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“No.” Hawke all but growled. He stood, his whole body tense, protectively clutching a single dragon egg close to his chest.
“Fáelán, you can't keep a dragon egg! We just spent the last day killing dozens of them! They killed the workers!” Carver shouted.
“I will not kill this creature before it even has a chance to live!”
The brothers had been at a standstill for the past ten minutes, while Anders and Varric stood awkwardly to the side, neither one of them willing to step into the crossfire. After clearing the dragons out of the Bone Pit, the group had come across an egg that had yet to hatch. Carver had suggested they smash it, to prevent it from being a problem in the future; practical, if a little cruel. Evidently, Hawke had taken personal offense to the idea.
“It might not be dangerous as a baby,” Carver said, exasperated, “but when it grows up, it could hurt people. It could hurt you!”
“Oh, is that it? A creature that could hurt people shouldn't be allowed to live, simply because it might be a danger at some point?” Hawke snapped, venom dripping from his voice. Carver seemingly had no retort, at least for the moment.
“This… might not just be about the dragon anymore,” Varric said under his breath, leaning towards the mage beside him.
Hawke visibly deflated, considering the egg held tightly in his arms. “Do you know how that sounds to a mage, Carver? Suggesting that something that can be dangerous shouldn't be allowed to exist?” All of his anger had drained, and he sounded so… tired.
“Fáelán, I-” the younger brother sounded remorseful for just a moment. “You know that wasn't what I was talking about! It's about the damned dragon egg!” He shouted defensively, reigniting the argument.
“Yes, I do know that, you ass!” Hawke yelled. “You just- you don't fucking think before you say things! You don't think about how it hurts, and you never will, because it doesn't matter how I feel! All that matters is how annoying it is for you to have to deal with hiding from Templars, how tired you are of hearing about the shit I put up with, your inferiority complex over the fact that you were the only one of us who wasn't born with magic.” His voice cracked as he finished.
“Let's just go. I'm done arguing. I am taking this egg, and if it hurts anyone, then it's my fault.” With that, Hawke turned on his heel and stormed back towards the cave entrance.
—
It was evening by the time they were on their way back to Kirkwall, so the group had no choice but to camp out, unless they wanted to fight dozens of bandits. An awkward silence had settled over them ever since the argument, made all the more noticeable when they finished pitching the tents and sat around the campfire. Hawke and Carver were as far apart as physically possible, sitting on opposite sides of the fire, and everyone was just a little bit uncomfortable.
“I-” Hawke spoke quietly as Anders sat down next to him, “I'm sorry you two had to see that. My outburst, I mean.” He still had the dragon egg in his arms; had only put it down once, to pitch his tent and light the fire. The younger mage's eyes were glued to it, watching the way the light of the fire danced across the iridescent surface.
The former Warden gave him a look of understanding, but didn't respond just yet, sensing that Hawke wasn't finished.
“I've always loved dragons,” Hawke began, “ever since I was little. I feel bad that we had to kill so many of them today. I hate doing that.
I guess I kind of feel a kinship with them, you know? They're these big, powerful, majestic creatures, and people are so afraid of what they're capable of, and sometimes their fear is justified, so they just- they just assume that all dragons are dangerous, and that they can't be allowed to live.
But most dragons just want to be left alone, and they stay far away from people. They only kill us if we threaten their nests, or if they're sick and desperate for food. It's not their fault they can be so destructive.
It just- it makes me think of how people look at us- how they think everyone else will be better off if we're locked up, or tranquil, or dead. They don't give any of us a chance to just… exist, without being hunted down and forced into the Circle, because some mages have hurt people. I've been running from Templars all my life, terrified of what would happen to me if I was caught, and for Carver, that's just an inconvenience. It's not life-or-death, it's annoying. For years he's complained, and blamed, and insulted, and he doesn't even think about how it makes me feel.
So when he said that about the dragon- that we should smash the egg because it will hatch and it might be dangerous, I just-” Hawke breathed a heavy sigh. “I snapped. I'm surprised I didn't sooner, honestly.” He laughed bitterly. “I suppose my tolerance for his bullshit is just stupidly high. I just- Maker, I wish he'd just… think, before he opens his mouth.
But you and Varric shouldn't have had to see that- I just made everything awkward, and now we're stuck spending the night here because I wasted time arguing with him, and-”
“Hawke,” Anders interrupted, “you don't have to apologize.” His voice was soft; reassuring.
Hawke lifted his gaze to the other mage, watching him as he stared into the crackling flames.
“I understand. Maker, do I understand,” he said, turning to look Hawke in the eyes. “Words can be as painful as arrows, and hurt for twice as long. And there's no salve, or spell, that can ease the pain they cause.”
