I'm so pleased that my story has been received well. I wanted to thank you for the favs, alerts and reviews….it really means a lot and I'm very glad the story is one you can enjoy!

Loot. Sovereigns. Cash. Moolah. Doubloons. No matter what name it went by Hawke needed it badly. Meeran- the cheap bastard- had cut Hawke and Carver loose after the Hollington job and with only a few silvers as a parting gift. With an entire family to take care of and Templars to dodge, Hawke had never felt so desperate in his entire life. He watched his mother huddle close to the fireplace of Gamlen's shabby hovel in an attempt to keep warm and he wanted to murder his uncle. How long did Gamlen wait after his grandparent's death before he began to gamble away every piece of the Amell estate? Hawke was sure the once grand Amell treasury was divided between Kirkwall's brothel and tavern in equal measure. A brothel that he knew Carver was starting to visit as well. It infuriated him that the little coin they did make Carver was so eager to throw it away at The Blooming Rose for a few hours of pleasure. Begrudgingly, Hawke realized that just because he ignored his own personal needs did not mean Carver had to as well. He just felt that Carver's lackadaisical attitude matched their uncle's far too many times than he wanted to count.

A sudden wetness on his hand made him jump and he looked down to see Argus staring up at him. He looked into the Mabari's light brown eyes and saw the questioning concern that rested there and couldn't help but smile. Was he that obvious to even a dog? He gave Argus an affectionate rub on his back. "I'm fine, boy," he muttered, "don't you worry."

Argus tilted his head to the side and let out a confused whine, his eyes still boring into his master. Damn the Mabari and their intelligence, Hawke thought but he knew better than to expect Argus to not know when he was upset. The wolf-hound had imprinted on him when he was just a teenager and was more a family member than a pet. "I'm just tired," Hawke finally admitted softly. "But you know what will cheer me up, don't you?"

Argus barked happily and looked over at the door leading to the room Hawke shared with Carver. The Mabari knew this game and was clearly more than happy to do it if it brightened his master's mood. Hawke watched Argus trot off and scratch at the door until it opened. The hound disappeared into the dark room and a few moments of silence passed before Hawke heard Carver cry out. A loud thud followed and Hawke winched as he remembered Carver usually chose the top bunk and had nearly four feet to fall to the dirty wooden floor. Argus bolted out of the room followed by Carver in his small clothes.

"That blighted dog needs to be caged!" Carver yelled.

Leandra turned away from the fireplace and glared at her youngest son. "Carver! How could you say such a thing? Argus is far too cooped up the house as it is. What happened?"

Carver looked apologetically at his mother. "I was sleeping and the mongrel grabbed me by my pants and knocked me to the floor." He noticed that his brother was strangely silent and turned to look at Hawke. "Ayden! It's your damn dog…he probably did it because you told him to."

Hawke smiled. "Now why would I do a thing like that, brother? I think it's just because you haven't bathed and smell like rotten meat. Mabari like that smell, or so I'm told."

"You ass," Carver growled. "If it smells anything rotten it should be you."

Leandra rolled her eyes. "Boys…please."

"That's right," Hawke said smoothly. "You're upsetting mother, Carver."

Too upset to say anything else, Carver gave Hawke a nasty gesture he had learned from his time with the Red Irons and returned to the bed room.

Leandra went to sit next to Hawke by the writing desk. "Why do you do that to your brother? You know how easily he gets upset."

Hawke shrugged. "I think that's why I do it. He rests easy while I fret about taking care of the family."

His mother rested a hand on his shoulder and sighed. "I know it's a lot for you to take on, dear, but your father would be so proud of you. He had such high hopes for all you, especially you and Bethany. My dear sweet Bethany…"

A heavy silence fell between them as mother and son grieved over their loss. "I miss her terribly," Leandra whispered.

"I do too, mother," Hawke replied softly. "I wish there was something I could have done." With more bitterness than he had intended he added, "It was my fault, after all."

Leandra's brown eyes widened and she suddenly pulled her son in an embrace. "Oh darling, I didn't mean any of those things! I know you did all you could. She rushed ahead to protect us; I wish she hadn't but there's nothing that will change it."

Hawke let his mother hold on to him for a few moments more before gently prying away. "It's hard for all of us. I would say that's why Carver has been such an ass but he doesn't get that excuse."

He received a playful hit on the shoulder. "Ayden, you know your brother tries to keep up with you. He spent his entire childhood convinced that he had to prove his worth to Malcolm." She let out a heavy sigh and stood up. "I'm going to retire for the night, darling, you should too."

Hawke was about to speak when the front door suddenly opened and a fairly drunk Gamlen staggered in. "What's this? Everyone is still up? Burning all this candle light isn't cheap, you know. And the fireplace, as well? Wood costs money!"

"Oh shush, Gamlen," Leandra chided. "We're going to bed anyway but the fireplace has to burn; it's far too chilly tonight and I won't have my children catch a cold."

Gamlen snorted. "When you have a healer for a son? Nice try but it won't work, sister. I'm trying to be as hospitable as I can."

It was aggravating listening to his mother and uncle argue and be reminded, once again, how far they had fallen. The two of them arguing reminded him of how Bethany and Carver would always carry on and he had to get out of there. He whistled for Argus to follow him and slipped out of the house, leaving the arguing voices behind him.

Once they were walking down the steps Argus let out a loud huff of relief. He sniffed the air and trotted happily beside Hawke.

