Spoilers Ahead & Rating: Mature

A little backstory for this fic: Dragon Age as a whole has been great at offering some hard choices. Among one of the most difficult, across the first three games, is during the quest Here Lies the Abyss in game three, Inquisition. Given a choice you made back in game one, Origins, one of the most beloved characters, Alistair (yes, the same one I’ve been writing about all this time) can make an appearance in one of two roles – King of Ferelden or Grey Warden. If you chose to leave him as a Warden, he will appear alongside the fan favorite protagonist from game two, Hawke.

There are a couple of alternative choices, but that is not the story I went with here. A potential heart breaking decision must be made before the end of this quest – does Hawke or the Warden stay behind to ensure victory, thus sealing their fate. The first time I played, it was an easy decision because Alistair was king, so another Warden, one I wasn’t attached to, remained in the strange realm known as The Fade. Alistair is my cinnamon roll, so when I tried to leave him behind, I couldn’t do it.

I trust that Hawke is capable of surviving the Fade, and I have faith in DA4 that when the Veil comes down, Hawke is going to strut out of the Fade like the boss she is. Until then, this idea was nagging at me, and I just needed to get it out.

Adamant

In the words of her infamous friend, “Well, shit.”

Hawke had never been one to just take it. Whatever “it” was. She wasn’t one to wallow, although Maker knew she had enough reasons to, so as she sat down hard upon the ground slick with the remains of the demon she had just spent what felt like hours defeating, knowing she had been left alone in the Fade, she took a moment and allowed herself to grieve for the predicament she now found herself in.

She had turned a side-eye towards the Inquisitor to ensure her path to freedom, for it was she, alone, who had the power to change things. Having only met her a couple of times before traipsing through the Fade with her, Hawke had formed a kinship with the woman the world both revered and feared. Hawke understood better than most how a reputation could proceed a person. Like her friend and distant family, the Warden and Hero, the Inquisitor, too, was the kind of woman people wanted to believe in and follow, and it was one of the reasons Hawke had offered to stay behind – to be of service to the Herald.

It was strange. Hawke had never considered herself the religious type. She blamed Sebastian’s influence.

The fight had been one of the hardest Hawke could recall enduring, in part because she had been alone. Once the spirit, or whatever it was, that resembled The Most Holy departed along with her new friends, Hawke had been on her own to face down a monstrosity the size of The Hanged Man. That may be a slight exaggeration, but only just.

The moment she sat down the physical strain of the fight, the waning adrenaline, and the thoughts of Fenris made themselves known. Doing her best to keep her tears in check, she choked back both a health and lyrium vial, felt their warmth spread through her body, and watched the light show in the distance. The Inquisitor had made it out and sealed the breach behind her.

It was official. Hawke was fucked.

Varric would be heartbroken. Isabela too. Carver on the other hand…that wasn’t fair. And what of Dane, her faithful mabari? Perhaps he would find his way back to Bryn and Keiko. That, at least, offered her some comfort. Sebastian might rally his army with Aveline at its head, and Merrill, well, she might try her hand at unlocking another eluvian. But Fenris. Sweet Maker. Hawke felt his loss so acutely, she couldn’t begin to fathom the rage that would swell in his breast and then find a release…through someone’s, or multiple someone’s chest…when he learned of her fate.

No.

She would not do that to him. This would not be the end to their story, let alone hers.

It had taken years to earn his trust. He had a tragic history with mages, and she just happened to be one. While they had been drawn to one another almost from the very beginning, she had had to be ever so patient with him, cautious, and after a great deal of time, both together and apart, when push had come to shove, he had stood beside her…and that was the moment that had changed everything.

Her heart constricted at the series of thoughts that started to make their presence known.

There was no time for that.

The potions had started to work their magic – ha! – and she was feeling her balance restored. With a, potentially misguided, sense of being revitalized, Hawke pushed her bangs out of her eyes and stood up determined to find another way out of this topsy-turvy, no mortal should have ever been able to find themselves here, hellscape. Her knees buckled and the world swirled around her. She leaned on her staff for aid.

Maybe she could use a base of operations? The Fade didn’t follow the “normal” rules of the waking world. Time worked differently, or so the rumors suggested. She supposed she was about to find out. She may not even need food or water in the time it took her to find another rift to escape through.

