Birds chirped not too loudly, the crisp sounds stirring the sleepy human in his comfortable sheets. Hawke blinked his eyes open, seeing the top of his large bed's canopy in the soft blue morning light. He breathed in deeply, waking up gradually, like he was floating in a warm bath. I'm well rested.
He stirred when he remembered the night previous, and that he was not alone in his bed. Turning his head he immediately saw the red hair, stark bright against the white sheets and peeking out from under the blanket. She was facing him, with her eyes closed and her face the image of pure bliss. She breathed steadily, a hand lying on the pillow next to her, and a strand of her hair was resting on her nose, crossing the lines of her Vallaslin. He smiled, and reached out a hand, gingerly moving the piece back behind her pointed ear. She remained asleep, to his relief, and he watched her for another moment.
She looks to be sleeping peacefully. I'm relieved, after her nightmare.
Flashes of memory of the dark night slipped through his mind and across his skin like tingles; the feeling of her reaching for him when she was afraid and knowing he was safe, fitting into his arms without doubt, with full trust, her heartbeat beating right next to his…
I came close, last night, after dinner, he thought, bringing a hand up to rub his face. I came close to revealing my feelings for her.
He let out a hard sigh and looked over at the window to judge the time of the morning, and reasoned it was mid-morning from the brightness of the sun. I still have a little time before I need to leave.
He slowly sat up in the bed, making sure not to disturb her, and got up, heading to the kitchen. He absently put on a pot of water to boil for tea, noting the hastily hacked open wine case on the counter and knowing there's empty wine bottles strewn from here in the kitchen to his fireplace that needed to be picked up. Hawke was lost in his thoughts, distracted by the scent of Dalish tea, that he jumped when he heard a voice from behind him.
"Wow, this'll be one for the stories."
Hawke spun, wide-eyed, and met the raised eyebrow of Varric, crossing his arms, standing in his entryway and surveying the mess of Hawke's and Lyra's night before. Hawke blinked, frozen, and Varric continued, slightly impressed.
"I mean, I saw it coming, and I've actually said you and Robin would work since the beginning, but wow that was fast."
"Varric…?" Hawke asked, and then it hit him. The empty wine bottles and glasses were strewn about looking like an evening of fun, and the bedroom door was open, so that Varric could clearly glance in and see the redhead tangled in his sheets...
"Oh, oh no, Varric, it's not what it seems." He shook his head and held up his hands, chuckling awkwardly, and blushing hard. "Lyra only slept here last night, but we didn't… we're not…"
Varric raised an eyebrow. "No way, Hawke. Not even you are that chaste, where you can sleep next to a beautiful woman, what, to just sleep next to each other?"
Hawke frowned at him, heart beating fast. "Yes. To just share a sleeping space."
Varric's brows came together, but then he shook his head, chuckling as well. "Alright. If any of my friends can sleep together platonically, it's you two. But I would advise caution." Varric gave him a look. "The moody elf is fragile right now, at best, and I have some hard news to deliver him today. And I'm sure Isabela would have too much fun poisoning your food."
Hawke let out a hard sigh. "I understand. We hadn't really planned this or anything, we just got pretty drunk last night and figured, the bed's huge."
"And you were both drunk? Aye," Varric threw his hands up and shook his head. "You two are too sweet."
Hawke shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as Varric turned to the bedroom, just to see a very ruffled looking Lyra lean against the doorway, hair wild and rubbing her eyes sleepily.
"Good morning, everyone. How are you doing, Var-..." her eyes widened and she straightened up, swallowing as her eyes registered what this looked like. "Varric? Uh, um," she met Hawke's eyes, her blue-greens worried.
"Good morning, sleepy," Varric started, grin tugging on his mischievous smile. "You two looked quite comfy in there together; didn't want to disturb the new couple."
"Ah! Varric, we-!" Lyra panicked and Hawke nudged Varric to stop, his own face still in full blush and his embarrassment turning his insides to jelly.
"Varric's just being an ass, don't listen to him," Hawke swallowed as well and came to her, giving her a comforting smile. She breathed out and blinked at him with her wide eyes before shaking her head at Varric.
"I was rather surprised, actually," Varric continued, smile twitching, "when Hawke told me you hadn't, actually, and that you two only slept next to each other, like-"
"Varric," Lyra groaned, hiding the lower half of her face with a hand to try and conceal her blush. "And to think I was going to offer to make you breakfast."
Varric's teasing grin dropped in a second, and fear entered his eyes, voice dropping in seriousness. "Wait, Robin," he took a step forward, hunger entering his gaze, mouth salivating. "I take it back. I take it all back."
