It's with only a shred of guilt that the first thing Hawke does after she tells Keran to get lost is abandon Fenris, Aveline and Varric to wait, stupefied, while she runs like the Archdemon itself is on her heels to her mansion. Bodahn lets out a squeak of surprise and Orana nearly drops the vase she's dusting when she very nearly breaks the heavy door off its hinges (she will firmly deny the use of magic later) in her haste to check.
Your friends overestimate my relationship with my brother.
That's what she had told Keran when it was revealed that the conspirators had kidnapped one of her loved ones. She loved her brother like one might come to love a birthmark on their left arse cheek. However, Hawke knew, instinctively, that Carver hadn't been their first choice. They hadn't seen each other since the night she became Champion. On the other hand, a certain pirate queen made frequent visits to her estate and was seen in her company on her "adventures".
She found Isabela in the library carving another obscenity into the heavy wood of her desk. Her sigh of relief startled the woman into cutting her hand open with the edge of her dagger and Hawke made the stride to kneel down and inspect it, healing it over with a swipe of her fingers. Her breath was making her lungs ache, still winded from the mad sprint and her face was flushed from exertion.
"They have Carver. I thought—" She cut herself off. Isabela had made her feelings clear for the mage, but explaining how she'd run from the docks to Hightown without stopping may be too much. The pirate may leave on her new mustard satin ship and never be seen again. Blue eyes scattered from amber.
Weathered and callused fingers sought her chin and tilted it up, a silent demand to have her gaze return and meet hers. "I was at the Hanged Man when they came. Scared the wits out of poor Bodahn. That mutt of yours ran them off."
Hawke merely collapsed into Isabela's legs, head resting in her lap as she closed her eyes and finally began to catch her breath. "I suppose I'll have to go rescue the daft bastard." She murmured, the sound of the words melding into a contented noise as those fingers wound through dark hair, stroking in a motion meant to soothe and comfort. It was unsurprisingly effective.
"Think of it this way, sweet thing. You'll be able to take the piss out of him for it."
And she would, once she had saved him from blood mages and well-meaning templars, explain to him how two dwarves, an elven ex-slave and a dog had protected her mansion from being ransacked, but a keep full of Wardens couldn't keep him from being kidnapped by a few mages.