museyboxy | Vampire AU

Vampire AU

In Thedas, vampirism is a rare, powerful, and highly unusual form of blood magic that can be directly learned only from hunger demons. It differs from all other forms of blood magic in that it directly changes the user's body, making them into essentially a monster.

How to become one: Becoming a vampire is far more involved than learning simple blood magic. It's a ritual that must be conducted in the waking world, rather than the Fade. Therefore, the hunger demon needs a body. In other words, vampirism requires sacrificing someone to become a hunger abomination. The hunger abomination then feeds the mage their own blood, and drains the mage's blood in return. Once the last drop of living blood is gone from the mage's body, they collapse and the abomination takes them, feeding on them for a night and a day. The second night, the mage rises again as a vampire, and the hunger demon is freed from the bond between them. Most vampires let the abomination go, but many choose to kill their demonic sire, to cover their own tracks.

How common: The choice to become a vampire is a serious one, requiring a real, extremely risky deal with a demon. Albeit one that many end up betraying. Vampirism is most common in Tevinter, but not as much as one might think: the weaknesses of vampirism make the prospect unattractive to many magisters.

Outside of the Imperium, vampires are the subject of legend and folktales, but most folk, common and educated alike, believe them nothing more than ghost stories. The Chantry teaches nothing about them, and most templars believe them a fiction.

Abilities: Vampires can turn others, of course, in all the usual vampire ways. Vampiric abilities (speed, strength, hypnosis, etc) are immune to templar cleansing and dispels, and vampires cannot be tracked using their mage phylacteries.

Vampires have abilities similar to those in True Blood: speed, strength, the ability to sway the minds of others (glamouring/hypnosis), and heightened senses. Vampire mages can all do blood magic (even if they weren't directly turned by a demon, and never directly learned blood magic). Vampiric weaknesses are similar to those in Buffy: sunlight, though they can handle being in shadows, staking, silver, and certain holy symbols- though, ironically, not the Chantry symbol.

Vampires can walk in sunlight, but it hurts their skin and weakens their abilities. If mages, their magic is hampered, giving them the strength of the average Circle mage and nothing more. Their ability to tolerate sunlight increases the more recently they've fed. However, they will always be stronger at night.

Prompts:
1) Sire - make someone a creature of the night.
2) New Blood - maybe you wanted this, maybe it's being done to you. Welcome to vampirism.
3) Victim - some fanger's sticking a straw into you like you're a Capri Sun.
4) Hunter - did a vamp kill your family? Are you a Templar off the reservation? Idk.
5) Harem - that hypnosis thing? Yeah, you're some vampire's pet now.
6) Wild Card - roll your own. Let's get weird.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Four days. Hawke has been missing for four days and they're no closer to finding her than they were three sodding nights ago. At least, that's how it feels when they're fighting their way through Carta thugs and druggies in the sewers, and the inevitable giant spiders because seriously, it wouldn't be a Kirkwall party without giant spiders.

When they finally start encountering some apeshit apostates, it feels almost like a victory. That, at least, matches the intel that Tomwise passed on this morning, about a group of mages in the Undercity with some weird new secret, possibly a prisoner. If these dusters know what's good for them they'd already be on their knees begging the Maker for mercy, because they won't find any from Varric.

She'd better be alright. That's all he keeps telling himself. She has to be okay. If she's not, he'll carve it out of every single fucking person who touched her.

Maker, please let her be alright.

Hawke is not all right. Hawke is pissed.

First, she was kidnapped by blood mages. From her own fucking doorstep. That was brilliant, she had to admit it. She'd been taken the second she stepped out the door, so it was hours before anyone realized she was actually missing and not just late or distracted en route by rescuing someone's cat stuck up on a tree or something.

She still didn't know entirely how they'd done it, though she had some educated guesses. A sack, a wagon, no difficulty in hauling some goods across town along with everyone else, not once she's was out. How they'd knocked her out was no mystery at all, that started with blood and ended with magic. They weren't subtle about it. They weren't subtle about anything.

