A/N: Sorry for the long wait, 'twas busy and, well, unable to think about the story. Hopefully this isn't too depressing? For a while this will be more character development, in a way. Something kinda gruesome happens every now and then, but I don't think it'll be too graphic.
Please enjoy and review~
Chapter 5
In a very normal manner, the Hawke Company, as some liked to call the ragtag group, grew closer despite everything that had happened. Varric and Sebastian had together been able to teach Lucienda how to read and write, earning them sighs of relief and hefty shoulder-pats for making a new communication bridge. Isabela had learned of her secret kinky side and unique humor. Finally Varric did not have to watch her read empty pages any more. Fenris would find encouraging little notes dictated by drawings stuck behind the labels of his wine. Anders had appreciated her help in the little hospital, mostly because she made everyone cheer up. Merrill particularly enjoyed cooing over the swelling belly underneath her robes. Aveline became softer, allowing Donnic to sit with her and enjoy some humble company when everyone was busy.
While Anders was just below in Darktown, Sebastian had moved into the old Amell estate with Hawke, though he mostly insisted on sleeping in the other room. He would however tip-toe into her room at night when he could hear her sobbing through the walls. She had become emotional, though it wasn't always evident. She insisted they still do favors and missions in the city, but they persuaded her not to join any fights. Sometimes a letter would float to Varric and he would lead them on some simple mission that she insisted was urgent but did not require her. Hawke became almost a ghost, even when everyone gave her attention. The Starkhaven prince tried his best to make her whole again, but as time moved on it became harder to break through her veil of silence.
Anders dropped by periodically to check on her, though it seemed very unnecessary. He'd prod and ask a question, and would frown at the haggard look on her face. He told her to sleep more, to get out in the sunshine, and eat better, but Sebastian told him time and again that she would refuse to move. One day, when she was eight months along, the brunette finally managed to get her outside. They took a brief but refreshing walk to the Chantry, the sun shining brightly, the air for once clean smelling, and a slight breeze cooled the air. Her small mage's hand reached out and clasped around his roughened fingers and they walked that way all the way to the door.
The trip served many purposes, but the main intent was that Sebastian wished to show Elthina how devoted he was to the woman carrying his child. Every day he took some small amount of time to come to the Chantry to show that he was still strong in his faith, but when the Grand Cleric had caught him praying for Lucy's health when she had caught a small cold, the woman had insisted that he use the time he spent praying to comfort the ailing girl. Now she was well enough to move around and Sebastian wanted to share at least one thing with her. Through the quick afternoon service, Hawke simply played with the hem of her long tunic that covered her swollen stomach. He would reach out when his hands weren't clasped in prayer and pluck a hand away so she would settle down. She was so agitated that an older lady who was nearby asked if she was feeling okay. When Hawke didn't answer, Sebastian swiftly apologized, explained her ailment, and embarrassedly admitted that she wasn't really an Andrastian. A few citizens who had overheard gave the two a quick glance before moving on with the service.
When all was done and the church-goers had cleared out, the rogue led Lucy to the Grand Cleric. She beamed at the quiet mage, commenting on her good health and the fact that she had showed up. Hawke dismissed her questions about becoming more devoted by finding something very interesting about the floor. Sebastian felt once again embarrassed that he had to admit that her faith was probably nonexistent.
"Your Grace, I brought her here so that maybe the words of the Maker will reach her, so she will not be so lost like many others who do not follow his will. Now I do not even know if I can expect my own child to believe in Andraste and the Maker," his voice was low, as if he was confessing some terrible crime. Elthina reached out and placed a soft hand on his shoulder.
"Even the innocent have nothing to fear, even if they do not hold on to faith. Give it time, and if time decides that it is not to be, than it is the Maker's will," she looked softly at Hawke, who was still staring at the ground. "I pray for you child, and your own child, every day. May the—"
Hawke let out a scream that, though stifled by closed lips and a hand clamped over her mouth, pierced through the Chantry hall. Her hand dug into Sebastian's arm, drawing dots of blood where her nails punctured skin. Legs dropped out from underneath her as she clutched herself and groaned again. Elthina remained calm and called for someone to help while the prince stared down at his bride-to-be in shock. His hands reached for her but he was pulled away by the tender hands of a sister. No one felt confident enough to move the writhing woman as she moaned and cried. A water-like substance was pooled where she kneeled on the floor and he could hear someone reciting the Chant starting from the beginning. No specific verse was said, as was usual of Chanters, but they found it necessary that the whole thing be said. It took Sebastian a second glance to realize why there was so much alarm; the water had turned to blood laced with lyrium.
