A/N: Another fic I've been working on - a short thing! With a M!Hawke of all things (but he's not the focus). Finished a playthrough with a male, mage Hawke and it got me thinking about the fallout afterwards with Carver being a templar... and it evolved into this.

Carver gripped the railing and tried not to heave the last gulp of bile into the waves, steadying himself at the rear of the ship in the evening light. Lifting his face, he focused on the horizon, leaning his weight into the rail as the waves rocked the ship.

"Come on, pup," Isabela chuckled as she approached. "This isn't even that bad! It's a beautiful day."

"Says the pirate," he gulped, turning his face into the breeze. "Don't call me that."

"I suppose you fancy yourself a fanged hound now? " she said, leaning on the railing and looking at her nails. "I would have thought you'd experienced worse on your voyage over from Ferelden."

"You'll be glad to know I was even sicker then," Carver whispered before his stomach rolled again. With a groan he leaned forward and tossed the last of his evening meal into the foam.

"You should stay below deck," Isabela amended, arching her brow. "Closer to the waterline, you know. It's more stable. You seem to like that sort of thing. Stability."

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Carver glanced at her and said, "Just needed some fresh air. Best I stay up here."

"Mmm, well," she stood up and sashayed back towards the cabins. "We'll be in for a storm soon enough. And you're no sailor, so you won't have much choice."

"Right," Carver said, awkwardly standing as the boat swayed again. "Thanks."

"He'll get over it, you know," Isabella idly said without looking back. "He forgave me, he forgave Anders - and we're not even his blood."

Shuddering, Carver gripped the rail and stared at the horizon again, keeping his lips shut as the rolling nausea slowly subsided.

Hawke pushed back his chair and stood with ease, staring down his brother as the ship rocked around them. Varric cleared his throat and dropped his gaze, concealing the cards in his palm.

"There something I can help you with?" Hawke spat the words.

"First day I haven't felt like retching every minute," Carver replied, grabbing the doorway to steady himself. He looked away from Anders' cold gaze. "Heard you were playing cards."

Huffing quietly to himself, Hawke settled back into the chair and motioned to Varric. As the dwarf began to deal, he lightly said, "Well, I'm afraid we're all full up."

"Right," Carver said, gritting his teeth together before adding, "What did you expect me to do, brother? Did you expect me to go against the vow I'd made? The duty I'd sworn?"

Their companions round the table froze again, even as Hawke organized his cards with ease. Carver stumbled as the boat rocked again. Merrill dropped her eyes, cringing in upon herself and looking at her cards as he glanced at her.

"Well?"

Hawke tapped the table, before turning his hard gaze upon his brother. His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. "I expected you to keep the word you once gave. When we still lived in that lovely hovel in Lowtown - that you knew the value of family."

Bristling slightly, Anders cut in, "Just how many mages did you kill before deciding Meredith was insane? You must have loved that."

"You have no right to speak, you're the one that got us into this mess," Carver snapped.

"Well isn't it nice to break the silence," Hawke said, scarce looking up as he organized his hand of cards. When he did look at his brother, he pouted slightly. "I thought you were never going to speak to me again."

All eyes turned Carver swayed with the ship, and he swallowed his anger. Finally, he said, "I don't know what you want me to say."

Where brotherly words had once cajoled and teased, they were now scathing. "I don't really care. When we get down to it, I might as well be dead to you. A corpse in the Gallows."

Carver huffed a little, finally standing free and balanced with the motion of the ship. Pressing his lips in a line, he turned to leave and ran into Isabela.

"Carver! Look at that, colour in your cheeks yet. Did they give you some whiskey or something? They must have."

"Excuse me," he muttered, edging past her and walking to the far end of the cabin to disappear into another partition of the ship.

"Is he sick again already?" Isabela motioned with her thumb. Hawke didn't look up, his face blank as he dropped a few cards and put his hand on Anders' thigh.

Varric chuckled and said, "No more than the rest of us. Your cards, madam?"

