculinity right there."
"It's toxic to have a resting bitch face?" Fenris said with half-lidded eyes.
"It's cute," Hawke said.
"Toxic men tell women to smile," Fenris said. "The 'enlightened' take stock and tell men to smile. What have you accomplished?"
"Justice," Anders said proudly.
"Or vengeance," Fenris said flatly.
Meanwhile, The Gallows Canteen
Grace saw the light of day again. She couldn't decide what was more shocking—the feeling of being blinded by something as mundane as natural light, or the repeated kicks to the stomach she had received in solitary confinement for having crippled a Templar in her attempt to resist re-capture. She did not use blood magic. None of them did.
But they had already been branded with the scarlet B. The word lost all meaning. It didn't matter any longer. Not in the world, out there.
She had the right to retain only one object of her possessions, and she chose her locket. Inside, it had a lock of hair that had belonged to Decimus, her late lover; but then came an all-out premise search and they took that away too. Ser Alrik said that despite the emotional meaning the locket had for her, it was Libertarian propaganda in support of blood magic, because it had a seal of Tevinter on it. Decimus's family had its roots there.
That necklace had been the only thing keeping her sane in the cell. She put up a fight and was met with more violence, then she closed into herself. At one point she couldn't tell time anymore, and she started hearing voices. Some were mean, some were ominous, and then there was the voice of Decimus and Alain. Decimus comforted her greatly, but made very unorthodox suggestions, while Alain reminded her if she remained quiet and obedient, the Templars wouldn't bother her anymore. It was her resistance that made them want to hit her again, to put her in her place. Without that, she was just a damsel in distress.
She listened to Alain's voice, and eventually, she was let out.
But it was very hard. She couldn't hear their voices anymore. She had Decimus for a little while, then she lost him again…
Then came the next problem.
Tired, hurt, humiliated and starving, Grace set foot in the canteen again. She wanted to be anywhere else, because there was nothing for her to do here. They were starving her out. It wasn't a 'punishment', Karras said. There was simply a 'bureaucratic delay' with her Chantry-funded commissary. With the scarlet B on her person, Grace's family had disowned her. There was no extra money coming her way.
She was fucked.
Moreover, the Loyalist mages were staring daggers at her. The Templars looked the other way when they bullied her. If they weren't encouraging it, they were certainly enjoying it.
Grace saw her peers, and she turned around. Karras was in the doorway, blocking the path.
"Lunch time ends at 1400 hours, inmate."
"Please, Ser Karras. You know as well as I do there is nothing for me here."
Karras bit on an apple, and had a shit-eating grin as he chewed. "If you want something in your mouth, Grace, you just have to ask."
Grace couldn't hear Decimus nor Alain anymore, but she could guess what they'd say. Decimus would say to burn his shitty little neckbeard off, while Alain would urge her to play by the rules.
Whatever those were.
"Are you sexually harassing me, Ser Karras?" she decided to say, a little louder. A mix of the two suggestions.
Keran was standing guard at the other door and overheard.
Karras looked over her, bit on his apple one more time and shouted stonily, "Lunch time ends at 1400 hours, inmate!"
"Sit down, inmate," Keran said.
Afternoon, Gallows Underground Tunnel
"You okay, Varric?" Hawke said. He kept grimacing and rubbing his back. "You don't look very well."
"I'm okay, Chuckles. Just don't like institutional espionage. Seems to be… unhealthy."
"What about corporate espionage? If you can find out the real market value of the two buildings affected by the poison attack, I'll cut you in."
Varric chuckled. "What? You wanna add 'slum lady' to your resume?"
"Why not?"
"Wow. Didn't peg you for a capitalist."
Hawke shrugged. "If you can't beat'em, join'em. Do it right. Until everyone else is forced to follow suit, or fall to insignificance."
"How are you going to 'do it right'?" Anders asked.
"Affordable rent. Minorities encouraged. If someone complains about 'reverse-racism', I'll say 'This is my fucking property, innit?'. Ground floors reserved for disabled tenants. Elevators built in like the ones in Darktown. I'll write out a policy and hire a strong, no-nonsense elf to manage the building."
The others looked at Fenris. He gave them a side-eye. "Think again…"
"He has a point," Varric said charmingly. "He can barely be responsible for his own home."
"That is by choice," Fenris said.
"So just for my own reference…" Varric said. "What's the dress code for your party? Cockroach Chic?"
"The theme is 'Ironically Aristocratic'. Make of that what you will."
"Hmph. I've been playing that game since you were in your daddy's testicles."
"You're not that much older than me."
"I am older. And handsomer. Don't you forget that."