Anders paused, thought for a moment, and continued, “I am glad that the Templars never got ahold of you, but- living in constant fear that they will isn't any easier. Especially when the people around you seem so… indifferent-” Hawke didn't miss the edge that crept into Anders’ voice, as he went on. “I've heard plenty of your brother's opinions about mages, and I've only known you for a month. I can imagine that living with him is even worse.”
Hawke chuckled, in spite of the serious conversation. “He is pretty insufferable, isn't he.” The younger mage sighed, looking across the fire to where Varric seemed to be having his own heart-to-heart with Carver.
“He's a downright pain-in-the-ass,” Anders agreed.
“He's my pain-in-the-ass little brother, though,” Hawke shook his head with the slightest hint of a fond smile. “Maybe… maybe now that I've said something, he'll be more considerate?”
“We can only hope,” the other mage sighed. That edge in his voice dissipated, giving way to something lighter; more teasing. “And if he isn't, well, you'll just have to get your dragon to knock some sense into him.”
Hawke laughed, surprised. “Anders, are you suggesting I sic a dragon on my brother?!”
“If that's what it takes,” the ex-Warden said in mock seriousness, mirth in his honey-coloured eyes.
“I'll be sure to write that down, for future reference. Just in case. I do tend to forget things.” The younger mage snickered.
The two sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the fire dance in front of them, before Hawke broke it to speak again. “Hey.” He turned his head to look at Anders.
“Hm?” The other mage hummed, gaze still fixated on the flames. The warm light softened his angular features a little, Hawke noticed.
“Thank you. I would've been cross all night if you hadn't talked with me.”
Anders turned and looked at Hawke again, lips curved in a gentle smile. “Of course. Anytime, Hawke. You know I'll understand.”
Hawke saw Carver stand up from where he was sitting with Varric, and took that as his cue to go and join him. He left the dragon egg with Anders, trusting the other mage to keep it safe.
Carver stood in silence, staring off into the night, his back to the fire and their friends. Hawke walked up slowly and stood beside him. “So… nice night, huh?”
“We wouldn't still be out here if you hadn't wasted so much time in the Bone Pit.” Carver grumbled.
“An argument requires at least two participants, Carver. We wasted time in the Bone Pit.” Hawke sighed, pinching his brow.
“I just don't see why it was such a big deal.” His younger brother huffed. “I know you like dragons, but we came here to do a job, and we did it. We should've gotten rid of the egg, too.”
“The egg wasn't hurting the miners,” Hawke said sadly. “It was just sitting there. It didn't harm anyone-”
“Not yet,” the warrior interrupted him, “but it could. It will hatch, and grow, and then it could be a problem, and someone will have to slay it.”
“It was the only egg there,” Hawke pointed out. “The rest had all hatched. This one might not hatch at all.”
“What's the point in keeping it, then?” His brother looked at him critically.
“So it doesn't hatch, and grow, and become a problem. I can look after it-”
“You think you can train a dragon like a mabari?”
“Why not?” The mage asked sincerely.
Carver sighed. “Well, don't come complaining to me if it hurts you. It'll be your own fault.”
“As if I'm the one who does the complaining,” Hawke said flatly, rolling his eyes. “You do more than enough of it for the both of us.”
The warrior sputtered. “I do not-”
“‘They're your bloody Templars,’ ‘I'm not my brother,’ ‘it's your fault our sister died,’ ‘I'm living in your shadow-’” Hawke quoted, doing his best (worst) Carver impression.
“Okay, okay, enough!” His brother snapped. “Alright, fine. I complain. But you give me plenty of things to worry about, you know!”
“Aww, you're worried,” Hawke teased lightly, “and here I thought you hated me.”
“I…” Carver sighed. “I couldn't hate you, Fáelán. Not even if I wanted to.” ‘I just wish I didn't feel so overshadowed by you’ was left unsaid, but Hawke understood regardless.
“Do you think you could, I don't know, lay off a little, then?” Hawke asked sincerely, trying to keep his voice light. “I know running from Templars all the time is annoying for you and all, but it's… kind of a life-or-death situation for me. And it doesn't make it any easier having a brother who doesn't really seem to care that much how badly mages are treated. It makes me worry that you wouldn't really care if they did capture me.”
“Of course I would care!!” The warrior yelled, offended. “Is that what this whole thing was about?”
“A little bit, yeah,” the mage admitted, looking away. “It was also about the dragon egg, though. It was both of those.”
The two settled into a comfortable silence then, accompanied by the crackle of the fire behind them and the chirping of crickets in the darkness. The journey home would certainly be much more pleasant, though Hawke was sure there would be something else to bicker over eventually.