Lyra laughed, the sound like the birds singing outside, eyes twinkling at his silliness. "I know you're a dwarf who can appreciate a savory breakfast to wake up your senses with a little spice."
Hawke chuckled. "More like kill your senses. Don't know if I'll recover in time from last night." He winked down cheekily at a pouting Lyra, her arms crossed and her expression aloof.
"Fine, then. I can make a nice bland version for your poor tongue."
"Can you make me a whole new tongue while you're at it?"
"I can rip out your tongue, while I'm at it."
Hawke smiled brightly down at her and tried to hold in his laughter while she glared at him, her fist raising and twitching to hit his chest. Varric shook his head, hand coming to his forehead.
"Can you rip out my eyes first, please? And my ears? You two disgust me." the dwarf reached out and kindly held one of Lyra's hands, looking up and pleading with her. "Robin, I'd do anything for some of your spicy gourmet cuisine."
Lyra softened and returned his smile before glaring playfully towards the tall human, blue-greens sharp and deep, speaking to the dwarf but eyeing Hawke coyly. "Of course. Varric, love, we can go to the kitchen and eat some delicious food, and leave this ass with his flavorless tastes."
Hawke laughed heartily and held up his hands. "This is my mansion!"
Varric looked from Hawke to Lyra and then shrugged, walking past the human and looking up to the elf. "Yeah, alright."
Lyra took Varric's arm and they walked to the kitchen, the elf padding on Hawke's expensive carpet, barefoot. Hawke spluttered and Lyra stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder, before winking at him. He chuckled to himself and shook his head, his mouth unable to stop smiling. I've got the best friends.
O
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"So Fenris has a sister?" Hawke whispered down to Varric, the two men and Lyra standing back in the bar, watching their angry white-haired friend from afar. Fenris's back was to them, but Hawke could see enough; the elf's shoulders tense, his fists clenched, his words curt and impatient as he shot questions at his sister. He looks even worse than in the outskirts, when we found out Hadriana was in town.
"It wasn't hard to contact her, which surprised me," Varric whispered back, and just at that moment, Fenris straightened in shock, his face raising to look at the figures approaching from the top of the stairs.
"Danarius…" Fenris whispered, taking a step back, and then shooting a glare at his sister who was backing away slowly. "You...you led him here, you…"
"I'm sorry, Leto. It was the only way… he's going to make me his apprentice," his sister said evenly. Hawke, Varric, and Lyra alerted quickly and readied their stances as the magister and his lackeys approached, Hawke's brows narrowing on the sharp man and anger slowly building in his heart the longer he looked at him.
"My wolf," Danarius called casually as he approached them confidently, pale deadened eyes looking past to stare into Hawke's. "So this is your new master."
Anger shot through Hawke's body like scorching fire, and he glared at the man, yelling in response. "Fenris is a free man! He has no master, you bastard."
"I'll kill you," Fenris spoke in a small, low voice, his shoulders tight but his fists starting to shake. "I'm going to kill you, finally."
"Oh, come now," Danarius chided, cocking his head and giving him a condescending, disappointed look, causing Fenris to flinch. "That's not how you speak to me, wolf." his piercing gaze found Hawke's again, disregarding everything he and Fenris had just said. "I've come to make a deal with you, Master Hawke, perhaps compensate you for your loss. I trust you must have found my Fenris's services, well...satisfying?"
"Shut your mouth, Danarius!" Fenris yelled, veins glowing in his rage, and Hawke unsheathed his giant broadsword, taking a menacing step forward and meeting Danarius's stare with his own, and thinking quickly.
Lyra is no longer next to me; she's blended into the shadows, hiding somewhere. She knows this will end in a fight.
"The only deal I'm making today is letting my friend decide how and when he's going to kill you," Hawke readied his stance, meeting the alarmed green eyes of Fenris and giving him a reassuring nod. "We're with you, Fenris."
"Are you sure?" Danarius motioned behind him and his lackeys started an approach, the four or five of them armed and ready. "I'm only reclaiming what's mine; I'm even offering to pay you." his cold gaze swept over to Fenris, nailing the elf in place. Fenris was shaking badly, his hand coming up to reach the hilt of his sword but his feet locked in place. "You've had your fun, Fenris. Now return to me."
Fenris seemed to harden, and pulled his sword out as well, shaking his head. "No. I will be free of you."