The rest were snickering between each other.
"Now that's some big dick energy," Isabela said flirtatiously.
"Why, thank you, madam," Varric said.
Hawke and Fenris shared secret amused looks that said that wasn't it.
Meanwhile, The Gallows Canteen
No one talked to Grace. She tried, but no one would sit with her. They separated her friends in different cohorts too, different roles, different blocks, different everything. 'Blood mages' were not supposed to fraternise.
Except for a couple of her friends. She could talk to them all the live long day, they said. She was filled with relief and hope, but when she saw them, they were made Tranquil. She couldn't talk to them… ever again…
Only the Loyalist dung-holes talked to her.
"You look tired, Grace," Joy said from the other table.
"You want my apple?" another one of her minions said, rubbing the fruit she had been given against the seat of her pants. "Here," she said, coming at her table and putting the apple close to her mouth. "You know you want to."
There was nothing pleasant about it.
Later she saw Alain standing next to her table, trying to pocket her some bread while Karras was arguing with a teenage girl.
Grace looked at Keran. He saw what Alain was doing.
"Don't," Grace whispered with a grimace.
But the young Templar did not react. He was sympathetic. Grace made a mental note.
"That's a shot, inmate!" Karras shouted, coming at him. "What are you doing here? This isn't your cohort. Two shots!"
"Shots?" Alain said weakly.
"Asking stupid questions. Three shots!"
Grace looked at Keran. He wanted to say something, but he was paralysed. He looked the other way.
"The Circle in Starkhaven did not have a shots policy," Grace tried to say diplomatically. "Please clarify the rules for us. We did not get an induction."
"Yes. Shouldn't we have an induction?" Alain said.
"You will all get an induction once the last batch of apostates are processed."
"Shots a-are uhm… demerits," Keran said softly.
"Ten shots and your arses go back to solit—" Karras said, but then abruptly shouted, "HEY! Did I say you could just waltz in here?"
"Good luuuck," Joy and the other dogs of the Void said.
The teenage girl had snuck in and reached the food queue. When the Templar shouted, she jumped out of it like the floor was made out of lava. "I'm sorry!" she said, bowing.
"Get back to the kiddie canteen," Karras said tersely.
Meanwhile, Ser Alrik swaggered in lazily spinning keys on his finger. "Tsk, tsk. Naughty Ella… When are you going to learn?"
Grace didn't react, but Alain trembled, and he left in a hurry. She didn't know why. Ser Alrik was perfectly civil with her.
"Lost one again, tough guy?" Karras said patronisingly.
"Got to lose one sometimes. If I'm always doing my job right, I get extra work," Alrik said, and made a wide, mean smile. "Like cleaning up after your shit."
Karras grimaced.
Alrik led the team that captured Grace. Karras wasn't involved. He was probably in deep shit now that she was here.
Ella bowed even lower and insisted, "I'm sorry, Ser Alrik! If you would just talk to my mother, she'd swear by my meat intolerance!"
"Enough with the histrionics," Alrik said, rolling his eyes and grabbing her arm.
"Wait, what's this about meat?" Karras said, putting an arm barrier between them.
"I can't eat meat, Ser. It gives me terrible stomach aches. But only the enchanter canteen serves vegetarian mains, and I'm not allowed to stack on sides in the apprentice canteen."
Karras scoffed, holding his belt. "Meat's good for your brain. It's still developing."
"Please, Sers. I have a real condition. Just talk to my mother. I've never been able to tolerate it. I've been in pain ever since I came here!" Ella said, about to cry.
A fellow apostate. Grace made another mental note.
But it was hard to keep up with it all, because of the sheeple at the other table. They were bothering her, throwing seeds at her and Joy conjured a flame on her robe. She had to counter it quickly or Maker knows what the Templars would have thought—that she was setting fire to herself in protest? That spelled solitary confinement loud and clear. Or even death.
And there it was, that painful yearning in her heart… making her actually think about it. Would that be so bad? Maybe if she went back to solitary, Decimus would return to her. Suddenly it was worth the risk.
"You're on fire, Enchanter Grace," a monotone voice said beside her. Grace flinched as she looked up at a Tranquil Qunari girl holding on an empty cart directed at the kitchens. All 6'3" of her. Her face wasn't disfigured, however. Maybe she was a freeborn. So much for that.
Grace put it out quickly with magic. "Thank you."
"Take a good hard look, Ella. If you keep disobeying, that is your future," Alrik said calmly, pointing at the Tranquil. "Do you understand?"
Ella turned blue in the face, her neck starting to tremble. "I understand, Ser."