They were, however, very strange. Hawke had dealt with more blood mages in the past year than most people ever even heard about in their lifetimes. She'd never met any like these.

They'd tried to bargain, of course. Made the usual speeches, some wanting her to see their point of view, some wanting to just kill her, some wanting to...something. None of what they'd said made sense at the time.

It made more sense now.

She shivered, and stayed angry, because underneath all that there was--rare, for Hawke--a deep core of fear. She could still feel the sharp pain in her neck, the trickle of liquid oozing its way down her skin. How much had they taken? She was shaky and weak and all her determination and fury and skill wasn't enough to counteract this much bloodloss, or the other things they'd done.

She didn't think about that. She'd think about it later, once she was out and they were all very very dead. She ignored all her hunger and thirst, all of it, ignored the dark burning that was growing in her veins, and waited. Anders could help, he was the most brilliant healer she'd ever met.

In the meantime she was still chained, head to hands to feet, all bound behind her, the chains bound tight to leave her almost no leverage to move. She had to content herself with leveling death glares at anyone who came near her, and hoping Varric wouldn't take too much longer. It was a given that he'd find her. There was no question of that.

Hurry up, Varric.

He found them.

That simple sentence doesn't quite capture the fullness of what happened: the fury, or the bloodshed, or the fade-glow of Justice crackling Anders's skin as he rained down holy hell. It doesn't capture the pure outrage in Fenris's eyes when he saw her bound as a blood mage's prisoner, or illustrate the screams and the terror and the horrible sounds the maleficar made when their hearts were ripped from their chests. It doesn't adequately convey the blood-curdling noises coming from Teo, or the sickening sound of snapping bones, or Merrill's uncharacteristic shriek of rage. There was fire and fury, blood and ash, and when a blood mage turned his body against him and forced him to toss Bianca aside, he broke through it on sheer outrage and beat the shit out of the man with his bare hands.

In the end, he found them.

More importantly, he found Hawke. His hands shook as he picked the locks on her chains, until the locks froze and shattered into ice crystals under his hands. Varric shouted and looked around to see Anders, collapsing on the floor with the blue-glow of Justice leaving him.

At least he wasn't the only one fucked up by this.

"Sorry about him, sweetheart," Varric managed, putting a shaking hand to her cheek. Then he worked at the chains to get her free, arms open to let her collapse against him. "Hey, you alright? What'd they do to you? Blondie, get over here."

Edited 2018-04-19 16:25 (UTC)

For the first moment where she falls onto Varric, everything is fine. This is how it's supposed to be: her friends come for her, the same way she'd come for any of them, there's a lot of mayhem en route, and then they're back together and they go home. And she's with Varric, which nowadays (finally) means she can wrap her arms around him and maybe there's a kiss or three and a lot of banter and innuendo that might actually someday soon be followed up on. For the first moment everything is fine.

Then Teo whines, low and frightened in a way Teo is never frightened, and Hawke realizes that somewhere in embracing Varric and burying her face in his neck to touch warm, comforting skin, contact after four days without contact...somewhere underneath that relief is there's something else. Something that isn't the attraction they've both admitted to feeling.

And Teo is whining, his front half bent to the floor and his head down by his paws, his gaze riveted to her, and he hasn't touched her yet. He's still two feet away and still, as though he can't come forward. The others stare at him--except for Varric, still riveted on her, and Anders, still recovering.

Hawke closes her eyes briefly. Well, fuck.

She turns in Varric's arms (she'd push him away if she thought he'd let her) and reaches out a hand to her mabari, resting it on the floor and waiting. Slowly, Teo approaches, scooting forward as though forcing himself to do it. She doesn't move. He pauses for a long time, then licks her fingers.

She lets out a sigh that lasts forever (has she breathed for the past few minutes, while she waited to see if he'd still accept her like this?) (she doesn't think about what like this might mean). When she speaks, it's quiet, and the first thing anyone's said for a couple minutes. "Let's go home. Please."

