#every time I draw orsino it’s just more and more angst

[timethehobo]

To be loved or hated?

[roguelioness]

Cognizance

Carver Hawke sees his sister in a new light.

Hawke siblings. Angst and some fluff. SFW.

The stench of singed flesh and congealed blood has him fighting off the urge to run to a corner and retch till his stomach is empty; but somehow, he manages to fight off the urge.

The First Enchanter lies dead a few feet from him, the lump of gore  all that remains of the man he had once been. Carver feels a wave of sorrow crash over him - Orsino had been a good man, one whose wit he’d admired.

Now the mage is no more, and neither are many of his proteges - as Carver looks at the faces of the enchanters scattered around, he’s chilled by how young some of them are, their faces twisted into a death mask of desperation and fear.

They were younger than Bethany.

Younger than… his eyes skitter around the room, heart seizing each time he thinks he sees a shock of raven hair - not her, not my sister - until at last he spots her form.

She is on her knees, huddled by the few remaining mages - barely a handful of them remain, all of them injured - and her hands glow a familiar gentle blue as she uses the last dregs of her mana to heal those she can. He can only watch - shame has him rooted to his spot - as Anders places a hand on his sister’s shoulder, drawing Marian away and taking her place. She stumbles over to where her friends stand in a tight group, heavy, somber looks on their faces.

The scene that unfolds before him is a familiar one - Marian checks on her friends, making sure they are safe and unharmed. It is what she has always done, Carver realizes. Despite his animosity towards her - his resentment at being overshadowed by her natural command - it is only now when realization hits him.

His sister has never wanted the spotlight.

She is a protector, first and foremost, one who will do anything to defend those she cares about. He remembers all the times during their childhood where he begrudged the time his sisters spent with their father - but other memories follow soon after. How Marian had begged and pleaded with their parents to be allowed to play with the other children. How he’d had the freedom to roam, and explore, without fear of discovery.

He was the lucky one, he understands at long last. While his childhood was an inconvenience at best, a nuisance at worst, his sisters have had to live with fear and uncertainty dogging their every step.

Marian had not asked to be born a mage. She had certainly not done anything that merited the annulment the Knight Commander had decreed - and perhaps none of the mages dead at his feet had deserved such a fate.

A sharp sound has him raising his head in the direction, where a young mage - one who has not undergone his Harrowing, Carver guesses - hold his staff in a tight grip, suspicion and distrust in his eyes. He braces for the attack he’s sure will come - but it doesn’t.

He opens his eyes to find Marian’s hand on the apprentice’s forearm. “No,” she says quietly. “Let him go.”

“But he’s a Templar! He’ll kill us if we don’t-”

“He is my brother.” Her voice is sharp and sorrowful all at once.

“But Champion-”

“Enough.” Carver has never heard her sound so exhausted, so defeated, and a chill runs up his spine. “I have lost enough. No more. Carver will not hurt you. Rest, and save your energy. You must flee Kirkwall.” The young lad shuffles away to where Merrill is distributing the meager supply of potions that they have, and Carver watches as his sister walks up to him.

She has dark circles under her eyes, and bruises bloom over the skin that is exposed. There is a weariness about her, an exhaustion that runs deep into her bones. “Are you alright, brother?” she asks.

“I am fine,” he replies, then continues, haltingly. “What about you, sister? Perhaps you should let Merrill or-” he pauses for a second, finding it difficult to say the name- “Anders take a look at you…”

“Their help is needed elsewhere,” she dismisses, “I can still stand.” She halts his protests with a stern gaze, an urgent look on her face. “Carver, I need you to listen-” Marian pauses as the faint sounds of metal armor come from behind the locked door. “Listen,” she says in a rush. “If anything happens to me, the estate is yours.”

Carver wants to shake his head, wants to ignore what she says, but deep down he knows the truth.

The battle that wages is one Marian might not walk away from. She is outnumbered, with few allies left to defend her, and Carver knows she will give her life to keep her family and friends - and the innocent - safe.

Still, he argues. “This is not the time, sister-”

“Carver, listen.” The reinforcements are getting closer, he can hear their shouted commands now. “The estate is yours, Donnic has the will. If anything happens to me, just… just take care of yourself… and my friends, okay? Don’t let the Hawke line die out.”

The doors shake with a thunderous boom as the templars begin to force their way in. “Carver,” she wraps her hand around the back of his neck now, pulls him closer till their foreheads touch. He can see his eyes reflected in hers, this close. “I love you brother,” she breathes into the space between them, and he inhales the words in.

“I love you, sister,” He has never been more sincere in his life. “Promise me… please,” he pleads, “be safe.”

She pulls away, a mischievous, confident look in her eye. It is one he is familiar with, and the dread he felt melts away into something warmer. “Of course,” she grins, and kisses his cheek. “Drinks are on me!” she winks at him, and he shakes his head in amusement.

For the first time since he stood against his sister, there’s a hope that they will both - together - come out of this in one piece.

Together, they turn to face the door, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. As they wait for the templars to break in, Marian leans close to his ear, and whispers, “I want you to know - I’m so proud of you, Carver.”

