Chapter 1

Hawke

Years before Caera Hawke became the champion of Kirkwall, she was a carefree girl like any other. Her family had a secret, though – a secret that threatened to tear them apart in the blink of an eye: Bethany, Hawke's sister and best friend was a mage. An apostate. A crime for which she could be put to death and her family along with her with one nod from any of the templars that prowled the village. For as long as she could remember, Caera and her brother, Carver, had been responsible for keeping the villagers' suspicions at bay.

Most days, though, she spent learning from her father. Though Malcolm Hawke was, like Bethany, an apostate, his life on the run had taught him other fighting techniques which he passed on to all of his children. From the time she could stand, Caera had been introduced to a variety of combat situations, excelling with a bow in particular.

While all of the Hawkes loved each other dearly, Carver was resentful towards Bethany and Caera: Bethany because her powers prevented the family from fully assimilating into any community, and Caera for her natural grace, leadership, and selflessness. As the years passed, Carver's jealousy took root and began to grow in earnest.

Tensions between the siblings came to a near breaking point when Caera was twenty years old, and Carver and Bethany sixteen. Their father, who had worked so hard to foster a loving family, despite their mutual sufferings, died suddenly one night. Caera found out years later from her mother that Malcolm had been ailing for years, but had refrained from telling any of his children.

With his calming influence gone, Carver began voicing his irritation with both sisters more frequently, and began to spend more time alone in the village as he grew older and more independent. With his actions becoming increasingly suspect, Leandra considered moving the family once again to avoid templar notice. However, Carver soon after enlisted in the Ferelden military, and the templar eyes were drawn back to more pressing matters in the village itself as the Fifth Blight loomed on the horizon.

"Mother, we must think about going. And soon," Caera insisted. The templars in the village have been saying that the darkspawn overpowered the king's forces to the south. They are traveling north, and will be here any day. We can't afford to wait for him much longer."

"But he's your brother!" Leandra cried, "We can't just leave without finding out what happened!"

"I'm as concerned as you are, Mother," sighed Hawke, rubbing her temples with her forefingers. "We can stay for two more days, but any longer than that and we're likely to be killed, and a lot of good it'll do Carver if that happens."

Leandra wrung her hands together, but nodded at her daughter's words. Caera had been forced into the role of head of the family when Malcolm had died, and filled that role admirably. One of Leandra's main regrets, though, was that it had caused her eldest to grow up much too fast when she, their mother, had withdrawn and ceased to function for months after her husband passed.

"Sister, you should go into Lothering for the rest of the day to stay on top of any new information," Bethany put in. "It sounds as if the refugees have quite a bit to say – Maker only knows how much of it is actually true, though."

Nodding at her sweet younger sister, the image of a younger Leandra with her long, flowing black hair and light brown eyes, Caera turned to walk out the door, grabbing her traveling pack as she went. The oldest Hawke had inherited Leandra's dark hair (which she had cropped short for practicality), but the rest of her looks came from Malcolm: her face was not as soft as Bethany's, but rather sharply angled with high cheekbones and a small, pixie-like chin. Her brilliantly blue eyes were also her father's; they were bright and friendly under most circumstances, but when her ire was raised, they turned to ice.

She walked through the back gate into Lothering itself, and, on the way to the Dane's refuge where she was sure to hear the latest gossip, she stopped and caught an exchange between two of the templars walking back towards the chantry.

"No idea what a group like them are doing in Lothering."

"The tall one said they came up from Ostagar… Surely they aren't refugees like most of the folk around here."

Hmm, she thought to herself, smiling, it sounds as if my trip to town might be more productive than I originally thought, providing I can get these visitors to talk to me. If they were at Ostagar, they might even know what happened to Carver's retinue.

Energized by her plan, Caera walked across the bridge and saw a stranger speaking with the merchant outside of the chantry. Though it was difficult to make out specifics from a distance, the man was wearing heavy armor and was clearly not one of the helpless refugees that sought out safety in Lothering. Smiling at her luck, Caera wandered closer.

"My prices are final, ser. If you're seeking charity, I suggest you look elsewhere," the merchant said.

Belgen, that old cheat! Caera thought, shaking her head slightly. Always inflating his prices when he thinks nobody is paying attention.

"Your extra gold will do you no good when the darkspawn arrive!" the man said, flustered.

Deciding that intervening could be a good way to gain the stranger's confidence, she strolled casually over and grabbed Belgen by the arm, pulling him out of hearing range. She spun him around, and whispered sweetly, "Belgen, Belgen. What exactly are we going to do with you? Do you remember that conversation we had last week? You know, the one where I told you that I have no qualms about telling Barlin about your undermining his sales unless you start charging fair prices?"

