A/N: Love Dragon Age 2! It's touched me almost as much as Mass Effect 2 did, so writing with it in mind as come very very easily. Wit and sarcasm amidst strife, suffering, and moral ambiguity. Trying to live in a world that changes, amidst impacts from our actions that we cannot understand the ramifications. From the battle of Ostagar onwards, moments in time from Marian Hawke's life - and those she loves and protects.

SPOILER WARNING: For Dragon Age 2. Bioware owns the Dragon Age franchise, and I just love the worlds they make.

Home is behind, the world ahead

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadow, to the edge of night

Until the stars are all alight.

Mist and shadow, cloud and shade

All shall fade,

All shall fade!

~ Lord of the Rings (Return of the King)

Blood spilt over her hands as Hawke's blade sunk deep, and the darkspawn screeched in protest, twitching before collapsing to the ground at her feet. They were overwhelmed, and her skin was numb from their unnatural blood as much as from the sleet pouring down. A panic rose in her chest as she kicked the hurlock to the ground, ignoring its dying gurgle. The darkspawn lay dead around her, and it seemed the horde was pressing south. As many of the bodies were King Cailan's soldiers though, the crests bloodied but visible on their arms.

"Carver!"

Another flash of fire sparked in the distance, a muted rumble following. Where had she seen him last? Darting over the bodies, she stopped to slit the odd stirring darkspawn, her eyes searching the battlefield. Fewer men were standing anymore. It was nearing dawn, and they had been all but abandoned. Teryn Loghain's army was nowhere in sight.

Hawke heard a gurgled cry from nearby, and she fled to the man's side. It was one of the Grey Wardens, she could only know for the griffon on his tabard. Thank the Maker it wasn't Carver.

"W – we're doomed," the man choked, twitching as he lay amidst the dead. He was pinned to the ground by the polearm through his midsection. "The.. the archdemon. It comes. We know."

"Hush," Hawke said, still looking over the fields as she knelt. The blade was clean through. There was no saving him.

The Warden's face contorted, blood on his lips as he gaped again, his eyes wide in the night, "It is lost."

"Find peace with the Maker," Hawke whispered, quickly drawing her blade over his throat. Ensuring he was dead, she got up. Her limbs quivered with exhaustion. "Carver!"

Straining in the weak light of pre-dawn, Hawke ran towards some distant movement. The blighted sky kept back any light, and she had to wipe the sleet from her eyes. There were fires burning to the south, and the air smelled of death, darkspawn taint, and defeat. There was a clot of darkspawn ahead, and she saw the whirr of steel – Hawke picked up her pace.

Launching into the flanking shrieks, Hawke's daggers sunk deep, and she spun to kick the monster away from her flagging brother. Carver cried out, stumbling as a genlock's arrow found him, and she ground her teeth to leap after it. She made quick work of the last darkspawn, standing panting as she ensured they were dead.

"Of course," Carver said with a scathing edge, even as he fell to a knee. "Couldn't just let me do it on my own. Surprised you didn't run off without me."

"What's that?" Hawke said, bracing him to snap the arrow off. "And risk mother's wrath when I go home without you? I think I'd rather die on a darkspawn blade."

Carver's shoulder hung down, and he surveyed the battleground, "We've lost. The signal never came. Where is the teryn's army?"

"I don't know," Hawke said, helping him up. "Can you move it?"

"Just fine, sister," Carver bit the words off. His skin was stained with blood and mud. "Where is the captain?"

"Well I saw his head over there," Hawke pointed left, and then right. "And I may have recognized his boot over there."

"Always so bloody funny," Carver said, pulling his greatsword out of the darkspawn at his feet.

"Bloody is certainly right," Hawke said with a sigh, shifting her weight as she motioned towards the Hinterlands. "I might have ruined my favourite jerkin."

"Be glad you're alive," he said, and they started walking.

"I am," Hawke amended, scanning the horizon. "And I'm glad you are too."

