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Things were too heated too fast after Carver sat himself at her and her companions table in the hanged man. The siblings had barely talked since Emelinas return from the deep roads without it devolving into a screaming match, this time being no different.
After one too many remarks regarding her apostasy and the company she kept, the older Hawke sibling decided she’d had enough for the time being.
“Just remember that you’ll always be a little Hawke around here younger brother, don’t try to play pretend if you’re planning on drinking at our table.”
She turned her back to her brother as she made her way to the bar, if he won’t leave than she might as well be drunk.
“Carver, don’t.”
Avelines firm voice did nothing to break through, warning carver but doing little to grab either of the hawke siblings attention away from the anger they both held, the rage towards each other, Emelinas hatred of the circle and templars, something her little brother ran to the second she was gone
But all at once it came down on her, a true templar silence. She didn’t need to turn, couldn’t if she wanted to, to know it came from her little brother, a true templar.
This was not her first time suffering a silence, but every time it feels like it may as well be, and every time she promises herself she will never suffer like that again. A chantry dog will never steal her breath, her mana her choices again.
But the silence took everything, pushing down and pulling out her breath as she fell to her knees. Hands grasping at her own throat as she struggled to find air and mana to sustain her. Took everything else from her, while her anger was only fed.
Hands going down to the floor steadying herself, she can feel the faces of her friends before she sees them. Shocked, appalled, scared for Carver and what he just did.
Emilina rose slowly, all the anger that exists within her rising with it. When she finally made it to her feet she hooked her arm behind her shoulder and unfastened the staff that sat ready on her back. withdrawing it carefully before dropping it to her side and finally, turning around.
When she finally faced Carver she saw the face of childish righteousness , jaw set and breaths shaking as he hides his fear like children trying to prove a point often do.
When she faced him his expression flashed something else, his facad slipping momentarily as he saw his sister’s face. Tears flowing without her control and a vicious smile cracked across her face.
“You’re going to wish I had my magic, little brother.”
She was on him in a second, out of armor and without a sword carver was much slower to react as his sisters fist cracked against his nose, and her left hand yanked him forward by the front of his shirt.
All either of them could see, feel, was red and hot. Sticky as his hands instinctively went up to his nose, but not moving to get away.
He wanted to see how far she would go, so did she.
He looked up to her from where he was doubled over as his sister made her way forward to where he stumbled back. Fist full of hair, she yanked his head to look at him again, her smile from before still unwavering, as she brought him down upon her knee.
A sickening wet crack echoed through the hanged man like a chantry hall, she could almost hear Isabella’s voice telling her she proved her point, sounding more scared than she’d meant to. She could almost hear her brothers cries as she descended upon him once again.
Everything was red.
Nothing existed except for his blood on her hands, and her need for more.
She began to beat him now, truly, screaming about how mother died alone hating him, how is own twin picked her time and time again, how no matter what he said about making a name for himself, he would never be anything but a scared child looking for a hand to hold, for someone to tell him what to do.
Everything was red, everything hurt and she could hear desperate voices begging her to stop, Merrill and Varric, Carver stopped begging a while ago.
I just wanted the hurt to stop, she thought to herself as she brought her fist up against her brother, the only way forward was red, and hot and sticky.
Before she could bring her hand down once more isablla caught her arm and pulled her back
“Hawke, HAWKE, listen to me you have to stop”
Fighting against her, she tried clawing her wrist free from the rivainis grasp before Aveline appeared at her side and wrapped an arm around her middle, truly separating the Hawke siblings.
The need to struggle against them faded as the red began to wash away.
She saw her brother laying on the floor, rolled to his side clutching his stomach like it would do anything to ease his pain.
And she walked away, ignoring her friends calling concern, no templar at her back this time