[Dragon Age] Perseverance
Title: Perseverance
Fandom: Dragon Age
Pairing: Garrett Hawke/Anders
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1,325
Notes: Post-game; assumes a male mage Hawke.
Warnings: Character death.
Summary: Anders finds a new existence and a new purpose.
The Fade is a place of trials, and Anders knows it. He has known it since the templars threw him in when he was little more than a boy to face the demons within. It took him until much later to realize that life is the place of trials, and by then he was struggling to understand what the difference between life and the Fade was. But it no longer mattered then, because in the Fade he was Justice, and Justice was better equipped to handle trials than Anders ever was.
He thought death would free either of them from facing such hardship ever again. In this, he understands now as he kneels in the shifting grounds of the Fade with lyrium pouring through fingers that glow more strongly and more purely than it ever could, he was wrong.
"Why am I here?" he tries to ask the peculiar sky, but before he can form the words, others are coming out of his mouth instead.
"Because we are not absolved."
* * *
Hawke flees the city of Kirkwall under cover of night after Meredith's death, his robes still bloody with the life of those he fought and those he sought to protect. The others trail behind him, but they keep their distance.
Normal vision would tell an onlooker that there is blood on all of them, spattering their weapons and staining their clothes. But Hawke is more long-sighted than most, and he thinks that his friends wear their own blood more than anyone else's. Aveline leaves her post in the guard, dragging her husband and the ruined promise of family with her. All of them leave the lives they spent so long building.
Hawke puts one foot in front of the other on the narrow path up the coast, but can no longer reach a hand back to help the others. He remembers Anders's blood pouring through his fingers.
* * *
"What are we looking for?"
Anders can no longer tell if he asks the question or if Justice does. He would apologize if he could, because when he faced his death he thought it would restore Justice to the strong and pure spirit he was. Instead it's made this mess. Anyway, he doesn't have an answer. He only knows that it is as it should be that he follows this path, drawn to some obscure beacon in the mutable landscape of the Fade. It is just and it is true, even if there can never be justice and truth anymore. He's sorry for teaching Justice that, too.
* * *
They clean up and make camp at a clearing that Merrill once knew. Soon enough, they will be able to thread in and out of towns again. The Chantry is in too much chaos to track them now, and they are skilled at evading pursuit, all of them, in one way or another.
Hawke sits by the fire until Aveline approaches him. "Are you all right?" she asks, but she shakes it off soon enough. "Silly question. Sorry. But you did what was necessary. We all did, but you, you most of all, Hawke."
He smudges his fingers with the ashes thrown off the edge of the fire, where they've cooled to mere warmth. "We should all get some sleep." But he doesn't plan on it. He fears what waits in his dreams in a way he has never feared any demon before.
* * *
The place where Anders finally stops is ashen, and he can see the shapeless echoes of corpses strewn about the land. He would ask, "What now?" but there's no point in asking. If Justice knows, he knows. If he knows, Justice knows. He thought they were one before, but now that he's free from his body it's different. They really are joined.
What happens now? Now they wait until they can make right what is wrong.
Eventually, things flicker in the wasteland around them. But when Anders reaches to join them, he's pushed away. "It isn't time. We will watch."
He doesn't know when it will be time. He knows it is supposed to be time for him to pass through this realm and reach the Maker's side, but he can't fathom what that would be like. Did he once tell someone something about spirits being the Maker's first children? Did he? How strange. If there's such a being as the Maker and such a place as his side, it isn't where they belong any longer.
* * *
Alone in his room at the inn, Hawke sits low in the single chair and tries to remember why he's done it all. The answer is not long in coming.
He has always wanted to give those who need him everything they ask of him. He has always wanted to be the one who answers their needs.
When Carver asked to die rather than succumb to the taint, Hawke gave him his request, even though it meant losing him just as surely. When Fenris asked to face his past and try to reclaim it, Hawke obliged in bringing him there, even though he knew it could have destroyed him. When Merrill asked for his help in dealing with her demon, he always gave it to her, even though it might have killed her and nearly did. When Varric begged to keep the last remnant that connected him to his brother, Hawke let him have the maddening shard, even though it might devastate his mind as well.
