A/N: Again, thank you for reading. A shorter author note this time. I just wanted to point out, at this part in the story, Marian is a practicing Andrastian and will quote the Chant. The excerpts can be found on the Dragon Age wiki. DA belongs to Bioware, but all new additions belong to me. Enjoy! xx

10 Drakonis 9:30 Dragon

"You cannot truly think this is wise!" Marian was tired of this. Leandra had been trying to talk her out of going to Ostagar ever since news had reach Lothering of Cailan's request for more recruits. "Mother honestly! You've been making the same protests for a fortnight now. It has yet to do anything to persuade Carver or myself to abandon our course. Do you truly believe that it will do so now?" Marian turned back to her pack. As she put the last of her clothes in, she could feel her mother staring at her. Sure enough when she turned her head to look, Leandra was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips and lips pursed in anger. Marian sighed, "Carver means to go. As head of this family, I have a duty to keep my youngest sibling safe. Let's face it," she said, once again facing her mother, "without me to watch over him, his brash and impulsive nature will surely be the death of him."

Part of Leandra agrees with her daughter, however Leandra was too stubborn to admit it. A trait that Carver and Marian both had inherited in spades. "What of your sister and me?" Leandra reminded her, "Who will ensure our safety while you are off playing at being a soldier?" At her mother's words, something in Marian snapped. "I am not playing at anything!" she growled, "Carver and I both obtained commissions in the King's army." She sighed, trying to stay calm as she continued. "Mother, I know that for the entirety of my life thus far you have attempted to bring me up to be a proper lady. Alas, I have no intention of playing the part of a doting wife and wasting my days pretending to enjoy occupations that are deemed proper for a lady. I refuse to be anything other than that which the Maker designed me to be."

Anger over took Leandra. "You are a lady Marian!" Her daughter attempted to walk past Leandra as she swung her pack over her shoulder, but Leandra grabbed her arm. "You are an Amell as much as you are a Hawke. You could have the chance at great connection due to that alone. Why must you throw away such a chance at being secure?" Marian broke free of her mother's grasp and began marching down the hall, banging on Carver's door as she passed. Reaching the small house's common room, she turned to face her mother once more. "What security can there be whilst vermin from the void itself threaten to pollute and ravage the land? How can I, in good conscience, stand idly by as the peace of our home is threatened?" Her voice, which grew louder with each word that passed through her lips, reached the ears of her siblings, both whom then entered the hall. "I cannot…no…I will not turn away when all I hold dear is threatened! King Cailan has requested that all able bodied men and women raise up arms to help end this blight on the land before it can truly take hold." She looked at Leandra, her eyes begging her mother to understand, "I am not doing this just for the sake of Ferelden nor simply to keep that impulsive son of yours from getting himself killed." Carver attempted to protest, but his sister's voice drowned him out. "I do this now to protect our home, to protect you and Bethany. I am doing this because it is right! Andraste did not see the evil of this world only to turn away and neither shall I!"

Marian stared at her mother, preparing herself for another protest. It didn't come. Instead, Leandra suddenly was puffed up with pride. She walked forward and embraced her daughter. Sure, in the years to come, there would be more arguments about settling down and giving up her roguish ways, both women knew that. However, in that moment, Leandra was proud of her strong, brave daughter.

"Maker's ass Marian, you almost done your heroic speech? We have to be at Ostagar in a few days!" Marian squeezed her mother one last time before letting go and grabbing her pack. "Bossy little shit." She mumbled, heading for the door. 'Wait!" cried Bethany, running toward her sister. "Marian, please promise me you'll come back." Marian kissed her little sister's forehead. "I'll tell you what, "she said, reaching down to her hips, "You hold on to these for me." Bethany looked at her sister in shock as she took the daggers her sister held out to her. "But Marian! These…these are the daggers father gave you! I can't…" Marian tried to keep a serious face but couldn't help the smile that crept up. "When I come back those had better in good shape. I'll get another pair at Ostagar."