Ignoring the look of fury on his rapidly purpling face, she patted him on the cheek and said, "Excellent! Now, I trust that you'll charge the low prices I'm sure that nice man deserves, especially as he's carrying a sword that's half as tall as you are."

Smiling, Caera winked in the stranger's direction and walked slowly away to watch the rest of the interchange from the low wall nearby.

A few minutes later, his purchases complete, the man wandered over in her direction. She looked up as he approached and was startled by the intensity of his amber gaze.

"Thank you, my lady," he said, bowing very slightly and smiling.

"Oh not at all. Belgen is always trying to cheat people, and occasionally needs to be reminded of his more honorable side."

"I am Alistair. And you are?"

"Caera Hawke. A pleasure, good ser."

The rest of the afternoon passed in pleasant camaraderie. Over a few drinks at the tavern, Caera found out that Alistair was a Grey Warden, and was traveling with a group with the hopes of combating the Blight. As they stood outside in the waning light from the sun, he looked at her with an expression more serious than any she had seen on him all day and said, "Hawke, you need to leave Lothering. The darkspawn will be here any day. Take your family and leave as soon as you can."

She glanced up at him and said, "You know we are waiting for my brother. I've told my mother we will stay for two days, but I can't leave before then unless he is with us. It would destroy my family if we didn't go together."

"Just take care, alright?" he said, his gaze intense.

Hawke would never forget the look in his eyes as Alistair had told her to be careful, and, looking back years later could understand completely why her mother had left her privileged life to follow an apostate mage.

Alistair

Much like Caera Hawke, Alistair did an incredible amount of growing up in a very short amount of time. Thrown into templar training at a young age, he was forced to learn strict discipline and responsibility from his first day in the chantry.

He grew into a strong, able, and forthright young man, but was deeply unhappy with his cloistered lifestyle. He saw his liberation by Duncan as a blessing from the Maker, and launched himself enthusiastically into his role as a new Grey Warden.

As a near-templar, he was as surprised as everyone else that the newest Warden, Liam Amell, was becoming his fast friend. A mage of no small measure, with a quick wit and even quicker smile, Liam had stood fast beside Alistair through the horrors they had faced at Ostagar, and had kept him from sinking into depression while dealing with Loghain's betrayal and the loss of Duncan and their king.

Still reeling from his recent losses, Alistair believes that, with his destiny laid out before him, very little joy will be found in the coming months and years. Still, he is determined to persevere, and to look for happiness where it can be found.

"There it is – Lothering. Pretty as a painting," he said to Liam.

Before the mage could reply, though, Morrigan broke in with venom in her voice, "Ah, so you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Did falling on your sword finally seem like too much work?"

"Is it really so unconceivable that I should be upset, witch?" he spat back.

"Alright, you two," Liam put in, having grown into the role of mediator over the past few days, "Let's just get done what we need to do and keep moving north. Alistair, if you'd get us the needed supplies, Morrigan and I will go dig up some work and see what we can find out from the locals. We'll meet outside of the chantry around sundown."

Still in a foul mood, but grateful that Liam had taken Morrigan out of his general vicinity for the time being, Alistair walked towards a likely looking supply cart. The man did nothing to help his temperament, however, and Alistair was almost ready to storm off and look somewhere else when a petite girl bounded over and, miraculously, got the man to drastically lower his prices.

After finding out her name (and noting that she was the single most exquisite creature he had ever set eyes upon) and heading to the local tavern for a drink and friendly conversation, Alistair's mood began to turn, and he found himself happier than he had been since that fateful night in Ostagar.

Just as he readied himself to leave to meet up with Liam and Morrigan again, Alistair found himself asking Hawke to be careful and leave with her family. Desperation and fear clouded his mind as the young woman explained her situation again to him, her blue eyes blazing from behind strands of her short, dark hair that fell in front of her face.

"Don't worry too much about me, Alistair," she joked, lightly punching his arm, "I'm a big girl, and I'll take care of myself. Whatever happens, though, I have to put my family first."

Nodding, he held out his hand to say goodbye to the woman he felt he knew already, but was pleasantly surprised when she ignored it and instead skipped forward lightly to embrace him.

"You take care of yourself, too. I hear that defeating a Blight is no small task. Just think, all I need to do is get my family away from Lothering!"

With that last friendly embrace, and a quick smile, Caera Hawke turned lightly on her heel and laughed lightly. She had no way of knowing then that it was that vision of her, and the sound of her laughter fading away with her profile that sustained the man who would eventually become King of Ferelden through many nights spent in the wilderness, plagued by sleeplessness, nightmares, and deep and relentless loneliness.