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Chapter Text

It all had started and ended with the Chantry explosion. Their previous lives in Kirkwall had ended abruptly, their relatively cozy existence shaken by the flames of rebellion. And now their usually jovial ragtag group silently escaped the city, knowing full well that they were to be hunted for the rest of their lives. 

Sebastian had fallen that day to Hawke’s blade; his threats against Anders and the city of Kirkwall may have been exaggerated in his fury, however Hawke did not wish to give him a chance to act. The others did not protest his actions much in protecting Anders, knowing their complaints would fall upon deaf ears, and still stayed by his side until after Meredith fell.

Aveline was the first to depart from Hawke’s side. After they escaped from the Gallows, she decided to stay behind in the city with Donnic and get everything back into order. As they got to the city gates, Varric hesitated and told Hawke he too would stay behind and help the city. He left with a brief hug for Hawke, a nod to the others, and not even a glance to Anders. Not that Anders would have noticed, for he was withdrawn and quiet ever since they left the Gallows, eyes never looking up from the tips of his worn-out boots. Beyond asking once with a quiet voice if anyone needed healing, he was completely silent.

The group of them made camp by nightfall, having travelled by foot as far from Kirkwall as they could manage in such a short amount of time and after enduring the battle in the Gallows. Fenris had stood by as guard for the first part of the night, and while Isabela and Merrill slept, Hawke merely sat beside Anders and held his hand. He did not want to force him to speak, however he would be damned if he was forced to leave his side. So the two of them sat by the fire for most of the night, neither able to sleep after the events they had endured.

Within the next few weeks, they got to the shore of the Waking Sea and returned to Ferelden by means of a ship Isabela managed to purchase with what funds she saved up. Isabela and Merrill decided to stay aboard the ship, Isabela declaring herself its new Captain, and then there were only the three of them left. Fenris stayed by Hawke’s side for most of their travels in Ferelden, however went his separate way whenever they neared the Korcari Wilds. After months of being on the run, and having their group slowly dissipate until it was only the two of them, Hawke and Anders finally found a place to settle far from where they were being hunted. Their relative peace was only to last a few years, however, unbeknownst to them. 

Chapter Text

Hawke left their small cabin in the middle of the night, Anders still asleep in bed with Dog at his feet. He left a note of explanation on the crate being used as a bedside table, and had brushed his lips against his sleeping lover’s forehead. He quietly whispered to Dog to watch over Anders before quietly making his way out the door. The note explained in detail his intentions of going to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, in hopes of finding a means of explaining what happened in Kirkwall.

The two had argued about it for the last few weeks, about going to see the Divine to report the abuses of the Kirkwall circle and the actions that lead to Anders blowing up the Chantry. However, the two did not see eye-to-eye on the topic. Anders merely wished to walk straight up to the Divine with a list of the wrongs committed and reasons for his more extreme actions. Hawke, on the other hand, did not trust the Chantry to not strike him down far before he got the chance. The two argued, would be at peace again by the next day, but the disagreement continued. They both knew something had to be done, however the means of doing so differed between them.

So Hawke made the decision on his own, to prevent Anders martyring himself or getting himself thrown in chains, he would go alone. He just hoped Anders would see reason, and would stay put with Dog until he returned. Perhaps it would be too much to ask for, what with Anders’ history of not being content with staying still for long, but Hawke merely hoped.

He couldn’t risk losing Anders, he couldn’t risk losing the last true family he had. At least, that’s what he told himself to justify it.

---------------

Anders woke with a ray of sun peaking through the curtains and onto his face. He hummed and pressed closer to Hawke’s side of the bed, only when his arm came to rest on Hawke’s chest, there was nothing there but cold sheets. He jolted awake, morning sleepiness immediately gone and frantically looked around the room. No one else was there, other than Dog who laid by his feet and lifted his head at Anders’ sudden movement. He tried calming his breathing, figuring Hawke was out gathering materials or hunting. A note out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he quickly snatched it off the crate. His breathing became significantly faster as he read the letter, grip tightening against the discolored page. Flinging his legs over the side of the bed, he quickly began to dress in his robes.

Dog let out a whine, and stretched before jumping off the bed. Anders paid him no mind, until he let out a loud bark that made him jump slightly.

