This is a story I am working on because I personally love the development of Carver. I hope to see more stories of him in the future and this is my own contribution to that. After all during the inquistion he would have been hitting many rough patches along with Aveline.

It was cold, and they were spending yet another night out in the free marches. As the night air chills their bones Carver thinks about asking if they could set camp and start a fire again,but he knew Aveline would insist on moving still. She took her duties seriously even when one was just to trudge around in the muddy free marches with a young Carver Hawke to keep him safe. She took it just as seriously as protecting Kirkwall, but since no Hawke was here to distract her she had no relief. A bloody babysitter is what she is, but even Carver could not feel the same bitterness he once had for his sister.

"Aveline,"

"When we find a slightly dryer place we can make camp. I do not want to wake up with mud caking my armour again."

"You could always sleep with your armour off." Carver suggests. Even the most dedicated of wardens stripped their armour off for rest, but Aveline, no she never does. A guardian, always ready for when the next fight breaks out. Her fighting phrase one that proves how much she acts like a mother even to her friend's little brother.

As they walk Carver keeps an eye out for a place dry enough for Aveline to rest. This part of the free marches was incredibly muddy, and the moist air they suffer through most of the day does not help to improve the two warriors moods or opinions of this land. If anything it made Carver miss Ferelden that much more. Sure it was bland, and had it's own problems with the dirt or mud but the air was drier and you could always find a place to set camp. The warden of Ferelden could attest to that. The elven mage he had met only a handful of times. One of which was soon after he had left Kirkwall the first time. Alistair taking him back to Ferelden as the young man had always wanted.

She was odd, the hero who had saved his homeland. Most of the times she came across as nice, caring, and warm to her charges. She had protected Amaranthine instead of the warden's fortress yet both still stand. A testimate to how her training works to fine tune soldiers and their capabilities. Yet if you saw her in person. Saw how she comforted mages about how they can use their magic freely for good, the way she spoke to former templars and soldiers with respect that they had not seen in ages. How she had a way of lifting everyone's spirits. Yet when she got serious all would back away and let her have a clear path. This was a mage who killed an archdemon. She has been fighting darkspawn for years now. The first elven mage to become a lady and run Amaranthine. She was also the first grey warden to own land when they were suppose to be boundless. Her love often by her side joking, and showing a difference between love and work. Yet even in the times where she was at her lowest it was never easy to forget that she had the power to kill any man. That she had led such a mismatch troop of soldiers to victory against the darkspawn army, and the traitor Loghain.

Her hair was red, some compare it to the shade of a rose, but Carver always saw it as blood red. Her magic was different from the other forms he had encountered. She would use gravity and air against her opponent locking them in place and electrifying them. She called herself an Arcane warrior and Keeper. Yet Merrill was a keeper of sorts and her magic differed. Merrill was a blood mage, the warden was not. Merrill was so naive and innocent of the ways of humans, yet the warden, though rumors whisper she use to be the same, had grown knowledgeable. She was warm yet had a certain coldness too her. One Carver often wonders if it would infect the elven mage who he use to follow his sister with.

Hawke. His thoughts drift to his sisters. Bethany had always been more interested in natural elemental magic if he was recalling correctly. Fire was not a strong suit, but she could use it. Bethaney was beginning to learn more advanced ice magic before the attack. Hawke was more of a lighting user, somewhat like the warden. Yet Hawke also had a primal magic to her, or so father had explained to him. After they lost Bethany, Carver noticed a change to his eldest sister's magic. Addressa Hawke began to use fire and magic, mixed with her lightning attacks. Occasionally he would see her use a spell he recognised as her natural talent in the primal magics but she had instead replaced it with the magic Bethany was best at. Perhaps that was Hawke's way of keeping their sister with her.

"Carver I think there is a spot up ahead." Aveline points toward a grassy place next to some rocks. He had not noticed how far he had been lost within in his thoughts. Hopefully the area Aveline had found would be dry enough for them to rest and kick off some of the layers of sweat and dirt that has gathered over the hours.

"Let's hurry. I rather be warming up by a fire then trekking through the dark any longer."

The two soldiers pick up the pace towards the goal of a momentary break. Setting up camp had basically become an art to Carver by now. With the wardens he had slept in so many places, so many ways, that he was now in charge of setting up the camp for Aveline and himself. All while she started a fire and look to see if there was any game close by. Yet he knew neither of them would be eating tonight. Aveline would offer to take first shift and he would comply because she would refuse to yield.

"Carver are you feeling well?"

Why was she asking that? "Yes. Why?"

"You look paler than usual, and you have been speaking less."

"I'm fine. Just tired." I was more caught in my thoughts than actually feeling tired. A soft beating in the back of my head reminds me of a problem that has been growing. I was too young to be experiencing the calling, but the constant beat of darkspawn drums seem to be growing within the back of my head. My thoughts

"I thought the grey wardens would have made you grow use to the constant travel."

"We still rest." Carver retorts. "Not everyone is a bull like you Aveline."

"And not everyone is a tit like you Carver."

"I'm not, nevermind."

"Probably for the best. You need your rest. I will wake you when it is your turn for shift."

"Of course ma'am." He is quick in undoing the plates of his armor. He had done so a hundred times and could now remove or put on his armor quicker than most.

