Chapter Text
Hawke did not care for the fade, like at all. He didn’t like regular dreaming, and he didn’t like being sent there to help Feynriel all those years ago, and he really didn’t like that he was fucking actually walking in it right now. “This is ruining my hair,” was all he said though. A simple innocuous statement of fact. The Inquisitor looked at him like he was insane - which to be fair he probably was. But still, “it is dripping bad energy onto my hair. This water cannot be sanitary.”
“He does have a point, Inquisitor.”
“Is it a mage thing?” The Inquisitor was clearly at a loss. And young. Holy maker’s untainted taint the man saving the world was so damn young. He had been young once, he thought. Maybe. Maker, that was a long time ago. The boy had seen a lot already, and by all that was good he’d see a good bit more. Hawke would make sure of it. “I mean, Vivienne has her hair cropped close because of Orlesian masks and that hat thing she wears, Solas is an egg -” Trevelyan’s eyes widened in horror. “I didn’t say that, a demon momentarily took me over, all good now though! But just, I’m getting dripped on and I don’t mind?”
“They are both vain men, Inquisitor and are focusing their fear on something absurd to cope. Pay them no mind.” Cassandra tapped her sword against her shield and Hawke saw, for just a moment, the strain in her eyes. “We must press forward, no matter the damage done to hair.” She stepped forward, and fuck but she reminded him of Aveline. He really wished Aveline was here. Or Fenris. Their swords were comforting. But Cassandra was brilliant, and Trevelyan might even be faster with his daggers than Isabela. Sera was terrified and checking out until they had to fight, and then she was practically flying through the air.
There was more dripping and more little demons, and the big demon fucking with their heads. It was so polite to mention his dead mother and sister, Hawke just loved that. And then it mentioned being impressed with Carver, how the man had been resisting the call, but soon he wouldn’t.
There were three large demons blocking their way and Hawke just growled, then he fade stepped right through one of them, ripping it apart with the hooked blade that topped his staff and he settled into to work.
“Ohhh, that’s why you wanted Hawke as your guy! Yeah, I totally understand and agree. He should be in charge. Better call all around. We get out, he can be in charge.” The Inquisitor was thunderstruck, and Garret had to spit something out of his mouth. Apparently he had bitten off a part of one of the demons. Seemed like a finger, maybe a toe. Dear Maker, let it not be demon cock. “Hawke, you are now in charge.”
“No, thank you. Last time I was in charge it started a war remember?” Hawke looked around. “Way is clear though. I would like to talk to this fear demon about all this dripping on my hair, and how my brother’s name should not be in its mouth.”
Stroud was spouting nonsense and the ghost spirit divine whatever said something, then was charging the demon. There it was. Now Hawke could have a nice chat with it. He heard Cassandra and Stroud’s battle cries, and they were adorable and so soft. You really needed to let this thing hear you. Garrett roared, putting all the elemental power that Merrill had taught him behind it and he moved. A demon like this it would read you quickly, had to keep the magic moving. It would expect certain patterns and Hawke wouldn’t fall into what his father taught him; he used every cruel and vicious trick that Kirkwall had taught him, and didn’t even notice when he began to be wreathed in flames instead of a traditional barrier.
“Vishente kaffas, Hawke, you’ll burn yourself out!” Dorian shouted, dealing with the small spiders that dropped. “You cannot channel that much!”
Hawke smirked a bit, “Dorian, I’m nowhere near my limits yet.” He put a lightning cage around the fear demon and when it tried to do that teleport thing it did, it found it couldn’t. “Yeah you bastard you didn’t expect that did you?” Hawke just kept pressing forward, and tightening the cage. The demon was screaming. “Now then, I believe you mentioned my brother?” He held his staff in hand, the almost ax at the top gleaming even through all the demon ichor that covered it. “Can a fear demon, feel fear? Because you should fear me.” He set the lightning on fire, and kept closing it around the demon. Everyone else had backed off, in awe or terror - Hawke didn’t have the ability to focus on them at the moment. He had watched Dorian cast nightmare in the Western Approach and he copied the gesture he had seen, and the demon screamed. “Guess you can.” Hawke squeezed the cage tightly. “Fuck off from mine,” he roared and swung his staff, and the demon’s head came clean off.