Nothing could possibly ruin this moment- sweet, joyful, blessed reunion. Nothing on Thedas could possibly dampen the all-consuming relief and rush of l- affection that sweeps through him in seeing her alive.

Except Teo.

Teo, the loyal mabari, refusing to approach his owner. Teo, forcing himself to approach his beloved Hawke. Teo, scaring the shit out of all of them and raising alarm bells they didn't know they had.

"Stellar idea," he deadpans, more than a little shaken. Varric gets to his feet and helps her up as well, letting the human lean against him. "Easy does it, gorgeous."

They make their way to her manor- slowly. Bodahn is there, holding down the fort in case she came home, and the help (all three of them) greet their mistress with joy and relief. Varric sends the others away: Anders only leaves after conducting an examination that, fortunately, finds nothing. Varric doesn't let the mage heal any of his wounds, saying he'll take a potion at the Hanged Man. He's only bleeding a little now. Eventually, Anders stumbles home to Darktown, for a well-deserved rest before tonight's clinic shift.

Then it's the two of them. She's in the tub, still in her smallclothes and breast band: none of them wanted to contend with blood stains on the furniture for the fifth time this month. He carefully looks at her face (and nothing else, thank you!).

"Alright, Hawke?"

It's his 'no bullshit, tell me the real story' tone.

"Oh, fine," she drawls, leaning back in the tub. It's the second bath; the first only lasted a few minutes, long enough to scrub most of the blood and such off. The memory of all that red swirled in with the clear water keeps circling through her mind. "Considering that I haven't really slept or eaten much for four days and feel like death warmed over." She shoots him a tired grin. It's her sure there were demons and abominations but that's just Tuesday, what's for dinner, aren't our lives weird but at least we're never bored? grin.

He doesn't buy it, tries to press her for more information. Something's wrong, and he knows it. Hell, after Teo's reaction to her, everyone knows it. But no one knows what.

Hawke included. Which is why she stalls, using the entirely legitimate excuse of really needing some damn rest before they sort through what the blood mages were trying to accomplish, because she can't think straight while she's this exhausted. It's a good excuse because it has the bonus of being true.

She does try to sleep. He stays with her, sharing the bed, which prompts some good banter about how she'd intended the first time she invited him to share her bed to involve a lot less clothing and fewer dramatic rescues.

She sleeps fitfully. She keeps dreaming of the bathwater, and of her neck, twin puncture marks with blood dripping down. Anders healed the wound but she still feels it, awake or asleep. Between fits of sleep she lies staring into the dark, Varric a warm breathing weight next to her with an arm clamped over her side.

The dark isn't as dark as it should be.

Anders comes back the next day to check her over again, less weary but no less worried. He admits he can't find anything wrong, not as such, just a feeling of something being off. Something aside from bloodloss, that part is obvious; she's still pale and weak, and he orders her back to bed to eat gratuitously nourishing food. Everyone stops by to reassure themselves that she's fine, and she tries to convince them she is, with a lot of flippant wit and varying degrees of success.

Teo, having gotten over his initial distrust, now sticks by her side like glue, leaning against her whenever she's still and sitting on the bed. For once, she doesn't try to kick him off, paw prints be damned.

She eats. Her body more or less processes food the way it should, but it sits heavy in her stomach and tastes wrong. She doesn't mention this.

It's two days later, during a brief period of being alone in her room, that it happens. Varric is seeing Anders out, and probably trying to pump him for information he doesn't have, because it's obvious to both of them that Hawke is withholding details about what exactly was done to her. Hawke is sitting in front of the fire, because she's been cold for days. Teo sits in front of her, and she pets him absently. Next to her on the table is a half-finished plate of food that tastes about as nourishing as sand when she eats it.

