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bluerose5 · 4 years

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The Precipice of Change: Chapter 2

Rated: T

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition

Word Count: 3,961

Tags: Male Mage Hawke, Hawke as Inquisitor, DAI Inner Circle, Purple/Flirty Hawke, Canon-Typical Violence, past Male Hawke/Fenris, Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Blood & Injury

Summary: The story of Dragon Age: Inquisition, as told if Garrett Hawke were to become the Inquisitor instead.

There's nothing like being the Chosen One for a god that you don't really believe in, fighting to save a world that wants you dead eight out of the seven days of the week. But Hawke makes do. He always does.

Chapter 2:

The elven apostate could definitely give Cassandra a run for her money in terms of their supposed stoicism, so Hawke considered the slight quirk to his lips to be some kind of unspoken success. It was only a brief flash, however, there and gone before Hawke could even be certain that he saw it.

“An understandable reaction,” the stranger said, mostly referring to Varric’s response. “All things considered.”

Or perhaps he was referring to how Hawke dragged him down into the snow with him. Regardless, Hawke smirked at him through the pain, clenching and relaxing his hand in a rhythmic motion.

“Nothing like having such a handsome, mysterious stranger swoop in and bury you in cold, mushy snow to help us get acquainted, am I right?” Hawke joked, getting slowly to his feet.

When he held his hand out, Solas took it. Hawke helped him up, both of them brushing themselves off while they spoke.

“That is one way of putting it.” Solas regarded him cautiously, leaning his weight onto his staff. “Although, I would think that the end of the world would be a much more effective bonding experience, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oho!” Varric crowed, grinning widely. “Was that a joke, Chuckles? Someone alert the Chantry.”

“Or in our case, don’t,” Hawke interrupted. “Turns out, it’s not good for an apostate’s health when the Chantry gets involved.”

“Surprise of all surprises,” Solas muttered.

Continue Reading Under the Cut...

Cassandra took the opportunity to get things back on track, pointedly clearing her throat. The three men before her turned towards her with sheepish expressions, caught up in their banter as they were.

“If you three are quite done, we must return to the task at hand,” she said, narrowing her eyes at them. “It’s not as if the fate of the world depends on us or anything.”

“Heh.” Hawke chuckled. “Could you imagine? Besides, I would say it depends more on the mark than anything else.”

“And you are the one that wields the mark,” Solas stated. “Therefore, it would only be logical to conclude that the fate of the world depends on you and your actions.” He paused, once again regarding Hawke with that inscrutable gaze. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

“Or our destruction,” Hawke said, quick to backtrack when Cassandra glared at him. He held his hands up in surrender, and even took a step back for good measure, bumping into Varric. “I’m just saying, usually when I try to do good and act heroic, things tend to worsen and fall apart.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” Varric said, earning a pout from Hawke. “What?!”

Before they could dissolve into further bickering, Cassandra started shoving them all forward, herding them along in the direction of the Breach.

On their way, Solas decided to engage Hawke in conversation once more, curious about this infamous Champion.

“Apologies. I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself. My name is Solas.”

Hawke nodded at him in greeting. “Garrett Hawke, but most people call me Hawke. Like a nickname, or a title, I suppose.”

Or a little bit of both.

Solas smiled, his staff tapping softly through snow and ice alike.

“You are an apostate.” A statement, not a question.

“Yep,” Hawke answered, popping the ‘p.’ “And you are as well.”

“Hmm… and how can you tell?”

“The way you cast.” The “duh” was implied there in Hawke’s tone. “I would wager that you’ve never even been in a Circle. Lifelong apostates, even those that have remained hidden for quite some time, seem to have this raw, powerful style that looks as easy as breathing. Compared to that, Circle mages, even the former ones, seem to be more stilted and awkward with their forms. At least, in my opinion.” His smirk grew bitter. “The difference between embracing your power and trying to control and leash it, I assume. Or perhaps I am reading too much into it.”

