Author's Note:
Kay. First real chapter. (= And... I can't find anything commenting on the names of the days of the week in the Dragon Age world, so I'm going to pretend like they're...the same as French until someone tells me otherwise, because I feel as though Orlaisian influence might be large enough to do that. (Just so you know, from Monday to Sunday in English, the French is: lundi, mardi, mercredi, jeudi, vendredi, samedi, dimanche and they are not capitalized.)
Beta'd, sorry guys. And thanks for the reviews!

Disclaimer: Not mine. Hylon isn't an in-game character, though he did steal one of Flemeth's lines more or less.

This chapter is in the first person perspective of Beatrice Hawke.

Chapter One

And there I saw the Black City,
Its towers forever stain'd,
Its gates forever shut.
Heaven has been filled with silence,
I knew then,
And cross'd my heart with shame.

(Andraste 1:11)

The whole lot of us had been sick for what felt like weeks now, though we were only a few days out. Carver, the poor sod, seemed to be having the worst time of it. Aveline was barely any better off and, unsurprisingly, Mother seemed to be the least affected. That was, perhaps, because she was still quite adamantly mourning our lost Bethany. I wasn't feeling much better about it, though Cedric was trying quite hard to keep me occupied. He knew better than I did how I felt, as was normal for the two of us. Unlike Carver who had constantly plagued Bethany with pranks over the years, Cedric had always been my other half. The four of us were the only twins we had ever known (not that we had much opportunity to get to know many other people, considering the three apostates we had to hide) and, if Bethany and Carver were supposed to tell us much, we were definitely doing something wrong. I felt bad for Carver; even though he was mostly a prig, I knew it hurt him to lose Bethany just as much as it hurt the rest of us.

My hand contracted around the amulet that Flemeth had given to us, hidden away in an internal pocket of my robes. My staff rested across my lap, my right hand resting on it as my left caressed the smooth surface of the stone set into metal, gold I thought. Cedric whittled a small piece of wood to my left and Carver had stalked off again, not wanting us to see him retch.

Aveline was curled up with her head resting on the shield that had once protected her husband, her face plagued with sorrow even in sleep. Mother looked no better as she leaned against the far wall of the ship; she wouldn't have anything to do with Cedric or I, instead taking to Carver when he was around. It bothered me at first, but Cedric told me that she would calm down when we reached Kirkwall. She was grieving and she had to blame someone; we were the easy targets. She couldn't very well alienate all three of us or blame herself, because she would likely break. So, my twin and I sat, crowded by strangers and alone in the middle of the Waking Sea. Storms thrashed us back and forth, not helping my stomach. Finally, thankfully, blissfully we approached the port. We had to switch to a smaller ship, one we manned ourselves, to approach Kirkwall in its entirety. The approach was something fearsome and terrible; I thought suddenly of the Black City mentioned in the Chant of Light. It was an awful thing to behold, beyond words.

It took some doing to get on land again as none of us were sailors and even more time for us to get our legs properly beneath us again. I was tempted to fall to my knees and kiss the dirty floor in glee. It took us some time, though less than I had originally thought, before we could find our way towards the city gates.

The man at the gate was not particularly helpful; in fact, it was quite the opposite. I was used to blending in, though Cedric was quite heavy-handed. Not so much as Carver, who would rush headlong into the fray if it meant showing up any of us. Our mabari marked us as Fereldens (and some assumed a level of nobility, though the Maker knew that was not the case) if our obviously ragged appearance didn't alert everyone to the fact that we were refugees.

"How can they treat us like this?" Mother rallied, furious as I had seen her since she accused me of Bethany's death. It looked as if she was turning her grief and anger towards the city guards. I could live with that. "The Amells are nobility! Where is Gamlen? I have to find him!"

"Mother, calm-"

"Beatrice, hold your tongue," she snapped, sending me a wicked glare as she stalked passed the unhelpful guard and up the stairs towards the Gallows.

I stopped dead at her words and frowned; her cold shoulder had been difficult to stomach the last two weeks, but this was almost harder. Carver made a face at me and caught up with Mother, Aveline frowning a little and patting me on the shoulder as she continued forward. Cedric draped his arm over my shoulders and nudged me gently on. "Come along, sister; we have a city to conquer."

