On a Roll With Fics
I don't know why I'm being so productive in terms of fic, something's bitten me and is refusing to let go. That and, now I've started writing for August, he's a demanding bugger. Oh well.
Title: One At a Time
Fandom: Dragon Age 2
Characters: M!Hawke/Anders
Summary: A continuation of this: The End. Everything needs to be dealt with, and it will be, just one at a time.
When Kirkwall burns for a second time and calls upon its Champion, August Hawke can't bring himself to care.
His lover is gone, sent away without argument, that still hurts to think about. It's strange to fight without Anders by his side, covering him, providing extra spells and watching out for the party. It's been so long, too long since anyone had relied on him to heal their wounds. He has always been the one to cover their charge or shatter a bandit with a well timed spell. He doesn't even remember the last time he's had to heal anyone. Ah, wait, yes he does. In Lothering, with Aveline.
She stands beside him now, still by his side after all these years and become like an older sister. A very pushy older sister who could kick his arse, but near enough family all the same. He tries not to look at her, doesn't see the concern in her gaze while he quaffs another lyrium potion and rains fire down on the group of Templars they've found in Lowtown. He tries not to look at any of them, doesn't want to see their concern. He feels as if he's the last to know, that they've seen what's coming, that Anders has been up to something and he's been too blinded by love and ignored the signs. He should've seen it, why didn't he see it? Fenris has always been the one to be wary of Anders, all this time, has he had reason to? All this time they thought he was merely being paranoid, distrustful of mages because of his past. Did he see something they didn't?
He could drive himself mad with every 'what if' his mind can conjure up. He can't, not right now, not when they're trying to make their way to the Gallows. It's too much like the last time, with the Qunari. Too much fighting, too many people dying, it's too much for Hawke.
They reach the docks, Hawke checks over everyone, making sure they're fit enough to go on. He may not be as talented as what Anders was, but damned if he doesn't take this duty as seriously. Anders is, he corrects himself mentally, the mage is simply not there, not dead. Unless he is, killed by a Templar during all the fighting. Hawke pushes that thought away immediately, he doesn't want to picture Anders, lying alone somewhere in Kirkwall, dead, or dying alone. No, he is not going to think of that. He isn't. Hawke pinches the bridge of his nose, wants to cry at the image then carries on. That's what he does, he carries on, even after everything.
There's a mage at the foot of the monument erected after the Arishok was defeated. Hawke can't help but groan when he sees it, even three years later. The mages stands up, draws out a knife and the group draw their weapons. She summons a Pride Demon, huge and hulking, and a score of shades to accompany it. They're surrounded, outnumbered and for a few moments, Hawke doesn't know how in the Maker's name they're going to deal with this one.
They scatter. Isabela strikes where she can, when she can while Aveline and Fenris attack head on, striking down the shades. Merrill takes to the outskirts, avoiding the Pride Demon and the blood mage, goes to Hawke's side when she can, fires spells that compliment his own and covers him when he casts a healing spell. It's not the same, he and Anders were a team, they worked together so well in battle. In this short time, he can't get used to Merrill being where Anders should be, taking on the role he's used to playing.
The fight is frustrating and exhausting. With the addition of the shades, or more to the point the amount of them, they simply can't get a moment to focus on their larger adversary. Hawke freezes one group of shades only to scramble out of the way of the Demon and fire a hastily conjured fireball. It misses. Varric swings Bianca around a fires a spray of bolts into the Demon's back. It howls and turns, charging them both. They move, avoid it again and Hawke tries to find a second to heal a tired and bloody looking Fenris. He kills a Shade, sends a spell Fenris's way then gets knocked to the ground by the Demon. He could kick himself for being so unobservant.
Isabela appears from somewhere, stabbing the Demon from behind, enough to cause a distraction. He gets to his feet, concentrates on a spell and freezes the Demon. Fenris and Aveline attack as one, both chipping away at the block of frozen Demon until it shatters. It smashes into a thousand glittering pieces that start to melt almost as soon as they hit the ground.