Looking around at the floating pieces of unsettling landscape, the craggy hills, and troubling, dark water, her eyes narrowed in search of the tell-tale yellow-green light that indicated the presence of a rift. She couldn’t see one, at least not in the vicinity. Was there any reason to go back the way they had come? She looked along the path that had led them to this fighting pit, considering her options. The path seemed almost predetermined in hindsight. There hadn’t been any off-shoots or other routes, but perhaps it was because that was how they, as a group, had willed it.

While in a dream state within the Fade, one could manipulate, to some extent, their surroundings. They had needed to make their way to the rift, and the landscape had obliged. Perhaps now she could do something similar and devise a way of finding another. But she was tired. It had been quite a day of storming castles, fighting demons, traipsing the Fade and more fighting, and she could feel the fatigue of long hours and a hard fight descending upon her.

With the Nightmare gone, she could probably find a safe haven to rest, but should she? What would happen to her here? Would she begin to lose herselef the longer she stayed? Become something like what had happened to the Divine? There were so many unknowns, and Hawke didn’t have the mental clarity to continue on given how she felt at the moment, and so finding a tucked away cave on the other side of where they had fought, she curled up and fell asleep without another thought.

Her sleep was restless. She had strange dreams, some involving her friends. In them she tried to speak to them, she called out, but either they couldn’t hear her or she found she had no voice. Sometimes they were so close she felt she could reach out and touch them, but when her hand passed through them, the lack of contact left her wanting.

And then she saw Fenris. Alone. She couldn’t see where he was, his surroundings were a blur except for the letter crumpled at his feet. His expression was one she had not seen in years. It was similar to the one she had seen on him after he had learned of his fate when he met his sister. It was a mixture of being lost, laced with anger and regret. There was confusion as he tried to process all he had learned and heartache for what had been lost. This was different though. Back then he didn’t have a recollection of his past, that had been stripped from him upon being given his lyrium markings. Now, he had full knowledge of the past he shared with Hawke, and his body was taut, it brimmed with energy, and she could see his tattoos ripple with it. He was ready to strike.

She reached out to him. She wanted to reassure him in some way. And she expected the same result as she had with the others, but this time, as she whispered his name, he turned and her hand grazed the upper part of his arm. Startled, she popped up, wide awake, and hit her head on the low ceiling of her shelter.

Her breathing was labored, and she laugh-cried through the pain and joy. Had she just touched Fenris? Was she capable of reaching out of the Fade? Had he been asleep too? Was it his markings that had allowed the contact?

She looked at her hand as if it held within it some mystery.

She was a mage. And not just any mage, the daughter of Malcolm Hawke. She was family to the Hero of Ferelden. She had defeated the Arishok, taken on dragons, survived the perils of an ancient thaig, fought against a red lyrium-sword weilding madwoman, and saved Kirkwall, a time or two. She had a knack of accomplishing what was thought to be impossible, and getting out of the Fade would just be another tale Varric could later exploit.

Standing up, she yelled, “Fenris?! I’m coming home!”

She wanted to will this truth into existence in such a perilous realm. She wanted its inhabitants to be aware that she was on a mission and would not be derailed. She would not broke any interference, and if they dared, they would be sorely disappointed in the outcome.

She could not judge the length of time she traveled, looking for something, anything that might indicate a way out. Fade rifts had been opening all over the whole of Thedas, and yet now that she needed one, they seemed to be nonexistent. She looked for groups of spirits gathering together, a sign that maybe they were being pulled to such a disturbance, but she encountered few on her journey. Her only means of understanding the passage of time was when her feet began to ache and her body tired at having walked for too long.

She did not feel hungry, nor thirsty, which she found odd. It was something about this place, it didn’t seem a necessity. Regardless, when she stopped to rest, she rummaged through her sack for sustenance and ate some of the hard pieces of bread she found.

She looked around for any landmarks that might resemble something from the waking world. When they fell through the Fade, it had been off the ramparts of Adamant Fortress and they had walked a great distance back to the rift that had, in the real world, been only a short distance away. But nothing had looked much like the keep. There was nothing to indicate where they were even though the Fade was supposed to resemble the other side in some ways. But then they had found statues, grand staircases, bits and pieces of furniture, and parts of castle walls – the whole thing was confusing.

