X
Lord Gerard Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall
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i.
He loves his father unconditionally. It is why he still carries the man's staff even though he could have gotten a better one the second he was made Champion. Every time he grips its surface, he's back in Lothering, magic underneath his fingertips and his father's proud smile staring down at him.
He loved his mother unconditionally. Up until the point when she threw the weight of his sister's death onto his shoulders.
He could never forgive her for that.
ii.
Gerard adores Kirkwall. It's dark, confusing, traces of dirt and grime and filth given form and stacked in a ridiculous attempt to reach the sky. Reminds him a lot of himself.
iii.
"Smile, brother. You're too serious all the time. Will the world fall if you grin?"
Gerard places his arm around Bethany's waist, finding her shoulder a perfectly acceptable place to rest his head.
"You want me to give Carver another reason to complain? For shame, Bethy."
iv.
"Enough. I'm tired of your rants against mages. I'm not an exception. I'm not better than any of them. I'm just like them. And push me against a wall and I'll react in the exact same way they all do, fucking kicking and biting until you get the fuck away. So shut the fuck up or I'm dropping Danarius your location on a map with a bow on top."
v.
Gerard won't confess it to anyone but the moment he faced the Arishok was the most frightening of his whole life. He stands in front of the hulk of a man, feeling very small in his mortal shell, barely armed with his magic and feels about to fall over.
Behind him, his friends wait. Outside, mages and Templars still fight. It is like it has always been during his life. He either fights or he dies.
The lack of choice helps.
vi.
His heart doesn't quite break when Carver takes his place as a Templar. He just stares at the other man in silence. How can he put into words the fact that he feels betrayed, that having a brother becoming what they have tried to escape all their lives is horrible, that there is something at the bottom of his stomach that churns and spats, making him want to throw up all he has eaten that day?
"Won't you say anything?" Carver asks, almost violently.
There are no words which can describe this feeling. Therefore, Gerard says nothing.
vii.
When Fenris pushes him against a wall, Gerard doesn't kick him.
Bites, however, are fair game.
vii.
His Amell cousin appears out of nowhere in his life; all of her life, joy, boundless energy and a dry wit that she uses almost constantly. Gerard is ready to push her out of his life immediately. In his experience, family tends to give him far more grief than anyone should have to deal with and he has no reason to add more trouble to that pile. So he truly didn't understand how he ended up accepting her hugs instead of fending them off, accepting her caresses instead of taking a turn when she came closer.
She's starved for affection, he eventually realizes, and so is he.
"We'll see each other soon," Diana murmurs into his ear, fingers digging into his back, blond hair tickling his cheek gently. "Don't forget to drop by."
She smiles before the Gallows swallow her whole, as it does every day he visits.
He'll burn them to the ground, Gerard decides absently. As soon as he holds the power to, Meredith be damned.
viii.
Meredith is an idiot. One encounter with an out-of-control mage and the woman turns into a fanatical bully. Orsino is another idiot. So focused in his own troubles that he sees nothing else, not even logic when it's right in front of him. And Maker help him, he won't analyze the viscount because the amount of idiocy in that man is only comparable to the amount of fear.
Killing them all might be better in the long run, he knows. If he didn't hate power so much, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
ix.
"Did that person ask if you were my illegitimate son?"
"You could try not to sound so amused, Hawke."
"Of course, my boy."
"I'm tempted to remove your heart."
"I'm very sure that classifies as familial abuse."
x.
Merril avoids him for, at least, two weeks after his mother dies and the mage knows exactly why. She might be naïve and silly but her heart is large and her compassion much greater than his. When she does show, afraid that he'll throw her out at any moment, Gerard touches her cheek and gives her what, for everyone else, is a rare smile.
He can't blame her. He's too busy blaming himself.
xi.
"If you try to touch Varric again, Seeker, I might see it as a threat."
Varric, who is his oldest friend. Varric, who stayed with him through everything; the Deep Roads, the invasion, the Gallows, even as he killed someone who had been one of their own. Varric, who once they left, promised to keep his secret and have his back still. Rage isn't a word strong enough to describe that he feels.
Cassandra's glare shifts to him and Hawke knows exactly what she's going to say before she speaks.
"I wouldn't have helped you," he states with undeniable certainty. "Last time I tried, it didn't end up that well. I'm not eager to try out my hand in power plays again."
xii.