Hawke looks around the group, rummages through his supply of potions, Isabela already gone to look through the crates and remains for anything remotely useful. He does his best, manages to close the cuts and scrapes, pours a poultice onto the deeper wounds and fishes bandages from his pack, wrapping them around the wound, albeit somewhat messily. Anders always jokingly chastised him for it. "You could never work in the clinic, not with bandaging skills like that," he would tell Hawke, a fond smile on his face then would fix it, tying the bandage neatly and tightly around whatever the wound.
He tries not to think of Anders, he can't think of Anders and wherever he might be. He can't afford to be distracted.
They get on the boat, head for the Gallows and whatever awaits them there.
~
He stares at the Gallows from the distance, the statues and remembers the first time he saw them. He stays quiet, they all do. Varric is the first one to break the silence when he sits beside Hawke on the bench.
"Still fine, Hawke?" he says.
Hawke nods. "Still fine, Varric."
"So what's the plan? Run in, kick Meredith's ass, escape before the shit can hit the fan?"
"That's the jist of it."
Varric sighs. "I thought you'd say that." He looks to Hawke. "August...About Blondie..."
Oh balls, Varric's calling him by his first name. Hawke swallows hard and clears his throat. "What about him?"
"You can be a stubborn ass at times."
He forces a smile. "It's what I'm best at. Should know that by now."
Varric snorts. "True. Still, when we get a minute and not running for our lives, if you want to talk or anything..." He trails off.
Hawke nods. "Thanks Varric."
They reach the Gallows, Orsino tries one more time to beseech Meredith. It doesn't work. Hawke catches Carver's eye, trying to discern just what his brother intends to do, wonders if he can fight against him, if it comes to that. At the back of his mind he doubts it, he can't fight his little brother, despite they've taken little to do with one another. Carver looks at him briefly, confusion, a plea in that look "Please don't". 'Don't' what, Hawke thinks, don't fight? Don't struggle when I have to put you down? Please don't bleed all over my armour I just had it polished this morning? Carver is gone and he is ushering everyone else into the building before even more Templars arrive.
There are a handful of mages along with Orsino and Hawke has to look twice when he notices all too familiar robes. He approaches and sure enough, Anders is standing there, glancing to the nearest exit, ready to run. He's good at that, running, anyone who's escaped the Circle seven times - seven, he'd thought Anders was joking at first - has to be. He's seeing things, he has to be, it's his desire to see Anders again manifesting in this. He's going mad, he is mad, he's sure of it.
"After everything, you still sided with the mages," Anders says, a small, shy smile on his face. "Would it sully your victory to have me here?"
Hawke grabs the front of Anders's robes, pulls him into a fierce kiss. Anders is taken off-guard, evidently expecting another shouting match. He returns the kiss, though he is the first to break away.
"I'll take that as a yes then."
Hawke just nods.
He tries to tell himself it's through practicality that he's letting Anders stay, that he's not sending him away again. They need a more competent healer than what Hawke is, they need him attacking than being the one to rely on.
None of it is true. He knows it's not. He knows that despite the feeling of betrayal, of hurt and the guilt of those deaths, he doesn't have it in him to send Anders away. That he'll stay by Anders's side because he can't imagine being anywhere else and Maker help him, even though he wishes he could switch his feelings off, he loves Anders. Suspects he always will.
"Things can't be as they were," he tells Anders.
Anders nods. "I know. I'm sorry I didn't trust you." Hawke stays silent and Anders ploughs on. "If we live through this, then I'll be hunted, hated. No one in Kirkwall will offer me mercy."
"This much I have gathered." He pauses, sighs then continues before he starts to have second thoughts. "Well, we simply don't stay in Kirkwall."
Anders's eyebrows shoot up. "Does that mean you're willing to stay with me?"
Hawke nods. "I never liked being nobility anyway. Much prefer running away from everything."
Anders laughs slightly. "You never stop running, love. Hardly known you to keep still."
Hawke grins. "There you are then, not that much will change."
"Other than being wanted fugitives."
The humour dies as quickly as it appeared. "We'll deal with that as it comes."
Deal with the Templars, escape Kirkwall, figure out then just what to do. Figure out then, once the initial relief and brief amount of happiness to have Anders back fades, how they can try and rebuild what they had. One thing at a time.