"Good girl," Alrik said, putting a hand at the back of Ella's neck and making her move. "Off we go."
Grace felt… sick. Something about it felt… sick. His tone, his mannerisms. Her body language. She was curling up into herself as they left. Either he did something to her, or she knew he was going to.
Shit… Alain…
Afternoon, Gallows Underground Tunnel
They ran into a group of smugglers, then giant spiders decided to join in. Hawke went in front and left a string of light behind her that Fenris's markings branched out and tethered to in the next second.
The tether could hold over about five meters, going through anything and anyone, which gave them an advantage and a problem. The advantage was it boosted regen and warded off magic. The problem was it boosted regen and warded off magic. They had to work on their positioning.
Fortunately for Anders, this meant he had to heal Hawke less and less, and with the rogues being pleasantly evasive, he could stop being a spirit healer and actually do damage. In fact, he was doing a lot of damage.
Unfortunately for Anders, he became a glass cannon. By the third rude encounter, he was knocked out cold, and Hawke had to go full defensive healer. They took care of it in the end, but Anders wasn't waking up.
"Anders?" Hawke rushed to him, worried. She shook him, healed him, but he didn't respond. "What's happening? I'm not out of mana! Why isn't this working?"
The realisation began to take hold as her lungs were shutting down.
Fenris sighed in disappointment behind her. "Even you, Anders?"
Meanwhile, The Gallows Courtyard
Grace shot out of there as soon as lunch time was over. She was stressed out. So stressed out. Stuck between the urge to collect ten shots as soon as possible and the urge to find Alain. She wandered around the yard, everyone staring at her meanly, and she was dizzy. She lost track of time.
She couldn't… couldn't think. It was all becoming very loud. She needed air. She went to the loo.
Joy caught up to her and dangled Grace's necklace in front of her eyes. "Lost this?" she said in a sweet, pouty tone.
Grace felt it, a fire from within, burning a hole through her heart. "What are you doing with it?" she said curtly.
"Someone needed to do inventory for the Templars," Joy said with a smirk. "Did you think they had time to wade through your shitty little trinkets?"
"That doesn't answer my question," Grace said, holding back the rage.
"What's this, then?" Joy said, opening the locket. "Or shall I say, whose is it?"
"That's none of your business."
"The Circle is my business, and you're part of it now." Joy put the necklace back in her fist. "Or have you forgotten?"
"HOW could anyone forget, asshole?!" Grace growled loudly in her face. She didn't even see it coming.
Something thudded behind them. The cart, now full, with a tablecloth covering something like baskets.
"You're loud," the Tranquil oxgirl said flatly. She went in the stall.
Afternoon, Gallows Underground Tunnel
Anders woke up, and had no idea what happened. It was like a great red wave of intense emotion took hold of him as he watched Hawke and Fenris dominate the battlefield with their new shitty little magical bond.
What has she become? Spineless, forever compromising cultural Andrastian, even as she criticises it! Justice snapped. This love will steal her from herself!
He felt very alone suddenly, and so, so hateful.
"We are literally breaking into the Circle to help mages and you decided to turn to blood magic?" Fenris said angrily.
"No. It was Justice's magic," Anders stammered, rubbing his forehead.
"Your body, your blood," Fenris said flatly.
"I-I thought you were one," Hawke said in a trembling voice.
"We are!" Anders insisted. He stood up, his eyes to the ground. "Let's just go."
"We will talk about this later," Hawke said with a disapproving stare.
Meanwhile, Gallows Bathroom
"I heard you had a paramour," Joy went on, massaging her ear. "Where is he now?"
"Stop," Grace said, closing her eyes.
"Is that why you turned to blood magic?" Joy went on, putting the lock of hair under her nose, as if she had a moustache. "For a guy?"
Grace wanted to leave, but that girl's cart was blocking the narrow hallway.
"I mean how pathetic can you be?" Joy said behind her, crossing her arms. "It's just so, so sad."
"I didn't turn to anything!" Grace snapped, finding it hard to breathe. "Decimus did, and we stood down!"
"Then why did you run? You're not twelve," Joy said disbelievingly. "You knew you'd be branded a blood mage as soon as you ran."
"We were running from the fire. After the Templars found us, we weren't running anymore. Me, Alain, the others," Grace said, holding on the cart and closing her eyes. Shallow breaths. Walls were closing in. She was back there. "We agreed with Hawke that she'd escort us back peacefully," she said, omitting her first suggestion. "But she told us not to reveal ourselves until she gave us the signal. Ser Karras found the cave and we overheard him saying he was going to execute us no matter what. Hawke never gave the signal, and told him we were already dead. He didn't believe her, so we snuck back to the massacre and feigned death along Decimus's followers. That's why we are branded blood mages now."