Hawke collapsed to his knees as he let go of all the magic. “I might need help up those stairs,” he called. He looked over at them. “They are really fucking high.”
“Cassandra, Dorian, get Sera out of here,” the Inquisitor ordered as she had passed out from blood loss, from fear. Hawke watched Cassandra pick the elf up and toss her over her shoulder, Dorian guarding their rear. Heehee rear.
Hawke felt himself lifted, Stroud under one shoulder, Max under the other. He laughed a bit. “Trevelyan, you part Fereleden? That is a Ferelden nose.”
“My mother,” he agreed. “One foot in front of the other Hawke.”
They moved forward and then a spider as big as the world stepped in front of them, blocked the way. Hawke began to laugh. And he slid off of the other two. “Right, I’m the burden, I’ll distract it, you two go.”
“The wardens are the reason we are here, this is my responsibility.” Stroud was holding his sword, and even his stupid mustache looked noble and mighty. “Allow me to restore some honour to the wardens.”
Hawke opened his mouth and the Inquisitor snarled. “Fuck this shit,” he looked down at his hand. “Hey, you stupid ugly beast, wanna see a trick?” Hawke watched as the man seemed to open a fade rift right in the monster, which was a paradox since they were already in the fade, but smaller demons started to climb on and begin to eat the spider wanting to increase their strength. There was a small opening as the monster flailed. “Oh shit, that worked. Run!” Hawke couldn’t run but he had just enough left in him to fly.
He didn’t but fuck it, it was so sticky down here. He grabbed Stroud and the Inquisitor, dropped his staff. He thought, focused, and then screamed as he pulled at the last of himself but a blink and they were at the top of the stairs. He couldn’t do anything else, “Men, you need to be dashing rescuers now. Like being rescued by handsome men.”
“Why do you have to be almost as big as Bull?” Max groaned and Hawke felt himself being dragged through that light, and then hey look moons! They were back in the real world - that was nice. He should probably sit up, but honestly laying on the rubble felt great. Besides the Inquisitor was doing that lean forward, one leg on higher rock than the other. He was about to be all impressive and shit.
“Hawke?”
“Varric, it is about to be the big speech, shh.” Hawke wanted to sit up to hear it, and just as he thought that hands were bracing him, lifting him a bit. He looked over and smiled, “Cullen, you aren’t dead.” He generally wouldn't want to smile at Cullen, but he was a bit too happy to be alive to care at the moment.
“Neither are you,” Cullen said. He was rather covered in ichor and blood, looked like the inquisition commander lead from the front. He had done that in Kirkwall too. They heard a warden say almost all their leadership was dead, they had been corrupted, what will they do. The Inquisitor tilted his head a bit. “Oh shit, my paperwork is about to treble,” Cullen whispered.
“You, all of you are fucking idiots!” The Inquisitor roared, and Hawke snickered.
“I like the baby hero,” Hawke said.
“Quiet, Hawke, if you can manage it.”
Hawke would have immediately argued that he could be the quietest ever, but Max had prowled forward and was pointing one of his daggers at the man who had spoken. “Who thinks that the calling comes for all wardens at once? That is statistically unlikely and you didn’t fucking question it? I am so tempted to say fuck it and banish you from Orlais forever!” There were murmurs in the crowd. “Shut it!” Max yelled and it echoed, rippled out to the walls. “You have fucked my shit up, but the world might have need of you. Stroud! You are now in charge of all these morons.”