Warmth and affection bloom in his chest as he raises his shield, and braces himself for the incoming attack. As he stands between his former comrades and his sister, there’s only one thought in his head.

I’m proud to call you my sister.

[talesfromthefade]

Sonja Hawke x Anders (Anders POV) || SFW || angst, hurt & comfort || 2105 words

The band feels heavy in the pocket of his robes. Every now and again- more and more often in recent weeks- the mage will plunge his hand into his pocket to twirl the little piece of metal, or smooth his fingers over the small stones. It’s easily the most expensive purchase he’s ever made, and quite possibly the most foolish. He still doesn’t know what possessed him to buy it. Justice disapproved, of course, just as he’d done from the start when the healer had finally given in to Sonja Hawke’s advances.

Selfish, he thinks, scolding himself as fingers close tighter around the ring, letting the stones bite into his palm a little to punish himself. He should have listened to the spirit. Should never have let her in. He should have broken things off with her as soon as he’d determined there was no peaceful way of changing the fate of his fellow mages. Instead, Maker help him, like the hopeless and romantic fool he is, he’d bought a ring.

It feels even heavier now, like the weight of the world now he’s realized the full truth of it as he sits on a crate in the middle of Hightown under the gaze of his lover and all their friends as the Chantry and parts of Kirkwall burn around them. He’d bought it because he loves her- has done for years- perhaps even from those first few months of getting to know one another. He’d bought it because he can’t imagine being with anyone else anymore, because he doesn’t want to. He’d bought it because he wants to spend the rest of his days, his nights, his life, with her. He’d bought it because, despite the certainty he doesn’t deserve to and has perhaps never deserved her less, he wants to live. Wants a future. And one with her in it. Stupid, selfish fool, he thinks again, avoiding her gaze and staring determinedly instead at the stone street beneath his feet.

He’s not sure whether Meredith and Orsino leaving his fate in the hands of her and her twin is a mercy, or punishment for all the trouble the Hawke twins have caused in their tenure in the city. If he must give his life for what he’s done, it will have been worth it to know one day mages might live happy and free. He’s not in a position to ask anything of either of them, he knows whoever’s hands deliver the killing blow will be mercifully swift, but he hopes Garrett’s protective instincts will spare his lover the task of his blood on her hands.

“There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already said to myself,” Anders says finally, shaking his head. “I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the Justice all mages have awaited.”

“Did that spirit tell you to do this,” Sonja asks, words almost choked out by the weight of the emotion behind them. He knows why- what she is asking this for, but he cannot bring himself to hide behind Justice. He will face what he’s done, if it is the last thing he ever does.

“No. When we merged, he ceased to be. We are one now. I can no more ignore the injustice of the Circle than he could.” He knows she won’t believe him. Knows that no one has hoped or looked harder for a way to free the two of them from one another. But he also knows, even should she have somehow managed to find a way to get the spirit out of his head and body, he’s been forever changed for having shared it with him. His hands did this. Willingly. He won’t pretend otherwise now, even if it would save his life.

“I might have understood, if you’d only told me,” she replies softly with a heartbroken frown that hurts to look upon, but Anders forces himself to anyway.

“You condone this,” Sebastian interjects surprised, and disapproving. “The brutal death of an innocent woman of faith? Someone you knew! Who trusted you!”

“I wanted to tell you,” Anders admits mournfully. “But what if you stopped me? Or worse, what if you wanted to help? I couldn’t let you do that,” the mage continues shaking his head once more.

“You really think this is the answer,” his lover asks, pained.

“Things can’t stay as they are. The people fear what we can do, but to use that fear to bludgeon us into submission is wrong! And they do it with our blessing! The world needs to see this. Then we can all stop pretending the Circle is a solution. And if I pay for that with my life… then I pay. Perhaps then Justice would at least be free.”

“Opinions,” Garrett asks the rest of their companions at large.

“If I’d been in that Chantry today, would you be waffling? You know what must be done,” Sebastian replies angrily.

“Bold plan. Well, I thought so,” Isabela assesses with a nod.

“He wants to die. Kill him and be done with it,” Fenris growls under his breath where he reluctantly stands at the younger twin’s side, though it’s clear he would be more than happy to take on the job should his lover allow or anyone ask it of him.

“Belief is no excuse. Sincerity does not justify… this,” Aveline chimes in, shaking her head.

“He should come with us,” Merrill suggests, frowning. “Do what he can to put things right.”

“I think I’m sick of mages and Templars,” Varric grumbles.

“Whatever you do, just do it,” the mage concludes, resigned to whatever fate they may determine is right for him.

“Help me defend the mages,” Sonja pleads softly.

“You mean… stay with you,” Anders replies, eyes wide as he rises to his feet, and turns to meet his lover’s gaze once more. “I didn’t think you’d let me. But if you do… I’ll fight the Templars. Damned right I will.”

“No,” Sebastian shouts. “You cannot allow this abomination to walk free. He dies, or I am returning to Starkhaven and I will bring such an army with me on my return that there will be nothing left of Kirkwall for these Malifcarum to rule.”

