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“Now, I’m not calling you a liar. But Varric doesn’t call me ‘Champ’.” Hawke muttered wryly as she waved her hand across the demon that was standing in front of her. The wispy form that had been there now dissipated into a whisper of mist that still hung about her. “You’re going to have to try harder than that!” She shouted out into the fog around her.
She looked down at her leg which had been caught by Nightmare when she finally landed her single lucky blow. At the time, she thought it was the blow that saved her life. Now it seemed it was the strike that had condemned her to a slow and boring death.
It had been a difficult fight but quite honestly, Hawke couldn’t remember most of it. It seemed the knowledge that this was her last fight, instead of making her drink in every moment, had caused her mind to shut down, blacking out. She had moved only according to instinct, when she had noticed the opening in its defences, she had leapt and felt the telltale exhale of the creature. Then it was simply about the business of getting out of the way before it collapsed on top of her.
After the adrenaline ran out and she had moved herself as far from the hulking shell of its body as she could, she had tried to sleep.
Now that Nightmare was gone, she noticed a larger range of demons were appearing in the now unoccupied domain. First there had only been fear, whispering as she tried to sleep, growing louder and louder as her exhaustion grew until she couldn’t block out the screams and she had to get up, keep moving, get away. She heard the voices telling her she was going to bleed out and die. Then telling her the Fade would keep her alive, keep her trapped here forever.
Now other creatures had started to appear before her. They remained wispy and ghostlike things but everywhere she turned they only seemed to be becoming more solid, twisted and unknowable things. Taking on the shapes of her friends though, that trick was new.
And the exhaustion was creeping in on her. She hadn’t slept and she felt the sore ache creeping through her bones, seeping from the inexpertly bound gash on her leg that made it difficult to move. Certainly too difficult to fight. Whether that was from the fatigue or the pain, she could no longer tell.
“Hawke? See, I knew I’d find you mostly undamaged.”
Hawke let out a sardonic laugh at the voice. “Isabela.”
“It took me a while to get here, what with all the fighting everywhere.”
“No, I think I was the only one fighting. You know how it is.”
“This is your damned influence, Hawke.”
“Wait, this isn’t…right.”
“I was halfway to Ostwick before I knew I had to turn round. It’s pathetic.”
“Not Isabela. No, this is when we offered to kick your ass for him. Did we ever get round to that?”
Looking up at Isabela, Hawke saw the pirate was indeed clutching her stolen tome. It was just a memory. Not a particularly scary one either. Unless she counted the whole battle for her life that came after it.
“Just go away. I’m not playing your game, demon. Let me sleep.”
“You didn’t let Isabela go away. She never forgave you for tying her back to Kirkwall.”
“Oh please. If you’re going to steal her face, try and act like you know her. She came back because she wanted to. I was angry enough to let her leave after the Arishok, but she stayed.”
“You chang-“
“Oh bugger off. I’m busy enough here with my bleeding. I don’t need you to make me laugh.” She picked up a rock and skimmed it straight through the vision of her friend’s stomach. It then collapsed in on itself and bubbled into a mess of grey liquid.
“Oh, ew.” Hawke pulled herself back and tried again to stand up on her leg. With a hobble and a green rock to hold on to, she moved away from the puddle of Isabela-demon. At least, as far as she could go but within a couple of minutes she had slumped down once more.
While she didn’t feel hungry, she knew she should. That probably also wasn’t a good sign. She was getting damned sick of bad signs. Her back ached, her leg throbbed. Wrapping it in shreds of her demon-slime soaked jacket probably wasn’t the most sensible of treatments. Infections didn't feel like her biggest worry at the moment, however. Her eyes drifted closed and let herself register the shouting anew.
Were the noisy demons around her, it didn't feel worth checking. Or perhaps they were just inside her head? Either way, probably best to ignore it. If they shut up it would be nice but it seemed that wasn’t happening. The darkness pulled at her insides anyway, drawing her under.
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She woke with a start. Everything around her looked the same. There was no day or night in the Fade. Only eerie green mists and ominous water trickling noises.
And the voices. They were still there.
She felt her leg instinctively and tried to move it. The throbbing seemed to have reduced, though it had seized up while she was out. There wasn’t even that much blood staining the bandage, it was stiff and mostly dry. Pulling up against the sharp rock face, Hawke got to her feet and began retracing her steps back to where she had left the corpse – or whatever a demon left behind. Slowly and surely, she found her way to the clearing. She really hadn’t made it that far.
The body had not got any smaller. In fact, Hawke was almost certain it must have grown. She couldn’t have taken that out herself. She walked all the way around the edge of the chamber. This was where the Inquisitor had led her party through. If there was any way out of here, this was the place to start looking.
And she sat there, staring at the place the Inquisitor, Stroud and the others had gone through. There was nothing to see. Only the creeping feeling of the demon at her back. Probably best not to turn her back on it just in case. Who knows what can happen in the Fade?
A mage might have some idea.
“Again I return to the Fade for you, Hawke.”
Hawke turned over her shoulder to see Anders, staring down at a spidery leg of the Nightmare, as he stepped closer to her.
“You remembered he should be Justice here. Well done, you came better prepared than the last one.”
“This is not a place for jest.”
“I’m not sure what else I’m meant to do here. There’s not a great supply of ale. Sadly for you, I never grew particularly attached to the demon in my friend. You’re going to have to try again.”
“I know this place. I haven’t been here for some time but there is a way out.”
“Leave me, demon.” Hawke clenched her teeth. You don’t trust demons in the Fade, all they do is lie and manipulate, and she had faced enough in her time to hold that resolution close to her heart. But if it wasn’t lying, there was a way out. If it was, did that mean there was no hope at all?