“I need to go to Weisshaupt, tell them -”
“After we save the world,” Max snarled, “because you are also an idiot so focused on honour and tradition and the wardens you aren’t willing to pay attention to the giant hole in the sky. By order of the inquisition the wardens will no longer only help the world during the blight, but also when there are holes in the sky caused by ancient magisters! You will hunt demons and Venatori under command of Stroud. Stroud, any of them breathe wrong you do not hesitate - you execute them. The wardens are going to be of use to the world maker take them, or I will end them.” The Inquisitor’s eyes moved, and Hawke was pinned under the gaze. “Garrett Hawke, you are absolved of any crimes committed in Kirkwall, and now in penance for helping start this fucking war you are conscripted to the Inquisition. You fucked around, and by the maker you are now going to make amends. Warden Carver Hawke is also conscripted.”
“You cannot just -” Stroud began, and barely dodged the dagger Max threw at him.
“I just saved your arses and am not having my army kill everyone in here for serving the blight!” Max was breathing heavily. “Carver Hawke will act as a liaison between the inquisition and the wardens, as a right hand to my commander because I’ve made his job even shittier, having to coordinate your dumbasses.”
Hawke felt something ease in him, Carver would be safe from the wardens. He didn’t trust them, and kind of thought the Inquisitor should throw them out of Orlais for all this shit, but he wasn’t in charge, thank the maker.
“Be useful, or get the fuck out of our way,” the inquisitor looked at Stroud. “Or I kill you here and now.”
“We will serve, and save the world as our mandate says,” Stroud swore, and all the wardens put their hands to their hearts.
“Good, now then, uh, I guess -” the Inquisitor took a breath and his eyes rolled back in his head. Hawke watched that huge qunari move and catch the man. The egg, and thanks to Max, Garrett could no longer remember the mage’s name he was just egg now, hurried over. They whisked the Inquisitor away to the healing tents where the rest of the group who had gone into the fade already were.
“Hawke, we need to get you to the healers, you look like shit,” Varric had his serious face on. “Like really shitty.”
“I’d go, but I can’t actually feel my legs.” Hawke looked down. “They are there, good. But I can’t seem to make them work.”
“Hawke, must you always be a trial?” Cullen sighed. He was looking around clearly for some help but everyone was busy. There was another sigh and then what the fuck?
“Cullen, what are you doing?” The man was stripping out of his armor.
“Carrying you to the medic tent.”
Hawke gave him a look. “That is nice and chivalric, extra rations for the noble commander, but I am taller than you and well -”
“Built like a brick shithouse?” Varric added in his oh so helpful manner.
“I am of a sturdy and thicker nature,” Hawke replied with a glare. “Cullen you can’t -” and then his arm was lifted, and with a grunt he was over Cullen’s shoulder. The man stumbled for a moment, and then holy maker’s left armpit, Cullen was carrying him. “How are you?”
“You aren’t the first compatriot I’ve carried off the field, Hawke.”
“No one can ever carry me! It was why I always traveled with a healer, my ass is too huge for carrying.”
“The wiggling certainly isn’t helping,” Cullen snapped. “What is the point of wearing all that armor if I cannot haul someone in need of aid?”
“It can’t be comfortable for you.”
“Of course it isn’t, you are a bloody kossith, but I will see you taken care of,” Cullen was sounding a bit out of breath and Hawke shut up. A few minutes later he was put on a cot, and relieved when it didn’t collapse under his weight. Cullen was heaving a bit, and red, but he had done something no one had been able to do since Hawke was four and ten, and had the first of the growth spurts. Carver at least could drag him if need be, but Carver was only a little smaller than him. “Stay fucking put, Hawke.” Cullen left without another word.
“Well, that was quite the display. I didn’t know the Commander had that in him.”
Hawke looked over at Dorian. “Varric hasn’t told stories about Cullen, he knows him well.”
“No he doesn’t,” Dorian protested. “He said they barely ran into each other in Kirkwall.”
Hawke opened his mouth and then closed it again, because if Varric was lying to the Inquisition about how well he had known Cullen, there would be a reason. Cassandra would know, thanks the to the interrogation Varric had written him about. The inner circle would know, because spy master would know, and that meant the diplomat would know. The question was did the Inquisitor know? Because no way did the advisors tell the baby hero everything. He couldn’t cope with all that information. He gave Dorian a smile. “So the fade, that was a kick in the teeth hmm?”