Anders was led to the Chantry by two very startled priestesses. He had been sitting in Hawke's foyer, waiting for them to return from the small errand. When he was sure it was taking longer than necessary, he had started walking towards the building and had bumped into the two who were looking for him. He called Lucy's name, ran to her side, and tried his best to soothe her. During the commotion someone had arranged a make-shift cot in front of the altar and took it upon themselves to clean up the mess.
Sebastian had no capacity to think at that moment. Many thoughts filled his head but not begin to register until he saw her hand reach towards him and heard her melodic voice call out his name. Without hesitation he took that hand, knelt in the lyrium pool, and stroked her hair. Elthina and another sister helped Anders deliver the child into the world under the Maker's roof and Andraste's eyes. Everyone was sent back to their rooms and the Chantry was closed to give them a relaxed atmosphere. The prince thought his hand would break from the force of her grip and his ears would burst from the volume of her strangled screams as she pushed with all of her strength. He couldn't say anything, struck with her silence as she cursed and bickered with Anders between groans. The moment the spirit healer said the child's head could be seen, a single thought filled the archer's head.
I'll be a father. It would not leave his head. It coiled around his thoughts like a deadly serpent. His inner voice repeated it over and over, varying tones drawing him to terrible conclusions. Only one of the voices made him feel happy. It was her voice. "You'll be a father now."
He looked at her endearingly, tears sliding down his face, unable to wipe them away as he clutched her hand in both of his. His prayer to the Maker that she would be safe was punctuated by her last scream. The hand between his grew weak, but not limp, as he heard Anders' voice say, "It's a boy."
Towels were exchanged; the child was washed and wrapped up warmly. Sebastian could not take his eyes away from Hawke's pale face as she panted quickly. Blue healing light gleamed in his peripheral as Anders finished his work. A hand patted his shoulder strongly and he could hear the man say, "Congratulations. The only way I could be happier for you… well, I could only be happier now if he was my own, but that goes a little unsaid. You'll be a great father and… you will be a great man to her."
Wise words said, Anders checked on the baby before he left silently. The squirming bundle was placed in the man's arms when he could be convinced to let go of Hawke's hand. The boy was quiet, but very much active. He was a little small, which was only natural of an early birth, but he filled Sebastian with thoughts of a strong young man learning to wield a bow and reading stories to his mother. Tears splattered on the child's face and after he wiped them away, he leaned down to give the tiny forehead a tender kiss. A feminine hand reached up to caress the small face.
"Percival."
It was the middle name her father had owned and he had agreed it a good name to give the child. The rest of the day was a smeared image of peace and quiet comfort.
Before the sun set, Hawke bundled up the small child in an embroidered blanket and set off towards the Gallows. She avoided any contact with anyone she knew, hiding her face amongst a cowl and shadows. As they were about to lock the gates she swiftly slipped inside and made a beeline for the First Enchanter's office. The elf peered curiously around the door as he opened it and quickly allowed her inside. She refused to take a seat and instead offered a simple note for him to read.
"Dear First Enchanter,
Five months ago today I bore a son. I am certain that he is capable of magic. In fact, he has been given the spirit of Justice by my companion, Anders. I do not wish my son to live with the fear I had and I cannot teach him myself how to hide his gift. Please take care of my Percival."
He looked up, concern covering his face. She was holding the squirming child towards him, tears streaming down her otherwise emotionless face. Orsino felt a twinge of regret for what he was about to do. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. The child was exchanged. In passing, he noticed the boy's name lovingly stitched into the soft blue cloth. Lucy left silently.
When she returned, Anders was waiting in the foyer, impatiently pacing in front of the fire. His first observation was the dried tears. The second was the lack of a smaller Hawke in her possession.
"Why are you crying? Where is Percival?"