Teo's body is warm under her fingers, so warm. She can feel more heat from him than from the fire, can almost feel the blood running through his veins, the pump of his canine heart thumping in his chest. She licks her lips, growling a little under her breath, and her hand freezes abruptly as the realizes that sound came from her instead of him.

That's when it happens. Teo looks at her, heaves his front paws up on her legs, and lets out a long, low sigh before lifting his head.

It takes several minutes to realize what he's offering. What he thinks she needs. What he recognizes in her, that she's been unable--unwilling--to name.

From downstairs, Varric and Anders hear a resounding crash as she stands up so abruptly that the chair falls over, and then a much louder one as she throws it against the wall. When they rush back in she's breathing heavily (is she breathing? Is it just habit?) and leaning against the bed post, and before either of them can demand to know what the fuck, Hawke? she says "I want Fenris here. Right now."

And that's all she'll say.

Edited 2018-04-22 16:50 (UTC)

Varric refuses. Point-blank. Threatens to give Anders Fenris's bar tab if anyone moves. Threatens to introduce Sandal to the Templars. Makes it all sound like a joke, but he's deadly fucking serious, because he knows that something is extremely fucking off. There's something wrong with Hawke, and he won't let anyone capable of ripping hearts from chests into this fucking manor until Hawke spits out some answers.

"So start talking, beautiful," he says tightly, trying very hard to keep up the easy-going facade. Even Teo is listening to him now, the mabari seemingly understanding that Hawke isn't necessarily the person to listen to right now. "Don't tempt me to do something stupid, like chain myself to the desk until you spill. These biceps couldn't stand up to a hunger strike."

Threatening Sandal is so low that she almost can't believe it of Varric, even in the circumstances. It's also probably the threat that works, combined with the fact that as much as she'd like to just surge past them and go to Fenris' mansion on her own, she doubts she can, that brief display of strength a moment ago notwithstanding. That surge came from rage and despair and overwhelming denial. It wouldn't power however many steps it'll take to get from her estate to Danarius' mansion.

Danarius.

"I want Fenris," she says, through gritted teeth, "because he's from Tevinter and knows more about fucked up blood magic than the rest of us put together, so I want to ask him a few questions. And maybe then we'll all have some answers. Is that a good enough reason or shall I go fetch the chains?"

She doesn't make any pretense of an easy-going facade. Not any more. That worked for the past few days while she was still pretending the changes that have begun would stop or reverse themselves, but Hawke's never been good at lying to herself. Or to Varric, obviously.

It's low, it's low as shit, but there are no depths Varric wouldn't stoop to for this woman. The realization should rattle him, but he can't bring himself to give two shits.

"Let's save the chains for the third date," he replies coolly. His next words are directed at Bodahn, who has been uncertain since he first offered to get Fenris, and Varric made his casual threat. There's apology in Varric's eyes, and he hopes the other dwarf knows him well enough to expect some recompense soon. "Can you make us some tea, Bodahn? I think we all need some chill-the-hell-out."

He then leans down to Teo and, with an earscratch, urges, "Hear that? Mommy and Daddy finally agreed on something. Go get the glowing nutjob. No, not Blondie, the pointy one. Off you go, now."

Hawke snorts at the third date line and sits on the bed, rubbing her forehead. It hurts. Outside the sun is setting, and the slant of afternoon light coming through it is a sharp slice of gold on the opposite wall, bright enough to actually cause pain. She'd like to close the curtain. She doesn't.

Teo accepts the earscratch with a low whimper, his eyes pleading, but then goes back to Hawke's side, pressing against her leg. She actually flinches, pulling her leg violently up on the bed, as though she's afraid to let him touch her, or perhaps the other way around. Teo whimpers again, and after a very long moment she sighs and pats the bed next to her. He jumps up, and slowly, gingerly, she strokes his neck. He rests his muzzle on her leg, and gives Varric a glance that regretfully says Varric will have to find another errand mutt, because he's not leaving his person.