“Point of fact, you kicked a demon in the teeth. Rather impressive moves. Especially since you are so absurdly big. How exactly are you that big? Magic, potion?”
Hawke laughed a bit. “Farming. Grew up doing it. Could carry a cow home when I was seventeen.” He laughed at that memory and then groaned as it caused so many overworked muscles to seize.
“Hawke, how did you cast nightmare?” Dorian’s voice was quiet and he had looked around, but everyone was busy. “Have you studied necromancy, it is very uncommon in the south.”
“Saw you do it in the Approach.”
“Hawke, you can’t just see a cast and then copy it. You need to understand the spell, decade years of study -”
“Nah, you mostly just copy the cast and will it into being.”
“That isn’t how magic works.”
Hawke lay down and stared at the tent ceiling. “Not here,” was all he could say. “Cullen, one of his templars could overhear, and I’d rather not be tranquil thanks.” Dorian was laughing, and even still singed and oogey from the fade, fuck the man was beautiful. “What is so funny?”
“The thought of Cullen making anyone tranquil.”
Hawke for a moment was back in the Gallows, the tranquil dead in the booths where they sold their wares. The smell of fire in his nose. He shook it off. “Knight Captain -”
“No,” Dorian snapped, “The commander or Cullen if you are familiar enough. You will not disrespect the inquisition.” Even Dorian looked a bit surprised at the force of that statement. “Sorry, fade is lingering in my mind. But it is Inquisition law, no mage who appears at our door will be rendered tranquil, unless they personally request it. And even then they need to have a couple conversations with Cassandra and Mother Giselle before it will be done. Only been done once, Cullen performed the ritual and then wept for three days. Just carried on with all his work, not bothering to hide the tears as they fell down his cheeks.”
“The Inquisitor set a good rule. Cullen must have argued fiercely against it.”
“The commander was the one to suggest it, Hawke. Are you sure we are talking about the same man?” Dorian looked confused.
Hawke shook his head, “I don’t think we are.” He was exhausted and this conversation was hurting too much. He’d sleep and maybe tomorrow the world would magically be fixed, and everything would make sense again. When he awoke he was wrapped in a blanket, a little stuffed mabari in his hand.
“I’m sorry, it couldn’t be bigger,” a voice said. Hawke looked over and he would have scrambled away, but somehow he was even weaker than yesterday. “But it is a mabari. Because in the dark, in the cold, Biscuit’s warmth scared away all the bad. It is the right colour. Biscuit misses you. They are frolicking in a field until they see you again. Lots of mice to chase. They want you back, but not too soon, they know humans are supposed to live a long time. They want you to live. They were a good dog.”
Hawke looked at the toy in hand. It did look a little like Biscuit had as a pup. “They were,” he began to cry. “I went into the fade, and almost didn’t come out.” He couldn’t breathe, and he clutched the dog close.
“I can help,” the creature said, and then disappeared.
A couple minutes later Cullen came rushing into the tent. “Cole said you needed me. Hawke?”
“How is this helping me? Fucking demon,” Hawke snarled, but that just made him retch. He threw up bile, and maybe a bit of a demon he had chewed in the fade. That had really happened. Lovely. There were footsteps and then the hands changed on the bowl. He didn’t recognize them. When he looked up, it was the Inquisitor, holding his vomit. Even lovelier. He had been perhaps a bit happy Cullen had to hold his bile. “You have a demon among you.”
“Cole? No, he’s a spirit! It’s fine, all fine.”
“I used to say that a lot too,” he looked at him. “Even if it is a spirit, it will corrupt its host and -”
“Oh you are thinking like Anders and Justice. Yeah, that was a shitty situation. I read Varric’s books, and Cullen’s reports. I figure the truth has to be somewhere in between the super lurid and the super dry.” The Inquisitor sat next to him, just clutching the bowl of vomit. “But Cole is fine, he isn’t riding anyone. He’s just Cole. He’s Compassion you see. I thought we needed that. Don’t we?”