“I’m going with Hawke,” he stated plainly to the mabari, buttoning up his undercoat. “I can’t let him do this alone. It is my fault he is in this mess, and Maker help me if I don’t go aid him now-”

Dog let out another bark, and snatched one of Anders’ boots out of his hands before he could pull it on.

“Hey!” Anders uttered a curse and tried to snatch the boot back, to no avail. “I’m going to help Hawke, you bloody- agh!”

He got the boot back, but grimaced as it was covered with dog slobber. Dog barked multiple times in succession, and Anders sighed, deciding to stop in his haste and try to figure out what the mutt was telling him.

“Did Hawke…” Another sigh. “Tell you to make sure I don’t leave?”

A confirmative bark came from the dog.

“Maker, why would he…” Anders shook his head and crossed his arms, biting back another sigh of annoyance. “He’s throwing himself to the bloody wolves. He’s hunted as much as I am, what makes him think that going by himself is going to fix anything?"

He rubbed his forehead, eyes closed, trying to calm himself down. Getting angry wasn’t going to help at all, he figured. Settling back down onto the bed, he continued the familiar gesture of pressing against his forehead.

Dog woofed twice at his rant, and nuzzled him in the leg with his broad head. Anders mindlessly began petting his soft fur, caught up in his own thoughts. How could Hawke just leave like that, especially without a proper goodbye? What if something happened to him? What if-

Dog huffed and jumped halfway onto his lap. Anders let out a grunt at the sudden weight on his legs, but didn’t stop petting the mabari.

“Maker, I have to help him,” Anders muttered, only to receive a huff of disapproval from the mabari. “What do you want me to do, just sit here and wait? He could be in danger!”

Dog whined, and made a motion as if shaking his head.

“Fine,” Anders sighed in resignation. “I’ll stay put, if that’s what Hawke thought would be best. But if I don’t hear word from him within the next few weeks, I’m going out to look for him. And you can’t stop me, you mangy mutt.”

Dog whined and tilted his head.

“Ugh, stop looking at me like that! Puppy eyes won't work on me. I’m a cat person, remember?” Anders huffed. “You’re too smart for your own good…”

He continued to pet the mabari’s head, staring off through the gap between the curtains. The mage closed his eyes, trying to ignore the stinging behind them and making an attempt to will away his thoughts that Hawke was already dead… or worse.

He’s going to be fine, he assured himself, he’s fought the Arishok by himself, he’s managed to stay alive and well in Kirkwall of all places. He’s been an apostate on the run all his life. A few weeks without me won’t kill him, and he’ll be back soon like he promised.

Burying his face into the fur of the hound on his lap, he tried to fill his head with hopeful thoughts to cover up the ones that told him otherwise.

Maker, just please let him return soon.
Please.

Chapter Text

He awoke with a pounding headache, his entire body sore. He tried to move his arms, but found they were weighed down and clanked as if he were in irons. Opening his eyes, the room around him was almost completely dark, sans a few candles illuminating the pillars in front of him. He attempted to blink away the blurriness in his eyes, and groaned under the sharp pain that resounded from the back of his head. As his vision began to focus, he noticed a green light reflecting off his manacles and the two swords posed next to his throat.

“Maker, what…” his voice came out rough, and he coughed at the dryness of his throat.

The door slammed open in front of him, one he had hardly noticed in the darkness of the room. Two women strode in, the first in armor and the other with a hooded garment. He winced at the sudden noise, and squinted up at them as they made their way to the center of the room.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,” the first woman demanded, while the other made her way further into the shadows beside him. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

“What makes you think I did it?” Hawke growled, pushing back the pain that came from talking.

“I know who you are, Champion.” The short haired woman let her hand rest on her sword. “We all know what happened in Kirkwall, is it so unlikely that you are responsible for even more deaths?”

“That is completely-”

“Not to mention, this.” The woman grabbed his manacles, lifting up his left hand. A green slit across his palm flared to life, bathing the two of them in a bright green light.

“Maker, what is that?” Hawke exclaimed as she dropped his hand and stood again.

“What do you mean, you don’t know what it is?”

“I don’t know! If I knew I probably wouldn’t be in this situation, now would I?”

“You’re lying!” The woman grabbed him by the collar, other hand returning to the hilt of her sheathed sword.

“Cassandra,” the hand of the other woman landed on her shoulder. “We need him.”

The woman, Cassandra, huffed and released him, glare still firmly on her face.

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” the calmer woman asked, now visible within the light of the candles.

