Love Even In Death

Title: Love Even In Death

Series: Dragon Age

Characters: F!Hawke, Anders, Varris Tethras, Sebastian Vael, Fenris, Isabela, Aveline Vallen (Hendyr), Merrill

Words: 2,365

Summary: Some might tell the story that when the apostate Anders blew up the Kirkwall Chantry, Hawke was quick to slay him in her fury at the death of the Grand Cleric. Others remember, however, seeing the two mages together in the Hanged Man or walking hand-in-hand in Lowtown and know this story can’t be true.

Ask Varric Tethras nicely – and perhaps if he’s drunk enough – and he might tell you the real story of what happened.

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For a moment Treva Hawke couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything to tear her eyes away from the empty place where the Chantry had stood only moments before. She then closed her eyes at Sebastian’s mournful cry, his emotions tearing at her own, before the anger welled up sharp and bright.

In a fury she whirled on the man sitting on a nearby crate and slapped him hard enough to draw blood at the edge of his lip.

“You bastard,” she snarled, shoulders shaking, magic welling up inside her chest and screaming for release. “Do you know what you’ve done?!”

“Taken away the choice of compromise,” came the weary reply and she wanted to kill the man, any remaining shreds of love for him washing away in the wake of her rage. It was so hard not to just choke him as she reached out to grab the front of the damnable black coat – why hadn’t she suspected when he started wearing it? – and jerked him to his feet.

She howled in his face: “No! You’ve done nothing but take away the choice from every mage! Meredith is right; this is going to demand retribution and all of us are going to pay for it.”

Anders’ face rippled suddenly with anger and he shoved her away, snarling. She stumbled and heard the others behind her: the sharp click of Bianca as Varric readied her to fire, the creak of Sebastian’s bowstring, Aveline’s armored feet scraping against the cobblestones as she set to charge, Isabela’s daggers rasping as she drew them, the sizzling crackle of Merrill’s magic and Fenris’ lyrium-born power crackling along her senses. Treva held up a warding hand and watched as her fellow mage’s eyes widened with realization that her hand was all that was holding them back.

Then his gaze hardened again and he growled, “Don’t you want mages to grow up with the freedom you had?”

“Freedom?” she repeated, laughing harshly. “What freedom, Anders? I spent my whole life running. Maybe it wasn’t the Circle…but it was still a prison.”

“You had your family.”

“Not anymore!”

Her angry shout made him lean backwards, eyes widening, and she clenched her fists as lightning raced between her fingertips. “My father, mother, and sister are dead, Maker only knows what’s happened to my uncle in this mess, and Carver is a templar. And you…you want me to fight him.”

Something in Anders’ face softened at that and for a moment she saw the man she’d fallen in love with during those first years in Kirkwall instead of the Justice-consumed would-be martyr he’d become. “Treva, I…”

“Don’t,” she snarled and it took everything in that moment not to just break then and there. Her body shook and Treva closed her eyes for a moment, wanting to scream, to cry, to just run. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs, and opened her eyes to stare resolutely at him. “I loved you, Anders.”

He swallowed hard, brown eyes filling with the knowledge of what they both had known was inevitable from the moment the Chantry had exploded in red light, and breathed, “And I you, Treva.” Anders seemed to collapse in on himself, all self-righteousness drained out of him. “You deserved better than this.”

“I did.”

Anders nodded then hissed, turning his head away as the all too familiar blue veins of light flared along his skin. His eyes glowed and she could taste the Fade on the back of her tongue even as she heard Varric curse behind her before Anders screamed, “NO!” And the glow was gone, leaving her blinking down at him where he’d collapsed, fingers clutching at the cobblestones like he was about to fly off and never come back down.

Ignoring Varric’s growled Hawke that mixed with Aveline’s steady Be careful and Sebastian’s whispered prayer, Treva moved towards him. She slowly sank to her knees in front of Anders, sighing before she tugged the tie out of his hair and ran her fingers through the dark blond locks. A low whine came from the man and then his arms were wrapped around her waist, his head pillowed against her chest.