Hawke chuckles, and if it's a little strained, it's not without humor. "I think we'll have to send Bodahn, or hire one of the street kids. Just as well. I don't think even Bodahn can make enough chill-the-hell-out tea for this conversation." Whether she means the one that just happened or the one that's about to happen is nicely ambiguous.

"Blondie?" Varric asks, voice far too even to actually be calm. "If we're sending you to talk to Fenris, that'll convince him this is an emergency."

Anders hems a bit about leaving them, but goes, promising to be quick about it. It's the only solution that doesn't involve Varric leaving the room, and he's got too many alarm bells in his head to even entertain that fucking idea.

They return fairly quickly. Judging by Anders's panting, they ran the entire way back.

"Varric. Hawke." The elf greets them both perfunctorily before crossing the room to stand before their not-so-fearless leader. "I can't say I've ever been summoned as an arcane expert before."

The quiet between them while Anders is gone is almost the most unnatural thing that's happened yet. Neither Varric nor Hawke says a word, not to each other. There are quiet thank yous when Bodahn delivers the tea (Hawke doesn't drink hers) and makes his escape, there's the sound of the fire crackling and of two people and a mabari breathing. That's it. Varric stares at her like he doesn't trust her out of his sight (which she knows he doesn't), and she looks at the way the light changes on the wall. It's brighter than it should be.

Varric and Hawke in each other's company for more than ten seconds without talking. No one would have believed it, Hawke included.

It's actually a relief when Fenris gets back and the tension is broken. "There's a first time for everything," Hawke says, her attention snapping to him at once. "What do you know about vampires?"

Give her this much credit: she's not beating around the bush anymore.

A whisper and murmured profanity ripples around the room, through everyone else present. Fenris curses quietly in Tevene, then eyes her in concern, arms crossed.

"Little more than you, I suspect. The usual frightening bedtime stories told outside the Imperium, and in certain circles in Tevinter. However, in some company, vampirism is known as a form of blood magic used by the most eccentric, most greedy, or those desiring immortality at any cost." He frowns, brow creasing. "Danarius considered it a fool's path, gambling one's life with demon deals and unnecessary weakness. I suspect he was not alone in that opinion."

"Yes, well, unfortunately our late friends believed otherwise and wanted to take pains to convince others of their opinion." She says it lightly, as though this isn't a life and death situation they're discussing. Undeath.

Hawke stands up and paces, aware that all three of them are watching every step she takes. The sun is almost set, and the more that slant of light on the wall has slimmed and dimmed, the stronger she's felt. Though she doesn't feel better by any definition, least of all her own. "Have you ever heard of anyone being turned against their will?"

"Of course." His answer comes swiftly, green eyes never leaving her in her paces. "It's commonly paired with some manner of manipulation or thrall to keep the new spawn in check. At least, in the stories. In reality, such things are rarely done. Creating a powerful monster capable of killing you against the monster's will is never wise."

Varric flinches at the word 'monster' and Anders is fidgeting with the buckles on his coat nervously. Nobody seems to know what to do.

Finally, Varric can't stand it anymore.

"You've got to be shitting me. Are you trying to tell me Hawke is a damn vampire?!"

At Varric's outburst, Hawke sighs and stops, running a hand back through her hair. "I can hear all of your heartbeats. All of them. All of you, including Teo. I could count them. I can see in the dark. And I've always been pale, but this?" She holds out her arm and turns it, examining it critically. "This is ridiculous. Have any of you ever heard of vampirism being reversed? Without killing the vampire, for preference."

Varric hems and haws, murmurs nothings about weird stories and not sure and heroes dying at the end, while Anders opens his mouth with a tentative, "I... I'm not sure."

A low, razored voice cuts sharply through their meeblings.

"No. It cannot be cured." Fenris sounds as sure as he ever has about anything. "You will be this way until your life ends."

Hawke looks out the window. The sun's fully set by now, and the sky is dark.

"Well, shit."

Varric drops onto the nearest chair with a thump.

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

Anders gapes, seemingly unable to reconcile this, "There has to be something. Are you sure?"