"That's a nice little story, Grace," Joy said calmly, holding the necklace in a flippant way. "Really. I'm impressed. Very ironclad logic. But as soon as you failed to show up at the assembly point, you sealed your fate. Moreover, you consorted with an enemy of the Chantry."
"I didn't consort with her! She came after me! She had our fates in her hand! We were going to do whatever she told us to do, and when Karras said we wouldn't make it back to the Circle, she told us to run. That's the truth of it!"
"Ser Karras," Joy said with a glower. "And he wouldn't do that." By her tone of voice, it sounded like she had affection for him.
"Ask Ser Thrask!" Grace said.
Joy scoffed. "Thrask consorted with Hawke. He stood there and did nothing. His word means nothing, as does yours!"
"What of justice then?" Grace said. "Am I to be damned forever for someone else's crime?"
"You're compromised," Joy said, plain and simple. "Who knows? Maybe if you devote your life to the Maker, truly devote yourself, He will forgive you for your terrible mistakes. Take your punishment gracefully. That's what He wants of you in this life."
Grace held onto the cart for dear life, because her lover's voice was suddenly back and loud in her ears:
Send her to the Maker, my love, Decimus said.
She grazed herself in the metal of the food cart and looked at Joy. She didn't move.
"What are you doing?!" Joy tried to say. She was in total shock. She didn't truly believe Grace was a blood mage, then. She wouldn't have been so brazen.
Grace took the necklace out of her hands, put Decimus's lock in her bra, and placed the locket around Joy's neck.
"Be quiet," Grace said, holding up the tablecloth. "And get inside."
Joy's eyes were big and scared, her body moving against her will. She took out the baskets at the base and squeezed herself inside.
The Tranquil came out, staring at her emptily.
"Where are you taking this?" Grace asked.
"The administrative quarter," the Tranquil said flatly.
"Hm," Grace said with a grin. "Serendipity."
"A happy coincidence," the Tranquil echoed indifferently.
Afternoon, Gallows Basement
There were way too many Templars inside. It was all just a very bad idea, suddenly.
Hawke changed strategy and got out some robes and a collapsible staff from her backpack. She told Isabela to go in undercover as a Circle mage, while Hawke followed her in raven form. She ordered Anders, Fenris and Varric to man the doors of the tunnel and wait.
"No," Fenris said firmly. "Let me come with you. I will pretend to be a mage, too."
"Ha!" Anders said, very amused. "I'd pay a hundred sovereigns to see that!"
"Too many Templars have seen you with me. You've even talked to Cullen," Hawke said. "It's not going to work."
"I can't let you go in the maw of the monster alone," Fenris said, raising his voice.
"Templars are monsters now?" Anders said, chuckling. "Did the giant spiders suck out some of your brain?"
"Jeez. Relax," Isabela said, her eyes widening. "You should be more worried about me. I can't turn into a fucking bird."
"I believe in you," Hawke said with a little smile.
Fenris grunted, pacing around.
"Hey," Hawke said, taking his hand. He was trembling a little. "I'll be fast. We have a clear map of the objective. I'll be back in no time."
"What if you can't be fast? What if you run out of mana?" Fenris said anxiously.
"It doesn't take a lot of mana to have hollow bones. I'll be fine," Hawke said, downing a mana potion.
The rest stared with raised eyebrows as Hawke and Fenris hugged a long hug, and he had a hard time letting go.
Meanwhile, Gallows Yard
Lucy pushed the cart towards the admin quarter. She was already late. She didn't feel annoyed about it. She didn't feel all that much. But there was a mental tension there, that her objective was delayed.
She vaguely remembered a time on a boat when her journey was delayed, and the tall dark human man she called 'Papa' the other day had a hand on her shoulder, telling her it was all going to be alright. She remembered feeling... comforted? A vague sense of colour and light. She did not remember why.
She sort of remembered another time she experienced this 'comfort' thing. In a theatre of light she created. She didn't remember why she did that. There was an elven man there with his chest out and reeking of smoke. She remembered doing that strange thing feeling people did, leaking water out of her eyes. He hugged her tightly, all 5'6" of him, the reflection of the waterfall and floating roses dancing on his hair. He said, "Don't let them steal your soul away, kiddo. Look around. You have so much of it. You are enough." His tear ducts started leaking in her robe too. "You are more than enough."
Lucy recognised the elf had good intentions, but she thought this was inevitable. She was too dangerous, her powers rare and unknowable. She broke so many rules and she was a proven flight risk.
