A Battered Old Journal, Chapter Seven

Title: A Battered Old Journal, Chapter Seven

Series: Dragon Age

Characters: OC: Mathis Hawke, F!Hawke, Carver Hawke, Cullen, Fenris, Isabela, OC: Elena Hawke

Words: 1,879

Summary: The seventh entry in the journal, written on the twenty-first of Kingsway in 9:56 Dragon.

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Isabela and Fenris swept into port for the first time in five years today. Normally I’d write cheerfully about that but it wasn’t such a cheerful scene when I took Elena down to meet them at the docks. She doesn’t really remember them as she was three the last time they were in town so she wasn’t as excited as I was.

At least until we actually got to the docks. Then everything sort of fell apart.

I saw Isabela standing at the end of the gangplank that extended from her ship and waved, same as I had the last time I’d seen her at thirteen. She stared at me like she didn’t recognize me, her face draining to this ghastly sand-like color thanks to her dark complexion. Then horror flashed across her face and she shouted something that I couldn’t make out from how far away we were.

Immediately after a foreign sensation lashed across every magical sense I have – which are pretty damn sensitive according to Siegfried judging by my skill at healing since it’s a delicate magic. Then I looked up and saw furious green eyes amid white hair charging at me.

My hands found Elena’s shoulders and spun her around to tuck her tightly against my body as I curled protectively over her quite before my brain caught up with my actions. As soon as it did, every instinct screamed to turn around and not leave my back open, but I shoved the urge aside. I pulled a shield around us and breathed a prayer to Mythal to keep us safe (because I prefer the elven gods over the Maker and the Chantry given what it has done and what its actions made my father do).

I felt the blade strike the shield as I finally heard Isabela’s voice screaming the words It’s not him, it’s not him. Instantly the foreign sensation against my senses disappeared as well as the feel of the heavy blade against the shield. I could feel Elena shaking in my arms and looked down to see tears on her cheeks as she stared up at me.

Then movement at the corner of my eye caught my attention and I turned my head to stare at Isabela’s distraught face. She reached out until her hand pressed against the shield and said that I could let the shield go. I straightened as I did just that and moved a few steps away from her and Fenris who’d appeared next to her, dragging Elena along with me.  I’m sure with my wary steps and my eyes on them I looked like a hunted animal.

And rightly so, I suppose, because at that moment I felt like one.

Fenris apologized in that quiet voice of his and then his eyes met mine as he stated five words that shook my world.

I thought you were Anders.

In that moment all of Mother’s, Uncle’s, and Aunt Merrill’s comments on my resemblance came back to me. Even a few of the other mages, templars, and townsfolk have commented on it. The only person that never has to my knowledge is Cullen but I know his reasons because I’ve asked. I don’t compare him to the man I never knew and he doesn’t either despite (apparently) almost everything about me calling back to him.

I stared at him, eyes wide, then whirled as Mother’s magic washed over me, full of rage and fire. She swept into the docks with none of it visible but I could feel it there lurking, intangible and ready to blaze into furious storm if she saw reason for it to. At the sight of her and Cullen behind her, Elena tore herself away from me and ran to them, first hugging Mother about the waist before she went to her father. Cullen swept her up and she clung to his armor as he continued walking behind Mother, following her on her path towards the rest of us.

Her eyes swept over me and I felt the brief touch of her magic, what little healing she knows assessing me. Then she turned towards Fenris and Isabela and I felt her magic snap fiercely like a flag in the wind. The lyrium lines on Fenris’ body flared with light briefly in what I assume was a response then went dark again as he caught her eyes then looked away as he said, I’m sorry, Hawke. I thought he-

I know what you thought because I see it every day! snapped Mother and I stared at her, my heart suddenly racing even faster than it had when I was in danger. There was old, terrible pain in her voice and I knew why. She hadn’t told me herself but I found out from Uncle that she’d been the one to kill my father. Only…I hadn’t thought of what that meant before, hadn’t connected that with the comments on my resemblance to him.

I have been tormenting my mother for years without knowing it and there is nothing I can do to fix that. The realization hurts more than I can put into words and I can’t even imagine what she has gone through all these years.