“I remember running,” Hawke started, brow furrowing. “Something was chasing me, and then a woman… she reached out to me.”

“A woman?” The redhead whispered. “Do you remember anything else?”

Hawke shook his head slightly. The woman let out a sigh before facing Cassandra.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” Cassandra told her. “And I will take the Champion to the rift.”

Leliana nodded and made her way to the door, while Cassandra bent down to unlock the manacles around Hawke’s wrists. He only had a moment to reorient himself before Cassandra beckoned him to follow her out the door. She led him outside, where the darkened grey sky was twisted and marred with bright green tears, all extending from a huge swirling mass of rocks and sickly green glow that emerged beyond the mountains.

“Maker, what is that thing?”

“We call it the Breach. It’s a massive rift into the fade that grows larger with each passing hour.” Cassandra stared up at the sky as she spoke, before turning back to Hawke. “It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

“How in the void can an explosion cause that?”

“We are unsure yet, but this one did. And if we do not act fast, the rift may grow until it swallows the world.”

As Hawke opened his mouth to respond, the mark on his land lit up again. This time the flash of light was accompanied by a sharp pain that jolted his whole body. He hissed in pain and fell to his knees, gripping his hand to his chest. Cassandra knelt down beside him.

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this.” She gave him a hand and helped him back up. “We do not have much time, however. We need to go quickly.”

“Alright,” Hawke croaked, looking down at his now -hopefully- stable hand. “I’ll help you. But as long as you don’t try to have me executed after.”

Cassandra grunted before grabbing him by the arm and leading him to the gates. People in the village stared at him in disgust as they passed by, and Hawke could feel their glares at the back of his head. He tried to ignore it, used to it by now after the events in Kirkwall, however it still pained him to think that most of those men and women wished him dead.

“There will be a trial,” Cassandra finally answered after they passed the gate. “I can promise you no more.”

The two of them made their way past the makeshift protections of the town and into the valley. Cassandra had reluctantly allowed Hawke to use a staff he found in order to fight better against the demons. Though it was not the Key, he still easily wielded the flimsy staff and fell back into old tactics he used back in Kirkwall, even while fighting beside someone unfamiliar. He and Cassandra made quick work of the demons, and fought their way through the valley.

“We’re nearing the rift,” Cassandra announced as they climbed up the slope of a snowy hill. “You can hear the fighting.”

The question of who was fighting died on Hawke’s tongue as they approached some ruins at the top of the steps. As Cassandra jumped off the wall down into the area the others were fighting in, Hawke looked down from his vantage point. He smirked as he spotted a certain dwarf with a crossbow fighting below him, and quickly whipped out his staff. Charging up a spell in his empty hand, Hawke flung a fireball at a group of demons. As soon as the flame spell hit the demons, he charged winter’s frost and froze a demon that was nearing Varric. The dwarf turned quickly and shattered the demon with a bolt from his crossbow, the two of them seemingly returning to the tactics they used fighting together before.

Hawke smirked. It was as if they never were apart.

The fight was over soon, Hawke clambering down from the wall near the end of the fight to stab a demon with the dagger end of his staff. A bald elven man gripped his left hand as soon as the last demon fell, holding it up towards the rift floating just above their heads. He feels a pulling in his hand, and with a small blast of energy the rift closed. Hawke ripped his hand away from the elf, brow furrowing in confusion.

“What did you do?”

“I did nothing,” he elf replied calmly, hands now clasped behind his back. “The credit is yours.”

“How-” Hawke squinted down at his hand, now glowing softly and no longer in pain.

“Of course you’re the one who’s here,” Varric laughed, patting him on the arm. “Wherever you go, disaster happens. And explosions. A lot of explosions.”

“It’s good to see you too, Varric.” Hawke let a ghost of a smile appear on his face as he turned to his close friend. “But… why are you here?”

“You know me, always having to be in with the action.” Behind him, Cassandra grunted in annoyance. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have any material left for a new story.”

“Oh Maker, please don’t tell me this will turn into another story about me…”

“Enough talking, we do not have time for idle chatter,” Cassandra snapped, her glare particularly focusing on Varric. “We need to get to the breach.”

“Very well, Seeker.” Varric huffed in amusement, smirk staying on his face. “Lead on.”