I couldn't help myself and laughed a little, though I ducked my head as we passed by a Templar. Cedric, as was his way, offered a broad grin to the blonde Templar woman and her equally fair-haired companion. It was easy enough to be ignored when your brother was quite as dashing as Cedric, or as brash as Carver. The Maker, if He existed, had at least planned that much.

We found our angry mother glaring down the guardsman assigned to the gates from the Gallows – the name itself caused me to shiver, not to mention the high count of Templars that had to be able to sense my powers. I was doing everything I could to keep them as suppressed as possible. I held tighter to my brother, even as he lowered his arm when we came to stand beside our mother, younger brother, and new friend.

The guardsmen turned us away, though not before promising to look for our uncle (who, apparently, was not the Gamlen we thought or so the guard said) which turned into a brawl with some other unhappy refugees. I received quite a bruise, unwilling to expose my magic in the midst of so many Templars, as one of the blighters broke my nose when I moved my staff out to swing. I knew it was broken before Cedric told me, had heard the tell-tale crunch of the the bridge of my nose splintering beneath the skin. My eyes began to water and I swung blindly; I heard Cedric curse and assumed he was ducking out of my way.

"Bea, just move," Carver grumbled, though I cleared my vision and took out a man that was about ready to press a dagger into his kidney.

"Will next time," I responded with a huff, shoving the blunt end of my staff into the stomach of a man behind me to stop him before he started.

The end came quickly, though my hands itched with unspent magic. Cedric understood the need, having seen me keep my abilities at bay a million times throughout our lives. He asked after a merchant that might have a poultice (not that we had the money for more) and stole me away under the guise of medical assistance. The blood that had been flowing freely was now mostly just a thin stream, dripping across my lips. We did search out a merchant, though the one that we found was not the sort that the Templars would approve of.

"You there," Cedric said in a low tone, his arm protectively over my shoulders as he guided me towards the robe-wearing vendor. "...What sort of wares do you carry?"

The hood was pushed back, pale eyes blanking out at us. The man's face was worn, aged and framed in graying dark hair. The cuffs of his robes were singed, but just barely. I nudged my shoulder gently into Cedric and looked directly into the eyes of the man before us. Stepping out from beneath my brother's arm, I moved up to the man. Swiping my hand across my mouth, I stared unblinkingly. "...Sir."

His eyes kept mine locked, hard, and he seemed to be weighing his options. The minutes dragged on and on, with me trying desperately to keep my line of sight as steady as possible. Cedric's hand had moved towards his sword-belt, though he had staid it away from the hilt of his weapon.

Finally, the man nodded. He looked up at Cedric with a straight jaw and my brother frowned. Mother, Carver, and Aveline had stayed back a ways but Dane was right up against my side.

"This one, I can get in," he nodded at me, "but the rest of you...you will have to make your own way. I will bring her to..." his eyes darted about, to make sure that we were as alone as we could be, and finished in hushed tones about a woman in Lowtown that would be able to tell my brother more.

"Let her bring the dog," Cedric finalized. The mage frowned deeply, rubbing his face with a weathered hand. After some time, he nodded curtly. "We can. It will not be easy, but that is the best place for her. Out of sight. You will see each other soon enough. Do not make a big show, child, or else they will grow suspicious."

The 'they' he spoke of was obvious enough. I swallowed and turned to face my family. I approached Cedric and he bent his head to look into my face.

"Brother... I do not have to tell you," I smiled weakly and he returned the gesture, though it did not reach his eyes. I moved to the rest of our party, Dane following me, pressing close. My mother barely looked at me, and Carver scowled. Aveline nodded a little at me and said, "I will watch them, friend." and I was minutely less worried.

My heart was heavy as I turned from my family back to the man that was going to save my life.

It was not an easy thing, disguising myself and Dane so that we might be able to pass into the city until the guise of the mage's mute apprentice. Dane was transfigured by a magic I had never seen; it was the sort of thing that made him appear smaller, more generic and less of the great beast he was. It was slight and only an illusion, but incredible nonetheless. Myself was slightly easier; I kept my head down and my lips closed, my hood up and my staff hidden amongst his wares. It was slow going, entering the town and traveling to a place called Darktown. The slums reeked of death and urine, sorrow and vomit. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced, even on the run with my family back in Ferelden.

