I Am | Dragon Age One-Shot
The sinister sound of the demon’s chuckle sent a paralyzing chill down Hawke’s spine.
“Little bird, little bird … how quickly they’ve abandoned you.”
Injured, limping, and furiously determined, Hawke turned back towards the looming creature before him, but only once he saw to it that the Inquisitor made it safely from the Fade with their party in tow. His eyes hardened into glittering pinpricks, sweat inching down his face colored with grime and evidence of the battles already behind him. His thoughts of the loved ones he was leaving behind flickered through his mind, combative in a way that made each movement — each decision — feel weighted beyond measure.
Carver; his brother would continue to do good things, Hawke thought to himself. He is strong, stronger than he ever gave himself credit for. He is going to do good. He needs to. His brother is a Hawke, after all — he can do anything so long as he gets out of that dastardly head of his.
Merrill with her sweet naiveté — though hidden intelligence and a keen awareness lingered behind those soulful green eyes — would be more than alright. She has the best of Kirkwall behind her to ensure her safety as she continues down a path that few others will ever understand (and even fewer would be able to withstand). Especially with Varric there to look after her, she is his Daisy, after all, Hawke thought with the barest hint of fondness. A small thing, that familial burst of love, but enough to provide a welcoming warmth that serves as a worthy distraction from his current… predicament.
And Varric… Oh, Varric. Hawke couldn’t help but think of his drinking companion who has a laugh that could cure the most dreadful of illnesses, though his eyes told a different story, just shy of too tight around the edges. Eyes that Hawke could drown in because of the sheer vast familiarity in them. Hawke knew the look in Varric’s eyes — Varric was a survivor. A survivor that has seen too many things fail and too many things fall but still managed to keep breathing. To keep being. Oh, Varric. My friend, he thought to himself, I am so sorry.
Bella — Izzy. Oh, she’ll be Captain to all of Thedas if she has her way. Hawke knew for certain that she’ll have a drink in his honor; she’ll toast to all of the adventures they had shared together as a team (and a few others that he keeps locked away for safekeeping, lest the rest of the world pick at still-healing scabs of the past). Stories she will carry with her until her dying breath. A true friend, one that has always had the strength to carry her through any type of pain.
Oh, Avvie. Deceptively sweet, brave Aveline. Some days he couldn’t tell if he thought of her more as a mother or a sister but the underlining message was the same: Aveline was family. He noticed the twinge in his chest at the thought of leaving that family behind. She’s lost so much, the thought of leaving her with one more notch on that wretched belt quickly had bile rising to make its escape. And escape it did, for what little good that does him in a place like this. The Fade. The Fade. Who else would he see here, Hawke mused to himself, allowing his mind to wander once more.
His mind briefly flickered to Anders but … he couldn’t. His stomach lurched at the thought of his fallen friend. True that Hawke did, in fact, spare him during that fateful night at the gallows … but things were never the same. Anders soon left the group of eclectic wanderers on his own mission of repentance. He had his own demons to face. Literally. Maker, he hopes that Anders would be OK. He loved — loves — him dearly, the sting of losing him was still painfully raw from that wretched day in the Gallows.
And Fenris. The face of his lover flashed so brightly in his mind. Pools of green with a hint of a smile looking up at him. Years of shifting through the layers that he had buried himself in to keep him safe were all so worth it when he remembered that first time that Fenris had looked into his eyes with nothing less than absolute trust. With love.
Oh, Maker
Hawke felt he was going to be sick at the thought of Fenris learning of his fate, a fate that his lover had tried to warn against. He had left his tenacious partner safely behind with the absolute intention of returning to him. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How he wishes he could have seen him one last time. To wrap his large, battle-worn arms around the lithe frame of his beloved one final time. Just once more.
Hawke blinked back the tears that were forming at the edge of his eyes, his face collapsing into a physical manifestation of the tiredness that has always lurked on the sidelines awaiting that perfect moment of release. When Hawke’s eyes re-opened, that crystallized gaze once more renewed, he glared up at the monstrosity above him — the wounds of battle still evident on the embodiment of Fear, effectively giving Hawke the push he needs to slam past his memories, past his regrets, like the brute so many think him to be.
His goodbyes finally released into the void’s quiet around him, he stood just a little firmer as he braced for what is next.
The demon chuckled once more as though it were not on the cusp of serious injury.
“Poor Fenris … he knew you’d leave him. You’re a fool if you think that little wolf of yours will survive it.”
“No! You don’t get to say his name” Hawke growled furiously, “You’re dealing with me now!”
If Hawke didn’t know any better, he would have sworn that the monster was grinning at him.
The thing tsked at him as though he were a disapproving parent and not the thing made up of nightmares. Actual nightmares, in the quite literal ‘oh my gods’ sense.
“Indeed I am. They are expecting you to die, you know.”
His voice was so deep, so … enveloping, though it did nothing to warm the chill set in Hawke’s bones. The voice was coming from the demon, but it was also coming from all sides of him. Nowhere and everywhere all at once.