As Carver rests his head on top of his arms his eyes catch the shape of a small rock not far from him, buried halfway in the grass. It was smooth, yet it had sharp edges. Points that Carver knows were formed by years of decay and entropy. Weather destroys the ground just as well as the air poison it's inhabitants. Just as slowly or as quickly as the taint kills the grey wardens. The beating in the back of his head slowly grows louder. Carver goes back to Warden Surana's words, "focus on something else. Anything else. Revolve your thoughts over that one something. All of them, and it will help. The music never goes away, but it will become normal. Some of us embrace it. We learn to live with the song, some choosing to live by it, others simply accepting it. Others of us grow in fear of it. Of the noise it can cause and how loud it will grow. The disruption within our lives and the end of them. It's all within your head, and how you choose to perceive it."

Carver tries to focus on the rock, but his thoughts carry him elsewhere. His sisters. Bethany, Addressa. His father. Mother. It wasn't Hawke's faught. No, she had tried to save mother, but a madman had been ahead of her. If Carver had been there, would it have gone differently. Would he had been home when mother disappeared? Could he have saved her? He hadn't been able to save Bethany. He was a prick to his only living relative left. Carver hopes that him returning to her side had helped her. Had it made up for some of the hateful things he told her? Probably not, but Carver knew he could not be with Hawke right now. She needed him safe for if she lost another member of her family right now, Hawke would break. Carver knew that feeling. If he lost Hawke, he would be alone.

"-ver?

"Carver?" Aveline?

"Carver!" He feels her strong hands lift him up as his vision comes and goes. "Carver wake up." She please holding his face between her hands. "Carver." She continues to call his name as the drums grow louder. Eventually they wash out all other noise and Carver can barely even feel his body shaking. This was it. This was the calling. Is this how he would die? No. Hawke was still alive. He promised Addressa he would listen to Aveline, that they would survive.

"Ow!"

Aveline's sharp cry of pain snaps him out of the dark. As he vision slowly comes to he feels his hand be pulled from something. Aveline was glaring at him, yet as she slowly saw his eyes open her face melts into concern.

"Carver,"

"The blight." He answers before she can even ask her whole question. Looking towards the hand she still held he notices strands of red hair caught under his fingernails. "Aveline. I'm so sorry."

"In your fit of hysteria you pulled my hair. I know men who have done much worse. You are fine Carver, and what is it that makes you speak of the blight?"

"The calling. When a warden's time has come they hear the calling. They go underground to die alone, but not without a fight. It is down there that a warden will hold one more fight against the darkspawn and kill as many as they can before being overwhelmed." A look on her face tells Carver that she would not be allowing him even near any caves for a time.

"I should not be experiencing it yet. I haven't been a grey warden long enough to be hearing it this loud."

"This loud? Carver what else are you not saying?"

"Aveline there are many secrets within the wardens. I was not even suppose to tell you that much." Carver explains trying to hold his tongue before it could spill anymore that the wardens had told him.

"Carver Hawke." A stern look and he feels as if Leandra was there with him instead. A look his older sister could never master but Bethany had been quick to pick up on. His thoughts had been travelling to them often. Is it because he somehow subconsciously knew that his time was soon coming?

"After you become a warden you always hear this song. It's always there at the back of your head. When you no longer can ignore it, or even hear anything besides it, that is when you know your time has come."

"Then ignore it!" Aveline orders clenching her jaw.

"I will. I won't go yet. This has to be wrong." Carver states filling a determination he felt only when aiming to defy his sister. In between his words are the things he'll never say. He had people who wanted him to live, and a reason to stay alive so that he could see his friends and even his other fellow wardens again.

"Good. Can you rest?"

"I don't think I will be able to for now."

Aveline looks away over the marsh. Her brows bent. She was unsure of what to do. Carver offers her a way out of the uncertainty.

"I will start my watch now. You should rest. I promise I won't go running off to get myself killed. I did that enough as a kid."

"Will you be alright being awake by yourself?"

"I have lived with the song for years. Just because it is a little louder now does not mean I can not still live with it." They grow quiet as Carver pushes himself up and away from her. "Rest Aveline. You've been a good friend to my sister and I will not ruin that by dying on your watch."

"Promise me that if it becomes too much you will wake me. You do not have to be alone Carver."

"I promise." His voice was hollow and so were his words. Carver would not wake her up. Instead he would suffer alone as he had always done. All wardens suffer alone.

Carver stands and decides the fire needed more. He adds new wood to the fire as it began to dwindle. Aveline was snoring, loudly. He had forgotten how much of a man she sounded like from their time on the ships. At least she would not wake up if he were to rummage through his bag and pull out paper, a quill, and an ink pot. Which he did still trying to be as quiet as he could.

Carver Hawke had never been one with words. He left such menial skill to his sister and Varric. Yet as he sits quietly, wondering how to say what he wanted, he wishes he was better at it. If the trusty dwarf was here he would simply ask Varric to write this letter for him, but he wasn't here. Plus if the dwarf knew who the letter was for he would never leave poor Carver be. So the boy struggles writing simply what thoughts come to him in between the notes of the song. He writes and he hates everything he reads afterwards. It wasn't right, it wasn't good enough. She would never understand what he meant to tell with it, but he had no more paper and was low on ink as is. In the next town they would pick up more but not before then.

"I wonder if she would even want to hear from me." They hadn't spoken in a long while. Not since she had left their motley crew after Kirkwall's destruction. At the time she claimed she had too, but they all worried for her a long time after. Soon after her Hawke too left deciding it was bringing too much attention to Carver and Aveline to have her with them. Ever since then it had been just them, and Carver would say this of Aveline. In their time together he had begun to grow respect for her. More than he had ever held for anyone in Kirkwall.