A/N: A big thanks, as always, to my wonderful beta for all her help! Jaden Anderson, you are the best! Special thanks also go out to my reviewers from last chapter: Marlene101, Lulu14168, WhiteRose123, Melysande, Vorenea, Candle in the Night, FenZev, Loverofallfiction, and shiyona. Sorry for the slight delay in posting this chapter—I was busy writing a gift fic for my dear friend, FenZev, who was the 300th reviewer of Duty and Devotion! Thanks to all of you for your support!


Dragon 9:31, Cloudreach 21

Hawke


"Carver, darling, there you are!"

Hawke and her brother had barely made it through the door of hovel when their mother descended on them. Elaborate curls held half her hair while the rest remained tightly coiled. Hawke glanced around, noting the starched trousers and shirt that hung in the doorway. "What's going on?" she asked cautiously.

Leandra grasped Carver by the hand and pulled him into the back room where a tub filled with steaming water stood. "Hurry and bathe, Carver—we haven't much time before our afternoon tea at the Valois estate!"

"Afternoon tea?" Carver echoed weakly. "And why exactly am I only hearing about this now, Mother?"

Leandra moved into the next room and they heard the clatter of pins as she freed the rest of her hair. "Oh, I only arranged it this morning, Darling!"

Carver groaned. "And why, may I ask, do I have to go along to some stuffy noble's house?"

Leandra's poked her head back in the doorway, her lips pursing when she saw Carver still dressed in his dusty travelling gear. "Because I've arranged for you to meet their daughter, Lady Colette. Do hurry up, Carver… we don't want to keep them waiting!"

Hawke clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, but her stifled merriment was the only sound in the room. Carver's angry silence moved through the house like a thick fog.

"What?" he finally asked. "Mother, please tell me you aren't trying to… to set me up with some noble twit!"

"Oh, Carver, do be reasonable," Leandra cooed, walking back toward him

"And what about Mari? She's coming, too, right?" Carver said, shrugging out of the coat Leandra was delicately pulling off of him.

Hawke shot a look of venom at her brother. The last thing she wanted to do was prance about in Hightown, especially when she was prone to uncontrollable fits of magic.

"Actually, no. This is just you and me, today."

"But Mother—Mari's the eldest! Shouldn't you be trying to marry her off, first?" Carver gave Mari a beseeching look. She just leaned against the doorframe and smiled at him, delighted that she wasn't in her brother's place. At least, not yet.

"Oh, eventually it will come to that. I just haven't found anyone suitable for her, yet."

"Thank the Maker for small mercies," Hawke mumbled.

Leandra carried on as though she hadn't heard. "Remember, Carver, we are trying to get back to our old estate. If we ever want to do that, we need the appropriate connections in Hightown. We can't just move back in one day and expect to be in good standing unless we build relationships, first."

"Sod the estate, Mother!" Carver exclaimed. "I'm all for moving up in the world, if that's what you really want, but if you expect me to chase after some stuffy girl whose distant relation was the Orlesian ruler's royal arse-kisser—"

"Carver!" Leandra dropped the bar of soap into the tub in shock.

"Sorry, Mother," he murmured, his cheeks flushing red.

"Really, Dear. Do try to refrain from using such language around Lady Colette. No matter what your opinions of the nobles are, she is an absolutely lovely girl."

Carver and Hawke shared a look. Knowing their mother, there was certain to be a but.

"Her family is very well-thought of here in Kirkwall. Her father works in finances at the viscount's keep, in fact! Her mother was one of the true beauties when we were younger—she's close to my age and I remember her from my youth quite well. Now, Colette, I admit she does physically take after her father a bit more—"

And there it was: the fault they'd been waiting to hear. Hawke grinned at Carver, who rolled his eyes and strode in to take a bath, forfeiting the battle to his mother.


A short time later, Carver tugged on the collar of his new shirt, his neck a bit too thick to fit comfortably in the stiff tunic.

Leandra fussed around him, brushing imaginary dirt off of his clothes and carefully patting her own impeccably styled hair. "Carver, you look so handsome!" she gushed, smoothing his hair back into place. Despite her best efforts, it refused to lie the way she wanted it.

Hawke turned so her mother wouldn't see her laughter. She was far too used to seeing Carver in his day-to-day wear that anything remotely fancy looked utterly ridiculous on him.

"Don't you think your brother looks splendid, Marian?" Leandra asked. "Surely, he could win the heart of any girl in Hightown! He looks so much like your father did at his age…"

Hawke arranged her face into mock sincerity. "Oh, yes, he looks absolutely divine, Mother." She smiled broadly at the miserable look on Carver's face.

"What will you do in our absence, Darling?"

"You know, I haven't really thought about it." She quirked another grin at Carver, whose brows shot up in suspicion. He knew her all too well.

In fact, she had thought about it, and knew exactly what she planned to do with her free time. For the past year, Hawke and Carver had heard a great deal about the ruthless templars in Kirkwall, and had seen evidence of it while working under Athenril. It was common knowledge among Kirkwall's criminals that an underground organization worked to free oppressed mages from the circle. Athenril's group had even been hired to smuggle supplies to one of the safe-houses at one point. Once free of service, Hawke had wanted to do some snooping around to see if there was any chance of her offering help, but Carver would hear none of it. Today was her chance—with her brother detained, she was free to explore the Gallows on her own and personally assess the situation.