There was no 'life' for her.
Afternoon, The Gallows
"Your man has major separation anxiety," Isabela said as they went up the stairs.
"I am breaking into the Gallows," Hawke said.
"Still, I wouldn't like that kind of control over me."
Hawke scoffed. "What control?" she said, opening her arms to suggest she was still out here, doing as she pleased. "I appreciate someone giving so much shit about me they're shaking in fear. I'd be the same."
"You do you," Isabela said, shrugging. "By the way, where did you learn to turn into a bird?"
"A Chasind girl taught me back in Lothering," Hawke said. "In exchange for a pretty mirror."
Isabela managed to break into the restricted section of the library, Hawke staying watch as a bird. She found almost nothing and they were wasting time. They brought the books back to the team, then moved on.
Isabela followed Anders's map and snuck in the staff quarters, but there were quite a few times in the commons she was stopped and searched and... then some. There was also the famed artist, Lucy, pushing a cart and looking lifeless. There was Alain in the yard, getting bullied by a group of enchanters, while Karras passed them with an approving smile. There was Alrik in the neighbouring tower, holding a teenager by the back of the neck and she looked closed inside herself. There was Cullen in his office, too busy banging his head against his desk to notice any of it. There were… all sorts of problems here. Hawke watched from the windows, biting down on her instincts.
Meanwhile, Gallows Inner Courtyard
There were a few Templars around, as well as other Tranquil cleaning or carrying things.
"Whatcha got for us today, dolly?" Karras said, approaching her with a few Knight-Sergeants.
"Her name is Lucy," Thrask said unhappily, helping a Tranquil with the load bearing.
"Yeah, yeah," Karras said, rolling his eyes.
"Oo, I smell onion soup!" Pérez said excitedly from atop the stairs, coming down.
"Joy lies inside," Lucy said flatly.
"Oh, I bet—" Karras said happily.
In the next fraction of a second, a palette of red, orange and white flames spread in front of Lucy's eyes. Her food was destroyed, along with the cart, and Ser Karras was on fire. So were other Templars and some Tranquil. She looked down at herself. She was fallen, her robe charred and it was hard to breathe. The fire, however, barely grazed her tough skin. Something like a vague sense of annoyance bothered her brain, like the sound of nails on a blackboard.
"It's hot in here," Lucy said flatly.
The Templars' swords were coming at her. Ser Thrask put himself in their way and caught a sword in-between his gauntlets, before it would stab him in the chest.
"Don't you dare kill an innocent girl!" Thrask growled, disarming him. His head bobbed to the right aggressively, towards the blackened corpse of Joy. "That's your culprit!" he shouted.
"She's an accomplice!"
"That's not for you to decide! Now shut up and start helping!"
Afternoon, Gallows Staff Quarters
When Isabela got close to the senior staff corridor, there were two Templars manning the door. She rested her arms on a windowsill, and whispered to the raven nearby, "You need to create a distraction."
Hawke flew in through an open window, about to knock over a torch, when she heard a big commotion beyond the stone walls. The Templars drew their swords and rushed out. Hawke took human form and scratched her head. "Or we'll just use that," she said, shrugging.
"Let's go," Isabela said.
They looked through Alrik's room, for quite a long time, and found nothing.
"Maybe they keep logs of tranquilisation in the admin quarter. I bet Meredith's office is empty," Isabela said.
"Are you mad? There's something going on out there and it smells like smoke. It's too high risk!" Hawke said. "They're probably salvaging all their paperwork as we speak."
"So who has time in that chaos to notice a raven stealing a few scrolls?"
"Good point… Still risky."
"Tell you what. I'll knock out the secretaries on the way. Unless they're Templars. Then I'll just meet you back in the mages' dormitories."
"Be careful."
Hawke flew out as a raven and circled around, getting to the Knight-Commander's office. The window wasn't properly closed, and Hawke gnawed at the lock and opened it further. Nobody noticed her. An admin rushed out with a stack of papers, while another one put a bunch of scrolls down on the desk and opened a drawer with a key. Hawke cawed loudly, and the admin flinched and knocked over the papers. As they went down to collect them, Hawke flew in and grabbed whatever she could get her claws in. She rushed out and caught up with Isabela.
Evening, Gallows Underground Tunnel
Hawke was taking too long and Fenris was aflutter. He found himself imagining things he'd never cared to give one iota of thought before—the Circle. How it all worked. How packed with Templars it was. How they behaved with mages. How they would treat her, if she ever got caught.
In his heart of hearts, he thought Hawke had made a terrible mistake going in there. She had made herself enemy of the Chantry and then she flew into the mouth of the beast with open wings. What was she thinking? Forget whatever the reality was for the average Circle mage.