Constructive criticism appreciated.
Now to bed as it's 2am and I'm to be up in five hours. Joy.
Title: One At a Time
Fandom: Dragon Age 2
Characters: M!Hawke/Anders
Summary: A continuation of this: The End. Everything needs to be dealt with, and it will be, just one at a time.
When Kirkwall burns for a second time and calls upon its Champion, August Hawke can't bring himself to care.
His lover is gone, sent away without argument, that still hurts to think about. It's strange to fight without Anders by his side, covering him, providing extra spells and watching out for the party. It's been so long, too long since anyone had relied on him to heal their wounds. He has always been the one to cover their charge or shatter a bandit with a well timed spell. He doesn't even remember the last time he's had to heal anyone. Ah, wait, yes he does. In Lothering, with Aveline.
She stands beside him now, still by his side after all these years and become like an older sister. A very pushy older sister who could kick his arse, but near enough family all the same. He tries not to look at her, doesn't see the concern in her gaze while he quaffs another lyrium potion and rains fire down on the group of Templars they've found in Lowtown. He tries not to look at any of them, doesn't want to see their concern. He feels as if he's the last to know, that they've seen what's coming, that Anders has been up to something and he's been too blinded by love and ignored the signs. He should've seen it, why didn't he see it? Fenris has always been the one to be wary of Anders, all this time, has he had reason to? All this time they thought he was merely being paranoid, distrustful of mages because of his past. Did he see something they didn't?
He could drive himself mad with every 'what if' his mind can conjure up. He can't, not right now, not when they're trying to make their way to the Gallows. It's too much like the last time, with the Qunari. Too much fighting, too many people dying, it's too much for Hawke.
They reach the docks, Hawke checks over everyone, making sure they're fit enough to go on. He may not be as talented as what Anders was, but damned if he doesn't take this duty as seriously. Anders is, he corrects himself mentally, the mage is simply not there, not dead. Unless he is, killed by a Templar during all the fighting. Hawke pushes that thought away immediately, he doesn't want to picture Anders, lying alone somewhere in Kirkwall, dead, or dying alone. No, he is not going to think of that. He isn't. Hawke pinches the bridge of his nose, wants to cry at the image then carries on. That's what he does, he carries on, even after everything.
There's a mage at the foot of the monument erected after the Arishok was defeated. Hawke can't help but groan when he sees it, even three years later. The mages stands up, draws out a knife and the group draw their weapons. She summons a Pride Demon, huge and hulking, and a score of shades to accompany it. They're surrounded, outnumbered and for a few moments, Hawke doesn't know how in the Maker's name they're going to deal with this one.
They scatter. Isabela strikes where she can, when she can while Aveline and Fenris attack head on, striking down the shades. Merrill takes to the outskirts, avoiding the Pride Demon and the blood mage, goes to Hawke's side when she can, fires spells that compliment his own and covers him when he casts a healing spell. It's not the same, he and Anders were a team, they worked together so well in battle. In this short time, he can't get used to Merrill being where Anders should be, taking on the role he's used to playing.
The fight is frustrating and exhausting. With the addition of the shades, or more to the point the amount of them, they simply can't get a moment to focus on their larger adversary. Hawke freezes one group of shades only to scramble out of the way of the Demon and fire a hastily conjured fireball. It misses. Varric swings Bianca around a fires a spray of bolts into the Demon's back. It howls and turns, charging them both. They move, avoid it again and Hawke tries to find a second to heal a tired and bloody looking Fenris. He kills a Shade, sends a spell Fenris's way then gets knocked to the ground by the Demon. He could kick himself for being so unobservant.
Isabela appears from somewhere, stabbing the Demon from behind, enough to cause a distraction. He gets to his feet, concentrates on a spell and freezes the Demon. Fenris and Aveline attack as one, both chipping away at the block of frozen Demon until it shatters. It smashes into a thousand glittering pieces that start to melt almost as soon as they hit the ground.
