A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! I really appreciate it! Anyway, I am working on my other story, and as soon as I post this I'm going to go edit it and hopefully I'll get up the first chapter soon xD A few characters that you'll recognize make cameos in this story, so I hope you'll enjoy seeing them.

Fenris has been asking me about what my life was like in Ferelden- so, naturally, I keep thinking about my last few days there. Before we fled from the Blight, Carver and I fought in the battle at Ostagar, but we were able to escape once we realized what was going on. Sometimes, I forget what it was like in Ferelden... so I wrote this story to remind myself of it.

-Hawke

Ostagar

Hawke yawned with boredom and rose to her feet. She was resting in the soldiers' camp at Ostagar, sharpening her daggers in preparation for the coming battle. Deciding that they were sharp enough, she flicked her main dagger experimentally before slipping them both into their sheaths at her waist. She turned to go for a walk.

"Going somewhere?" Carver asked, walking up to her from his tent. He stayed in the one next to hers with one of the other soldiers; since she was a girl, Hawke had a tent to herself. Not that she would have minded sharing with another soldier.

"Yes. I'm leaving to go join the darkspawn horde, just so I can specifically make your life a living hell," she deadpanned. Carver rolled his eyes.

"Do you have to make everything into a joke?" he asked witheringly.

"Yep," she answered cheerfully. "Coming with?"

"Just to make sure you don't get in trouble," he groused. She turned to lead the way through the soldiers' encampment.

"Since when has you being with me ever stopped me from getting into trouble?" she teased over her shoulder. He just sighed and jogged a few steps to catch up with her.

She threaded her way through the encampment, bantering amiably with other soldiers as they passed. Carver just followed silently; she could feel annoyance and fear simmering from him in equal measures. Hawke herself was feeling a little anxious, but whereas Carver became surly when he was nervous, Hawke only became more facetious. At the edge of the encampment were the Grey Wardens' tents. The Wardens were looking considerably more grave than the regular soldiers, she observed. The Wardens watched them warily as they passed; Hawke just tossed them a dazzling smile, and they quit staring.

"You always do that," Carver grumbled as they finally passed the last of the tents.

"Do what?" Hawke asked innocently.

"Grin at everyone like they're the most important thing in the world."

Hawke glanced back at Carver and grinned at him. He just glowered at her.

They wandered past a large bonfire, where Hawke recognized the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden- Duncan was his name, she recalled- who was standing with a Mabari hound. Then they passed a group of mages, who were performing some sort of ritual, supervised by several templars. Here, to Carver's annoyance, Hawke paused to watch them, eyes wide with curiosity. She walked over to an elderly mage who was standing nearby.

"What are they doing?" she asked the mage curiously, gesturing to the other mages.

"They are walking through the Fade," answered the woman, looking a little amused. Hawke nodded thoughtfully. Her father and Bethany had told her about the dangers of the Fade, so she was more knowledgeable about it than most people.

"Why-" Hawke began, but Carver cut her off.

"Must you ask questions about everything?" he sighed. She opened her mouth to retort.

"Curiosity isn't a bad thing, young man," the elderly woman contradicted him. "It shouldn't be stifled. What's your name, child?" she added to Hawke.

"Hawke- er, Rathina Hawke," she answered with a slight blush. "This is my brother Carver."

"My name is Wynne," the woman introduced herself.

"You came from the Circle?" Hawke asked, intrigued. Wynne smiled, but she had a sharp glint in her eyes that worried Hawke a bit. "What can Circle mages do on the battlefield?"

"I'm here to help heal wounded soldiers in the battle," she answered. "Some of the others are going to help in the actual fight."

"Well, good luck, then," Hawke replied seriously. "It was nice to meet you."

"May the Maker smile upon all of us," Wynne agreed. Hawke smiled and turned to walk away. Her stride was quicker than before, and Carver hurried to keep up.

"Why are you walking so fast?" he hissed. "Since you were so eager to talk to her in the first place..."

"She had a strange look about her. I thought it wise not to stick around her for too long," Hawke answered, a little grimly. Carver rolled his eyes.

"You're paranoid."