Chaos erupted as the elf lunged towards the magister, and before Hawke could enter the fray a pair of pitched screams called from behind Danarius. They looked over to see two of his men collapse to the floor in a bloody mess, both with arrows through their necks. Hawke and Fenris used the distraction to quickly kill the other three lackeys while Varric kept Danarius busy with a hail of bolts, not giving the magister any time to cast a spell. The four converged onto the magister from all sides so quickly that the magister was overwhelmed, falling to the ground.
"Stop, wait-!" Danarius tried, raising a hand to try and stall, but Fenris let the lyrium in his veins glow the brightest as he held Danarius down by the neck with one hand and plunged his other into his chest.
The elf said nothing as he ripped Danarius's heart out with a grunt, crushing the organ in his grip and tossing the bloody remains on his dead body. He staggered to stand, backing away and processing the body of his former master.
"Have fun in hell," Hawke wiped his sword on the magister's robes before sheathing the giant weapon on his back and looking over his friends. Varric heaved a heavy sigh as Lyra emerged from the shadows, and then they all looked over to Fenris's sister, huddling in a corner.
"Leto," she let out a weak plea, eyes afraid. "Leto forgive me. I had to."
"No," Fenris whispered, looking over at her with disdain, shaking his head in disgust. "No you didn't. You're just like the rest of them."
Hawke watched his friend carefully, the rage still pulsing through the elf's mind.
"I'm sorry, Leto, I'm sorry…" she pleaded desperately, and Fenris snapped.
"Don't call me that!" he advanced on her angrily, causing her to cower further.
"Fenris," Hawke interrupted him with a firm voice, knowing his friend wasn't in his right mind. The elf shot him a look, a look that held all of his confusion, frustration, pain, and fear.
"She sold me out, Hawke! My own sister! I have no one…" his resolve broke for a second, before anger instantly took over. "And of course, she did it for magic."
"Think about this," Hawke reasoned, voice understanding. "You'll regret it later."
"It's always about magic," Fenris continued while shaking his head, though he had stopped advancing on her. His eyes looked up to meet Hawke's, angry and lost, and then moved to meet Lyra's, the betrayal pinching old pains. "The people in my life…"
"We care about you, Fenris." Hawke lowered his voice, meeting his eyes with his firm ones. "You're not alone."
"Fenris," Lyra whispered, and Fenris looked over at her seriously, the anger slowly leaving his limbs like poison leaking out of a wound as he watched her cautiously. Lyra took a step forward, and then another, before gently reaching a hand out for him, her other hand raising her hood slightly so she could meet his eyes. He stared down at her hand for a moment, his fists gripping tightly in the last of his anger, Hawke and Varric approaching as well. Lyra reached out and grasped his hand, bringing it to her and enclosing it in both of her hands. His greens flew up to meet her eyes as she gave him a soft smile. "We are your friends." Hawke reached out and added his hands to hers, and so did Varric, the three holding on to him. "We would do anything for you."
Fenris began to shake, but now it originated from his chest and spread outwards until it reached his hands, the anger that kept his will strong, withering. He looked slightly overwhelmed from these three friends so close to him, and he raised his head and looked over, meeting the eyes of the sister that betrayed him.
"Get out," he rasped, looking at her long enough to make sure she understood before bowing his head to his friends again, the shaking in his limbs starting to overtake him. His sister slipped out quickly as his friends pulled him even closer, the tall broad arms of a human, slender arms of an elf, and short stocky arms of a dwarf reaching around to enclose Fenris in a four person embrace.
"Damn it, you all," Fenris whispered, engulfed and shaking, and the three held him in place long enough for him to gather himself.
O
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"Lethallan," Lyra whispered as she shied away from the mirror, her eyes alert as if she were facing an enemy. This mirror...it can't be. Merrill stood quickly from the chair in her apartment, struck in shock.
"Lyra?! You, ah, I didn't…" she took a few steps towards her friend, brows coming together. She looked at Lyra with a mix of panic, fear, and caution. "You usually knock."
"I felt," Lyra started, eyeing the mirror, uneasiness constricting her chest, "I felt something powerful here, when I was passing by. My ability to sense magic has strengthened since using it more, and…" Lyra tore her gaze from the tall ornate glass, meeting the eyes of her dear friend, and felt the sick tendrils of the dishonesty between them curl in her chest. "You know what this is."
"An eluvian," Merrill nodded determinedly, glancing to the ancient artifact in reverence for a moment, before returning her attention to Lyra, brows together defensively. "A relic of our People."
Lyra stayed silent for a moment, looking between her friend's eyes, and looking back to the mirror. Memories, hot and painful, threatened to slip into her mind, and it was all she could do to repress them.