THEY WOULD DESTROY HER, the half-blind man said.
He found himself thinking these things, and it was the hardest thing to stay focused. He looked inside for willpower, but there was none.
"You okay?" Varric said, leaning on the wall beside him. "You don't look good."
Fenris flinched, sighed, steadied himself. He crossed his arms. "So… I think I'm ready to turn thirty."
"Yeah?" Varric said candidly.
"I just don't know what that means for me," Fenris said, looking down. He thought for a while. "I suppose I will find out."
THERE ARE TWO POSSIBLE DARKEST TIMELINES, LITTLE WOLF, the half-blind man said. WHICH ONE WILL SWALLOW ALL THE LIGHT?
"Well, if it's anything like my experience," Varric said, crossing his ankles, "your knees will start hurting, your pee stream will be veering off and you'll be screaming in a pillow wishing you were a kid again."
As if Fenris knew what being a kid was like. He'd been hurting all of his life and there was barely any stream coming out now he'd forgotten to drink his dick potion. He'd been sporting thirty since he was nineteen.
Suddenly a lot of noise was coming from the fortress.
"Something's happening up there," Fenris said.
"Don't even think about taking a step, elf," Varric said.
"I hope they didn't get caught," Anders said.
"I doubt two lousy spies getting caught would cause such a fuss," Varric said, scoffing. "But I don't like it. I'm with you on that."
"Me either," Anders said, rubbing his arm.
"Give it a minute," Fenris said, narrowing his eyes. "I'm sure you can learn to like that, too."
"Shut up," Anders said curtly.
"Agreed," Varric said uncomfortably. "Not the time."
They heard a door open and they hid. A dark-haired teenage girl ran past, tripping on herself, and she was gone.
Anders immediately made a barrier with his arm to stop Fenris from reacting, but he didn't give a single shit about the event itself.
"They're taking too long," Fenris said, shaking his head.
"I said no, elf," Varric said.
"Hide!" Anders said.
A few Templars went after the girl.
"We have to help her!" Anders whispered.
Fenris stopped him. "Don't. We will be compromised."
"That's Ser Alrik!" Anders said, raising his voice. "I can't let him harm her. I just can't!"
"Shit. We have to," Varric said.
Fenris looked at the tunnel entrance. "That guy?"
Anders nodded and was about to explain, but Fenris went in without a word.
Blondie did a blood magic and Broody was saving a mage. Varric followed them, questioning reality.
When they caught up with the Templars, Ser Alrik was looming over the fallen girl, telling her she was out of chances and he would make her Tranquil. That she would finally be compliant and do everything he asked.
Fenris felt it, his whole being, screaming to rip this man to shreds.
THERE IS ONLY ONE CURE FOR MONSTERS LIKE HIM! the half-blind man yelled.
Don't! the red band said.
Don't… the boring band-aid bath guy said.
No one said you can't fuck him up, the gruff one said.
"Hex the one on the right to sleep," Fenris said.
But Anders wasn't listening. He was rubbing his forehead, looking spaced out.
"Anders, focus," Fenris whispered.
"Right," Anders said, waking up.
Fenris rushed in quietly and knocked out a Templar with a lyrium finger in the right spot, while Anders hexed the other to sleep. Then, Fenris's fist invaded Alrik's back, ignoring his spinal cord and reaching straight for the heart. It required so much more effort and concentration to do it that way; the hand materialising on the organ, but the arm phasing through. Fenris was afraid he'd kill him or paralyse him, but he needed that fear to keep him in check. Otherwise, if he faced him, if he gazed into the monster's eyes... he'd just destroy him. There were no ifs, ands or buts about it. He knew himself.
"Touch her, and I will kill you," Fenris said.
"What…? What is the meaning of this?" Alrik stammered through the pain.
"You will confess to your crimes. In writing," Fenris said, shoving his notebook in Alrik's hand. "Now," he said. As he spoke, his fist contracted, going through the pulling motion, savouring it.
Alrik cried and wailed and tried to dispel him, but Fenris's markings weren't having it. He made him kneel, and Alrik started writing.
"Names, Templar," Fenris said sternly. "Don't leave anything out."
"Are you okay?" Varric said, helping up the girl Alrik referred to as Ella.
"No!" Ella shouted. "He's crazy!" she shouted, hugging herself. "He-he threw me in solitary with my friend and ordered us to fight each other, then… then he ordered us to…" She started crying.
It took every fibre of Fenris's being not to squeeze his heart out like a shitty little fucking tomato.