She looked at her mother and sister, the smile quickly fading. "If you hear any bad news, I want both of you to flee. Go to Redcliffe or Denerim, just leave a sign of which way you decide to go and we will find you. Pack anything you may need after we leave. Don't try to take anything with you that may slow you down." Nodding to Carver, Marian opened the door and headed out into the cool, early spring air. Carver followed close behind as they reached the gate. "Come on Carver, let's get going."

13 Drakonis 9:30 Dragon

It had taken three days for Marian and Carver to reach Ostagar and the pair were exhausted. As they passed through the eastern gate and into the fortress, they both felt the urge to look up toward the imposing structure that was the Tower of Ishal. As they stared up the length of the tower, which seemed as if it were a spear cutting into the sky, neither sibling could shake the feeling of dread that washed over them. It felt as if the tortured souls of slaves, brutalized by powerful magisters in the aeons long since passed, were still crying out. Shuddering and forcing herself to look away, Marian grabbed her brother's attention and they finally moved on.

Before them, an ancient bridge stretched out high above the valley below. As they travelled across the King's Highway, they looked on as soldiers darted back and forth with open crates of ammunition, No doubt for the ballistae, Marian thought. Curiosity overtook her and she moved toward the edge of the bridge. Looking out, she could see the entire battlefield below. Men, nearly the size of ants at this height, scurried about on the muddy field readying the barricades and battlements. Turning back toward the other side of the bridge, the siblings continued on their way, dodging the soldiers as they ran past.

"Hail," said a soldier standing on the steps as they reached the end of the bridge. Marian looked up at the man. "You two. New recruits I take it?" Marian nodded, "My brother and me travelled from Lothering to join the King's army. We already have our commissions." "Good. Good," the soldier replied, "We need some more South Reach blood 'round here. The name's Conley, by the way." Marian smiled, "I'm Marian Hawke and this," she said, gesturing to her brother, "is Carver." Conley returned the smile, "Well Marian Hawke, you and you brother want to be heading to the recruiter's tent." he said as he pointed behind himself, "Just go straight up the ramp next to the quartermaster and through the infirmary. You'll see another ramp at the far side of the ruins, that'll take you straight into the army camp. Look for the first large tent on your right and you'll find the recruiter inside. He'll be able to handle your commissions." "Thanks Conley," Marian replied, "See you around." "Aye you will," he smiled before adding, "Marian, if you're interested later…sector five, row three. Third tent on the left." He winked at her as she turned away. "Maker's breath!" she muttered as her brother let out a laugh.

Passing beyond Conley's station, a strong blend of odors assaulted the sibling's noses. Burning wood and ancient stone. Blood, sweat and death. The mix threatened to turn Marian's stomach. The sensorial assault didn't end there, however. The sound of the Chant coming from a cleric, perch on a makeshift pulpit nearby mingled with the baying of the mabari war-hounds in the kennel, the clang of hammer and the hiss of cool water on hot steel, and the heart-wrenching groans of the wounded to create a cacophony underscoring the battles to come. Carver passed his sister, seemingly trying to outrun everything around him. Maker be damned if he was going to let his discomfort get the better of him. This is my chance to prove myself, he thought as he pressed on past the dead and dying and into the army camp.

Situated on a plateau, just outside the western wall of the fortress, the camp had none of the granite floor like in the ruins. Instead, the Hawkes found themselves trudging through ankle deep mud. The only redeeming factor, Marian noted, was that the camp was upwind from the rotten odors and the cries of the wounded were drowned out. Cooking meats and the earthy smell of the Wilds beyond were carried on the breeze. The sounds of combat practice, laughing and talking welcomed them. They stopped as they reached the recruitment tent. The siblings looked at one another, each letting out a large sigh, before entering the tent.

The tent Marian was assigned to was not much to speak of. A row of cots lined either side, each with its own foot locker. The thin layer of straw lining the ground did nothing to combat the mud below, instead adding new element to the muck covering her boots. Marian shivered as she settled herself on a vacant cot. Drafty and not very well lit, she complained inwardly. Realizing that the draft was doing nothing to remove the stench of stale urine and petrichor, Marian stashed her belongings in her footlocker and set off to find Carver.