"Circle."
"Why would—what—you of all people should know what a terrible place the Circle is. Haven't I told you enough?" he asked in anger. She was stony faced as she nodded and walked past him. The mage grabbed her arm roughly. The look of defeat on her face broke his resolve and he let go. Like a ghost she wandered up the stairs and locked her bedroom door behind her.
The next morning Anders made an unexpected trip to the Chantry. He waited until the morning prayer was finished being sung and he searched the crowd for the white shining armor of a prince of a far away land. He was sitting closest to the altar, still kneeling in prayer. Grand Cleric Elthina was standing close-by, saying something only Sebastian could hear. The healer gave them a moment of privacy. He could not help but over hear some of the words exchanged.
"—the Maker's will—" "—If this is the Maker's will—" "—Do not say such things—" "—hate more, her or fate—" "—not her fault—" "Then it is my own."
The brown-haired man quickly stood up, face filled with anger but also stained with streams of sadness. The elderly woman attempted to place her hand on his shoulder, but he jerked it away. His striking blue eyes looked at her in defiance and confusion. "I should have kept my vows; this is why the Maker has punished me like this! To take away my own son, a son I should not have had, but my son nonetheless. I do not know if I should hate myself or question if the Maker really exists! What can I do to atone for this? I cannot even love the woman of my heart, because all of our children will just… disappear from my arms in the night! Because the damned Maker wants them to have this gift and his bride wished them to be caged! I want to make her my wife, I want my son and many more children, and I want my country to be free… I want my life back and the Maker isn't going to give it to me!"
This was no time for smoldering hatred. Sebastian was aflame with such pure rage that he ran as hard as he could from the woman. Anders saw only his gritted teeth, clenched fists, and tightly shut eyes holding back tears before his shimmering image rushed past him. He sighed to himself; there was no talking to him now. Elthina looked towards the exit with a lost look on her face. At least someone was there to need comforting. The mage approached her carefully, making sure his movements were reserved and his tone soft.
"I'm sure he did not mean it, Your Grace." His calloused hand clasped her slight shoulder as she wiped a tear away with the corner of her sleeve. She did not sniffle or sob, but merely leaked her sorrow out and dabbed it away like it was something common. Her smile faltered only a little.
"My child, this time I believe he is serious. I thought maybe he would find peace in this Chantry, whether he remained a brother or returned to the throne. When he made his vows, I thought he was really a believer and would not leave us. He still wanted revenge for his family; I figured it only natural and something that would go away if his faith was resolved. But when Hawke came and helped him, I saw him shift. That girl had problems of her own and I wish she had been an Andrastian so I could help her find solace, but it is obvious how life for her has turned out. He loves her more than Andraste loved the Maker, so help me if I am wrong. She is a woman amongst all. This time, his faith is certain, but he is too confused to know it." She gave Anders a nod before she walked away to do her own duties. "May the Maker be with you."
The healer sighed and stood in silence for a few moments. Eventually he made his way to his clinic in Darktown. Maybe a few scrapped up children would cheer him up.
Sebastian stared at her lying in the middle of the floor. Standing next to him was Bodahn and Sandal, the first having summoned him and the second having stood watch while his father was out looking for the prince. She was completely immobile save for the slight rise in her chest as she breathed. Arms stretched straight out and legs firmly kept locked together, she stared blankly at the ceiling. Her mage's staff was tied to both her arms, making them impossible to bend. She had her best robes on. Beneath her was a pile of firewood from the stack nearby. At first he was alarmed but when she said or did nothing, he was simply captivated. What was this for?
"Do you have any idea, messere? She won't do anything to communicate, other than when she said 'I am ready' when I found her. She's been like this since before the sun rose and its now almost nightfall!" Bodahn pulled at his beard like he usually did when he was deeply concerned or in thought. Sebastian tried to take a step forward, but a sigil on the floor lit up and kept him from entering the circle surrounding her. "Sandal ran right into that when he saw her. It hasn't disappeared since."
"Hawke, what is the meaning of this?" She was silent. "Lucienda, this is a serious matter. What is wrong?" She was silent still. No movement. "For the love of—What in Andraste's name are you doing?"