“No, you’re not coming with us.” Cassandra shook her head. “Your help is appreciated, but…”

“You say we’re facing a huge threat, so why refuse Varric’s help?” Hawke frowned. “Would it not be better if more of us were fighting? Or would you rather us die before we even make it to the main rift?”

“You- fine!” She threw her hands up in exasperation before turning away. She began to make her way down another path, leaving the others to do nothing but follow.

“And you,” Hawke spoke as he glanced over at the elven man before going to follow Cassandra. “Who are you?”

“My name is Solas.” A faint smile was on his face. “I am pleased to see you still live.”

“What he really means is ‘I kept that mark from killing you’,” Varric stated, walking slightly ahead of the two mages.

“Well, thank you, I suppose.”

“I suppose your thanks are appreciated, however not necessary yet. Not until we actually close the Breach.”

Hawke nodded, and continued down the path behind Varric and Cassandra. The four of them fought through more demons who spawned, quicker this time than when it was just Hawke and Cassandra. The mark occasionally flared up, but Hawke pushed down the pain and kept going. Up another hill, and past more demons, another rift could be seen. Fighting more shades at the rift, alongside a few soldiers who helped, Hawke managed to close the rift far easier than the last, and without the help of Solas. Varric playfully shoved him after the fighting stopped, and the gate to the camp was opened after a command from Cassandra to the soldiers on the other side. As they walked through the forward camp, past several injured soldiers and Chantry members in prayer, they neared two people in the midst of an argument. Approaching the table where they stood, Hawke noticed one of the two people was Leliana, the redhead from the dungeons. Across from her was an older man in Chantry robes, a scowl across his wrinkled face.

“I will not have it!” the man shouted, slamming his palm onto the table. As soon as he realized who was approaching, his frown deepened even further. “And here they come. As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this apostate to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

Cassandra scoffed by Hawke’s side, returning the Chancellor’s glare.

“Order me? You are a glorified clerk.”

“And you are but a thug! And yet you claim to serve the Chantry!”

“We serve the Most Holy-” Leliana attempted to cut in.

“Justinia is dead!” the older man interrupted, throwing his hands up. “Once we elect a replacement we will follow her orders on the matter.”

“Shouldn’t we focus on the more pressing issue, like the huge rift in the sky? Rather than standing around pointing fingers?” Hawke snapped, arms crossed.

“Remember Hawke, you can’t use logic with these Chantry types,” Varric stage-whispered to him, ignoring the glare sent his way by Cassandra.

“You’re the reason that rift is even here in the first place! And you killed everyone else who was in charge!” the Chancellor hissed. He then turned to face Cassandra. “This is hopeless, you need to call a retreat, Seeker.”

“We can stop this before it’s too late,” Cassandra replied with a shake of her head. “We must get to the temple. And we must charge with the soldiers to get there as quickly as possible.”

“You should take the path through the mountains instead. It is the safest option,” Leliana suggested while the Chancellor behind her shook his head in frustration.

“Listen to me. You must abandon this now, before even more lives are lost,” he cut in.

“We cannot do that,” Cassandra hissed. Turning away from the Chancellor who was flushed red in anger, she gestured to Hawke. “Champion, which way should we proceed? Since we cannot agree on our own.”

“Strange you’re taking my advice after just saying I was a criminal.” Hawke raised an eyebrow, but continued to speak before Cassandra could comment, “But very well. We should take the mountain path. Charging with soldiers is too risky.”

Cassandra nodded at him, before turning back to address Leliana.

“Bring everyone in the valley, while we head through the mountain pass.” Leliana nodded, and Cassandra and the others began to walk towards the gate.

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker,” the Chancellor called out, but Cassandra paid him no mind as she continued toward the gate.

The four of them made their way to the mountain pass, and managed to get through mostly unscathed. There were a few demons in the corridors of the pass, but they took them out easily. They took care of another rift outside and fought beside some soldiers, likely saving their lives. As they ventured closer to the ruined temple, the weight of the situation dawned on Hawke. Around them stood not only ruins and pieces of architecture that survived the explosion, but also charred corpses scattered throughout the area. Some of the bodies were still on fire, others stuck in the position they died in, burnt faces twisted in agony. Skulls and bones littered the area closer to the temple, and Hawke tried not to gag as the smell of burning flesh met his nostrils. Stepping over some rubble and ashes, the four of them approached a balcony overlooking what likely was the center of the blast. In the center of the open space was a smaller rift, which looked like it extended directly under the massive rift in the sky.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Solas supplemented, looking around at what was left of the ruins.