"Is there anybody who's not, this close to the battle?" Hawke pointed out with wry amusement. Just then she threw her arm out to stop Carver from moving any farther, and they both stopped to watch one of the junior Grey Wardens pass with a young woman that Hawke had never seen before. The woman's gaze darted around warily, and although she moved with a smooth, lithe gait, she seemed uncomfortable. Hawke guessed that she'd just arrived in Ostagar. Carver seemed to be followed her train of thought, for he whispered in her ear, "That must be the new Warden recruit everybody's talking about." He might be a bullhead, Hawke thought wryly, but at least he pays attention.

"You know, I bet you're right," she whispered back. "Arianna Cousland- Teryn Cousland's daughter. I think that's Alistair with her."Alistair glanced over, as if hearing them speak, and they locked gazes. Hawke smiled cheerily at him and he blinked, bemused, before he glanced away again. She could've sworn she saw a blush creep up his cheeks.

"She looks so sad," Hawke sighed.

"You did hear what happened to her parents, right?" Carver asked derisively.

"Yes, I did! I'm not an idiot, you know."

"Are you sure about that?" Hawke just glowered at her brother, who shrugged. "Whatever. Let's head back to camp, I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry."

The two headed back to camp, bantering slightly more than usual in an attempt to hide their nerves, so they could prepare for the coming battle.

Hawke stood next to Carver, shivering a little. It was twilight; the sun was sinking fast, as was the temperature. They were near the back of the army, thankfully; it bothered Carver, but she'd promised her mother that she would protect him.

"What's going on?" she hissed to her brother. Normally, her height didn't bother her, but at times like this it could be really annoying; even on her tiptoes, she couldn't see what was happening at the front of the army. Especially not with everybody else straining to look.

"I don't see- Oh. Maker's breath," Carver breathed. "Those things are hideous." A horn blew then, and they heard the twang of arrows leaving bowstrings as the archers aimed and fired. The mages at the back of the army set fire to the arrows to make them more effective. It was followed a few moments later by a hair-raising screech as the darkspawn were struck with the flaming arrows. Howls echoed across the evening as the hounds were released upon the darkspawn, and then whimpers of pain. Hawke grimaced sympathetically, glad that Fang was at home. She gripped her daggers nervously; off to her right, Carver shifted his weight constantly, his gaze darting back and forth with the same anxiety.

"Sister, I..." Carver began, then trailed off as he swallowed apprehensively.

"Something wrong?" she asked teasingly, but her own voice cracked pathetically. He turned and glared at her. She shrugged. "I just can't shake the feeling that something will go wrong," she explained, lowering her voice and biting her lip. He opened his mouth to tell her what he thought about that, but a horn blew ahead of them, and his words were swallowed by a collective shout from all the soldiers and the scraping sound of swords being drawn from their sheaths as the army sprinted forward, brandishing their weapons. Hawke shook her head and ran after the man in front of her, with Carver at her side.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that the battle wasn't going well. For every darkspawn they killed, it seemed as if two more took its place. Hawke guessed it had been about an hour since the battle started, but the signal hadn't been sent yet.

"What's taking Alistair and the new Warden recruit so long?" she hissed to Carver during a brief respite from the darkspawn. He just shrugged, scowling, before several more darkspawn converged on them. Then a cheer rose up from the other soldiers, and everybody stopped to turn toward the Tower. The signal flare danced on the top floor.

"Finally!" Hawke laughed, plunging her dagger into the darkspawn and glancing expectantly toward the forest where Teryn Loghain's men were supposedly waiting for the signal. Then the weird feeling from earlier returned, like ice water trickling down her back, and she shivered with dread.

"What's going on?" Carver asked, also facing toward the forest, brows furrowed with confusion. "Aren't they supposed to come help us?"

"Something's wrong," Hawke whispered, and the same murmur spread across the rest of the army like a light breeze. Way up at the front of the army, King Cailan had stopped and was glancing around in similar confusion. He shouted back to Duncan; Hawke couldn't catch their words, but the meaning was clear. Her stomach plummeted, and for the first time, raw fear ripped through her body. "Carver, I... I don't think Loghain is coming." She heard a sharp inhale on her right, followed by a muffled swear. Another darkspawn approached them; Hawke yelled angrily and stabbed it, killing it quickly. Three more darkspawn strode up to them, followed by four more.

