A/N: School continues to suck right now. But I was feeling bad about not updating Stars Fade, so I thought I'd post the first half of this rabid AU oneshot that attacked me. Guilt. It's what's for dinner.
So, yeah. Welcome to the oneshot, part one.
Hawke and her twin siblings lost their parents to the Templars. Growing up in the alleys of Lowtown with their Uncle Gamlen, Hawke and Carver live the precarious life of n'er-do-well street urchins. Until, that is, the day young Hawke decides to try for a big score from the gigantic ox-men living in the docks...
Inspiration came from tinyfierce, for the name and for lots of Arishok-y goodness. If you are a fan of the big guy, check out her stories.
Two years. They'd been in this stinking, festering pox sore of a city for two years, and they were still no closer to returning to Par Vollen.
The Arishok exhaled heavily through his nose as he sifted through papers in the tent that served him as a both a study and (truth be known) war room.
A commotion from outside reached his ears, but he ignored it. There was always something, with these bas.
-ooo-
Earlier that morning, Marian Hawke had punched her little brother in the nose. Again.
Carver was two years younger than she was, but he'd just hit his first real growth spurt and the twelve-year-old was now a good four inches taller than she was. Not that it was hard - years of hard living had taken a toll on the growing girl, and it was unlikely that she'd ever reach even her mother's height. And besides, though she'd never admit it, she'd always passed most of her food on to Carver and Bethany anyhow.
Bethany was in the Circle now. The Kirkwall Templars had come to take her away almost a year ago. Hawke hoped her sister was happier - and at least Bethany was sure of three solid meals a day. Plus her own bed, not a spot on the floor or on the rough wooden slats of the upper bunk.
As she always did when she was thinking, Hawke rubbed the little silver medallion around her neck. Her mother had given it to her long ago, before the Templars, before she and her siblings had come to live with Uncle Gamlen. Etched deep into the metal and blackened with time was the symbol of the hawk, all angular lines and knotwork. It was supposed to have some meaning, she knew, but it she'd been barely seven when the Templars had broken down the door, and whatever meaning it had was now lost in the memories of that horrible night.
Hawke needed a plan.
It was getting harder to keep Carver in line. When she'd been bigger than he was, it had been no problem. And when he'd first caught up to her in height, she'd still been the stronger of the two. Now though… now Hawke relied on guile, inventive nastiness, and a lightning-fast, righteous left hook to make her little brother listen. But she knew Carver would eventually get the upper hand.
She needed to prove herself to Carver some other way.
Hawke had spent yesterday skulking around Hightown, hoping to find either opportunity or inspiration. What she'd found was the boot of one of the city guard. The bruise still hurt.
Today, she was trying her luck in the docks, hanging around the harbor master's desk, trying to overhear something useful. A big score would show her little brother who was still the boss of whom.
Her eyes kept straying to the fenced off place where the ox-men lived.
They'd come on big, fancy ships, people said.
They were waiting for more ships to come and take them home, people said.
All kinds of dark and mysterious things happened behind those gates, people said.
I bet they have treasure, Carver said.
Hawke smiled. Just the thing.
-ooo-
Whatever was happening outside of his tent had not yet died down, and the Arishok was beginning to find it distracting. There were shouts in the qunari tongue, and the sounds of both general disruption and localized destruction. Strangely, these sounds seemed to come from within the compound itself and not the streets outside. Previously, the bas' courage only extended as far as a rock's throw from the compound gates.
At a quiet command, he sent one of the karashok with a question.
"One of the basra is loose in the compound," was the answer that returned.
Further questions revealed that the bas in question was a thief, found pilfering a chest. The difficulties in catching this thief stemmed from the fact that she was no ordinary bas - she was imekari.
She was also very small, fast, and agile, and had absolutely no compunction against biting, kicking, punching, or scratching anything that came within range. When possible, she also threw things with considerable accuracy. Qunari blood had been spilled.
Something had to be done.