“The breach is a long way up…” Varric muttered from his spot beside Hawke after letting out a low whistle.

“You’re here, thank the Maker!” Leliana approached the group of them, followed by a few soldiers. “I will position my archers around the rift.”

Cassandra gave a nod of approval before turning back to Hawke.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready for… what? Climbing up to that thing?” Hawke gestured to the massive breach in the sky above them.

“No,” Solas answered first, shaking his head slightly. “This rift was the first. Closing it may be the only way to seal the breach.”

“Then let’s make our way down.” Cassandra went off to their right and carefully began climbing down some dilapidated steps. The others followed, carefully watching their steps. As they made their way down to the rift, a grating voice echoed throughout the area.

Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.

Beside them, along the deteriorated walls of the temple, shards of red crystal poked out. Hawke stopped in his tracks, eyes wide at the glowing red crystals.

“Sweet Maker, is that…?”

“Red lyrium…” Varric muttered, giving Hawke a concerned look. “But what’s it doing here?”

“Magic could have drawn on the lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it,” Solas offered, while Cassandra looked back at them.

“Gah… Just make sure nobody touches it.”

The voices continued around them, this time a feminine voice sounding.

Someone help me!

Cassandra looked around, brows furrowed.

“That was Divine Justinia’s voice!”

As they finally reached the bottom of the crater, more ghostly voices floated around them. Just as they were to comment on them, a sudden flash struck them all, filling their visions with white light. Where there was just the rift, now ghostly apparitions floated in front of them. A shadowy creature stood before the apparition of a woman, who looked as if she was being confined. An image of Hawke emerged, running into the scene.

“What’s going on here?” the apparition asked with Hawke’s gruff voice.

“Run while you can! Warn them!” the woman’s ghostly form screeched, pulling against invisible bonds.

“We have an intruder,” the larger creature’s voice reverberated. The being lifted a claw-like hand and pointed to Hawke's apparition. “Kill the one with the Hawke’s blood.”

The vision suddenly faded into a black fog, and as soon as it dissipated Cassandra swung around to look at Hawke.

“You were there!” She pointed a finger accusingly at Hawke. “What happened in this vision? Is it true?”

“I told you before, I don’t remember anything!” he seethed.

“We should not fight, and rather focus on the task at hand,” Solas suggested in a calm voice. “I believe this rift can be opened and sealed again properly with the mark. However opening it will likely gain attention from demons.”

“Then stand ready!” Cassandra ordered the soldiers and archers situated around the rift.

“Use the mark on the rift,” Solas told Hawke, pulling his staff out from its place on his back. “Whenever you are ready.”

Hawke nodded at him, and after readying his own staff, lifted his left hand toward the rift. With a flash, his hand lit up, and energy connected between it and the rift. The pulling sensation returned, and after a moment the rift opened up.

“Now!” Cassandra raised her sword.

The battle commenced as multiple shades emerged from the opened rift, but while they started to attack the smaller demons, a huge pride demon leapt out of the rift. Hawke swore under his breath, and began to focus his attacks on the pride demon. Having the soldiers as support helped greatly in the fight, allowing Hawke time to use the mark to weaken the pride demon. Once all the enemies fell, Solas shouted for Hawke to close the rift once and for all. Lifting up his hand, he felt the magic pulling on his mark. The pulling turned into an electric sensation up his arm, and as soon as the rift closed, the energy pushed him back. The bright white light that blinded him was the last thing he saw before collapsing to the ground.

Chapter Text

The first thing he felt when he began to stir was a horrible ache in his head and a tingling in his arm. Hawke groaned in pain, squinting and opening his eyes, ignoring the resulting pain that intensified his headache. He blinked slowly and attempted to look around the room. Moving his head hurt, but he was able to notice he was in a small room on a bed, with a door across the room. His vision blurred as he groaned again, deciding to lay his aching head back onto the pillow and close his eyes.

“You awake, sleeping beauty?” a voice grumbled at his left.

Only a grunt was to be his response.

“Good.” A warm hand patted him on the shoulder. “It’s been three days. Was worried you wouldn’t wake up.”

“You were worried for me, Varric?” he managed to get out, voice rough. “I’m flattered.”