He shivered once more before settling back into the comfortable role of The Champion.
Hawke smirked up at this … this thing then. His usual mask firmly in place to distract him from his inner discontent. “It’ll take more than filth like you to take me down.”
“And why would I do that, little bird? I should like for you to … suffer.”
That one word dripping with ill-fated promise caused Hawke’s face to fall, his features slipping from the usual safety mirth.
More laughter. More of that damnable laughter.
“Perhaps I will even grant you an audience with your little slave. I am sure your failure will give you cause to see him again. Quite soon, even.”
“You don’t know him, you don’t know anything about him! Enough talk, Demon, let us settle this, it’s time to die!”
With a voice saturated with amusement came the last reply he would hear:
“I think not, little bird. I think not.”
Before Hawke could even begin to think of a retort, a strong force knocked him back violently into the jagged rocks that hovered around their private little battle arena. The air rushed out of him instantly as the edges of his vision wafted from the green hues of his surroundings to the blackness that threatens a deep sleep. Or something more permanent.
Coughing, trying to gulp the air of the Fade back into his lungs, he blinked up at the monster.
Or where it should have been.
He was alone. Dreadfully alone. The way the water, or whatever it was, oozed from the stone should have made a sound but there was none to hear. No sound of the trekking footsteps of his companions from not long ago, no quips or arguments of battle strategy. No wind or movement anywhere. Silence with a thread of static that was both silent and screaming.
A flash of bright green caught his eye to the left. A small chair suddenly appeared, seemingly out of thin air.
Cautiously, Hawke made his way toward the new piece of decorum. Only after coming right on top of it did he notice the piece of parchment. A familiar handwriting upon it made his heart plummet into his stomach.
Shit, Broody … I hate to do this to you. And over a letter, nonetheless. You don’t deserve that. I can’t think of how else to get to you though so this is going to have to be it. I’m sorry, kid.
Things … got bad. Really bad. I don’t know what details you know about the shitstorm hitting Thedas but it’s getting hairier and hairier by the day. Turns out that Magister you and I helped Hawke put down isn’t as down as we all thought. He’s back and planning a whole lot of bad. The Inquisitor, I think you’d like her. Rivaini would love her. She’s had a lot of shit slumped on her shoulders but she’s doing ok. Had to make a lot of tough calls.
Anyway, you probably don’t care about that. It’s not the point of this either. I’m stalling. I’m sure you can tell that from a mile away. I’m usually better with words than this.
Well, shit. Here we go.
Hawke … there was … shit. If you want details, I’d rather do it in person, I owe you that much. But Hawke, he … he didn’t make it. I’m so sorry. Nugstits, Fen, I never thought he wouldn’t come back. It’s Hawke! Can’t tell whether the guy has the best luck or the worst. Had. Doesn’t matter. The guy, he’s a hero. He went out in a blaze, I don’t know if that makes it worse or better but I wanted you to hear that from me. Hawke is a goddamn hero. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him, he saved a whole lot of people. A whole lot of the right people and there’s not a day that is going to go by that people won’t remember that.
I’m sure you noticed by now that I sent a couple of things with this. Hawke … left a few things before shit went down. I thought you should have them. Everything is there, including the ring. I’m also sending another letter, sealed. That one goes to Junior. Broody, you can’t do anything stupid, alright? I need you to take this letter to Carver and explain to him what happened. I wrote what he needed to know but I think it will do you guys a lot of good to be there for each other right now. You’re family. Shit, you’re MY family. Once you make it to Weisshaupt, I’ve got another package coming your way. A little info on the band of misfits here. I could use a friendly face right now, shit’s gotten weird and there is a distinct lack of broodiness that I think you could fill. I’d be grateful if you did. Attached is a person of contact and the way to get to Skyhold. That’s base of operations. First bottle of wine is on me before this all goes ass end up.
I’m … sorry, kid … for whatever that’s worth.
Don’t do anything stupid.
-V
The taste of bile rose quickly once and he only had a brief second to scatter backward before everything he had eaten over the last few days came rushing out with a vengeance. Shaking, he lowered himself onto the frigid ground not paying any mind to the wet surface seeping into his breeches. The words “quite soon” echoed in his mind. Hawke squeezed his eyes so tightly and didn’t re-open them as he prayed and prayed and prayed that Fenris knew how much he loved him. Please be strong, love. I know you can.
The prayer was all he had to cling to in this vast quiet. No demons to taunt him, no enemies to slay. One living being in the Fade with nothing but prayers and a dwindling hope to thrive on whilst waiting for the inevitable end. He had expected a battle, to die fighting this, … this monster. One last middle finger to that blighted bastard before he went out.
This is worse, Hawke lamented. This is useless. And lonely. And all his mind could cling to in the coming days was that familiar low, resonating voice that always made his heart dissolve into a comfortable puddle of safety and adoration: “I am yours.”
