Torture meme (coming kinda late but I feel asleep welp)
Nobody could have held Hawke back but herself.
She had a certain image to maintain, a certain political position. It tore her up inside that time, but Templars were by law supposed to chase Mages. She had never supported that. Maker, she absolutely shared Anders’ views on the topic! But just killing a band of Templars as an apostate mage of her position.. Maker knows what that would have unleashed.
So with a heavy heart, she stood by and watched the group ‘interrogate’ the healer in his own clinic. It didn’t take her long to feel a strong sense of shame for herself push through. Always thinking about what’s best for the city, always thinking about consequences. She paced up and down, past a few spectators. There were little whines coming from the other mage, but the ones Hawke let out in return were far more pathetic and pained.
Anger was starting to boil up within her. Templars or not, what gave them the right to torture somebody like that? He was a healer, doing good for the poor of Kirkwall without asking anything in return. She admired and adored him, as she figured should everybody else.
Once one of them drew their sword and held it to his throat threateningly, she began to loudly shoo all curious eyes away. While she did so, Anders earned a cut to each cheek and let out muffled whimpers at receiving each. Damn that Order, with their ways to restrict mages. Two of them were already holding his arms back and keeping him lifted of the ground, a third one had taken to sending hits to various spots of his body by the time all spectators were gone for good.
The image before her made Hawke sick. A mixture of anger and shame of not having done anything earlier overcame her— but anger was quick to win the upper hand. She let out a growl and removed her staff from her back, promptly sending a forceful wave of magic towards the four. The Templars stumbled back and Anders sunk to the floor, bruised and bloodied and beaten, and simply remained there without much movement.
Marian was now their centre of attention. She sent a couple of icy spells their way, but the two who had previously been holding her friend up were already charging at her. Her staff hovered over the ground, an icy spike shooting up and straight through one of the Templars. He was quick to go silent. The other one was killed by a twirl of her staff ending up with the bladed end stuck in his chest. Before she even had the time to remove it from the dead man’s chest, the torturer himself approached. The Champion gave a separate grumble at him, hands glowing blue ever so faintly. She sent wave after wave of force at him until he was on the ground, then hovered over him and quickly moved an arm back. Her hand was soon cloaked with a golden glow, a force spell, that managed to downright smash helmet and head of the Templar as her fist was swung at his face.
Once she was certain every enemy was dead, she glanced back to Anders and gave a rather loud whimper as she saw him on the ground. She ran to his side immediately, pulling him up and letting him rest on her stretched out legs. His face was covered in cuts and bruises, and he seemed to be barely awake. One of her hands grasped one of his, the other took on a blue glow, indicating a healing spell being in use, and cradled his cheek ever so gently. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Maker, I’m so, so sorry..,” she muttered, pulling him up further so he was in something close to a sitting position and pressing her lips to his forehead.
She could have prevented this. If only she hadn’t held herself back, she could have prevented this whole mess.