“Of course I was!” Varric scoffed, the saddened look on his face disappearing in an instant. “Couldn’t let my protagonist die before we even close the breach! That’d be anticlimactic.”

“We… didn’t close it?” Hawke flitted his eyes open again, squinting over at Varric who sat on a chair by the headboard of his bed. Varric shook his head.

“Well, you stopped it from growing! But no, didn’t close the damn thing.” Varric looked away, though his frustration was not aimed at Hawke. “Anyways, I should go let the Seeker know you woke up. And give you time to get dressed. Don’t want to go out and see the adoring crowd in just your smallclothes.”

Varric hopped off the chair as he spoke, gesturing at the door at his last sentence.

“Wait… what adoring crowd?” Varric only winked at him before heading out the door. “Varric?!”

Hawke had sat up, staring in annoyance at the door as it closed. Damn that dwarf... Letting out a sigh, and still ignoring the pounding in his head, he flung back the blankets and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was indeed in just his smallclothes. Looking over at a table in the far corner he noticed a tunic and trousers, and quickly slipped them on. They were slightly too tight, and the fabric pulled a bit around his arms and shoulders, but it beat not wearing any clothes. Especially with how cold it was outside. Once he got changed, he found his staff leaning against the corner of the room and slung it onto his back. Even if it might not have matched with his more casual attire, he figured it was better to be armed just in case. Putting on a pair of boots left at the door, he headed out, blocking out the sun with his arm as it shined in his eyes.

As soon as he adjusted to the light, he continued forward and began to notice the crowd standing on both sides of the path. Within the crowd stood people praying, weeping, and others staring at him in awe. Shaking his head, Hawke continued up some stairs, giving only a baffled look towards his admirers. Words were whispered as he walked by, but the most he made out was “Andraste bless you” and “herald of Andraste”. Whatever that meant.

Walking into the Chantry building at the top of the settlement, Hawke began to hear an argument echoing throughout the chamber, slightly muffled however still audible enough to make out some words.

“I do not believe he is guilty.”

“The prisoner failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, he intended it this way!”

“I do not believe that.”

“That is not-”

Hawke pushed the door open that stood on the other end of the hall, and strode into the smaller room. Inside the room was a large table that took up nearly the length of the room, and Cassandra, Leliana, and Chancellor Roderick all standing around it. They all fell silent and looked up at him as he entered the room, just his presence commanding their attention even in the drab casualwear he wore. The Chancellor was the first to speak.

“Chain him,” he ordered the templars stationed at the door. “I want him prepared for the capital for trial, as soon as possible.”

“Disregard that, and leave us,” Cassandra interrupted, halting them as they moved to step towards Hawke. One guard nodded, and both exited the room. Roderick sputtered as he watched the guards follow her command.

“Seeker, you cannot-”

“Until the breach is sealed it is still a threat.” Cassandra narrowed her eyes at the Chancellor, as if daring him to argue against her. “I will not just ignore it. And Hawke is the only one with the mark. He is the one we need to fix this.”

"He is the one who caused all of this, need I remind you!”

“We heard the voices at the temple,” Leliana cut in. “Justinia called for him.”

“So he is no longer a suspect,” Cassandra finished for her.

“That is absurd!” the Chancellor yelled.

“Is it?” Leliana crossed her arms. “We know someone was behind the explosion, someone Most Holy did not expect… There are still many possible suspects. Many who might even be in the Chantry.”

"So I am a suspect? But not the prisoner whose lover, might I remind you, blew up the Kirkwall Chantry?”

“You will not bring Anders into this,” Hawke hissed at him, red in the face at the turn of the conversation. He didn’t give a shit if he was accused of something he didn’t do. But bring up Anders? Hawke was pissed.

“Even with his past, based on what we heard and saw at the temple, we have no reason to suspect him,” Cassandra spoke carefully, and Hawke calmed down slightly.

“Or his lover,” Leliana added in order to placate the mage. “Who is not even here, nor anywhere nearby to our knowledge. It is pointless to place the blame on someone when we have no proof of it.”

“So you’re telling me, his being here is what… all a coincidence?”

“Not a coincidence. The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour.”

“What, just yesterday you thought I was a criminal… and now you think I was sent by the Maker?” Hawke scoffed at Cassandra, whose glare now turned to him. “You do realize I’m a mage. And not to mention one of the mages who started the whole ‘mage rebellion’ thing?”