She could have walked miles, which her body told her she had, but in the waking world, she may have only made it out the fortress’s gates. She had continued in the same direction the Inquisitor had gone, believing that it would lead her away from the fortress and towards civilization, eventually. The Inquisition had camps set up near closed rifts, so maybe when Hawke found one, a camp would soon be awaiting her on the other side.

The rifts had opened because the Veil was thin. Could she make her own tear? The story was that the Veil had been created to contain powerful elves. The ancient ones who held great power and were immortal. If they were unable to free themselves, what chance did Hawke have?

She needed a rift.

As, what might be, days continued, Hawke’s assurance that she might escape waned, but only occasionally. She had endured harder things than this. She would not let it defeat her. She had dreamt of Fenris each time she rested, but she was never able to make contact again, and she was desperate for it. She thought she needed his resolve to sustain her, but just seeing him was enough to keep her going, but as the days went on, she started to feel it. She was slowly losing herself to this place, and that’s when her perserverence faltered.

Mortals were not meant to be in this place.

If Corypheus was telling the truth, it was his vanity that had led him to seek out the Golden City and it was his punishment that the darkspawn were created. Hawke really didn’t want to become a darkspawn. She didn’t want to become a spirit either. So what would be left of her when she finally escaped?

Maker, but did she need help.

It seemed a kindness that her journey had been uneventful. While she always had her staff at the ready, she had encountered no opposition, although often she could sense things watching her. She figured they might be curious, but they offered her no aid. They just watched.

Hawke had always been proud of her resilience and her ability to gather good, if not questionable, people around her. Perhaps this trait could be of use to her here…after a nap.

That “night” when she saw Fenris in her dreams, she told him in which direction she was heading, and her hope of finding a rift. She told him not to worry, although she knew that was a foolish notion. And she told him that she loved him. More than she had ever imagined possible. She tried again to touch him. She rested a hand upon his, and she saw him go still, eyes wide. And then he looked directly at her.

The sob that escaped her lips woke her from the tender moment.

Once she collected herself, it dawned on her that this was the fifth time she had “visited” Fenris. She had been in the Fade nearly a week, and it was beginning to feel like it. She had finished off any food she had in her bag two days ago, and even then, she hadn’t needed it. It was more out of habit, and the knowledge that she knew she needed it. She had tempted fate by drinking the water found here, and discovered it wasn’t tainted, despite appearances. She had even bathed and washed her clothes. She and they had started to reek.

Those things considered necessary to survive, even though in here she didn’t feel it, did not contribute to the feeling of lightness she was now experiencing from their lack. She was changing.

Her body was going through an alteration, and that was not something she could abide. She had been storing her potions until she neared a rift in preparation of the fight that would ensue, but for now, she drank a health vial and hoped it would stop, or at least interrupt, the progression of whatever was happening. Without further delay, she continued on.

As she walked, she spoke softly, in hopes of not scaring off any of the more congenial spirits following her. It wasn’t often she begged for anything, but on this day, she begged for their help in guiding her out. There had to be one spirit of compassion or hope that was willing to provide her with direction. There was no response, which she didn’t really expect, but shortly thereafter, she saw guiding lights. They were ever so faint, but she recognized the interval in which they appeared, and her pace hastened. She was led up stairs and once atop, she saw the one thing that she had not thought to bring her such joy – a rift – just a short distance away.

“Thank you!” She exclaimed to the void, a wave of relief crashing over her. “Thank you so much.”

She ran on legs she no longer thought were capable of carrying her further, until she was within striking distance of the rift. Spirits struggled to pass through and without attacking she instead tried to persuade them to leave, forewarning them of what would happen should they make it through. They may be benevolent on this side, but the harsh reality of the other side would drive them mad, and there was no coming back from that.

Surprisingly, some departed without incident or further encouragement, while others still forced their way through. She could hear swords clashing, but what sent her spinning was the flash of blue light she saw through the rift. Using all the strength she had left, she made easy work of the spirits that remained. She apologized as she did. When it was clear and safe for her to pass, she stuck an arm through the rift and nearly cried when she was met with a hand she knew almost as well as her own.