“I never wanted this,” he muttered. “Freedom for us to just be what we wanted and not be caged like animals but…not this. I didn’t mean to kill us all.”

“I know,” she breathed, fingers still tracing through his hair even as she wondered where all her anger had suddenly gone.

“Treva.”

“Yes, Anders?”

“Make it quick.”

Her heart seized in her chest at his words and it took everything in her to not start crying right then. Part of her still loved him despite everything, despite the Chantry, despite trying to force her to choose.

“If I kill you, they’ll only make you a martyr for your cause,” Treva found herself saying and loathed every word.

Anders shrugged, the movement shaking her slightly. “Don’t I deserve to die for starting a war?” he asked in a hopeless tone.

Part of her wanted to tell him No, wanted to say that he could make up for what he’d done, but the words choked in her throat. She couldn’t…she couldn’t side with him on this, not on this part of his and Justice’s crusade. It wasn’t in her to fight against her brother, even if it is siding against her own kind in its own way.

She was also all too aware that, without her father there to teach them, she and Bethany would have likely become just like the mages they’d fought so many times over the years. Who would there be to teach young mages now if others saw what happened in Kirkwall and revolted? Would there be kind apostate fathers and loving mothers for all of them?

No. There wouldn’t be enough of those to go around.

Her dagger was in her hand before she was aware it’d moved, awkwardly grasping it in her left as her right continued to run through Anders’ hair. Moving blindly, she tried to press the point against his chest above his heart and gasped when his larger hand clasped over hers, shifting the blade just slightly to the side. His skin was warm against hers, almost feverish, and it brought back memories of their nights together before he started pulling away.

“It isn’t fair,” she breathed, bowing her head to speak into his hair. “You’ve been gone for three years and now you’re back and I have to kill you.”

Somehow Anders managed a chuckle, lifting his head to meet her eyes with a sad gaze. It was startling realization to see that Justice – no, Vengeance – was there too, lurking just behind the brown eyes and simmering with barely contained anger. How Anders was suddenly holding the spirit back she didn’t know but…

“Life isn’t fair.” His words dragged her from her thoughts and Treva started to open her mouth only to have his consume it. She heard a startled cry from Sebastian and a snarl from Fenris and wanted to tell them that she wasn’t letting him go. This is…

This is their goodbye.

He felt like Anders again and she wanted to drown in him, in the scent of herbs and lyrium and Fade. Then the kiss was over, her lips tingling in the aftermath, and he was leaning his forehead against hers with his eyes closed. Treva closed hers too and it felt like the world paused for one moment, jumped back in time, and it was like that first night where they admitted how they felt openly.

“I can’t hold him much longer,” she heard him say, exhaustion suddenly heavy in his voice. “We’re not done yet, according to him. But I’m done, Treva. I’ve had enough. I’m tired of hurting you and everyone I care about.”

“I know,” she breathed and his hand tightened over hers, both of them pressing the dagger closer to his chest so the point dimpled his coat and the skin underneath. “Anders…”

He interrupted her with a teary sounding, “Try…try and forget the past three years. I…Treva…”

“Already forgotten,” she insisted even though she hadn’t and opened her eyes to lean forward and kiss his lips, just the barest feather light touch that he returned. “I wish I had known you before.”

Anders smiled, eyes opening to meet hers and there was a blue glow flickering amongst the brown. “Me too.” He leaned in again, capturing her lips as they move together to thrust the blade of her dagger upward into his heart. Treva caught him as he let out a pained gasp into her mouth and started to collapse, lowering him to the ground with her fingers tangling in his hair as tears finally filled her eyes.

Anders eyes, clearer than they’d ever been in the years they’d known each other, focused on her face and he smiled. Then he was gone.