Then a preternatural voice came, "You will never harm another mage as you harmed her!"
Anders was glowing like a beacon and he was ready to attack.
"Stand down, Anders," Fenris said sternly. "It is done."
"Out of my way!" Anders growled.
He took the sleeping Templars' helmets off and cut their throats with his staff blade, draining them of their blood. Fenris ran out of the way just before Anders directed the blood storm at Alrik.
More Templars came in, and they were fucked. No more 'Anders' to heal Varric, no Hawke in sight to heal Fenris. They were getting overwhelmed. Ella tried to help, but she wasn't experienced.
Varric threw one last poison in a Templar's helmet, then fell.
Fenris finished him off, while a raven flew in and stole another Templar's helmet. Isabela cut his throat, and Hawke appeared and took the focus.
"I knew she was a mage!" a Templar shouted.
Fenris ripped his heart out.
When the battle was done, Isabela was unconscious too and Hawke was on the ground.
"Help Varric and Izzie," Hawke said weakly, holding on her wounded thigh. "I'll be fine."
Fenris rushed to help them.
"Anders, snap out of it and heal us!" Hawke ordered him.
But Anders didn't listen. He kept waving his staff around and talking to himself. Didn't even see Ella was in the way. She backed away from him, falling on the ground, and she defended her face.
"Stay away, demon!" she cried.
"Demon?" Anders said in the otherworldly voice. "I am no demon! Are you one of them, that you would call me such?"
"Justice, calm down!" Hawke shouted. "It's over. She's not your enemy!"
"Get away from me!" Ella said, crawling away from him.
"What are you doing?!" Hawke shouted, her eyes doubling in size. She tried to get up, do a spell. She was out of mana. Fenris was too far away to tether onto. "Anders, STOP!"
She crawled over in a rush and put herself in Ella's way. She caught his staff and it veered inside her shoulder.
Fenris saw out of the corner of his eye, the love of his life getting hurt by Anders.
He didn't see, didn't hear, didn't feel. Nothing, absolutely nothing but a cold and deadly rage, working its way up his spine, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He shot across the tunnel and tackled him to the ground, punching him again and again and again.
"Stop it! You're killing him!" Hawke shouted.
He didn't care.
"Fenris, stop!" Hawke growled.
He deserved to die!
"If you kill him, you and I are done!"
His fist stopped mid-air. Rage evaporated and terror took over. He was trembling all over, breathing heavily. It took all his strength to stop. He got off him…
"We have to kill him, Hawke," Fenris said sternly. "He's possessed for certain now."
"I will be the judge of that!" Hawke said, breathing out.
Ella ran like hell.
"He's turned to blood magic! He almost killed an innocent girl! He almost killed you!" Fenris yelled.
"I know exactly what he did," Hawke said sharply. She swallowed, looking away. "Help me up," she said softly.
Evening, Darktown
"Are you alright?" Hawke asked Ella.
"I'm… fine…" Ella said, hugging herself.
"What happened in the Circle?"
"Someone set themselves on fire! I had to get out of there!"
"Shit," Hawke said, thinking. "That's grounds for Circle Annulment, isn't it?"
"I have no idea," Ella said, sighing. She tightened her hands around herself. "What… what was that thing?"
"A demon…" Hawke said, very matter-of-factly. She looked down. "I'm sorry I brought him with me. It was a mistake. You didn't deserve that trauma."
"I just wanted to get back to my mother," Ella said, her voice breaking and about to cry again. "What do you think I should do?"
"Alrik's dead now," Fenris said.
"He's the one I was running from," Ella said, nodding. "M-maybe it won't be so bad with him gone."
"I left his confession on his body," Fenris said.
"Go home to your mother," Hawke said sternly. "Take her with you and leave Kirkwall. Never, ever come back. Do you understand me?"
Evening, Hightown
Hawke didn't want to hear any of it. Fenris didn't really care about what she decided to do with Ella. A witness out of the way spared them a trial. When everything was done, she went in a corner and puked her guts out. They took Anders to his clinic, but he wasn't waking up.
Fenris kept it all inside, until he found himself carrying Anders to Hawke's house, as if that made any fucking sense.
He was about to open his mouth, when Hawke said:
"Tell me everything that happened."
Just stick to the facts, the boring band-aid bath guy said.
THE FACT IS HE'S A DEMON! the half-blind man shouted.
She knows that, the boring-band aid bath guy said.
"Alrik apprehended the girl, and made sick remarks to her while invoking the Rite of Tranquility," Fenris said, fighting all his natural instincts. "We incapacitated them, and I forced Alrik down to write a confession." His voice had no more willpower to stay indifferent. "Then Anders went crazy for no fucking reason."