Merrill tucked her head around the door, watching as Carver picked through his meagre belongings, half crashing around the small communal cabin. She watched him for a while when he did a double take and stopped.

Carver cleared his throat, glancing down, "I didn't see you there."

"Oh it's alright I - oh, I... I should have said something, shouldn't I? Rather than just stare at you like that."

"It's alright," Carver's face fell slack, his cheeks hollow before he chuckled. A snide line hardened his lips. "My brother and his mage certainly look happy."

"Yes, they've been like that a while! I think Hawke - oh, you... you didn't mean that, did you."

"Not really," he grunted, sinking onto one of the bunks. Leaning back, he hit his head and bit off a curse, ducking lower as Merrill stepped into the cramped room. "Bloody ship."

"It's not been so bad," Merrill quietly said, taking another step forward into the room. "No storms, right? Not like during the Blight."

"I suppose so," Carver said, expression sobering. "Seems like so long ago."

"Aye," Merrill sighed, finally sitting down beside him. "Weird to think where you end up, doesn't it?"

"You can say that again," Carver said and shook his head. His fell quiet. "Why follow me down here, Merrill? Did my brother put you up to it?"

"Well no," she grinned a little, shaking her head. "No, I just thought you could use some company. You've been all alone since we left Kirkwall."

"And it doesn't bother you that I'm a templar?" Carver's voice strained. "What I did, you aren't angry at me for it? You're a mage, Merrill."

Fidgeting with a bit of her tunic, she slowly shook her head. "You stood by what you believed, no matter who said what. I guess I know what that's like."

Carver looked down at his hands, a peculiar expression twisting his features. "I killed so many of them. I keep hearing her barking orders - Meredith, you know. They were screaming, begging - they..." His voice cracked and he swallowed thickly. "They didn't deserve it. But I killed them. He's right."

"There was something wrong with the knight commander," Merrill thoughtfully said, and the boat rocked around them.

"But I still listened to her. Even though we all knew she wasn't right in the head," Carver interjected. He stabbed a few fingers into his palm, "She said kill them, and I did it. I did it without bloody thought."

Merrill flexed her hand before putting it down on his knee, her voice soft, "It's hard to think sometimes, I think. When everything inside starts to clash and bubble, you just act. And then it's too late."

"I can't stop seeing them," Carver's voice cracked again, and he bent over into his hands, covering his face. Sniffing in sharply, he wiped his palms over his eyes. "And now listen to me. Just a big bleedin' baby."

Merrill tentatively reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze as she looked to him and softly said, "Can't be strong all the time, you know."

"When'd you get so smart," Carver chuckled, sniffling again as he looked down at her hand.

"I don't know about that," she said, tiredly smiling. "I just think of all the things Varric has said to me."

"Do they ever let up?" one of the pirates said. The sound of raised voices carried from aft ship.

Isabella was scarce fazed, scanning the horizon with her spyglass. She snapped it shut as she replied, "No." Tossing the instrument to the man, she sighed, "Furl sail. There's a storm brewing, and we need to be ready." She meandered closer to where Hawke and Carver were arguing as the sailors sprang to life around her, and leant on the ship's rail beside Merrill.

The Dalish elf sighed.

"Enjoying the show, kitten?"

"It's the last thing either of them need," Merrill quietly murmured, knitting her brow.

"I thought we already established, we're fighting because you were going to kill me and the people I care about," Hawke snapped, bridging a hand over his brow.

"And you weren't going to kill me the first chance you got?" Carver replied.

"No!" Hawke made a frustrated sound. "There is a difference, actually - I was defending people's lives, mages you and all the other templars were so keen on slaughtering! Not just running into battle at someone else's command."

"I wanted to be there," Carver's voice trembled, and he clenched his fists.

"Did you now," Hawke said matter-of-factly. "Well, that just makes it all better, doesn't it?"
"I... agh, that's not what I meant!" Carver spun away.

