At the heart of every legend is the truth.

Long before she became the Champion of Kirkwall, Hawke endured a childhood on the run. The legend that has been told of her adventures forget that she was once a child...

9:21 Dragon

I clutched my father's hand tightly as he spoke with the templar. Sister Merelle told me that templars are supposed to protect us from evil magic, that they would hunt down witches and wizards that just wanted our blood for their dark magic. They were supposed to keep people safe from magic.

My father was a mage.

He had entrusted me with that secret years ago, making me promise never to tell anyone else. It was our family's secret that magic ran in our blood. It was our curse and blessing to hide from others, living at the edge of every settlement where we briefly made our home. Our burden to spirit out of each village as they began to suspect my father of being apostate.

It was why I hid from a servant of the Chantry as my father tried to hide his talent from the man sent to find him.

The man introduced himself as Ser Palmer. He had short blond hair, a thin face and blue eyes that promised you that he would always speak honestly before both man and the Maker. He spoke cordially, only asking my father if he had seen any hints of supernatural powers at work from our farm outsite the settlement.

My father lied that he knew nothing of magic at work near our home, claiming that the mage may be hiding in the nearby hills. The templar seemed content with this story, assuming that my father was as honest as he. How could he have suspected my father of lying? My father wore his brown hair loose like many of the other common farmers in our small village outside South Reach, and his dark green eyes had the same no-nonsense attitude as all Fereldans.

My father sighed deeply the moment the templar was out of hearing. My heart sank with the defeated tone of his exhale. I hugged him tight, burying my face in his tunic. "We have to leave again, don't we?"

"Yes." He whispered. Ever since I learned the reason for our flight from the templars, I had always asked the same question. I always recieved the same answer. I always promised myself I wouldn't miss my old homes, my old friends. I always promised myself that I would never get attached to a new home or new friends. And I always cried when my father said it was time to leave.

"I don't want to leave again!" I sobbed, clenching my fists. "Why do they always find us? Why can't they just go away?"

My father simply patted my back, letting me cry into his tunic. Once I found myself unable to continue weeping, he kissed me on the head. "It'll be all right, Sophia." I looked up into his face, mine still red from my sobbing. He smiled sadly at me. "I promise that one day we'll find a home where we don't have to run away."

He took my hand and led me back to our farm, where my little brother Carver was sitting on the fence holding a long stick. He had our mother's black hair and brown eyes, and he was the most adventurous of our family. He saw us approaching, jumping off the fence and running up to us with his stick. He had a big smile over his face, shouting "Mama's making roast mutton tonight!" He was about to continue when he saw the tear streaks down my eyes and my father's sad countenance. Although my father tried to put Carver at ease by smiling at him and commenting on the supper that waited for us, the grin had vanished from Carver's face. At nine years old, he was still only a little boy, and he only recently learned why we always had to leave our homes.

Our sad procession came to our house, little more than an old barn that my father had rebuilt into a home. My mother and Bethany were setting the table in the main room of the house when we entered. Bethany was Carver's twin, and also had mother's black hair and brown eyes. She was the sweetest girl in every place we went, never crying or complaining about our constant exile from each home we left. She was the first to notice us, cheerfully calling out to mother that we were home. My mother turned from the table to see father's smiling face, but the frowns on my face and Carver's gave away the bad news, and she began to frown as well. Bethany seemed to be the last to understand what was happening, but the realization came to her quickly.

"So it's time, then." Mother sighed. "I suppose we all knew this would come."

My father walked over to her and stroked her shoulder. "Not now, Leandra. Let the children have their last meal here before we prepare."

Mother nodded. "You're right, Malcolm." She turned to me and Carver. "Come to the table, children. We're not going to have another chance to sit like this for a while."

We all sat in our places at the table, a sorrowful cloud over all of us. Had it been any other day, we would have been cheerful and excited to have such a meal together. Today no one was even willing to speak. Though my father didn't bring up the subject of leaving, Bethany and Carver could understand what was going to happen without being told.

I left the table after I had finished eating, retreating to my room. It was little more than a closet in the loft of the old barn with a straw bed, a chair, some books and a window, but it was home. I looked out on our farm and held back tears as I listened to Carver throwing a tantrum below. I didn't even hear Bethany come in until she called my name. She looked up at me with her eyes in that way that told you she was on the verge of tears that she never let fall. She climbed onto my bed and hugged me tight, whispering "I'm going to miss our farm."