"Something triggered it," Hawke said. "What was it?"
Fenris thought about it. He knew what triggered him to wish the Templar dead. Was it more or less the same thing? "Ella told us some nasty things he did to her."
Varric scoffed. "Yeah. Nothing to do with the fact the Templar was trying to make the kid Tranquil."
"Don't you think the abuse was what made her run the fuck away?" Fenris said curtly.
"Either, both," Hawke said, shrugging. "He's seen Karl like that. He's seen all sorts of shit. It must have blown his fuse."
"So what?" Fenris said. "He was weak. He gave in."
"Let's not jump to conclusions," Hawke said, opening the door for them.
Evening, The Hawke Estate
Anders was put on bed rest downstairs, while the rest tried to take a breather. There had been about four minutes of peace at the table, after which Fenris couldn't, simply couldn't take it any longer. He banged his cup on the little plate and snapped, "I don't understand what you're doing here!"
"I'm waiting for him to wake up," Hawke said flatly.
"He does blood magic and tries to murder a girl and you reward him with inviting him into your home?"
"You can stay with me if the notion makes you uncomfortable."
He scoffed. "Like fuck am I leaving."
"What else am I supposed to do? Hm?" Hawke said. "Monitor him in his shitty little shack?"
"Fire him," Fenris said.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence.
"If you won't kill him, then let him go," Fenris said. "He is compromised."
Varric and Isabela wanted to be anywhere else.
"Thank you for your input. I'm not going to make any decision right now."
"This isn't complex, Hawke."
"Isn't it?"
"Far from it."
"He's like family," she insisted, touching her chest. "All of you are. I'm not gonna toss him aside like he's garbage without even giving him a chance to tell me what happened!"
Fenris scoffed. "You're just giving him time to concoct more lies. He's been working himself in your good graces for years and you choose to stay blind to it."
"He's been a good employee and a good friend," Hawke insisted. She looked down. "Until now…" She looked up at him. "I want to hear him out."
"Sure," Fenris said, crossing his arms. "Let him take your hand again, stare deeply into your eyes and tell you more bullshit."
"Oh, so this is about that?"
"No. This is about all of it."
"Do you think I was flirting or something? And in front of you, like I'm some kind of fucking idiot?"
"No. I'm sure if you were flirting, you'd be smart about it."
If Donnic were here, he'd be face-palming so hard his hand would go through his skull… the boring band-aid bath guy said. No. Forget that. He'd slap you.
I'm going to slap YOU, you useless condom! the gruff one said angrily. This is your failure.
Hawke opened her mouth, clearly offended. She chuckled and shook her head. "Thanks?"
"This is getting a bit out of hand," Varric said, chuckling nervously.
Fenris rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry. I'm just getting carried away," he said, sighing. "But my point about him still stands—he, as a person, cannot be trusted any longer."
"Be that as it may, I think I have a little more experience with these things than you. No offense," Hawke said defensively.
Fenris scoffed. Loudly.
Hawke wasn't impressed.
"Do you want history to repeat itself?" he said vaguely, for her sake, standing up.
She stood up too, slapping her hands on the table. "That is exactly what I don't want to happen."
"It will. It already is. And you are letting it."
"Fenris, people who aren't, I don't know, Tevinter… or Merrill, don't just 'turn' to blood magic or possession for a fancy. He must have felt isolated, or misunderstood, or desperate. I don't know! Something went wrong inside his brain, and I need to understand what, and I need to at least try to help him. He's…" She stammered, sighed; she touched her forehead. "He needs help."
"You are going soft, Hawke," Fenris said, shaking his head.
Hawke's eyes activated, her mouth opened, and the eyebrows became the world's most terrifying scowl. "I'd rather be soft than a selfish, jaded asshole."
Her face, her words, cut through his heart like nothing else. He wasn't selfish. Jaded, sure, but not selfish. Everything he'd done, everything he hadn't, was because of her.
Fenris brushed up his bangs, looking discombobulated. "I… need to leave."
"Alright, let's just calm down," Varric said, standing up. "I'll take you home."
"No," Hawke said, her arms trembling. "I need you here."
"I'll take him," Isabela said, sighing.
Fenris was already out the room.
"You know how to make a Qunari coffee?" Hawke said, staring at the table.
"No?" Isabela said, chuckling.
"When the coffee boils, take the foam that forms at the top and put it in the cup before pouring it in."
"Okay. Why…?"
Hawke's eyes remained on the table. "Just… make him one. It's counterintuitive, but it calms him down for some reason." Finally, she looked up at her. "Please."