She could feel the sorrowful keen building in her chest and let it loose with a fury, sounding out her anger and sadness in one cry that seemed like it rang through the entire city. In the blur of her mind she damned them all: mages, templars, apostates, Justice, and even her father. Then, when the sound was still ringing on the air, she lunged at Anders body and violently pulled out her dagger, throwing it aside.

She heard Varric ask Hawke, what are you doing as she started to fumble at the clasps and buckles of her dead lover’s coat, but she didn’t answer. She can’t answer. Treva just focused on what she was doing, unsure of quite what she was doing, until the coat was free and she buried her face in the black feathers along the shoulders.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” she breathed. “And I’m sorry I can’t follow your path.” She felt resolve rise within her and continued, “I will make sure that mages survive this war. That’s the only promise I can make, Anders.”

Shaking, Treva started tugging off her armor, ignoring the murmurs of surprise from behind her. Anders’ coat hung like a blanket on her as she tugged it on but she didn’t care as she pulled the buckles as tight as she could. Then the armor went back on, the fur around her neck mixing with the feathers now decorating her shoulders, and she rose to her feet.

In turning she found them all staring at her like she was some mysterious thing and it was almost too hard to not laugh as she realized she is. Standing in front of them wearing Anders’ coat with his blood still wet on its breast, she probably looks insane.

She can’t let go though, not of him. No matter what he did, no matter what he became, she still loved him. If not for the destruction of the Chantry, she would have stayed with him forever.

“Hawke?” breathed Varric, the first to speak just as he was her first real friend in Kirkwall, and Treva smiled.

“I’m not taking up his cause, Varric.” At the dwarf’s sigh of relief, the mage added, “But I’m not entirely casting it aside either. He was right that the persecution of mages needs to stop…Anders just went about it the wrong way.”

She can see the frowns on their faces – except for Merrill, who looks sad and happy all at once – and continued, “I don’t want to do this for either side, mages or templars, because they’re both wrong. Meredith needs to be stopped. And I can’t fight against my little brother.”

Fenris relaxed then and said, “We fight on the side of the templars.”

“No,” replied Treva. “We’re on our side, same as we’ve always been. If a mage isn’t casting blood magic, I want you to defend them. If a templar needs help, I want you to aid them. I will not let Kirkwall destroy itself because of this.”

“So,” said Varric, his smirk suddenly returning (if lessened). “We rescue Junior, take down the crazy Knight-Commander, and somehow manage to not die while both sides inevitably try to kill us.” He shook his head then and Treva couldn’t help but return the grin he gave her a moment later. “You take me to the strangest places, Hawke.”

“You know you love it.”

“That I do.” The dwarf then squared his shoulders, looked at their companions, and asked, “Well what are we waiting for?”

Treva laughed before she said sternly, “Fenris, Sebastian…help me with the body.” Both elf and prince looked like they were about to protest violently but she pinned them with a fierce look, not accepting anything but their acquiescence. “He saved both of your lives time and time again without asking for anything in return, same as he did to everyone in Darktown. You owe him this little bit of respect.”

Sebastian looked abashed and bowed his head but for a moment she thought Fenris was going to just leave. Then he nodded and together the three of them lifted Anders’ body and carried him with them until they reached the docks.

Treva smoothed out his hair as she arranged the body in the little rowboat Merrill had found, folding Anders’ arms across his chest. She leaned forward to kiss his forehead before shoving the boat away from her. The current caught it after a terrifying moment when she thought it would just stop and carried it slowly away from them.

“Goodbye,” she whispered then reached for her magic, shaping what she wanted in her mind before letting it bloom freely. The fire blossomed in her palms and she clung to the warmth for a moment before she tossed it towards the rowboat in a throw that would have been impossible without magic. It landed without trouble and as the flames caught and consumed the boat, she turned to step onto the ship Isabela had declared Good enough.

Eyes bright with grief and fury, Treva Hawke lifted herself into the ship’s bow and focused on the smoke rising from the Gallows ahead.

It was time to end the war in Kirkwall.

After that…well, she had a promise to keep now, didn’t she?