The call is intoxicating. It's the problem with blood magic. It sweeps in, it tempts, it lays right on the other side of the curtain and whispers sweet nothings into your ear. The amount of magic filling the room is so large, the Champion feels like his body is absorbing it through his skin, never mind his frail attempts to remain calm and aloof.
Gerard was taught by Malcolm Hawke. The day he accepts the strength of a demon and disappoints his father will be the day he will throw himself off the tallest fucking tower he can find.
Twice.
xiii.
"You won't fight for your kind. I had to force your hand! I had to make you see!"
Where is Anders? Even though Gerard had only known the man when already carrying Justice, once upon a time, he had been a good man. A friend, even. A comrade, definitely. Now, all he could see was the demon who had once been a spirit. That, more than anything, made him grieve for the man he had known.
"I can do it for you, Hawke," Fenris whispers behind him. "It's fine."
It would be, if he was a coward. Gerard stares down at his dagger, the small blade which was once a gift from his brother and makes his choice. He's not killing Anders. He's killing Vengeance. And that is justice. The weapon shifts in his hand until the handle is firmly between his fingers.
Well. That makes it just fine, doesn't it?
xiv.
"You know, Hawke," Varric calls out, relaxing against his chair with a tankard of ale big enough for five men. "I have never seen you drunk! What's up with that?"
The Templar snickers under his breath.
"That's becau—"
"Don't finish that sentence, Carver."
"The last time we got him drunk," Carver continues as if he heard nothing. "He went out for a swim at night and froze himself inside the lake."
The silence that falls is only broken by the usually uncommonly serious man banging his head against the tavern's table.
xv.
His whole life, he has kept people safe. It's stronger than him, so ingrained in his blood and bones that the mage cannot avoid it even if he tried. Several of the people Gerard fought to protect are dead and that only drives him further, blindly so. It is why he leaves Fenris behind to answer Varric's urgent call for aid.
And the Inquisitor is still speaking when the Champion smiles widely before walking (running) in the vague direction of the main gate.
Fenris never did like being told what to do.
xvi.
"Go! You're needed!" Stroud screams over the demon's shrieks. "I can handle it."
"What are you waiting for?" And that's the Inquisitor's voice, demanding, pushy and undeniably authoritarian.
But, in the end, it's Varric's voice which pushes him forward and out of the Fade.
Don't you dare give them anything else, Hawke.
xvii.
Lothering is dead and buried for Gerard. Even when the reconstruction begins, he will never return or even contact possible survivors. When the mage rebellion is over though, he makes his way into Kirkwall and to his family home, paying no attention to possible threats or any attempts to restrict his movements.
Criminality rates drop almost immediately.
Gerard tries not to feel too amused when Aveline is found sulking.
xviii.
Hawke has no children of his own, obviously. Fenris is everything he wishes and no woman could ever replace his white-haired partner. But there is a little hesitation when he thinks the Hawke name might end with him, like his family never existed and their story should not be repeated. He carefully mentions the idea to Fenris. Carefully because the elf is still skittish, even after all those years, and some situations are sure to trigger hasty and (sometimes) disagreeable responses.
"How many have you adopted so far?" Is the question Carver invariably asks every time he visits, even as he tugs his own girl along through the group yelling for their uncle.
Gerard smiles from his chair before touching one finger to his lips. The child resting against him doesn't bother to stir.
"This one's Bethany," he whispers.
xix.
"Why won't you take the place as Viscount, Hawke? You'd do a good job. No one knows this city as you do!" It probably pains Aveline to say such things, as proud as she is of the work she tries to do.
"I'm retired."
"You're barely over forty!"
"And still retired," Gerard underlines. Considering they have had this conversation dozens of times, it's truly a wonder she hasn't gotten the point yet.
"So are you going to continue to catch mercenaries and bandits for a living?"
"You wouldn't believe how much they carry in their pockets. I won't have to do actual work for a while."
xx.
The day he finds a white hair in his mass of black hair, Hawke doesn't panic. He stares at the silvery surface in front of him with wide eyes, noting every wrinkle, every trace of courser skin, every signal that time has passed and he has survived through it all.
Hello, father.
Gerard smiles widely, as the older man did so often, and slips away. He has a couple of little mages to teach downstairs.
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Author's note - Amell cousin is a reference to The Laughing Wall.