The bickering that follows flares out much sooner than anyone expects; Blondie doesn't have the energy to argue, and seemingly only tries out of the same thready desperation thrumming at them all. When Anders gives up, the concession ripples through the room.

The mage looks out the window, visibly stressed. "Go, Blondie. I don't think there's much you can do here. Go heal somebody."

Hawke reluctantly nods her agreement, gives Anders a twisted sort of smile as he looks at her with an anguished expression before leaving. Fenris turns to follow but she says his name and he stops, meeting her gaze solidly. She opens her mouth to speak, frowns, then just shrugs and says "...thanks." He ducks his head and leaves.

So it's just her and Varric and Teo, and two cups of tea that never did get drunk.

Hawke goes and stands by the window. "I don't think the process has finished quite yet," she says finally. "I was hoping it'd stop. The things they did--" She shakes her head. "It's all something of a blur, to be honest. I didn't think they had succeeded in doing anything permanent until--"

Until Teo bared his fucking throat to her, and Maker help her, the instinct had been there. "Until just earlier."

Edited 2018-04-23 14:44 (UTC)

Varric is busily adding whiskey to his tea, because fuck this day, and fuck everything else, too. He makes a point of sticking his head out the door and yelling out, "Bodahn! Wine cellar- help yourself to anything, and I'll replace it. Day off."

Of course, he does that knowing that Bodahn won't actually take the day off for anyone but Hawke, but shit. The man deserves a drink or twelve after what Varric just put him through.

After spicing up his own tea, he goes and shoves the flask in her hands.

"So what's the plan? Did our nighttime gang fights just become grocery runs?"

"Somehow I never made a plan for getting turned into a monstrous creature of the night who sucks on necks and is allergic to silver." Hawke has a dark sense of humor. Always has. And a good thing too, in these circumstances. It's what keeps her from throwing up, or screaming, or destroying the rest of her furniture. "Seems to obvious now that I should have gotten around to that one."

She lifts the mug to her nose and inhales the smell of it, closes her eyes, tries to pretend it smells appetizing, or at least comforting. It doesn't.

The hands that gave it to her are another matter.

She walks across the room, not looking at his face. She doesn't want to see whatever expression he's wearing. "And no. No nighttime grocery runs. Period."

“So the plan is starving?” he asks drily, taking another pull of whisky before again attempting to make her take the damn flask. “Sounds fantastic. Just as long as you keep me in the loop.”

There’s no quibbling or denying or bullshit. He has plenty of what-the-fuck in him, but that look in Hawke’s eyes is scaring him. The most important thing is making sure she still has some will to live. Hawke is a vampire- massively fucked up? Yeah, no shit. But it’s a thing and brooding won’t fix it. All that’s left is taking care of her. Figuring out how to move forward.

"I wouldn't call it a plan so much as the likeliest outcome," she retorts, going back to pacing, since that worked so well before when they were grilling Fenris. Hawke has plenty of will to live--but not at any price.

Still, she doesn't look as though she's planning to go out and sit in the sunshine. There's that.

"But who knows? Maybe it means I just live a floppy, pasty existence confined to my bed because I'm a picky eater and refuse to eat my vampire vegetables. I'm immortal now, right? Can't starve to death if you're immortal." She stops abruptly and falls on her back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Of all the sick jokes The Maker has played with our lives, this is one of the most impressive."

Edited (I edit a lot okay) 2018-04-24 16:00 (UTC)

"I don't know," he drawls, before walking over to her and parking his ass on the chair by the bed. "City full of blood-magic-paranoid templars, and the biggest non-mage pain in the ass gets turned into a bloodsucker? As an author, I can appreciate the grand irony."

Still, he looks at her. Varric can accept a lot of things, but losing Hawke isn't one of them.

6- dramatic rescue and 2- new blood

btw, he's got Teo. (because otherwise Teo is dead, and No)

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obviously, let me know if any of this doesn't work

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