Merrill began to pace, back and forth in front of the mirror, her small shoulders rising in irritation. "I feared, you wouldn't understand." her guarded greens found Lyra's, a hint of accusation in her words. "You left the People longer ago than I did. Do you no longer care for our history either, then? Like the rest of my clan?"
Lyra watched her, silently taking the hit of Merrill's accusation, her concern radiating the space between them. She swallowed. "This mirror does not offer us history. It offers only pain and danger." She took a step towards the agitated elf, trying to keep her tone composed. "Eluvians were used as communication devices; there were many, and we cannot know if anyone may be watching us right now through another one. They are so old that after a time they break, and some gain the same taint as darkspawn."
Merrill shook her head at her, her words laced with denial. "I know that. I know they can be dangerous as everyone says, but so is everything we do! We can't hope to recover our history without taking risks!"
Lyra stayed silent for a moment, hands wringing themselves. Her voice dropped low. "This is why you kept this from me, lethallan? Because you knew, I would disapprove?"
Merrill stopped her pacing and sat down heavily on her chair, letting her head fall into her hands and rubbing her eyes, looking defeated. "I was afraid. That you'd cast me out for this too."
"Merrill…" Lyra approached her slowly, realizing she had been struggling with this mirror for some time. Merrill sighed heavily, looking resigned.
"Hawke won't help me either. I'll have to do this by myself, then."
"Do what?" Lyra asked quickly, glancing to the mirror and swearing she saw a shadow slither along the edge.
"Try and unlock its secrets. There must be something, otherwise it wouldn't be so…"
Alarm deafened Lyra's ears, panic gripped her chest. Her voice rose a degree, her entire body alert.
"Merrill, do you not sense the foreboding aura coming from it? I feel it, like eyes watching me from behind, like an enemy about to strike…" Lyra clutched at her chest, breathing in deeply despite the constricting feeling from being so close to the dark magical presence.
Merrill eyed her sideways, speaking in a tone she had never used with Lyra before. "Dark, sure. Dark like me; like my blood magic."
"Dark, like darkspawn," Lyra argued quietly, coming to her, looking between her eyes and willing her to understand. "You know I don't judge you for your magic ways, Merrill, I never have. But this feeling is different, it is the same feeling I felt day after day during the Blight, the same feeling that surged through me when I slayed the Archdemon…" she shook her head, looking at her friend determinedly, speaking passionately and with care lacing her words. "Your passion for our People inspires me, lethallan; you are one of my closest friends, you are my sister and always will be. And so this dread I feel, my instincts tearing at me to protect my loved ones is so strong right now I can't...," Lyra panted slightly, kneeling in front of where Merrill sat and looking up at her in anguish. "Please trust me."
Merrill sat stunned, eyes wide, never having seen her strong and experienced friend in such a state; kneeling, desperate, begging, protective. Protective of her.
Merrill's greens welled up, her shoulders rising higher in emotion. "My clan, they, they're better off without me…" Merrill cried softly, her small hands twitching to hold Lyra's. "I just want, to give them something, a piece of our history, something…"
"Please, Merrill," Lyra begged her, tears falling down her cheeks as well. "Not this mirror. Give back to your clan, but not this. Please, lethallan, please, be safe. For me, and for everyone here that loves you," they clutched each others' hands, each crying, both just relieved to be with the other.
O
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Hawke jingled his keys absently, his head pounding from the long day. Has my lock always been this difficult to open? He grunted to himself as he finally opened his mansion door, reminding himself his mother would soon return from her trip and thinking about-
"...once in a while?! As city guard captain I have to-"
"Oh please, they can wait a few measly hours with their freedom, I'm in danger, Aveline!"
Hawke blinked as he walked into his parlor to behold an agitated Aveline and a twitchy Isabela. Both women ignored him. Aveline sneered, tone laced with sarcasm.
"Oh, danger, I'm sure, what do you have to worry about? Missing a sale on liquor or figuring out who the father is?"
"Oh, you-!"
"Alright!" Hawke yelled, walking forward and forcing their attention away from clawing at each other, his voice strained. "It's great to see you two, care for some tea?"
"Hawke," Aveline started, approaching him determinedly. "We need to go to the docks. Two fugitive elves escaped our prisons and are hiding out with the Qunari, who are giving them sanctuary. We cannot let this slide; the safety and security of our city depends on it."
"I'm going to die!" Isabela cut in, the fear edging her voice causing Hawke to stop and look at her. She gripped her arms and chuckled humorlessly. "Now that I have your attention, I have a matter that's much more important than some runaways."