I held her tightly, trying to keep from crying while she was looking to me for strength. "I'm going to miss this place too."

We stayed there for a long time. Carver's temper subsided and father came to his room to pack what he wanted to bring when we left. Eventually Bethany let go and ran to her room to collect her favorite toys. I stacked my books on the chair and continued to look out the window, watching the sun set.

I was watching the darkening sky after dusk for the first stars when I heard a knock at the door. I looked to see my mother smiling sadly at me. She stepped inside and took my books off the chair to sit down, setting the books on the floor next to her. "Are you feeling all right, darling?"

I sighed and crossed my arms. "I don't want to be on the run like this."

My mother reached out, touching my arm. "I know, dear. I wish there were some place where we could stay for good, but for now we have to leave."

I laid back in my bed, my frustration over being forced to leave returning. "It isn't fair. We're being hunted like criminals." I covered my face so that my mother wouldn't see my anger, or maybe because I was ashamed to be as frustrated as Carver. "I just wish we were nobility, or something. Then we wouldn't have to leave, people would respect us! We wouldn't be worried that one wrong word could get us all killed or captured!"

My mother was silent for a minute. I looked up to see that she had a frown on her face, as if she was thinking, or maybe remembering something. Her frown deepened for a moment before suddenly disappearing. "Did I ever tell you who you were named after, darling?"

I shook my head. I thought she was changing the subject, but I was too tired of thinking about leaving and didn't want to become more angry at what I couldn't change.

"You were named after a noblewoman" she began. "Royalty, almost." I looked up at her, causing her to smile at my sudden interest. "Arlessa Sophia Dryden." She watched my face as I turned to face her, expecting more. She chuckled. "I would have thought you overheard her story by now, she is certainly remembered by the nobility of Ferelden."

"Why, what did she do?" I asked quietly.

My mother got up from the chair and sat next to me on the bed, putting an arm around me. "Well, the King of Ferelden had passed away without leaving an heir, so the nobles looked to the Bannorn to find a new leader. There were two who wished to take the throne: one of them was Bann Arland and the other was-"

"Sophia." I finished.

My mother chuckled. "Yes, Sophia Dryden. She was popular in the Bannorn, and known to be a good leader. But in the end, Arland was crowned king. He quickly became known as a tyrant by some, and Sophia still wanted the throne. So she started finding allies among the dissatisfied nobles and tried to take the crown by force, only to be captured by Arland's men."

"He didn't have her killed, did he?"

"No, but he wanted to." My mother looked at me in the eye. "Sophia still had friends and allies that supported her, that threatened to depose Arland if he executed Sophia. So instead he gave her to the Grey Wardens, and I'm sure you've heard stories about them."

I nodded, thinking back to rumors and stories I heard in the villages we once lived in. "They're great warriors, rangers and mages who fight against the darkspawn. They recruit anyone who they think is skilled enough to help them, but some of the recruits are never seen again." I gulped. "There's even rumors that the Wardens recruit criminals and that the recruits that disappear died during their initiation."
My mother nodded. "King Arland had heard those rumors as well, and hoped that Sophia would be killed by the initiation into the Grey Wardens. He forced her to leave behind her old life to join them."

I looked up at my mother. "You mean... she was forced to leave her home?" She nodded. "Like... how we're being forced to leave..." I wondered if my mother had picked the name for that reason. But she was finished with her story.

"Sophia didn't die, and her skills as a leader eventually made her the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. She-" My mother stopped herself, as if she were going too far. She regained her composure and smiled at me. "You're named after a woman who never gave up, Sophia. Remember that, at least."

I hugged my mother, most of my anger at being forced to leave having abated for the moment. "I'll remember, mother."

"Good." She whispered. She kissed my head and smiled at me. "We're going to have to leave before the sun rises, so you should get some sleep."

I let go of her so that she could stand up, and she moved my books back onto my chair before she walked to the door. She paused at the threshold, turning back and smiling. "Good night, Sophia."

I wrapped my blanket around me to keep from getting cold and tried to sleep, but it only came after a long time of worrying about what might come during next few weeks. I didn't even know I had been asleep until my father shook my shoulder to wake me. I looked up groggily and sighed. It was time to go.