Why should Anders be any different? No. Maybe Hawke could have denied the others, if he'd tried hard enough, but he could never have turned Anders down. And what Anders wanted was the only freedom he could be sure of: the kind at the end of a blade.
It's better this way, then. Hawke has the memory of their time together, the nights when Anders was as close to happy as life ever let him be, and Anders is finally free. It's easier this way, too. It means not having to worry about all the other ways he could have lost him: to the taint, to the templars, to Justice, to anything that might have parted them without Hawke's consent.
Is that why he did it? Because he gives, and he gives, until the only way they can ever bear to leave him is at his own hand?
Plagued by the thought, but finally considering that maybe he should accept it, Hawke rises from the chair and heads for the bed. He doesn't take off his robes, but he does absently wipe his hands on them. His hands are clean, of course, but he can't shake the memory of Anders's blood on them. Blood he spilled because, he knows, Anders wanted him to.
Hawke has forgotten when he ever knew how to say no.
* * *
Anders finds that as time passes, he can reach closer and closer to the mortal dreams that rise up before him. He can reach a ghostly golden-white hand into the memories and images of blood and guide the man within to somewhere a little safer. He can deflect demons from sliding into the dreams with a righteous sword of flames. He can burn the streams of blood away when they threaten to cover everything.
Each time he interferes, he wonders if Hawke knows. He tells himself it doesn't matter. That isn't what this is about. This is about something deeper.
"We are Vengeance. We will wait here at your side until we have destroyed all that has wronged you in your world and ours."
And if it is impossible to avenge all the harm done to Hawke over his life, if Hawke dies with that promise unfulfilled, then they will ask him to join them. If he says no, they will take up the cause of his life in its aftermath, with him gone to find peace.
Anders has forgotten when he ever knew how to let go.
Fandom: Dragon Age
Pairing: Garrett Hawke/Anders
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1,325
Notes: Post-game; assumes a male mage Hawke.
Warnings: Character death.
Summary: Anders finds a new existence and a new purpose.
The Fade is a place of trials, and Anders knows it. He has known it since the templars threw him in when he was little more than a boy to face the demons within. It took him until much later to realize that life is the place of trials, and by then he was struggling to understand what the difference between life and the Fade was. But it no longer mattered then, because in the Fade he was Justice, and Justice was better equipped to handle trials than Anders ever was.
He thought death would free either of them from facing such hardship ever again. In this, he understands now as he kneels in the shifting grounds of the Fade with lyrium pouring through fingers that glow more strongly and more purely than it ever could, he was wrong.
"Why am I here?" he tries to ask the peculiar sky, but before he can form the words, others are coming out of his mouth instead.
"Because we are not absolved."
* * *
Hawke flees the city of Kirkwall under cover of night after Meredith's death, his robes still bloody with the life of those he fought and those he sought to protect. The others trail behind him, but they keep their distance.
Normal vision would tell an onlooker that there is blood on all of them, spattering their weapons and staining their clothes. But Hawke is more long-sighted than most, and he thinks that his friends wear their own blood more than anyone else's. Aveline leaves her post in the guard, dragging her husband and the ruined promise of family with her. All of them leave the lives they spent so long building.
Hawke puts one foot in front of the other on the narrow path up the coast, but can no longer reach a hand back to help the others. He remembers Anders's blood pouring through his fingers.
* * *
"What are we looking for?"
Anders can no longer tell if he asks the question or if Justice does. He would apologize if he could, because when he faced his death he thought it would restore Justice to the strong and pure spirit he was. Instead it's made this mess. Anyway, he doesn't have an answer. He only knows that it is as it should be that he follows this path, drawn to some obscure beacon in the mutable landscape of the Fade. It is just and it is true, even if there can never be justice and truth anymore. He's sorry for teaching Justice that, too.