Hawke met the sharp eyes of his ex, immediately seeing the severity in her expression. He brushed away the feelings of discomfort and nodded to her. "What's happened?"
"It's here, the relic," she started, beginning to pace in front of his fireplace, anxious. "In this city, and I'm not the only one looking for it. I need it, to give back to Castillion so he doesn't kill me, and they'll be in a Lowtown foundry tonight."
Hawke nodded, remembering the numerous burdens she carried, and frowning at the timing. "We'll help you get it, then. Aveline, can the guard handle the escaped fugitives? I've already pressed my luck with the Arishok too many times this week."
"The guard are responsible, you're right," Aveline sighed, but gave him a meaningful look. "And I've asked the Viscount. But he really made it seem like you should be the one to approach the Qunari." she glanced sideways to the other woman, adding, "And the relationship with the Qunari affects the safety of the whole city, not just one woman."
Isabela turned slightly, raising her hands. "Well, maybe, my relic, and the Qunari, are, related. Somehow."
Hawke and Aveline stopped, both pairs of eyes looking at her. Aveline's voice lowered. "What?"
Isabela shrugged and hurried, "Listen, I'm just saying that recovering this damned book might help more people than just me if that's what you're worried about. It's in your best interest."
"Book?" Hawke asked, cocking his head at her, but keeping his voice quiet. Aveline scoffed.
"I thought you didn't know what the relic was!"
Isabela twitched, masking her desperation.
"Okay, I know it's a book. But it's in a foreign language; I can't read it. Just," she looked at Hawke, expression serious, looking at him longer than she had since their split. "I really need your help tonight. We need to recover this thing, I promise it's more important."
Hawke let out a breath, reaching a hand up to rub his aching forehead, but nodding all the same. "Okay. Tonight. And then, we head to the compound to handle the fugitives."
"Thank you," Isabela breathed out, glancing at Aveline before walking out, excusing herself. Hawke met Aveline's gaze, the woman cautious and worried.
"You trust her?" she asked him, and Hawke gave her a look before closing his eyes.
"I trust her enough, yeah." he sat down heavily on his couch, waving to the guard captain as she left. His headache had returned, full and pounding.
Maker, I'm tired.
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"I'm sorry," Isabela began, meeting the three pairs of eyes who looked over at her. Varric holstered Bianca on his back, Lyra silently retrieved her arrows, and Hawke wiped some blood off his forehead. The Lowtown alley was quiet once again with fresh corpses of mages, mercenaries, and Qunari littering the street.
"The Qunari…" Hawke began, looking over the dead men he would have to tell the Arishok about. "...their relic, is the same as the one you're looking for. The same one… you stole."
"It is," Isabela said quietly, the pirate's eyes soft and serious. "I knew it the whole time; that the relic I stole and lost is the reason the Qunari are stranded here. The Tevinter mages probably want it to make the Qunari weak, since they are at war with each other, and Castillion wants it to repay my debt to him for letting all those slaves free."
They all stood in silence for a second, processing, and Varric finally broke it, his rough voice colored with worry. "Rivaini…"
"I should have told you," Isabela glanced to meet Hawke's eyes briefly, looking away. Her shoulders slumped an inch but she mustered some strength. "Please. Tell me you'll let me have the relic. It's the only thing that will get Castillion off my back."
Hawke felt the now familiar wave of dread overtake him, the weight dulling his senses. This relic. The one thing that might solve the Qunari problem. The one thing that will save her life.
"It's yours. Your life depends on it." Hawke sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, then meeting her eyes with his tired ones. "We'll find a way to deal with the Qunari after, somehow."
Isabela straightened, slightly stunned. "Really?" she paused, looking to her companions. "I'm, surprised. To have someone, on my side."
"You have us," Lyra spoke from under her hood, raising her gaze to give her a smile. "We are in this together."
Isabela softened even more, her brows coming together. "Robin…" she met Hawke's gaze once more, looking at him with conviction and respect. "Okay. Let's do this."
O
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Fire was raining down on the city, the screams of women and children intermingled the clashing sounds of weapons and sounds of battle. Hawke ran through the streets in a daze, having lost count the number of qunari he killed, his armor, his sword, and his face covered in blood, with his companions close behind.