She did not budge as he reached out and slammed his fist on the barrier. It remained strong and she remained silent. Sebastian turned to Bodahn and told him find Anders. The dwarf scurried away as if his life depended on it. After a while, Sandal became uninterested and went back to the kitchen. Her fiancé stood vigil over the strange image.
When the clock nearby stuck seven, the wood underneath her caught fire. At first he did not notice, but when the crackle and hiss filled the room, he rushed to the blue barrier, screaming and pounding his fist on its unyielding surface. It grew brighter and stronger until he could no longer see her small form. The barrier gave a burst of energy, causing him to fly backwards into a wall. Through blurred eyes he could see Anders' familiar face around the ball of magic, terror plastered on his face. When he tried to recall the event to Varric, all he could remember was the mage taking down the barrier, the fire raging in the middle of the room, and the blonde's figure pulling her body from the flames.
Anders had remembered it so vividly that when he recalled it, Varric excused himself to vomit in the back room. Everyone sat in varying degrees of shock. Merrill was bursting with tears. Aveline herself was moved to the liquid signs of sadness, though silently. Isabela downed more alcohol than usual. Fenris was clawing the mug in front of him until he eventually caused a crack to split the container in two. Sebastian stared at his hands as he picked at the bandages covering them where he had at some point touched her burning body. It was hard for anyone at this time to believe she was alive.
When Anders had arrived at the Hawke estate, the fire had only just spread to her robes. They were mostly flame retardant, which he was unsure if it was intentional or not. The barrier was powerful, but not too hard for him to deal with. It was reaching through that scorching heat that felt unbearable. He saw the blackening skin, the burn golden hair, and the tears turning to steam on her cheeks. A pendent with her son's name was branding a moon-shaped pattern into her chest where the clothing had burned away. Her staff was salvageable, having resisted self-combustion many times over. The robes were completely incinerated. Her skin was blotched with burns. Muscles poked out through smoking wounds. He remembered using so much lyrium and strength to heal it all to a bearable degree. He recalled having to bodily remove Sebastian from her side and from her bedroom when he had lied her down to recover. The man was crying so much that he had to remind himself that Hawke was not dead, at least not yet.
She had awoken the next day. Her left eye would not open; she could not breathe through her nose, and had a hard time using her limbs. It was expected, he supposed, that she would need so much care. He however did not expect her to speak so fluently with him. When he asked if something still hurt, she would say yes. When he asked if she wanted him to heal her, she said no. When he asked why she did it, she answered.
"I do not deserve to live, to be happy. I considered throwing myself to the templars or disappearing into the Blooming Rose. I thought about drowning myself, about throwing myself from the Wounded Coast cliffs. I once thought about asking to be Tranquil. I finally decided that I needed to die. After a few hours of late night plotting and reading, I settled for what you saw. I tried to save the house, so I added the barrier. I did not count on you being able to break it. Whatever you do," her eyes gleamed when she turned them to him, "do not tell Sebastian. Or I will destroy you."
She refused to say anything else and he decided to leave her alone. He called everyone together in the Hanged Man and so they came. Everything felt surreal as they sat around a candle lit table in the midnight hour, sharing nothing but some dirty secret and cheap ale. Varric came back, looking pale and ashamed. No one judged him, though, as undoubtedly they all felt sick. When nothing else could be said, they went their separate ways to homes where they could privately mourn the metaphorical death of their leader.
Sebastian wandered through the streets of Hightown. Not even the thugs bothered him this time. Either everyone in the city was asleep or they could sense that the man was spiraling into a deep despair. Normally he would return to the Chantry and he took the time to silently consider the locked iron doors. He could not apologize and when he heard Anders' story, he knew why. What he had said was true. The Maker either did not exist or did not care. This time he knew what he wanted, but it felt beyond his reached. If he successfully petitioned the Viscount, he could take back his land, which was easy. He would have his pick of future brides when he reclaimed the throne. The problem was none of them would be the one he wanted. She was currently lying in bed, nursing charred skin and stiff joints. Now he had nowhere to go; he had turned his back on his god and he could no longer face the love of his heart. Eventually he found his way to the Darktown hospital, where he collapsed against the closed door and was at some point dragged away into a welcoming black abyss.