Hawke looks around the group, rummages through his supply of potions, Isabela already gone to look through the crates and remains for anything remotely useful. He does his best, manages to close the cuts and scrapes, pours a poultice onto the deeper wounds and fishes bandages from his pack, wrapping them around the wound, albeit somewhat messily. Anders always jokingly chastised him for it. "You could never work in the clinic, not with bandaging skills like that," he would tell Hawke, a fond smile on his face then would fix it, tying the bandage neatly and tightly around whatever the wound.
He tries not to think of Anders, he can't think of Anders and wherever he might be. He can't afford to be distracted.
They get on the boat, head for the Gallows and whatever awaits them there.
~
He stares at the Gallows from the distance, the statues and remembers the first time he saw them. He stays quiet, they all do. Varric is the first one to break the silence when he sits beside Hawke on the bench.
"Still fine, Hawke?" he says.
Hawke nods. "Still fine, Varric."
"So what's the plan? Run in, kick Meredith's ass, escape before the shit can hit the fan?"
"That's the jist of it."
Varric sighs. "I thought you'd say that." He looks to Hawke. "August...About Blondie..."
Oh balls, Varric's calling him by his first name. Hawke swallows hard and clears his throat. "What about him?"
"You can be a stubborn ass at times."
He forces a smile. "It's what I'm best at. Should know that by now."
Varric snorts. "True. Still, when we get a minute and not running for our lives, if you want to talk or anything..." He trails off.
Hawke nods. "Thanks Varric."
They reach the Gallows, Orsino tries one more time to beseech Meredith. It doesn't work. Hawke catches Carver's eye, trying to discern just what his brother intends to do, wonders if he can fight against him, if it comes to that. At the back of his mind he doubts it, he can't fight his little brother, despite they've taken little to do with one another. Carver looks at him briefly, confusion, a plea in that look "Please don't". 'Don't' what, Hawke thinks, don't fight? Don't struggle when I have to put you down? Please don't bleed all over my armour I just had it polished this morning? Carver is gone and he is ushering everyone else into the building before even more Templars arrive.
There are a handful of mages along with Orsino and Hawke has to look twice when he notices all too familiar robes. He approaches and sure enough, Anders is standing there, glancing to the nearest exit, ready to run. He's good at that, running, anyone who's escaped the Circle seven times - seven, he'd thought Anders was joking at first - has to be. He's seeing things, he has to be, it's his desire to see Anders again manifesting in this. He's going mad, he is mad, he's sure of it.
"After everything, you still sided with the mages," Anders says, a small, shy smile on his face. "Would it sully your victory to have me here?"
Hawke grabs the front of Anders's robes, pulls him into a fierce kiss. Anders is taken off-guard, evidently expecting another shouting match. He returns the kiss, though he is the first to break away.
"I'll take that as a yes then."
Hawke just nods.
He tries to tell himself it's through practicality that he's letting Anders stay, that he's not sending him away again. They need a more competent healer than what Hawke is, they need him attacking than being the one to rely on.
None of it is true. He knows it's not. He knows that despite the feeling of betrayal, of hurt and the guilt of those deaths, he doesn't have it in him to send Anders away. That he'll stay by Anders's side because he can't imagine being anywhere else and Maker help him, even though he wishes he could switch his feelings off, he loves Anders. Suspects he always will.
"Things can't be as they were," he tells Anders.
Anders nods. "I know. I'm sorry I didn't trust you." Hawke stays silent and Anders ploughs on. "If we live through this, then I'll be hunted, hated. No one in Kirkwall will offer me mercy."
"This much I have gathered." He pauses, sighs then continues before he starts to have second thoughts. "Well, we simply don't stay in Kirkwall."
Anders's eyebrows shoot up. "Does that mean you're willing to stay with me?"
Hawke nods. "I never liked being nobility anyway. Much prefer running away from everything."
Anders laughs slightly. "You never stop running, love. Hardly known you to keep still."
Hawke grins. "There you are then, not that much will change."
"Other than being wanted fugitives."
The humour dies as quickly as it appeared. "We'll deal with that as it comes."
Deal with the Templars, escape Kirkwall, figure out then just what to do. Figure out then, once the initial relief and brief amount of happiness to have Anders back fades, how they can try and rebuild what they had. One thing at a time.
Constructive criticism appreciated.
Now to bed as it's 2am and I'm to be up in five hours. Joy.