“I have not forgotten. However that still does not matter in getting the breach closed. It threatens us all.”

“Your mark is the only chance we have at stopping this,” Leliana spoke softly.

“You cannot decide th-” A tome slammed on the table in front of the Chancellor, interrupting his speech.

“You know that this is a writ, from the Divine herself, which grants us the authority to act.” Cassandra pointed at the cover of the book, a large sun design with an eye in the center. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval.”

The Chancellor merely huffs before storming out, muttering under his breath.

“This is the Divine’s directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. We have nothing, no allies, no Chantry…” Leliana flicked open the book, fingers dragging against the worn pages.

“But we must act now,” Cassandra insisted to her, before turning to Hawke. “Champion. We need you at our side.”

“Maker, this is not what I expected when I woke up this morning,” Hawke murmured, leaning against the table. His fingers drummed lightly against his thighs, but after a moment of thought, his fidgeting ceased and he glanced back up to look Cassandra in the eyes. “Very well, I’m in. Don’t make me regret this.”

Cassandra nodded in approval before reaching out to take his hand, which he gave her a firm handshake.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

----------------------------

A raven fluttered to the window, wings flapping against the open curtains. Looking into the small cabin, the raven let out a loud caw. A man jolted in his seat by the small fireplace, flailing briefly before noticing what woke him. Letting out a soft gasp, the man pattered over to the front window, stepping over a sleeping mabari by his feet. A soft smile gracing his features, the man held up a hand for the raven, who rubbed its head against his palm.

“Do you have a letter for me?” the man asked, noticing the piece of paper bound to the bird’s right leg.

The raven cawed, allowing the blond to gently untie the letter from his leg. The man quickly unrolled the parchment, and began to read.

Hey Blondie,

Just found H. I’m assuming you’ve been looking for him since you’re not here with him. He’s safe for now, but he’s gotten himself into some shit. I know we haven’t been on talking terms much lately, but I feel like H will need you. We’re in a town called Haven, in the Frostbacks. Can’t miss it. If you decide to come, make sure it’s at night and use a cloak or something to hide yourself. H might not be in trouble, but you sure will be if they find you.

Best of luck,

V

Chapter Text

Hawke was introduced to the other leaders of the Inquisition the next morning, including the chief diplomat Josephine Montilyet and the commander of the Inquisition’s forces, Cullen Rutherford. As soon as Hawke saw the man’s face, he attempted to dive across the table to punch him straight in the mouth. He likely would have, of course, if Cassandra hadn’t grabbed him by the belt and hoisted him off the table. She held him back and apologized to Cullen for Hawke’s reaction, though Cullen thought it best to leave the room so as to not invoke Hawke’s wrath. While still seething, Hawke calmed a bit at this and listened to what the three women had to say.

By Leliana’s insistence, and as an excuse to get the hell away from Cullen, he traveled to the Hinterlands with Cassandra, Varric, and Solas. Their goal was to speak to a Chantry mother by the name of Mother Giselle, who sounded surprisingly open to talking with the fabled Herald of Andraste. Leliana and Josephine had thought speaking to her might help in decreasing the Chantry’s unwillingness to help the Inquisition and their fear towards the organization. Even if the situation with the Chantry did not change, they wagered that she might have been a valuable ally to have nevertheless.

On their way out of Haven, Cassandra had sent a glare in Hawke’s direction.

“What?” He squinted at her. “You’re obviously upset. Spit it out.”

“Why did you act like that?” she hissed. “With Cullen?”

“Do I really need to explain why I, a mage if you recall, don’t particularly like a templar? Thought it would be obvious.”

Cassandra let out a huff.

“No, but I at least expect you to be civil.” She shook her head. “You acted like a child in there!”

“Did I?” Hawke suddenly stopped and swirled to face her. Ahead of them, Varric swore as he noticed what was escalating. “Tell me, why should I be civil? Do you not know what that bastard has done to mages? What he let happen in Kirkwall?”

“I-”

“He was the knight-captain, for Maker’s sake! He sat back and practically let templars in the gallows rape and murder mages, even turn them tranquil for the slightest offenses! He did nothing when he heard of allegations, and didn't even go against Meredith's insanity until it was turned against me! He even agreed that mages should all be made tranquil! Did you know that?”

He stepped closer to her as he talked.

