Promises: Side Story E

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

Author's note: This is the another alternate POV, but this is the first chapter from Hawke's perspective. I was asked about what Hawke was thinking when she first met Fenris, and so I thought I'd go ahead and sketch out the scene from her eyes.

Counting mabari was so much better than counting sheep. While sheep were fluffy and cute, they weren't that much use when demons came calling. Mabari, on the other hand, could be sent off after any pesky demon to chase them away. Hawke mentally grinned as a particularly persistent desire demon was sent fleeing with several large mabari close on its heels.

She checked a sigh as she realized that she had completely lost count of how many mabari were crossing the field. That meant she had to start all over again in her quest to find some sleep before they started moving again. It was worrisome how demons had begun to make her offers more frequently the more the slave hunters brought her closer to Tevinter. She would have thought that the demons would known better by now; she wasn't about to accept any of their offers. Yes, she wanted her freedom but not at any price.

Hawke settled back against the rocks as best she could, trying to find a position that was more conducive to sleep. She knew that her reprieve wouldn't last much longer. The slave hunters never stayed anywhere long. Already they had lingered here more than she thought they would have; she could feel her magic returning to her in wisps. She currently only had enough for one spell though, maybe two if she was lucky. She needed more magic to even think about trying to escape, but unfortunately that blighted templar turned slaver would undoubtedly be back soon enough to drain her mana once again.

Her father had been right when he had warned both her and Bethany that templars were to be feared. Malcolm Hawke had mentioned that not all templars were bad, but in order to successfully stay free from the circle, apostates had to assume that each and every templar would turn them in. Of course, Hawke would rather that this particular templar have turned her over to a circle for even that was better than the fate that awaited her in Tevinter. She had no illusions; she knew perfectly well that the slavers would sell her to the highest bidder in Minrathous. Given how excited they were to find her—a powerful mage who was, as one of them put it, untouched—they were expecting her to fetch a high price indeed.

The clang of metal striking metal reached her ears. Hawke perked up, hoping against hope that maybe it was someone here to help her. Maybe her father had finally tracked her down and was here with his old mercenary friends to free her. She knew that was unlikely, and the most logical explanation was that the slavers had run into another band who was trying to strip them of their goods, namely her. Still a girl could dream.

The sounds of battle crept closer to her. Though Hawke could not make out individual voices, she could hear quite clearly that everyone was shouting in Arcanum. Which meant that this wasn't some rescue attempt by her father. Her shoulders slumped down in disappointment. It didn't really matter to her which band of slavers won; her fate would be the same either way.

The battle had just about reached her now because she heard her guards taking up their arms and charging away from her. She briefly pondered using her magic to break loose of her bonds and then using the ongoing battle as a cover for her escape. It wasn't much of a plan, but Hawke didn't know when she would get another chance to escape much less a better one. However before she could summon her magic to burn through the ropes tying her up, the death cries of two of her guards resounded in the cavern, followed by the sound of a sword whistling through the air and severing flesh. The victor stalked towards her, and it took all of her willpower not to curse. Evidently she had just missed her opportunity to flee.

Hawke shivered as she sat there on the ground, waiting for her new captor to arrive. She couldn't help but wonder how cruel this one would be. The group of slave hunters who had caught her hadn't treated her too badly. She got meals regularly and none of them ever laid hands on her. While she hadn't cared before who won the battle, she was gripped by a sudden panic that maybe she should have, that maybe this new group of slave hunters would be worse. Hawke couldn't help but flinch at that awful thought.

"Hold still. I'm here to help," a silken baritone sounded from above her before a pair of hands began working on undoing the knots that held her. Hawke stifled a gasp as shivers ran down her spine once again, but this time of the good variety. Whoever it was who was unbinding her had one of the loveliest voices she had ever heard, even better than Ser Bryant. Not that she really ever got to hear Ser Bryant speak much, seeing how she was an apostate while he was a templar and so seeking him out just to hear him talk would have been a stupid move on her part but that was neither here nor there.