* * *
They clean up and make camp at a clearing that Merrill once knew. Soon enough, they will be able to thread in and out of towns again. The Chantry is in too much chaos to track them now, and they are skilled at evading pursuit, all of them, in one way or another.
Hawke sits by the fire until Aveline approaches him. "Are you all right?" she asks, but she shakes it off soon enough. "Silly question. Sorry. But you did what was necessary. We all did, but you, you most of all, Hawke."
He smudges his fingers with the ashes thrown off the edge of the fire, where they've cooled to mere warmth. "We should all get some sleep." But he doesn't plan on it. He fears what waits in his dreams in a way he has never feared any demon before.
* * *
The place where Anders finally stops is ashen, and he can see the shapeless echoes of corpses strewn about the land. He would ask, "What now?" but there's no point in asking. If Justice knows, he knows. If he knows, Justice knows. He thought they were one before, but now that he's free from his body it's different. They really are joined.
What happens now? Now they wait until they can make right what is wrong.
Eventually, things flicker in the wasteland around them. But when Anders reaches to join them, he's pushed away. "It isn't time. We will watch."
He doesn't know when it will be time. He knows it is supposed to be time for him to pass through this realm and reach the Maker's side, but he can't fathom what that would be like. Did he once tell someone something about spirits being the Maker's first children? Did he? How strange. If there's such a being as the Maker and such a place as his side, it isn't where they belong any longer.
* * *
Alone in his room at the inn, Hawke sits low in the single chair and tries to remember why he's done it all. The answer is not long in coming.
He has always wanted to give those who need him everything they ask of him. He has always wanted to be the one who answers their needs.
When Carver asked to die rather than succumb to the taint, Hawke gave him his request, even though it meant losing him just as surely. When Fenris asked to face his past and try to reclaim it, Hawke obliged in bringing him there, even though he knew it could have destroyed him. When Merrill asked for his help in dealing with her demon, he always gave it to her, even though it might have killed her and nearly did. When Varric begged to keep the last remnant that connected him to his brother, Hawke let him have the maddening shard, even though it might devastate his mind as well.
Why should Anders be any different? No. Maybe Hawke could have denied the others, if he'd tried hard enough, but he could never have turned Anders down. And what Anders wanted was the only freedom he could be sure of: the kind at the end of a blade.
It's better this way, then. Hawke has the memory of their time together, the nights when Anders was as close to happy as life ever let him be, and Anders is finally free. It's easier this way, too. It means not having to worry about all the other ways he could have lost him: to the taint, to the templars, to Justice, to anything that might have parted them without Hawke's consent.
Is that why he did it? Because he gives, and he gives, until the only way they can ever bear to leave him is at his own hand?
Plagued by the thought, but finally considering that maybe he should accept it, Hawke rises from the chair and heads for the bed. He doesn't take off his robes, but he does absently wipe his hands on them. His hands are clean, of course, but he can't shake the memory of Anders's blood on them. Blood he spilled because, he knows, Anders wanted him to.
Hawke has forgotten when he ever knew how to say no.
* * *
Anders finds that as time passes, he can reach closer and closer to the mortal dreams that rise up before him. He can reach a ghostly golden-white hand into the memories and images of blood and guide the man within to somewhere a little safer. He can deflect demons from sliding into the dreams with a righteous sword of flames. He can burn the streams of blood away when they threaten to cover everything.
Each time he interferes, he wonders if Hawke knows. He tells himself it doesn't matter. That isn't what this is about. This is about something deeper.
"We are Vengeance. We will wait here at your side until we have destroyed all that has wronged you in your world and ours."
And if it is impossible to avenge all the harm done to Hawke over his life, if Hawke dies with that promise unfulfilled, then they will ask him to join them. If he says no, they will take up the cause of his life in its aftermath, with him gone to find peace.
Anders has forgotten when he ever knew how to let go.