"You could go to the market, Mari," Leandra said sweetly. "I saw some of the tonics for sale the other day. A merchant there assured me that one of his can grow hair twice as fast! Just think, your hair could be back to normal within a few months!"

Hawke shook her head. Ever since she'd hacked her hair off a year ago, Leandra had grown desperate for her to grow it long again. Hawke whipped her fingers through the choppy strands that fell across her brow. She much preferred this simple style to her former lengths.

Leandra stilled her hands and a tiny frown creased her brow. "And he also said that there are certain powders that might help to hide that scar of yours."

Hawke groaned. While working with Athenril, she'd acquired dozens of injuries. Minor gashes that had healed quite easily—either on her own or with potions. However, one night she'd caught the flat of a blade against her nose. The bone had broken, and her skin had torn. Later that night, she'd managed to heal the break before her magic went haywire, but had failed to seal the wound, resulting in a jagged scar that stretched across the bridge of her nose and partway onto one cheek.

"Mother—"

"I know, I know. You're too practical to care about these frivolous things." Leandra sighed heavily. "It's just… you used to be so pretty—not that you aren't still, Darling—but if you just put a bit more effort in—"

"Sweet Andraste's knickers!" The front door slammed open, the faint scent of alcohol surrounding Gamlen. "What in the Void are you doing all tarted up?"

"Maker! We're going to be late if we don't hurry!" Leandra cried, ignoring her brother's outburst while looking at the old timepiece on the wall. She grasped Carver by the hand and headed for the open door.

"We're off to meet Colette Valois," Carver said miserably when Gamlen's gaze followed them.

"Valois?" Their uncle cocked his head to the side. "Oh, Valois! Isn't she the one with shoulders like a mabari?"

Hawke's irritation at her mother vanished, and she broke down into hearty laughter. Better Carver than her.


Hawke strode into the courtyard of the Kirkwall Gallows. It was almost exactly as she remembered it from when they'd first arrived in the city.

The imposing cliffs on either side of the bay loomed over her. While they blocked the worst of the treacherous current from the docking area, they also cast the Gallows into perpetual shadow, except for when the sun rose directly overhead. The fortress itself emerged from those same cliffs, carved directly out of the mountain stone. The only color in this dreary place came from the blood-red banners bearing the Kirkwall coat-of-arms and the bronze pillar statues. Hawke swallowed hard as she walked past these reminders of the city's violent past. She tried unsuccessfully to ignore the looks of despair etched permanently onto the grotesque figures. How many people have died here? Is that how the circle mages of Kirkwall feel?

She shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Squinting against the weak sunlight that filtered through the haze of clouds, Hawke peered up at the twin towers of the Gallows: one was home to the templars of Kirkwall, and the other imprisoned their charges.

Her father hadn't spoken much of his time at the Kirkwall circle. He wanted his children to live free of such oppression, rather than suffer as he had. Though, he had acknowledged that the circle had its advantages, particularly for those who had no one to teach them control.

Hawke's lips twisted into a wry grin. How ironic that now, despite all of Father's training, I find myself in need of help just as I did when I was a child.

Thankfully, she'd managed to find help–in the form of an apostate. She shook her head and strayed further in to the courtyard. She hadn't come here to reminisce about her family's past; she'd come to nose around in the templar's backyard. She could only imagine Carver's reaction, if he'd been here.

A quick glance around revealed the magnitude of the situation. There were templars everywhere. She shivered and suppressed the urge to flee. She was dressed in traditional Free Marches attire and had committed no crime by entering the Gallows. Worst case scenario, there were shops to peruse if she happened to draw unwanted attention. Nevertheless, her stomach churned at the sight of the shiny plate metal and templar insignia. There was only one mage that she could see, and he was selling wares for the circle. Two templars stood in the shadows behind him, watching for any sort of trouble. Perhaps Carver was right and I should have avoided this place completely.

"Excuse me, serah, may I help you find something?"

Hawke jumped and whirled around, her eyes connecting with the steel gaze of a templar. Her heart leapt into her throat as she studied his serious face, right down to his stern mouth. She continued south, her breath catching when she caught sight of the gold band encircling his left gauntlet.

Sweet Maker, preserve me. He's the knight-captain…

Fear laced through Hawke, and before she could regain control, magic crackled in her right fingertips. Her panic at being discovered overrode all logical thought. Without looking to see if he'd noticed her magic, she spun on her heel and sprinted down the nearest alley.

"Hey! Halt!"

He took pursuit, the heavy rush of his feet behind her urging her faster. She tore through the back alleys, her terror-stricken mind making snap decisions. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she raced down the street to her left. She skidded around the corner, her fingers brushing the stone for balance, and heard him clatter after her.

Hawke chanced a glance back, only to find him steadily gaining ground. Cursing, she brought her attention back to the front, only to shriek and stumble when she caught sight of a pile of barrels ahead. There was no escape…it was a dead end.

She dug her heels into the stone, about to backtrack, when something heavy crashed into her. The air whooshed from her lungs as the knight-captain's weight took them to the ground.