no, use my SPACE name!
08 August 2016
ffr  
Fic where Anders actually /is/ building a mage rebellion out in the middle of a wasteland and he realizes that he can’t be the one to lead it because a.) nobody quite trusts him because b.) he’s constantly on the verge of going all glowy-vengence spirit, so Anders tracks down the one person who has a chance of holding the whole thing together, the one person who just maybe has the charisma and daring and streak of crazy to make it work: Hawke.

And listen, Hawke’s a mess. Hawke just fought her way out of the Fade. Hawke just wants to kick back on the beach with a cold beer. Hawke has no connection to the Circle of Magi because Hawke was raised apostate by an apostate’s apostate (in fact Hawke’s only view on the Circle is that it secretly terrifies her – living like that, growing up like that, being locked away in a tower and reminded every day that your great moral failing is not a matter of choice but of /existence/). Hawke, who is incapable of displaying two consecutive moments of serious heartfelt emotion, who is so thoroughly a mask that she doesn’t realize there’s something underneath the mask, who has no interest in being a hero and only wants to keep the people within arm’s distance safe, suddenly has to consider whether or not she wants to be the leader of a revolution.

She actually does consider it, because it’s Anders asking, and because it’s what Bethany would have wanted, and because – well, what does she have to lose? Malcolm used to say that “magic should serve that which is best in us, not that which is most base,” and you can bet your ass that if he hadn’t had three kids to protect he’d have been burning every Circle to the ground by the time he was thirty. (I’m thinking shades of If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for here, because this isn’t Hawke trying to save her family or Hawke cleaning up what she perceives to be her own mess, this is Hawke stepping forward and claiming a destiny, but it’s also Hawke being tired and done and thinking that if she’s going to go, she might as well make it worth something.)

Anyway, there’s about twelve million tons of crack in Professional Hot Mess Marian Hawke agreeing to and then figuring out how to lead a mage rebellion, assisted by trusted advisors Isabela (mostly here for the kicks, doesn’t want to get involved but secretly cares a little bit about not locking people up) and Fenris (hates magic, hates mages, also secretly cares a little bit about not locking people up as a matter of principle but don’t you dare call him out on it). Varric may or may not be Kirkwall’s Viscount in this story, but if he is, you can bet he gets increasingly desperate letters from Anders (”Varric, what was I thinking”) and increasingly nonchalant letters from Hawke (”Carver farted in front of that chevalier he’s infatuated with today and it was hilarious, also please disregard any reports of Val Royeaux burning, it was a light torching at best”).

this might be the endgame of the hawke epic i never write idk idk