“He’ll -”
“He isn’t inhabiting anyone, he just is. Solas is keeping an eye on him. Vivienne hates him, Cassandra is concerned. Bull likes him though, and Bull is scared shitless of demons, so I think we are fine.” Max looked down. “I’m holding your vomit.” He put the bowl under the cot. “We head back towards Skyhold today. Can you ride?”
“No,” Hawke had to admit.
“Well, let’s hope you don’t break a wagon.”
“Inquisitor, we’ve been so focused on the wardens. But I need to warn you about Cullen.”
“Do you?” The inquisitor’s gaze hardened. “I don’t do great with other’s warnings. Just so you know. I tend to get stabby when they think to tell me stuff for my own good.”
“He doesn’t think mages are people.” Hawke blurted out.
“I know, he told me,” the Inquisitor smiled at him. “I might sound like an idiot regularly, but that doesn’t fucking mean I am one.” There was a pat on his hand. “You’re going to be fun, I can tell. You don’t want to lead, but people just always put you in charge, because you are huge and have a good frowny face. Aren’t you tired of having the world lean on you? Don’t you just want to kill a lot of bad people and demons?”
Hawke let out a breathe. “Magic is supposed to serve man. It is all I want to do, but everything keeps getting fucked up and wrong.”
“You’ve got us now. You can serve as much as you want.” The Inquisitor grinned, “Hey, worst case scenario we need another bartender.”
Hawke had to laugh at that. “I think I’ll stick with blowing shit up.”
“It is the more fun option. You’ll be put in my rotation. Which means I can take Vivienne out, and leave her to politicking with Josephine.” The Inquisitor looked gleeful.
“Don’t like the senior enchanter much?”
“She is very smart and very cunning, and believes she can move me about like a chess piece. She is angling to be divine and thinks I can’t see that. Well I do, and it isn’t fucking happening.” The Inquisitor’s face hardened, and Hawke saw just how much of his rambling was an act. “She thinks I can’t play the game. Because she is used to the Orlesian game. Fuck Orlais.”
“Maker praise that,” Hawke agreed, Ferelden to his very core. “Following you is going to be interesting.”
“It is the end of the world, Hawke. Did you expect it to be boring?” Trevelyan smiled at him. “Let’s go home.” There was a clap to his shoulder, and the man was gone. A little later Hawke insisted he could walk to a wagon because he was not going to be humiliated by being carried in a litter, especially because at his size it would take half a dozen people.
Or apparently one Commander. He found himself as he settled onto the wagon looking for the Commander. Eventually he found the man organizing a group for moving out, clearly other templars. Hawke snorted because of course he was with the templars. But he watched Dorian go up to Cullen and slap him on the back, and Cullen and the templars laughed. The soldiers mounted and headed out, and he watched as Cullen went to a group of mages and helped them to their horses handing them their staff, as if Hawke hadn’t seen the man break a staff over his knee before. Dorian mounted up and was clearly guiding the mages towards home.
Hawke pulled his gaze from Cullen and it seemed that all of the inner circle was traveling with a group headed back to Skyhold, that was good command - making sure each group of a dozen or so had a lead to look to, and the Inquisitor’s inner circle were strong and clever from what he had seen. The Inquisitor might be a baby, but he clearly had a good mind.
“No, Varric, you can catch up with Hawke at home - to the sappers as I assigned,” Cullen’s voice easily could be heard even over the chaos of an army decamping. “If you want to get out of your job, you need to learn how to use shadow powder already!”
“That stuff makes me sneeze,” Varric shouted back. “Last time I tried I got snot all over our dear Seeker, and she almost interrogated me again.”
“What you and Cassandra do in your off hours is between you and the Maker,” Cullen shouted.
“Ha!” Varric flipped him off, but veered back to a wagon instead of towards Hawke.
Varric was actually listening to Cullen; Cullen was being kind to mages. Perhaps when he had fallen through the veil he had fallen to a different time line. It was the only explanation. He at least had a long and boring wagon ride back to Skyhold to think on these things.
Or fall asleep since for once no one was requiring a thing of him.
Hawke smiled and fell asleep.