Her blindfold tumbled from her eyes. Hawke blinked rapidly, needing to readjust to the light before turning to view who had saved her. This time she did gasp as she took in the most handsome elf that she had ever seen. Not that there were many elves in Lothering and all, but still Hawke felt that it would be hard to find someone more stunning than the elf before her, with his deep olive eyes and startling white hair atop a face that was nigh perfect. This had to be a dream. Maidens were only rescued by handsome knights in tales, and what was more, the maiden in a tale was never an apostate. Though she didn't want this particular dream to end, Hawke discreetly pinched herself. To her delight, the elf remained before her, staring at her intently with those lovely eyes of his.

Hawke continued to gawk at her rescuer, finding herself at a loss for words for once. Thank you was a rather obvious response as well as one that he had earned for he had freed her, but that seemed inadequate. No, she wanted to say something to convince him that he needed her and her magical skills along to help him on whatever journey or quest he was undertaking. Given that he had found her all tied up amongst a band of slavers, it would be natural for her to doubt her abilities and so she would have to choose her words wisely to convince him otherwise.

That was when she realized that someone was talking and that someone was her. She bit her lip when she was finished, mentally cursing her blighted habit of babbling when she was nervous. She had no idea what she had said to the elf, but from the set of his jaw, she was afraid that she had somehow managed to insult him. That would be just her luck.

"I imagine you would have already been further on your way to slave auctions of Minrathous, where you would have been sold to the highest bidder," he told her in a clipped tone.

Hawke winced at those words. "I guess that's true though I was trying not to think of it," she said. Then she paused. She was supposed to think before speaking but here she was again, running off at the mouth. She had the sinking feeling that she was not making a good impression. It was just her luck to be suffering from verbal diarrhea when meeting the man of her dreams. The fact that he had just rescued her from the slavers only made it worse. "Of course I was thinking that my father would….but no," she murmured to herself.

A loud sigh drew her attention back to the elf. "I do not recommend lingering here. Who knows when reinforcements may arrive?" he said sharply.

"Oh! Of course!" That was a very good point. No wonder why the elf had seemed so impatient. At least it seemed as though he had no intentions of leaving her behind, which was good. However she didn't want to risk him changing his mind and so she hurried to get up. Or rather she tried to hurry, but unfortunately one of her legs had fallen asleep. She gingerly got to her feet, wincing as the blood started flowing freely to her legs again. The elf followed suit but then practically fell back down as he clutched at his right leg.

"You're hurt!" Hawke exclaimed, rushing over to the elf's side. She mentally berated herself for not noticing that earlier. She should have offered to heal him right away, but the only thing she could do now was to make amends. She called her magic to her, filling her hands with a soft blue light, and leaned towards the elf. "Here let me—"

Before she could finish her sentence, much less actually heal the elf, he was all but leaping away from her, with something akin to fear in his eyes. Needless to say, the elf wasn't happy to find out that Hawke was a mage. Hawke could understand his reluctance, as mages could be dangerous unless they had control, but she was a very good mage. She would never give in to a demon's temptation. She would rather die first. The Maker knew she would rather be a slave first. Hawke told the elf as much, and that gave him pause. He tilted his head to one side and looked at her through veiled eyes. She took the chance to admire how long his lashes were, before her more practical side took over.

"Stop being so stubborn," Hawke told the elf, her tone one of command. "You were the one who pointed out that we need to get out of here before reinforcements arrive. We'll be able to get away much faster if you'll just let me heal you."

That was the wrong thing to say. The elf jerked away from her violently, growling through his teeth about how there was no we. Hawke was left to stare after him as he stalked away from her—well stalked as best he could on his injured leg.

Tears welled in her eyes. She was alone once more. It was a terrible thing to be a mage and to be alone. Demons always seemed to come calling then. Hawke shook her head to clear it of gloomy thoughts. The elf wouldn't be able to get far, not on that leg. She gingerly rose to her feet once more. She would follow him and once he stopped, she would insist that he allow her to heal his leg. After all, that was the least she could do after he had saved her from the slavers.

And after that was done—well there was a reason why her family was fond of staying her middle name was stubborn. If Hawke had anything to say about the matter, he would be stuck with her for quite some time to come.