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Hawke Fade Away	By : HunterOpera Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 22975 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age and make no money from this.

Chapter List
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“Excuse you,” the man said, brushing past her.
Hawke blinked, gasped, and nearly tripped but caught herself on one of Kirkwall's smooth stone arches. She blinked again, eyes coming into focus. She was fully clothed, wearing the blue Orlesian battledress that she had won as a reward for killing the Wyvern of the season at a hunt years before. The staff at her back was called Hubris, a name she had found funny when she'd claimed it but was making her nervous now.
She wasn't at the Bone Pit, wasn't anywhere near the mountains.
“Hightown?” she whispered, feeling confused.
She nodded to herself. She was near the Hightown Market – she could see Hubert standing by his stall and he nodded to her when he noticed her, then went back to selling his wares as if he hadn't just led a gang rape of her moments before. Problem was, as vivid as the memory of being stripped, pushed into the dirt, and violated until she was a creamy mess was, there was no sign of feeling that it had ever happened.
An illusion of some kind...? she thought. Hubert was ignoring her, as was the rest of the marketplace. Something is happening. Something is wrong. I was doing... something.
She found a place to sit, detached Hubris from her back and let it lean against her shoulder, running her gloved fingers along the elegant wood and leather and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to think back to what she had just experienced moments before she'd been here.
They were warm, she remembered. Warm to the touch. Not human warm, but they were hot. Even their seed was hot. And the way they all moved – Hubert was clumsy, but the rest of them surged like... like Rage Demons. Even Jansen. And Jansen would never do something like that, unless... were they possessed? No, that doesn't make sense. Miners aren't mages, they don't get possessed.
Okay. Okay. Think. I'm the only mage that would have been up there unless I'd brought Anders – who wouldn't do something like that – or Merrill – who might. Is Merrill doing this? Doubtful. And either Anders or Fenris or I would have noticed if she'd slipped that far into things.
Hawke leaned back and let out a sigh. She looked at her hand, opened and closed her fingers, stared at her palm.
I don't feel sore. Everything ached when I was in the illusion. Is it some sort of psychic attack? A hex charm? I've felt that before, but that never resulted in anything so elaborate. Is there even anyone left alive that could do this to me? Someone from Tevinter, maybe? I should find Anders or Fenris, either of them should be able to sense-
Her thoughts were cut off by the arrow that flew by her head, rustling her hair and embedding itself in the wall behind her. She jumped to her feet, daylight shining down around her and backlighting a familiar face.
“Sebastian?” she said, staring at the forlorn prince. “What in Andraste's name...?”
“Do not blaspheme, Hawke,” he said, glaring at her as he leveled another arrow at her. He had others with him, men and women dressed in similar fashion to him, off-white and gray armor with gold highlights, a belt buckle of Andraste herself decorating each of them. She remembered Ander's comment on that – I 'm just not sure I'd want the Maker seeing me shove His bride's head between my legs every morning – and couldn't help but smile.
“What are you doing, Sebastian?” Hawke asked, letting the weight of Hubris fall into her hands.
“Not another word, maleficar,” Sebastian spat. “Your crimes have come to haunt you.”
“What.” Hawke let that single word stand between them as she called upon her magic and felt nothing. Trying to hide her shock, she stared Sebastian in the eye. “Walk away, prince. I helped you in the past and we can let this go.”
“No, Hawke,” Sebastian answered, shaking his head. “I can't let you get away with what happened here, not after you let Anders live, not after the Chantry was destroyed and the Circle deposed, not after Meredith died. There has to be consequences, and maybe if the apostate mages see the greatest of their kind brought to heel then this war will end.”
“Greatest of their kind?” Hawke grinned, tilting her head back and cracking her knuckles. “Flatterer.” Sebastian blushed, his eyes dropping for a split second. She put the staff between them and herself, reached once more for magic that wouldn't come.
“Sir?” one of his minions said. “I think she's going to use her magic!” The minion fired an arrow. Hawke ducked out of the way, spinning and bringing her staff up, pointed at the group of them.
“For our friendship, I'm letting that pass,” Hawke said, keeping her voice cool. “Walk away.”
“My lord,” a second minion said, this one more cool-headed than the first, “If she could use magic she would have by now. At least something defensive.”
“Hawke?” Sebastian asked, tilting his head to one side. He let his bow go slack, looked back at his minions and stepped forward. Hawke held her ground, meeting his eyes and he closed the distance between them.
He pushed her staff out of the way.
“Sebastian,” she began, but he reached out and backhanded her, rocking her on her heels. She stumbled over the bench and feel and he ripped Hubris from her hands, towering above her.
“Andraste is with us,” Sebastian said, breaking Hubris over his knee and tossing the pieces to his side as he turned to his men. “That is why her magic is lost. Lock her in irons and bring her with us.”
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Hawke Fade Away