“Sebastian,” Garrett cautions, with a meaningful nod towards his younger twin where she stands beside a still silent Anders. Fists clenched and trembling at the other man’s words.

“I will not fight you, Hawke. My death now would serve nothing. I will return to Starkhaven, but I swear to you I will come back and find your precious Anders. I will teach him what true ‘Justice’ is,” Sebastian promises seething.

Sonja moves with ever the same quickness and grace she always has, that he has always admired: cat-like and nearly too quick for even the best eyes to track. She’s drawn a small blade from her hip and holds it across Sebastian’s throat before anyone has a chance to react. The eyes of her brother and their companions all wide-eyed, anxiously transfixed on the scene in front of them.

“Take it back,” she growls, eyes flashing, positively feral. “Take it back now, and you can still walk away from all this.”

“Sonja,” Garrett calls out to her, eyes full of equal parts fear and concern for his sibling from where he stands trying to soothe and hold back his own furious lover from attacking the mage, Fenris’ glaring daggers into Ander’s back. But Sonja shakes her head.

“No,” she replies loudly. “Innocents died today, but the Grand Cleric wasn’t one of them,” she asserts fiercely, glaring back at Sebastian, pressing the knife flush against his adam’s apple, daring him to challenge her. “She knew the abuses mages suffered here, knew what that crazy bitch, Meredith was doing. And she did nothing. Whatever good she may have done, may have preached, we are all of the Maker- mages, or no. Elthina turned her back on his children when they needed her most. She made herself blind and deaf, because it was easier. She made her bed.”

Sebastian’s eyes burn with a similar kind of fury at her pronouncement, but the younger woman isn’t finished, or giving him so much as an inch to protest it, and cold steel against his throat, it seems he’s wise enough to recognize it. “But you are right about one thing,” she snarls at Sebastian. “Anders is precious to me. Andraste as my witness you shall not have him. You will not touch him, so long as I draw breath,” she swears fiercely.

Anders stares, mouth agape. Justice told him once that demons are just spirits perverted by their desires. He thought it a kindness giving him a body. He took him in, and made his friend a demon. And now, Anders realizes heart impossibly heavy, he’s corrupted his lover too. She was always more a lover than a fighter. Ever a peacekeeper, avoided conflict and bloodshed whenever it was possible. Not that she was by any means any less adept at defending herself or fighting than her younger brothers, she was simply more careful about picking her battles. This, Anders thinks, however, isn’t a battle she can possibly hope to win. Nor one she should take up arms for. He deserves Sebastian’s wrath and whatever fate awaits him, far more than he has or ever will deserve her now.

“I don’t condone this,” she continues, and at these words Anders cannot help but to hang his head a little lower. “I still believe that there may have been another way, without so many innocent people hurt or caught in the middle. But it is done. But Anders’ life is not yours to take or his to forfeit. It is mine, and I won’t allow it,” she declares fiercely, slowly stepping back and lowering her knife from the other man’s throat, before stepping defensively in front of her lover to shield him from the other’s fury and any of their other companions who may wish to argue with her. Sebastian looks to Garrett, perhaps hoping the other will contradict this, be a voice of reason for his twin, but the mage is clearly conflicted. He’s never been in a Circle, but he knows enough of them, and Kirkwall’s specifically to be cautious, fearful of them and most of the Templars here, despite his usual glibness and cavalier attitude. And this is his sister, and Anders is her lover. Would he feel any differently? Would he not do everything in his power to protect and defend Fenris if somehow their roles were reversed?

“Go, if that is your design. Return to Starkhaven. But know this,” she snarls. “The next time you threaten his life, you won’t live long enough to repeat the offense.” Sebastian looks as if he wants to argue, but there really isn’t much to say that hasn’t been already, and it’s clear enough from the way she’s lowered, but still grips her dagger tight in her hands she will make good on her promise if he provides her the opportunity. Shaking his head, Sebastian takes his leave of them all without another word.

“We should get to the Gallows and quick,” Varric assesses in the silence that follows. “It’s going to be quite a show.”

“I should have trusted you,” Anders whispers softly, still rather surprised to still be standing, to be walking at her side as the group make their way to the fighting. “Even with all we’ve shared, I never thought you’d spare my life. If we live through this… you know I’ll be hunted. No one in Kirkwall will offer me mercy. But- if you would join me, I’d rather be on the run with you, than safe with anyone else.”

“Then we will be fugitives together,” Sonja promises, the softest hints of a smile at the corners of her mouth, as she takes her hand gently in her own and squeezes, holding it as they quickly continue to make their way to the Gallows.

It’s possibly more foolish now than it has ever been, even now the most immediate threat to his life has been spared. There’s not a man or woman in Thedas that won’t soon know what he looks like. Not a soul who would be brave or stupid enough to marry them, even if he’s more than certain of her answer now. But with his lover at his side, her hand clasped and fingers laced with his, the ring suddenly doesn’t feel quite so heavy in his pocket anymore as it was before.