I failed, he thought to himself as he abruptly took a detour to a side street where he heard some closer screams, his friends spreading out. They sprinted towards a scene unraveling before him in slow motion… a family, hunkered together, pleading with two qunari warriors descending on them with axes, the father raising an arm to try to shield his family but the axe coming down and cutting him down where he stood, the other qunari raising his axe to slaughter the mother next-
Lyra yelled out in frustration next to him, loosing an arrow as they sprinted just in time to distract the qunari, giving Hawke enough time to-
Hawke roared as he drove his sword straight into the chest of one, the sick crunching of bones splitting and giving way to his steel as the warrior hissed his death cry. Fenris was close behind him, the two two-handed sword warriors quickly overwhelming any threat they faced on their way up the city.
Varric panted as he caught up, helping Lyra retrieve some arrows as Hawke just stood in shock and numbly watched the crying family huddle over the body of the fallen father. His blood slowly seeped out, flowing around the knees of the kneeling children.
All of this, I should have prevented. All of this, I couldn't stop…
"Run away from here!" Fenris yelled at the family hurriedly, his voice breaking, the pain in his tone stirring Hawke slightly from his daze. The mother was trying to pull one of her children away from the body of the man, and the screams of agony, of despair, ripped through Hawke like a hail of arrows, nailing him down where he stood.
Varric picked up the child as gently as he could and handed him to the mother, both distraught. His voice was low. "Run to the lower city; it's safer there," he helped push them along, leaving the body of their loved one on the street.
I let this happen, Hawke stared at the body as his friends caught their breaths and readied themselves. Their gazes waited on him, but he didn't notice, he couldn't stop listening to the distant screams of people he couldn't save, of more families who would be forever gone…
"Aedan."
Hawke flinched, blinking up to the pair of blue-greens that stood tall in front of him, bringing his focus back to the present. Lyra was a sight he couldn't look away from- her beautiful blue-greens brought a familiar comfort to him, framed by her elegant tattoos, surrounded by the red hair peeping from her hood; yet, they streamed tears down her cheeks like a hard rain. Hawke blinked, the pain he saw in her like a mirror to how he felt. Lyra wept, as she looked at him, wept; and then her hands, those slender hands found his face, held his cheeks, steadied his gaze into hers…
"Aedan," she called, bringing him back, her voice shaking from her tears. He nodded slightly, hearing her, allowing her to coax him back into his body. "Aedan. Let's go."
Let's go, he thought, remembering, his goal; the Keep, the capitol building of Kirkwall, where the Arishok was headed, where the Viscount and nobles were, where they were headed, where he needed to go, to save the most amount of people. They had to go. He took a shaky breath.
"Yes." he stated quietly, nodding to her, nodding to Varric, nodding to Fenris. He unfroze and took off in the direction they were heading with numbed legs, towards Hightown, towards the main fighting. Yes, he ran, feeling his friends behind him, seeing the devastation around him and letting the tragedy spur him further, faster. Let's go, they swept through waves of howling qunari and layers of bodies lying on the street. They ran on the brick and cobblestone with freshly spilled blood streaming red down the cracks from the countless bodies piling from the carnage.
Arishok, Hawke thought with determination, nearing the Keep and having to watch his step over the mounds of guards lying dead on the street. Arishok, his group killed qunari warrior after warrior like a well oiled machine, finally, finally reaching the giant gates leading upwards…
Hawke panted from their running as they made their way into the Keep, the thick walls blocking out the chorus of screams from outside, bringing them into an intense focus of a singular voice sounding above the mass of gathered nobles, the tension and fear thick in the air-
"Hawke! There you are," the Arishok's voice boomed across the main hall, bringing the attention of everyone gathered to him. Hawke strolled into the Keep, quickly assessing… The nobles have been gathered, with warriors ready to slaughter them with a moments' notice. All the Keep guards have been killed; replaced by qunari. We are completely surrounded. Where, where is the Viscount-?
Hawke straightened abruptly as his eyes focused on the Arishok, descending the main steps with regality. The Viscount's head dropped down the steps like a ball- bouncing slightly, in its descent, leaving a red trail on the expensive carpet, the silver crown falling off and rolling by itself in another direction.
"Finally," the Arishok's voice was rich with emotion, like the suppression of anger and hatred that had been pressurized within him had finally been released. The towering leader strode down the stairs slowly, reveling in the action he had taken, letting the blood soaked carpet wet his feet…
"You murderous bastard," Hawke hissed, his eyes narrowing. The Arishok chuckled loudly, his eyes bright from his fresh kills.
"It finally came, Hawke. The day of reckoning." he gestured around him, to the cowering nobles held ready for execution, the dozens of guard bodies still streaming fresh lifeblood. "The bas, of your city, have been liberated. It was all I could do to prolong it while we waited." he stopped at the foot of the stairs, his warriors wordlessly converging from the fringes to surround Hawke and his companions. Yet he kept his glare on the Arishok, shaking his head in disgust.