“That son of a bitch was at the heart of everything that happened, and did nothing,” Hawke snapped, hands clenched into fists by his side. “People talk all they want about how my lover is a monster for taking action, but no one says a thing about monsters like him who let abuses slide for years. Who got away without consequence!”

Cassandra opened her mouth, but words did not come through. She looked down in thought, before taking a deep breath.

“I… did not know,” she admitted, voice much quieter than it was before. She took pauses in her words, clearly taking in everything he told her. “I shall… tell Leliana, then. It is still a new organization, we may yet find a more suitable commander. One with a less… divisive past.”

Hawke widened his eyes as she spoke, clearly not expecting her to admit her own ignorance of the situation. She noticed his confusion, and placed a hand on his arm, squeezing slightly.

“I… we may not have the same views on mages and templars,” she started, now looking away. “However, we do both agree the abuses that existed were wrong. I had… thought I knew the situation, but if what you said is true…”

“It is,” Hawke said with finality.

“We will speak, then.” Cassandra nodded, more to herself than anything. “Later, when we return.”

Varric let out a sigh, and looked over to see Solas sharing his relief at the situation not getting worse. The group began walking again, the tension far less between them than when they had started their trek.

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After reaching the Hinterlands, and fighting through some rogue templars and mages, Hawke had spoken with the Chantry mother. Though he did not expect much to come from the meeting, he was pleasantly surprised with the attitude of Mother Giselle. It was nice to see a Chantry mother who actually cared for people, helped the poor, and even saw the good of magic. Especially when most of his prior experience with Chantry members was less than impressive, one that stood out being Mother Petrice… who had attempted a holy war. And was racist as shit against Qunari. Yes, his expectations were not very high from the start.

She had told him that he should try to convince the remaining clerics of the Chantry to believe in his cause, or at least end their lies about him. She had said their united voice against him was all they had, so even just weakening that voice was worth trying. Hawke did not really wish to travel to the heart of the Chantry and tell them “hey, I’m the Maker’s chosen!”, especially after his involvements against the Chantry in the past, but he supposed he had no other options. At least while the Inquisition was still weak and with little allies, he needed all the influence he could get to help their cause. So after helping a few people in the Hinterlands, Hawke headed to the Chantry in Val Royeaux.

Talking to the clerics went about as well as he expected, which was not well at all. The ones who didn’t flinch away in fear of him spoke lies of him being a power-hungry mage determined to make the south like Tevinter. One man even spat on him, calling his lover an abomination amongst men.

It had taken both Cassandra and Varric to hold him back from socking him in the jaw.

Other than just the Chantry members, he also had a lovely run-in with Lord Seeker Lucius and several templars. They had not only scorned the Chantry, with one templar going as far as punching Mother Hevara in the face, but also insulted the Inquisition and believed Hawke a false prophet. Cassandra had attempted to convince them to join, however it was all in vain. Hawke was rather glad to not have their help, in fact.

Once the fiasco was all over, the group ended up following some hidden notes on handkerchiefs that lead them to a back alley at night. They had been given a tip on the ambush, and came prepared; the elven woman who sent the notes joining them in the fight against the Orlesian noble and his guards. It ended with Hawke requiting the woman, named Sera, and her agreeing to help with the Inquisition. The four of them ended up staying the rest of the night in Val Royeaux before leaving the next morning.

As the group left, however, they were stopped by a voice by the gates.

“May I have a moment of your time?”

Hawke turned, and saw a small elven woman wearing blue circle robes.

“Grand Enchanter Fiona?” Cassandra’s brows furrowed.

“Is it not dangerous for you to be here?” Solas asked softly.

“I heard of what happened yesterday,” Fiona then turned to face Hawke. “And I decided to come see the Herald of Andraste with my own eyes.”

“Well, here I am,” he deadpanned, gesturing with his arms.

“I had hoped you would look to your fellow mages for help, with your Inquisition and sealing the breach.”

“I could consider that,” Hawke said with a nod. “Are the rest of the mages as willing as you are to help?”

“They are now, after seeing what the Inquisition truly stands for. And who it has put in charge.” A small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe, to see if we can help each other. Au revoir.”

With a slight bow, she walked away. Cassandra looked over at Hawke with a discerning look.

“Are you sure this is a wise idea?”

“Am I sure? No.” Hawke turned around and began walking to the gate. “But I think it’s our best bet.”