Carver shook his head, surveying the fields in the eerie quiet. In the distance the din of battle could be heard, but it was scarce, almost like a memory or something from the Fade. Few men struggled to stand, and the bulk of the horde was nowhere to be seen – the bulk of the army stained the land around them.

"It's lost isn't it," he said.

"This battle is lost," Hawke said, catching his arm as he slipped in the mud. "I don't know that there's anything else for us to do. Beyond killing any darkspawn we can."

Carver's expression tightened, and he looked at the weeping arrow wound in his arm, "We have to make it to Lothering. We can't stay here."

"There you are, dear brother," Hawke lightly said, looking up to him. "Finally thinking of something before I do – well, at least verbalizing it anyway."

"So very kind," Carver murmured, and he nodded to a clutch of darkspawn nearby. "I'll gloat when we're out of harm's way."

Hawke smacked the door open, stepping in from the darkness with Carver leaning heavily in her arm. The lone candle lit in the house fluttered with the breeze she brought in.

"Marian!" Leandra was soon on her feet from where she sat by the dying fire. "What are you doing here?"

"Stopping in for tea," Hawke said, breath laboured. "Where's Bethany?"

"Carver, my boy," Leandra said as she reached for him. He drew a struggled breath, and they helped him into a chair.

"Get Bethany, he's feverish," Hawke replied, stretching her shoulder. "He's a wound that needs tending."

"She's been helping at a camp on the outskirts of towne," Leandra said, putting a hand on Carver's forehead. "You need to cool him down, I'll find her."

Fetching water and a cloth as her mother dashed out the door, Hawke knelt beside her brother and wiped the grime from his face, "Come on you, can't let me make it out of this alone. Who will be there to make me look good if not for you?"

Carver woke at her voice, huffing a quiet laugh as he looked at her, "Where are we?"

"Home," Hawke said, pulling off the impromptu bandages on his arm. "Mother's getting Bethany."

The deep crease on his forehead relented, and he closed his eyes as Hawke continued to wash him. It almost seemed he lapsed into unconsciousness again, when he whispered, "It's all for lost."

"Hardly," Hawke replied, smiling thinly, "You've still got your looks, your muscles. I'm sure that buxom girl of yours will be equally swooned by scars."

Carver blushed, opening his eyes a bit more, "Wh-what? Were you spying on me?"

"I don't have to, dear brother," Hawke laughed, soaking the cloth again. "You tell me far too much on your own."

Shivering, Carver shook his head, shifting with some pain, "Not now… please, not now, Marian…"

"Alright," Hawke sighed, "But you owe me for it."

It was a while more before the door opened again, and Bethany hurried in with their mother, "Sister – Carver! Thank the Maker for your safety." She hurried to hug Hawke, unheeding the stains and dirt on her armour.

"However much I'm eager for a group hug, I think Carver needs the attention more than me for once," Hawke smiled thinly. "An arrow, here – I was able to push it through, but I… we had nothing."

"You were at the battle," Leandra said, a shadow over her features. She put her hands over her mouth, "Oh my sweet children, I thought I would never see you again."

"I promised I'd look out for him," Hawke's voice softened, though her smirk returned as Leandra took the cloth and started wiping down her features. "I looked, and promptly saw him shot with an arrow. Did I do good?"

"Would you get my bag?" Bethany asked, pointing across the room, and Hawke strode to retrieve it. "You're lucky, dear brother."

"Lucky to see you," Carver quietly said, cringing as Bethany began to rigorously clean the aged wound. He sucked in a breath, "That is almost more pleasant than having to spend the last few days trekking across the Hinterlands with Marian."

"I love you too," Hawke said, crossing her arms.

"Are you staying then? I – I feared the worst when news came from the army. The bann abandoned the village, and even the templars have left."

"So Lothering has become an almost perfect place to live?" Hawke said, arching a brow. "Of course it would, it is what must be so tempting to the horde."

"So it's true?" Bethany asked, her voice more tempered. "Teryn Loghain's men came through – they said the Wardens betrayed the king…"

"That is a bloody lie," Carver said, and he bit off a cry as Bethany smeared a salve over the wound. In a moment, she spoke a soft word and he was suffused with a blue glow. He closed his eyes, features softening as he exhaled. "Thank Andraste's flaming arse…"

"You could thank me instead," Bethany replied, brushing the hair off his forehead. "Let's put you in bed."