"There's no need to hear the excuses, the twisted reasonings of a genocidal madman," Hawke dismissed him angrily, the pain, the horror, the revulsion swirling through him and boiling his blood. The Arishok looked disappointed, the energy in his dark eyes narrowing.
"You have earned our respect. As a basalit-an, I give you and your companions a chance, for we still have not found what was stolen, our missing relic that damned us to this hell in the first place!"
"I think I can answer for that," Isabela's voice rang into the hall, bringing the attention of everyone to the gate. Hawke watched with sharp eyes as she walked up to him holding a large tome, the relic in question. She met his eyes briefly, looking around them quickly to see the situation they were in. "I returned, for some reason." her eyes met Varric's, Fenris's, and Lyra's briefly, her own gaze softening before meeting his again. "I guess I couldn't run away from you all after all."
"The Tome of Koslun," the Arishok walked up to them, his voice quieted, thoughtful. "Our Holy text." he received the book from Isabela, as Hawke gave her a determined smile, nodding to her.
"I believe you'll find it mostly undamaged," Isabela gestured, still slightly out of breath from running. The Arishok examined the book as everyone in the Keep waited in tension.
"The Tome has been reclaimed; I am now free to return to Par Vollen," the Arishok raised his gaze to Hawke, and then to Isabela. "...with, the thief."
Isabela took a step back. "Wait, what?"
"The Qun demands," the Arishok stated, "that I deal punishment to the one who denied my People Par Vollen. Four years, she remained a thief, four years, we were displaced. She must have punishment, Hawke."
"There must be another way," Hawke reasoned, shaking his head. "This conflict devolved into so much more, regardless of Isabela. You've taken enough," he gestured around, his eyes sharpening into a glare. "Just leave this city, and we can be free of each other; that's what you've wanted."
"No," the Arishok shook his head, anger growing. "The Qun is clear. However, you are basalit-an. You can turn in the prisoner, or we can duel for her."
Isabela took a step forward, angry. "What? That doesn't make any sense, if you're going to duel someone, it should be me."
"You do not have the honor, nor the right, bas," the Arishok boomed, his voice echoing among the halls. "You are not basalit-an."
"I'll do it," Hawke said, nodding up to the large qunari. He met Isabela's frown, and met each of the concerned gazes of his companions. He found the large qunari's dark eyes again, letting the anger and the pain swirl through him and give him confidence. "Let's duel."
The qunari nodded, then looked around to his men and motioned, turning to stride towards the center of the main hall. The qunari warriors ushered the cowering nobles towards the walls, opening up the space for a fight.
Hawke breathed in deeply and shook out his limbs, gauging the fatigue in his arms and noting the state of his injuries that might slow him. Nothing serious; a bad bruise on my side, might make sweeping from the right not as strong, a few cuts on my hands, don't stress my grip on my sword…
The Arishok stood in the center like an unmoving tower, his massive shoulder guards the only real pieces of armor he had adorned but his grey skin looking like it was thicker than a bull's. He unsheathed two large axes, each considered a two handed weapon for all other races. His piercing gaze found Hawke's, an energy suffusing the dark beads that were similar to the energy of a predator. "Are you prepared?"
Hawke let out a breath, steadying his nerves and unsheathing his sword, familiarizing himself with the grip. "Yes."
The qunari surrounding them suddenly pounded their weapons on the ground, the war cries and yells mixing with the thunderous sounds. The Arishok twirled his giant axes in each hand, stretching his neck to the side as he walked forward comfortably. Hawke readied his stance, watching his every movement closely. I'm really at a disadvantage. I'm tired from running here, I definitely can't hit as hard, he looks-
Hawke yelled out in surprise as he instinctively raised his sword to block an incoming attack, the massive axe bouncing off his steel with a clang and a spark. The Arishok swung his other axe, and Hawke had to turn quickly, bringing his guard around and immediately returning with a swing.
Maker he's strong, Hawke thought as pain rippled through his body in shockwaves every time he blocked an attack, his steel holding but his body taking the hard impact of the Arishok's brute force. Hawke grit his teeth as he got a few hits in between the qunari's aggressive attack pattern, Hawke's sword barely denting his shoulder plates, unable to get through the strong guard of two axes protecting his abdomen.
"Agh," Hawke grunted as he barely deflected a hit to his bruised side, the force hurting him even through his expert blocking. This isn't working, he thought quickly, realizing the larger warrior was slowly hammering him down with his unbelievable power.