Solas looked shocked by such an analysis, if anything. Meanwhile, Varric zoned out at the first hint of any magic-y talk, and Cassandra scowled throughout the whole ordeal, her eyes darting back and forth between the mages with a furrowed brow. As if they were part of some big, bad conspiracy.

Gotta love the distrust.

“I wouldn’t say you’re reading too much into it at all. That’s actually a rather perceptive take on it.”

“More than you were expecting, you mean,” Garrett said, taking some satisfaction in watching a bit of guilt mix in with his expression.

Solas shrugged, and Hawke knew that was probably all that he was going to get in terms of an apology.

“It’s a moot point anyways. At this time, all mages are considered apostates.”

“True enough.”

Their conversation continued on, Hawke glad for any distraction that didn’t leave him ruminating over the pain in his hand for too long. They met several more groups of demons on their way, but they were noticeably quicker in dispatching them with four of them instead of two. Unfortunately, Hawke still had to stop every so often when the mark’s flaring threatened to tear him apart, eventually causing the veins in his arm to grow a menacing green. Like little spiderwebs, the light spread until it reached all the way up to his shoulder, Hawke’s eyes wide when he realized just how far the mark stretched in so little time.

When the others took notice, Solas grabbed him by his good arm, practically dragging him along.

Hawke had to admit, for both an elf and a mage, he was pretty strong.

“My magic will not be able to keep the mark under control for much longer. We must hurry,” Solas told him.

It was his frantic tone that made Varric rush to their side, eyeing the mark in concern.

“Be honest, Chuckles, worst case scenario…” Varric said, trailing off so that he could fill in the blanks.

Solas grimaced.

“Do you really want the answer to that question?”

Hawke and Varric exchanged a glance.

“No,” Varric sighed. “I guess not.”

Ah, so it seemed as if Cassandra wasn’t exaggerating about Hawke’s imminent death.

Why can’t anything about Hawke’s life be normal for once?

“So…” Hawke drawled, unable to stand all of this doom and gloom. “Solas, you seem to know a lot about the mark.”

After Solas and Varric explained how the elf stopped the mark from killing him, they encountered one last rift before finally —finally— entering the forward camp. An argument could be heard from the gates, Leliana and some Chancellor engaged in a heated dispute once they arrived. To be honest, Hawke stopped listening as soon as the Chancellor threatened to throw him in chains, everyone going back and forth while he remained silently focused on the sky. It was impossible not to look at, that wide, yawning maw always in the corner of his periphery no matter where he looked. It swirled threateningly, growing larger and larger with each pulse of light.

How could anyone fix something like that?

It took Hawke a few moments to realize that everyone had grown silent, staring impatiently at him. He blinked owlishly at the sudden attention, wondering what in the world did he miss.

“What?” he asked, shuffling from foot to foot. “Do I have something in my teeth?”

Ignoring Varric’s snicker behind him, Hawke dug his tongue into the crevices between his teeth, causing the Chancellor to scowl.

“You honestly think he is our savior?” Roderick snapped, addressing Cassandra instead of speaking directly to Hawke.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hawke stated, his expression serious yet innocent, despite the fact that he was anything but. “Were you saying something just now? From my experience with Chantry Brothers, I find it way easier to filter out all of their ramblings and simply nod along here and there. Nothing personal, mind you.”

Chancellor Roderick sputtered indignantly, but Cassandra stepped in before the situation could escalate.

“We were saying that we needed to decide on a way to get to the temple.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow at them. “And you were waiting on me, because…?”

“You have the mark,” Solas noted.

“And you are the one we must protect,” Cassandra added. “Since we cannot decide amongst ourselves…”

Oh, great. They wanted him to lead, because of course they did. Now they were starting to sound like Anders.

How many times must Hawke tell people that he was not leadership material before they would believe him?

Ugh, well, if he must.

After they recounted his options again —the whole “should we charge or use the mountain path” debate— he simply stated what he thought was the most obvious solution.

“Why not just split up and meet back up at the temple?”

They stared at him blankly, making him wonder if he really did have something in his teeth this time.

“Explain,” Cassandra ordered.

How could he even think of refusing when she asked so nicely?