“You need my help.” Justice continued.
“Leave me, demon!” She shouted, drawing her knife from her belt and stabbing it swiftly into Anders’ chest. She gasped in horror as he staggered back and clutched at the knife, the blue glow fading from his eyes as he stared up at her, hunched over the dripping wound.
He looked down again, then Stroud lifted his head. The knife was in his hand and he held it out for Hawke to take back.
She shuddered and stepped back, away.
“Stroud? Why?” She had been arguing with him the last time she saw him. Now he gave her a warm smile.
“You saved me. You gave me the chance to lead the Wardens from their mistakes. I owe you my life, Hawke. You might have saved Thedas.”
“No. Go.” She stepped away again, an arm out behind her to find a rock to cling onto. Instead her fingers brushed the stippled shell surface of one of the Nightmare’s ungainly crooked legs. It held an unnatural cold and her hand repelled from it as soon as she made contact.
Stumbling around the appendage, she put it between herself and Stroud. The Stroud demon.
“I know what you are. I don’t want to see you.”
“I’m trying to thank you. I mean it. The Champion of Thedas, that's what you’ll be remembered as.”
“Oh great, that’s why I’m really here.” The laugh that fell from her lips was a dreadful sound. “The great royalties when Varric writes his new book.”
“You’re a hero. You chose this to save everyone else.” Stroud kept speaking and Hawke backed further away. Beyond the chamber of the hellish Nightmare. Back into the puddles and dripping ooze and mist of the outer chamber. She tripped on the uneven floor. “Your name will be on everyone’s lips. You’ll be remembered and praised.”
“I’M NOT THE CHAMPION!” She roared and buried her head into her knees and wrapped her arms up, staying on the floor where she had fallen. Stroud had been following her as she left the chamber but now he didn’t say any more. She stayed there, hands on the back of her head and fingers grasping painfully into her scalp and counted. Once she reached one hundred she was focused on her breaths and her head wasn’t spinning so much anymore. Once she reached three hundred she was tuned in to the steady drip of water somewhere over her left shoulder. She hadn’t heard anything any closer to her.
She carefully unfolded her arms, and lifted her head from the small prison of safety she had made for herself. So that instead, she could look at the wider prison she had made for herself.
“You’re not the Champion. It always was a stupid title. So, you get dropped in an impossible fight and flail about on the end of a giant’s sword, all to cover for your idiot thief of a friend, but somehow you get a title and prestige and people asking you questions. Over and over. "What will you do now Hawke?" "Who do you think should rule Kirkwall, Hawke?" "Why can’t you just fix everything, Hawke?"”
Hawke groaned, not turning around to look at the source of the voice. “You know, you’re my least favourite so far.” She told the demon that strutted around to stand in front of her anyway. She looked up at her own face, an expectant eyebrow waiting for answers to all the things that had been demanded of her in the past few years.
“Was this supposed to be your last big gesture? Or was it a coward’s way out. To put it all behind you and break free of the responsibilities? The endless demands?”
Hawke tried to get to her feet. Her leg gave way beneath her so she decided instead that it would be simpler to crawl to the wall, not far, only a minute or so away. When she pulled herself up she tried her best to ignore the way her head immediately lurched, her vision momentarily blanked out. She dragged her way along the floor, all the while the other Hawke kept up her goading stream of consciousness. Every comment hitting a little too close to home.
And then the demon stopped talking. Hawke looked over her shoulder and she was no longer there. Hawke felt her legs collapse under her. Now there was nothing behind her to retreat from, she simply let it happen.
Her leg was aching again, she was some distance from where she had been. In fact, looking around, there were some signs she recognised. Maybe she was delirious, but hadn’t she commented on that strange arrangement of stones that looked like Meredith. A laugh burst from her. That was the last person she wanted to see here.
“Hawke.” Oh no. That was the last person she wanted to see. “Trust you to find something funny, even here.”
“You know me. Entertaining the masses.” She muttered and rested her hand on the bandage around her leg. “Why are you here?”
“I’m not entirely sure. To see you I guess.” Fenris replied and Hawke peered up at him then. She had been afraid to look and the clench in her chest proved it had been a mistake. It was Fenris looking back at her. The others she had been able to see something wrong, or perhaps had wanted to. But this time, she wanted so much for it to be him. Really him. That she could touch him just for one last time.
“Fenris.” She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t. “Why did it have to be you?”
“I wanted to ask the same question, Hawke.”
“Can you- ” Her words were getting weaker and Fenris’ eyes widened. Truly a perfect copy of him. She didn’t have to ask, and he knelt down next to her. His hand found hers, pulling it from the strap on her leg.
“Be quiet, Hawke.” He put his other hand to her cheek and she let her head fall into his palm. Unlike everything else, he felt warm. How cruel.
“I didn’t want you here but…I’m sorry Fenris.” She felt tears slide from her eyes, and run onto his hand.
“I want to get you home.”
“I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes and she believed. She let her breath slow and she felt the cold seeping into her, taking hold, even with the warm hand against her cheek. She was ready, here in this moment she found her peace because Fenris was there with her. “I love you so much.”
She felt him move, lean forward and his hand on her face moved to draw her towards him. Then his lips met hers. So familiar, everything she wanted. If it was the last time she would ever feel him, why not? She allowed herself to give up to it, relaxed into the demon’s embrace.
Because she could believe. She was given this chance to make her last memory whatever she wanted. And here, in this veil of horrors, only Fenris could make her happy.