Days after meeting the man in the Gallows courtyard, the flow of blood had long-since ceased from my nose though the bruises had gone from purpley-blue to dark black circles beneath my eyes. My face ached more than I can express, though no more than the still only mostly-healed slice in my abdomen. I was exhausted a million ways to dimanche. I was constantly hungry and thirsty, tired to the bone, but we kept on going. And going.

Finally, miraculously, the merchant and I came upon a rickety, broken door in the middle of the night. Hylon, his name was, my savior. He rapped his knuckles softly on the door of this place with the single lantern, burning dimly in a cubby hole that allowed little to no view into the clinic.

The door was opened, then, and Dane pressed into my leg as I pushed the cart behind Hylon into the dark, dank space.

"Hylon," a voice, light but brusque, was welcoming to the old man. "I see you've found a new companion; too bad it isn't a cat in disguise."

My ears perked a little; he had noticed? It was suddenly that the magic dissipated around Dane; I had seen him as I always had, but now he shook flecks of silver magic from his fur and I knew that he was as he always had been to everyone else as well.

"There's another," Hylon cleared his throat but I could not see the face that belonged to the voice that had greeted him. "Child, come here," he spoke and I stepped gingerly out from behind the cart that I had been pushing around for half a week. I pushed my hood down as I came forward and winced a little as I bowed my head at him. "...You can speak to him, now, child."

He did not call me 'child' in a condescending way, more endearing. He was like a stern grandfather and I would be sorry to see him go. The man before me was tall, like Cedric and Carver, but there the similarities ended. His shoulders looked broad beneath the plumage of his robes and though his body was slender, it was not because of the close-hand training and combat of my brothers. His hair, long enough to be pulled back, was blond in the way that wheat is golden. His eyes were the color of hardened tree sap though with a level of sadness and softness that I could hardly comprehend. My hand drifted up to my nose without thinking and my voice was muffled by it as I introduced myself.

"Beatrice?" he repeated and I nodded a little, "Anders. I've created this clinic to help Ferelden refugees."

"If nothing else, she listens to directions," Hylon looked back to me and offered me the closest thing to a smile I had ever seen on his face.

"I do like women that can take direction," the blond winked at me; despite everything, I felt the faintest bit of blush in my cheeks and a small smile. He looked over me a moment before clearing his throat.

"First things first," Anders said, stepping closer to me. He reached up and touched my hand gingerly, moving it away from my face. "Let me fix this for you and then we can talk, all right?"

I could do little to disagree with him as one of his hands slid behind my head to hold it still gently, the other hand coming up to let fingers and magic stroke gently along the bridge of my nose. I had been expecting to smell dirt and grime, considering his surroundings, but the scent of sandalwood and rosewater greeted my nose after he healed it – the first time I had been able to breath not through my mouth without any kind of pain. I kept on forgetting that it was broken and breathing through it; usually it wasn't too bad, but the smells of Darktown only made it worse. Now, though, it was brilliant.

"I'll be taking my leave, then, Anders," Hylon spoke, turning to his cart to find Anders' order as well as my staff. He handed it back to me but held on a moment, holding my gaze as well. "Watch yourself, child; you are standing on a precipice. It is better to leap than to fall, Beatrice Hawke. Be prepared to jump." His hand moved from my staff to pat me on the shoulder. He broke from me then, nodded at Anders once, and finally drew his cart back out the way he came.

"What was that all about?" Anders asked, coming to stand a little closer to me as he watched Hylon depart. Dane came to stand between the two of us and made sure that Anders knew who should be prepared to jump.

I turned to look at him, fingers moving to touch my nose again though the skin was not tender any longer, and shrugged. "I suppose if I knew now it wouldn't be much fun, would it?"

Author's Note:
Holy moly, these chapters are much shorter on here than in my documents. Ahh well, more to come soon. (=

Oh, and, just so you know I am aware that the timeline is funny, having Anders here right now. All will be explained in due time, dearies! Keep up the reviews, they're greatly appreciated.