“I’m just saying that a small group could go investigate what happened with the missing scouts, and the rest of us could charge on ahead. That way, we hopefully save as many people as possible, and we get me to the temple. Easy as pie,” Hawke explained.

“As idealistic as that may be,” Cassandra started, “the whole point of this plan is to get you to the temple, not to rescue everyone. We should spare no resources in getting you ther—”

Hawke interrupted then.

“You asked for my opinion, and I gave it. If you don’t like it, then please feel free to waste more time we don’t have by trying to decide amongst yourselves.”

Of course, he kind of did waste some precious time himself by not listening before, but that’s not the point.

After considering it, Cassandra and the others agreed, despite Chancellor Roderick’s vehement protests.

Hawke may or may not have stuck his tongue out at him when they passed.

Splitting into two groups, the majority of the soldiers went with Leliana and Hawke in the charge forward. While they used the more direct approach, Cassandra, Varric, Solas, and a few others were going to be traveling indirectly through the mountain path. Both routes would eventually converge, and they would wait for one another at the Temple of Sacred Ashes before advancing in their final push. In a realistic world, losses were to be expected, but Garrett knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly at night if he didn’t at least try for the optimal outcome.

If he could even sleep at all, what with a deadly mark upon his hand that’s constantly trying to kill him.

As each group set out, Hawke forced himself to focus back on the here and now, using magic and his sword alike to lash out at the demons before them. The soldiers weren’t the most seasoned or experienced warriors out there, but they were enough to keep the corrupted spirits at bay. One wave after another, they fought, and eventually they happened upon another rift.

In the middle of this chaos, the last person that Hawke had expected to encounter was Cullen Rutherford.

Huh, turns out it really is a small world after all.

There was a tense, awkward moment that followed when their eyes met, but it wasn’t anything like what one would hear in the stories. The world didn’t fade away around them. Time didn’t stop or slow to a standstill to allow them that one instance of recognition and animosity. Instead, the battle raged on, and the demons’ shrieks still tainted the air alongside the soldiers’ frantic yelling.

Turns out, the end of the world had a way of uniting even the most unlikely of allies.

When Hawke spotted a terror demon behind him, he didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t hesitate, lest he sentence the man to death right then and there. The air prickled with the smell of ozone, his hairs standing on end as goosebumps spread across his skin like a wildfire. A charged bolt of lightning shot through the demon, causing it to writhe and convulse until it burst open in a shower of blackened goo. Cullen tensed at the feeling of magic arcing past him, enough to avoid him entirely yet still too close for comfort. He refused to succumb to his discomfort, though, focusing instead on the fight at hand.

“Duck!” Cullen barked out, Hawke instantly dropping low enough for his sword to slash out at an approaching shade.

Turning on the demon, Hawke joined Cullen in his attack, running the damn thing through with his blade. Unfortunately, that only served to close the distance between Hawke and the shade, the demon lashing out with wickedly sharp claws. It managed to get in one good swipe at Hawke’s arm, bright red blood soon flowing freely.

Hawke released his grip on the sword and scurried backwards. That gave Cullen an opening to step in, decapitating it in one fell swoop.

With gritted teeth, Hawke decided that he had enough of this shit for one day, lifting up his hand to seal the rift as before. Weakened as they were by the sudden disconnect, the rest of the demons were soon defeated by the remaining soldiers. Leliana regrouped with Hawke and Cullen in the aftermath, helping to support Hawke’s weight.

Garrett managed a strained smile, holding his now-bleeding arm close to his chest.

“Anyone have a lyrium potion by chance?” When silence answered him, the former Champion gave a weary sigh. “Of course not.”

“Here, ser!” One brave soul rushed forward, digging around in their bag as they approached. The bandages they eventually pulled out weren’t the cleanest by any means, nor was the healing potion they provided the best quality; however, Hawke knew better than to complain. Beggars can’t be choosers after all, and many others out there needed the supplies just as much, if not more than him, so Hawke simply accepted the items with a mumbled “thanks.”

After he forced down the potion, he made quick work of wrapping his wounds, eyeing Cullen as he fixed himself up.