When Carver was shuffled off into the bedroom, Leandra helped Hawke out of her armour, and Bethany took the kettle off the fire. She handed a bowl to her sister, filling it and dropping in the cloth. Down to her breeches and breast band, Hawke began to wipe off the blood and grime, savouring the burning warmth. They sat by the fire and watched her, waiting.

"Well?" Bethany asked, throwing up her hands. "Are you going to tell us anything?"

"Teryn Loghain abandoned us on the field," Hawke finally said, exhaling and wringing the cloth before dipping it again. "It was a massacre."

"Maker's mercy," Leandra said, covering her mouth. "How – why would he do such a thing?"

"I do not know," Hawke said, fatigue creeping into her features. "But the Wardens… they said it is truly a Blight. And they are all dead."

"Are we going to be safe here? The farms to the south – villagers have been fleeing, saying the darkspawn already overran them," Bethany said, wringing her hands together.

"I'll keep us safe," Hawke nodded, reaching to give her sister's hand a squeeze. "I won't let anything happen to us. I'll find out what is going on, and you stay safe here. I don't want any stray templars finding you in the panic."

Bethany's expression softened, but the crease of worry on her brow remained, "Thank you, sister."

"I am so glad you and Carver are home in one piece. I do not know what I would do if I lost either of you," Leandra said, getting up to kiss her daughter's cleaned cheek. "But you need rest as much as he. We will be alright for the night."

"They've broken through the wall," Hawke said, knocking one of the crates from Carver's hands. The mabari beside him began to bark. "We're out of time!"

"We can't just leave everything," he replied, stooping to retrieve the crate. Leandra and Bethany emerged from their house.

"By all means, let me just run back and tell the horde to wait then," Hawke said, shaking her head as she turned to her mother. "We were trying to hold them off, but it's too much. We have to leave now. Half the militia was already dead when I left."

"You just abandoned them?" Carver furrowed his brow. "Why wouldn't you let me come fight?"

"Because we needed you," Bethany replied, looking to her sister. "There's no time, is there."

"I suppose we could stop for cake and a nap?" Hawke raised her brow, as her mother shook her head. "Get your weapons… and any gold we have. Anything else we have to leave." She leant in the doorway and whistled, "Come along, your grace!"

Carver hesitated as Leandra and Bethany ran back into the house, huffing a little, "It's us on the run again, isn't it."

"It isn't the Chantry this time, Carver," Hawke said, putting her hand down for their mabari. "Please… we can't wait. Get your sword, we need to protect them."

Hawke looked cautiously back down the road. It was a stroke of fortune they lived outside the town proper – albeit, a deliberate one. Easier to stay away from the eyes of the templars. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she followed them to the doorway, watching as her mother scrambled to grab anything. Hawke turned when she heard the sound of battle down the road, the strong mabari at her heel. There were new plumes of smoke from the fire, and she could see the creeping taint of the Blight in the sky.

"Mother, there is no time!" Bethany said, grabbing Leandra's hands and forcing her back towards the door.

Grabbing her prepped satchel from within the doorway, Hawke waited the last minute as they ushered out. Casting one last glance over their things, she pushed Carver after them and began to move. "We cannot take the road. Cut across Amara's field."

Running towards the fence, Bethany faltered as she looked across the rolling landscape. In the distance the windmill in town could easily be seen, its arms spinning with a lethargic melancholy. It was burning, and the slow turn stirred the smoke and flames. Shadows moved under the bleak sky, dark blots on the autumnal landscape. Where they went, death followed.

"Do no look," Hawke said, taking her sisters arms and pushing to keep her moving. "Do not think of it. We will make it out alive."

"But what about all of them," Bethany whispered, emotion choking her throat as they hurried across the sorghum field. "What about all of them?"

"They are in the Maker's hands," Carver said, lips in a grim line. "Like all the rest."