"Dammit!" Hawke swore, whirling around. The army was failing quickly, now; even as she watched, King Cailan fell, and Warden-Commander Duncan was charging an ogre in his final brave act of life. She whipped a fire bomb out of her pocket and threw it at the feet of the approaching darkspawn before lashing out and grabbing Carver's wrist.

"Carver, we have to run," she told him, dragging him away. He resisted at first, but relented when he saw all the darkspawn that were still alive, leering and slinking toward the army with deadly purpose.

"Maker damn him," Hawke swore as they ran, dodging past darkspawn and soldiers alike, referring to Loghain. A few of the soldiers were getting the idea and following them, but most stood resolutely, facing death directly rather than shying away from it.

Well, Hawke wasn't ready to give up her life just yet. And she was going to take as many people with her as she could.

"Come on!" she screamed at some of the soldiers, staggering to a halt. "The King and the Warden-Commander are dead! Teryn Loghain won't come to save us! We have to leave!"

"No!" one of the soldiers shouted back at her. "We aren't cowards! The Teryn will come!"

"You idiots!" Hawke shrieked. "The Teryn abandoned us! He isn't going to sweep in and save the day!"

"Sister, we have to go," Carver hissed, eyes flashing with annoyance.

"We're going back to Lothering," Hawke told the other soldiers, her own eyes narrowed with determination. "You're welcome to join us, if you can keep up. If you stay, though, you're going to die, just like our brave King Cailan did- there's no hope left for you here."

"Rathina!" Carver insisted, glancing nervously back at the advancing horde.

"Right." She turned, then paused and glanced back at the determined soldiers. "Maker watch over you all." Their expressions softened at her last words, and they solemnly repeated it. She spun around and sprinted off the battlefield, adjusting her stride so Carver could keep up in his heavy armor.

"I think we've gone far enough," Carver panted, stumbling to a halt a while later. Hawke skidded to a stop, casting a concerned sideways glance at her brother. He was sweating profusely and breathing hard. He was also limping a bit, and Hawke noticed a cut on his calf. Her own side was aching- a darkspawn had hit it hard, and she thought it might have cracked one of her ribs. And then, of course, they both had several other cuts and bruises scattered across their bodies.

"We can stop for a few minutes," Hawke allowed. "Aren't you wearing a tunic or something underneath that heavy armor? Why didn't you take it off? You're not that attached to it, are you?"

"I can't pull it off while we're running," he pointed out, glowering, as he started to unstrap the breast plate. "I guess I have more at home, though not nearly as good quality as this."

"After that battle, I don't think it's all that good quality anymore. We don't have enough money to repair it." Hawke had picked up the breast plate and was examining its numerous stains and dents with slight distaste.

"If any of the darkspawn followed us-" began Carver, but he was cut off when a red-haired woman soldier sprinted into the immediate area- a woman, Hawke could tell, because she'd thrown off her helmet to reveal bright red hair streaming behind her.

"Hurry!" the woman called over her shoulder. She turned to face Hawke and Carver, taking in the scene with an eyebrow lifted. As she appraised them, more soldiers sprinted past, staggering with the effort of running with their own heavy armor. "Are you two survivors of the battle as well?"

"Yes," Hawke asserted. "I'm Rathina Hawke, this is my brother Carver. We're returning to Lothering, where our family is, so we can alert them and get out quickly."

"Aveline Vallen," the woman answered, extending a hand. Hawke shook it firmly, her mouth pressed into a grim line as mutual understanding passed between them... although that didn't hide the amused quirk to her eyebrow when she heard the woman's first name. "Do you know if anybody else survived?" Aveline added curiously.

"A few others were following us when we left the battlefield, but they got lost," Hawke replied with a regretful shrug.

"Ah." Grief flickered across Aveline's face. "I can't believe the Teryn betrayed us like that."

"Neither can we," Carver growled.

"Good luck getting your family out of Lothering," added the red-haired warrior. Wry amusement flickered across her expression. "Perhaps we will meet again."

"Good luck to you, too," Hawke answered, grimacing. They nodded to each other before they turned and raced off in opposite directions, Carver now matching his sister stride for stride.