“You know, Knight-Captain—”

“Former Knight-Captain,” Cullen corrected, already exhausted by the conversation at hand.

“Right… So, former Knight-Captain, didn’t expect to see you again.”

“Nor I you, Champion.”

“Former Champion,” Hawke mocked.

“Right. Apologies.” Cullen nodded at him stiffly, turning to include Leliana, who was watching the two of them in utter amusement. “Sister Nightingale, it’s good to see you in one piece.”

“And you as well, Commander,” she stated. “There have been many losses, but there would have been undoubtedly many more without the Champion and his mark.”

Cullen glanced down at Hawke’s glowing hand, his gaze quickly darting away when Hawke caught him staring.

“I assume that this was the missing piece we needed to close the rifts then.”

“And you would be assuming correctly,” Hawke said. “You would think that, after watching lyrium bring statues to life, I would be used to all of this strange shit happening to me.”

Cullen gave a sharp laugh at that, bleak and bitter. “And yet the world keeps surprising us.” He cleared his throat then, more so to cover up his sudden outburst. “I hope they’re right about your mark, though. Everything is riding on this.” No pressure. “The path ahead should be clear when you’re ready to head out. Hopefully, Lady Cassandra and the others will be awaiting your arrival.”

“We’ll depart now then,” Leliana told him, assisting Hawke in the direction of the Breach. “Give us time, Commander.”

“Maker watch over you,” Cullen muttered, and it took Hawke a full minute to realize that he was talking to him. “For all our sakes.”

Before Hawke could retort, they separated, Cullen and the soldiers heading out to set up a defensible position while Leliana shuffled them forward.

Once they made it to the temple, Hawke’s heart immediately sank into his stomach. Even Leliana could not hold back her reaction as they surveyed the damage, her voice a soft, broken whisper that was easily overtaken by the winds.

“Oh—Oh no…” she gasped, her eyes glazed over as she regarded one of the statue-like corpses nearby.

It was as if they were frozen in time, some of the bodies still burning as they tried to escape the blast.

And beyond that, the rest of the dead were unrecognizable, stripped of their flesh until nothing more than their bones laid covered in dust and ash.

Even Hawke didn’t have something witty to say at such a moment, all life drained from the surrounding area.

It was right then that they heard shuffling nearby, Hawke and Leliana rounding on the spot, poised to attack. They both breathed a collective sigh of relief when they spotted the others, Cassandra leading the remaining scouts to safety. When they regrouped, she recounted what had occurred on their journey there. Apparently, they had encountered a rift on their path as well. Some scouts had already perished by the time they arrived, but the rest had managed to hold out for just long enough. With their combined forces, they had slain enough demons to buy them some time between waves to beat a hasty retreat. A couple of the others succumbed to their injuries on the way to the temple, but the losses were still less than originally anticipated.

If anything, Garrett considered that a success, no matter how small.

After this whole shitshow, he had to claim his victories when he could.

Now that everyone was together again, they traveled forward in a solemn silence, the crackle of flames and the roar of the Breach the only sounds to accompany them.

While Leliana and Cassandra were busy giving orders to their people, Hawke surveyed the area around them. Varric made the occasional comment or two about the Breach, and Solas eventually interrupted all of them to explain how they could possibly close it. Something about closing the first rift that it created, or that was the theory, anyways. It was at least better than anything else they could think of, though, so it was worth a try. Best case scenario, the Breach would be sealed.

Then again, the worst case scenario was that Hawke would end up making an already catastrophic problem even worse, and then the whole fabric of the Veil would split open, causing the end of all life as they know it.

Oh, and he dies! That would be bad, too.

Why did he volunteer for this again?

Either way, he knew now as Cassandra escorted him through the ruins that he had missed his opportunity for escape. Any chance he had was long gone by now, so he might as well ride this out to the end.

“Now is the hour of our victory.”

Hawke stumbled in shock, Cassandra lunging forward to keep him from falling.

No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t. Hawke was surely going insane, that’s all.

“Bring forth the sacrifice.”