Perhaps my younger self had a good reason to never want to relive the battles of the Champion with the other children and only those of the Warden. Did I have an innate sense then that I later lost of what Mother had gone through?

I don’t really know what happened on the docks after that as I turned and ran, unable to bear standing there anymore. The logical place to have gone would have been back to the home I’ve always known, to the Gallows in the room I’ve had since I turned fifteen or the one I grew up in. Even running to sit outside the door of our estate in Hightown would have been more logical. I, however, ran much farther in my attempt to get away.

All the way to Darktown, to the remnants of my father’s clinic.

Darktown has been aided by Mother and Cullen’s efforts in the city and it is a true part of it, a thriving region of tunnels where the residents no longer suffer or starve. They have all, however, left this space empty in remembrance. Some of them even bring flowers or other tokens and leave them at the doors underneath the lamps that haven’t been lit in eighteen years.

The rest of the city may remember my father for his last act, for the pillar of fire that razed the sky, but Darktown remembers him for a decade of healing those that everyone else had abandoned. I respect them for that.

How long I sat down there on an old desk in the dark I don’t know. Uncle, however, is the one that found me there. He didn’t scold like I expected or immediately drag me out of there. Instead he sat the lantern he was carrying down on the ground and carefully leaned his weight against one corner of the desk. And he waited there in silence until I was ready to talk.

I asked if Mother hated me for looking so like my father. Never think that, was Uncle’s first response, his voice fierce. Then it softened as he continued, She could never hate you for looking like him, Mathis. I’ve asked before and she said that seeing him again through you is one of the best gifts she’s ever gotten. The only issue she has with it is how it could harm you, how people could take their anger against him out even farther on you.

Then I asked if she was angry.

Just worried you might have gotten yourself into trouble. He then smiled and said, But I’m going to guess that you’ve come down here pretty often, haven’t you?

I just shrugged, not wanting to reveal that I’d snuck down into Darktown at thirteen to find this place and had been coming back ever since. The locals who’d been there when my father was had guessed at who I was and pointed me on my way back then. One or two always bring me food when I’m down there and ask for a bit of minor magic for this ache or that little cut.

They don’t need what my father provided anymore but what little I can do, I do. Guess it’s my own way of trying to negate all the pain he caused.

Uncle just nodded at my silence and asked, Are you ready to come back up? When I didn’t answer, he said, Fenris and Isabela are gone if that’s what you’re worried about. And if you’re wondering why he attacked you in the first place, he’s seen too many mages try to bring people back to life with bad consequences. He was, honestly, thinking of all of us when he ran at you.

His words made sense but they don’t stop my hands from trembling as I think of Fenris charging at me with the intent to kill in his eyes as Isabela’s horrified voice rang through the port. Even now as I write this they’re shaking just the little bit. I imagine they will for years.

Suffice to say that I walked out of Darktown with Uncle not long after his question and comment. Mother was there at the entrance, her graying hair free of its normal tie to fall about her shoulders and mix with the feathers of my father’s old coat. She ran at us, at me, and flung her arms around me to squeeze me tightly.

Normally it amuses me that her arms don’t reach around me as far as they used to since I’ve grown up and that I’m taller than her. Now though, after today, I wanted to be little again so she could gather me up in her arms and wrap us both in the folds of her coat. Instead I had to wrap my arms around her and bend my knees slightly as well as hunch my shoulders so I could drop my head onto her shoulder.

I breathed in the smell of her coat, old feathers and cloth with a hint of stone and magic that mixed with her own smell, and every muscle went loose from a tightness I hadn’t known was there. Then I felt her jerk and a hand touched my face, smoothing back my hair as I realized I’d spoken a question without realizing it.

My first question to Uncle when he’d found me. I wanted to hear it from her.

She only answered with a smile and one word: Never.

And I broke down in tears. After that, the rest of the night is a bit of a blur.

Like I wrote earlier, the realization that I’ve hurt her without knowing it is more than I can put into words. I’ve never wanted to disappoint Mother, never wanted her to look at me badly…but in that moment, behind her smile and her softly spoken word, I could see pain in her eyes.

Being attacked by someone I consider family is nothing compared to that pain. What does compare, though, is that I can never fix this.