Hawke's arms burned from deflecting his attacks, and with a yell, he countered a heavy attack by pushing him back a few steps and taking a few steps back himself, giving himself some space to breathe.
I have to be smart, he thought, trying hard to ignore the yells and taunts of the surrounding qunari. I don't have the higher strength, for once, if only I was…
His eyes flashed around, finding his friends, all watching him fearfully. Lyra took a step forward, raising her hood, glaring at him with fire, and yelled over the noise, "Faster!"
Hawke blinked with just enough time to see the Arishok's incoming attack, and that split second seemed to freeze in time as he crouched slightly and dodged to the side, much like how he had seen her and Isabela do so many times.
The axe buried itself into the ground where Hawke had been standing, the Arishok thrown slightly off balance. Hawke didn't give himself a second to think about it before he took the opportunity and lunged. His sword point grazed into the side of the qunari's chest, and the deafening roar that followed slightly stunning Hawke before he jumped away.
Speed, he thought, starting to circle the angry beast, is what's going to save me. Try and remember, he glanced to his friends, and seeing the stout Varric, a memory of one of his fighting moves popping into his head. Hawke sprinted towards the qunari with a battle cry, the qunari raising his axes to deflect him, and an instant before he landed his attack, he feigned to the right, his thighs shooting him to the side, and his sword slashing his upper thigh as he spun.
The Arishok roared again as Hawke backed up, his thighs burning from the unfamiliar movement, but his determination strong, his confidence strengthened by the knowledge of his friends. The Arishok advanced on him in fury, his axes raised out to the sides to prevent him from dodging to the side again, before doing something Hawke hadn't expected.
The qunari raised up an axe and hurled it towards Hawke with breath-taking speed, and Hawke barely stepped to the side in time to avoid it killing him on the spot, the axe slicing into his left shoulder on its way past.
"Ah, fuck," Hawke grunted, backing away as the pain almost blinded him. His shoulder throbbed and began to seep blood, and a shockwave of panic tore through his when he tried to move his fingers but couldn't. Fuck, fuck, fuck-
The Arishok lunged at him in his fury, Hawke alternating between dodging away and blocking with one hand, his left arm too weak to help support his heavy sword.
It was in the midst of this bloody survival dance that he remembered something, a recent memory, of a fight he and his companions were in, where Lyra had lost one of her twin swords in the middle of the fight, and she had flipped the remaining sword in her right hand to be held backhand, using it to-
Hawke let his heavy sword fall downwards in an arc, adjusting his grip to hold the sword backhand, and jumped into the Arishok's guard between his arms, thrusting upwards with the hilt of his two handed sword into the Arishok's throat.
His hilt dug into the vulnerable area, the Arishok choking a startled gasp, and Hawke immediately looked down, aimed, and drove the tip of his sword into the top of the Arishok's foot.
The roar was deafening and Hawke used the last ounces of his strength to rip his sword up, take a step back to aim, and drive his sword into the Arishok's chest, splitting through two ribs and exiting out his back.
The hall was silenced, the war cries of the qunari warriors gone, and the only sounds were Hawke's heavy breathing and the Arishok's gurgling.
Hawke staggered away from the beast, leaving his sword in his chest, and backed a few steps away, bringing a hand to his bleeding shoulder and trying to catch his breath. The Arishok struggled, every muscle in his body taught with effort, and he fell forward onto his knees, his black eyes rising to find Hawke's.
"Finish, it," he choked out, gripping the sword protruding out of his chest, his fingers bleeding from how he gripped the blade. He yelled out in frustration when he couldn't yank it out of his own chest. "I do not submit!"
Hawke walked forward, nodding to him quietly, and wrapped his one working hand around the hilt of his sword, yanking it out with a grunt and a spurt of blood, before re-angling it towards the qunari leader's heart. The Arishok looked up at him, his darkened eyes resolute, before crying out, "For the Qun!"
Hawke drove his sword into his heart, killing him quickly, the powerful body of the Arishok finally falling.
"Yes," relieved murmurs from the surrounding nobles sounded around him after a moment, and he looked up, meeting the eyes of some of the qunari warriors. They nodded to him respectfully, sheathing their weapons, taking the Tome, and leaving the Hall without another word. Hawke just stood there in front of the body for a moment as the nobles around him started to cheer, and it was only when he felt the comforting hands of his friends that he looked up and blinked.
"Thank the Gods," Lyra murmured, her hands subtly reaching to his shoulder to silently heal him. Fenris laid a hand on his other shoulder, Isabela and Varric gave him small relieved smiles from behind. He shook his head, slightly overwhelmed.
Is it over?