"Then what did you mean? That you preferred to follow around someone like Meredith rather than 'live in my shadow' as you are so quick to complain?" Hawke said as he followed him. There was a crackle of energy in his closed fist. "That you'd rather kill and destroy people like me than grow some balls and stick by your family?"

"You don't know what it was like in there!" Carver yelled, holding his ground.

"No. No, I don't," Hawke scoffed, his posture relaxing as he stared his brother down. "But like you said - it was your choice. Your path. I had nothing to do with it."

Isabela cleared her throat and said, "However much I love seeing you two get all snarling and manly, it's best you go below deck. Our fortune with the weather is about to change."

"Lovely," Hawke said, stalking by Isabela. He paused to give her shoulder a squeeze. "Thanks for all you've done."

"My ship is your ship," Isabela smirked and followed him.

Merrill looked to where Carver was at the stern of the ship. He was gripping the rail and staring at the horizon. As she walked closer, Carver glanced at her.

"Sorry... about that, I guess," he exhaled, tightening his grip on the wood before straightening up.

"I don't know, I sort of missed it," Merrill mused, moving beside him to lean on the rail and stare down at the foam and churn at the waterline. "Hawke gets a bit like a cat when you bark at him like that. No wonder Anders likes him so much."

"So I'm the dog, hmm?" Carver turned to her, elbow on the rail. "Isabela said something like that."

"Can't be all bad then, mm?" Merrill smiled lightly, before she looked back at the water. "Have you had any lyrium?"

"What?"

"It's something I heard Hawke speak of once," she murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. "That they make templars drink lyrium."

"Oh," Carver replied, clearing his throat. There was a slight colour on his cheeks as he looked skyward. The clouds were gaining on them. "No. No... I haven't had any since... well, everything sort of fell apart."

"I have some if you'd like?" Merrill casually drew a small vial of the blue elixir from her bosom, holding it out to him casually. When he looked at her, she withdrew it, "Though maybe you shouldn't drink it all at once - I know it's tempting, but you could ration it or something?"

"Where did you get that?" Carver's lips tugged slightly at the edges, and he looked at the blue glow.

"I didn't think lethalin needed it very much," Merrill lightly said, extending her hand towards him. The wind mussed her dark hair and the sky overhead swirled further with clouds.

"So you took it from him? For me?"

"Do you not need it? I could drink it, if you'd like... maybe that would be more pleasant..." Merrill murmured, touching her chin.

"You drink it? Are you alright?" Carver furrowed his brow.

"Oh yes," she said, gripping the railing suddenly as a wave rocked the boat. "I could drink it and then kiss you. Would that be better?"

"What?" Carver shook his head a little, jaw dropping before he said, "Give me that."

"Ah," Merrill said, letting him take the vial. She slouched against the rail of the ship, holding on as he uncorked it and took a small sip. "I hope it helps. You can keep it if you want."

Licking his lips, Carver shook his head and corked it. He closed his eyes a moment, before quietly saying, "No... no, you keep it. Here." Taking Merrill's hand, Carver pressed the vial into her grasp and kept hold of her wrist to draw her in close to him. His other hand slipped round her neck, dwarfing her delicate features as he bent into her lips.

Merrill drew a quick breath through her nose as he kissed her, before eagerly linking her arm around Carver's neck to tug him closer. When his lips parted, she softly whimpered, weakening into his other arm as it snaked round her waist. He leant her against the back of the ship as it rocked, and the motion of the ocean broke their lips.

"Oh -" Merrill said as she gripped the railing.

"Thank you," Carver quickly said. "For the lyrium."

"Of course," Merrill said, her eyes darting over his features. There was the distant echo of thunder, and they both looked west.

"We should go below deck," Carver said, tousling his fingers through his dark hair as he exhaled a heavy breath, the lyrium numb on his tongue.

"I'd like that," Merrill quickly said, glancing somewhere near his chin. "I mean, right, Isabela said it was best."