It had to be an illusion of the Fade. It had to be.

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“At a guess, the one who created the Breach,” Solas replied.

Okay, but if it was that Maker-forsaken magister, then surely Varric would recognize—

However, when Hawke glanced over at Varric for backup, the dwarf was preoccupied with another matter entirely, eyes wide and jaw slack. Hawke followed his gaze, only to shudder in revulsion. Without thinking, he shuffled closer into Cassandra’s side, trying to get as far away from the foul stuff as possible.

Red lyrium.

For fuck’s sake, this day was apparently the gift that kept on giving!

That voice forgotten for the moment, Varric followed Hawke’s lead and shifted away from the lyrium as much as he could, their teeth rattling at the discordant song that flowed through the air.

“You know that stuff is red lyrium, Seeker.”

She pursed her lips, but refused to be distracted from the task at hand.

“I see it, Varric.”

“But what’s it doing here?”

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temp—”

Hawke didn’t even listen to the rest of Solas’s explanation, distracted by another voice entirely.

“Keep the sacrifice still.”

It was like it all came crashing down on him at once, a dam bursting open after years upon years of cracks splintering its foundations. Adrenaline surged through Hawke’s veins, giving him the strength and energy needed to slip free of Cassandra’s grasp. He took off into a run, not even stopping when the others called out. All he could focus on was that voice and that voice alone —that stupid, blight-infested voice. It made his skin crawl even now, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. It shouldn’t be possible, but there was no mistaking it. He should be dead. Hawke had killed him, yet there he was.

That voice was one of many that haunted his dreams. Hawke would know it anywhere.

“I thank you for my freedom.”

Larius. Larius wasn’t the same. He changed. He said it was because he was free of Corypheus’s influence, but no. Something never sat right with Hawke about that. He was too clear-headed for a man beyond his Calling. Too composed for someone that had been long overtaken by the Blight’s corruption.

Garrett didn’t get a chance to think any deeper about it. The second he dropped down towards the rift, they were all engulfed in a vision of the past. The Divine had called out to him, and when Garrett had burst into the room to save the day, Corypheus had ordered someone to “slay the Hawke.” No other information was given, and Hawke’s memories of the encounter still refused to return.

By the time the vision faded, Hawke’s head was spinning, and his stomach was churning. Cassandra demanded answers of him, but he couldn’t give them at the moment, those black and white dots returning to cloud his vision with a vengeance. Dazed and disoriented, Hawke had to force himself to piece together each word when Solas spoke up, addressing the need to open the rift in order to seal it properly. Hawke remembered nodding distantly, but the elven mage had to step in as he did before, his hand warm against Hawke’s as he guided the mark’s magic through the motions.

Of course, opening the rift just had to summon a pride demon, of all things. It couldn’t be something nice and small and easy to contend with, like a wraith.

Or a nug.

Oh, no, that would be too easy to defeat! The universe liked a challenge!

Well, screw the universe. How about that?

If Hawke were a religious man, he would have thought it to be divine punishment, since —at that exact moment— a damn shade spawned behind him and raked its claws down his back. One blast of fire to its face was enough to melt its ugly mug, but the damage had been done.

Red ribbons of blood trailed over his skin, hot and wet. They didn’t drip down into tiny, delicate droplets either. Rather, they stained the ground red in free flowing streams.

Pain radiated all around Hawke until he didn’t know which way was up or down, left or right…

All he could see was green.

But he couldn’t stop. It couldn’t end there.

With his hand outstretched towards the brightest patch of green, he managed to disrupt the rift in time, stunning the demons long enough for the killing blows to be made.

He heard her voice through the fog clouding his mind, unable to recall her name at the moment.

“Now!” the warrior yelled. “Seal the rift!”

The last thing Hawke remembered before he lost consciousness was an unbearable pain shooting up his arm, and then everything went dark.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age 2 #dai #da2 #male hawke #male inquisitor #inquisitor hawke #my fanfic #my writing #crosspost #crossposted from ao3 #cassandra pentaghast #solas #varric tethras #cullen rutherford

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