"I know, old boy," Hawke agreed. "It's nice to be out of there and breathe some nice fresh air." He laughed when Argus made a growling grumble and huffed again. "Alright, maybe not fresh but certainly better than in there. I just need a break from all of the expectations sometimes."

Argus barked in agreement and the pair headed towards no place in particular. How sad is it, Hawke mused to himself, that my deepest conversation for the day has been with a war hound? I need more friends.

They wandered through the city and eventually made their way into Dark Town. Despite how danger was sure to lurk in nearly every corner, Hawke strolled through the dirty streets with no real fear. Argus was menacing enough that most thugs left Hawke alone and for those that did not…well, they weren't alive for very long. By the Maker, this part of town had to be the worst place he had ever seen. Hawke had seen poverty in his home of Lothering but never to this extent. He was reminded of the occasional elf family trying to find the Dailish or foolish wanderers that met bad luck coming from the Kocari Wilds to the south. Dark Town was clearly where Kirkwall stored its most impoverished souls; throw-aways that they didn't want dirtying up Hightown or criminals that wanted to disappear. It sickened Hawke to see so much suffering and squalor but from what he learned in his year of servitude to the Red Irons was that Kirkwall's history was built with the bones of poor sods like these. Formerly a city filled with slaves during the Imperiums rule, Kirkwall still coveted only two things. Money and power.

Hawke sighed. He had neither of those things which made making a new life for his mother so damned difficult. Carver expressed how useless it was to try and reclaim their mother's old life, chasing after the memory of the once proud family Amell. Carver claimed that their mother only wanted that life back now that she had nothing and Hawke had to agree. Who wouldn't want wealth and a title? What Carver didn't understand was that Hawke had no desire to recover the Amell name to its former glory. As far as Hawke was concerned he wasn't an Amell. Hell, he had never even met his mother's relatives so what did that history mean to him? He would make the city of Kirkwall respect the name Hawk or die trying. If I get hauled off to the Gallows then I'll have absolutely no troubles at all, he thought sourly.

"I told you, I don't have money here."

The slight desperation in the person's voice made Hawke stop in his tracks and he searched the area for the source. The trouble with Dark Town was all the walls and thick ceiling. Everything echoed in the damn place and Hawke's ears couldn't tell where the voices were coming from. He flicked the edges of Argus' ears and the hound huffed in response, tilting his head to the side to better locate isolate the voices. Argus moved forward slowly and led Hawke down several flights of stairs, taking them deeper into Darktown where the soot and stench made his eyes water and his throat burn.

"Maker, Argus…are you sure you're going the right way?"

Argus looked back up at his master and gave a growling whine. Hawke swore that the dog narrowed its eyes at him. "Fine, fine…don't be so touchy. Just walk a bit faster, would you?"

The war hound ran a bit faster but still at a steady pace that his master could follow. The hallway finally opened up to a large space with tall double doors and a man standing protectively in front of it. There were about five men surrounding him and from the looks of it they were just thugs trying to rob the easiest mark they could find.

"Oh come on, this is a clinic….healers charge for their services," one of the thugs sneered. "You've got coin and you're going to give it to us!"

"I have no coin," the main hissed. "This is a place of healing and sanctuary, I do not charge them!"

"Then you're a bigger fool than we imaged. Come on boys, let's clean the place out. Maybe we'll find a few items that we can sell."

Were things so terrible in this city that even healers were robbed? "You get to chew on a few more legs, boy," Hawke chuckled. "How fun is that?"

Argus barked happily and it drew the attention of the five thugs. The one that spoke to the healer was obviously the leader and drew his sword, holding it up in Hawke's direction. "This is no business of yours, filthy dog lord. Turn around and go about your business."

Hawke shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, but no. I'd rather bash your heads in so you leave this poor man alone."

"I'm not some helpless victim," the healer argued.

He was trying to do the right thing by helping out this man and he was being chastised? "I didn't say you were, I just—"

"Enough talk!" A thug yelled. "You die here!"

Hawke had just enough time to dodge a knife aimed for his chest and Argus charged towards the attacker, wrestling the screaming man down to the ground with his powerful Mabari jaws. It would have been easier for Hawke to use Destructive magic and burn all the men to a crisp but Darktown had too many eyes. The last thing he needed was the Templars at his door hauling him away for a life in the Gallows, Kirkwall's version of the Circle of Magi. Instead, he had to rely on Argus to do most of the fighting, which the hound was very eager to do. Hawke wasn't completely defenseless, however, and was able to hold his own when one of the thugs came at him with fists flying. His father had made sure he taught him the basics of hand-to-hand combat and, after sporting several bruises and cuts, Hawke stood triumphantly over the now unconscious thug. The two robbers that were left took a look at the situation and realized that the odds were not in their favor. Abandoning their fellows, they ran from the fight and soon disappeared in the many dark alleyways of Darktown.

Argus wagged his stump of a tail and barked loudly, obviously pleased with himself and their victory. His brown eyes gleamed and he licked his bloody snout as he trotted back to Hawke's side.

"That'll teach those stupid old robbers, won't it boy?" Hawke laughed. He looked down at the three men that had been abandoned and knew they were going to wake up very sore in the next few hours. He had become so excited by the actual fight that he forgot WHY he was fighting. What was it?

Hawke looked around and saw the healer still standing by the tall wooden doors, glaring at him as if he had done something wrong. Hawke's mood darkened instantly. "Your bloody welcome," he grumbled. "I was just trying to help."

"Oh? And were you expecting a reward later?" The man replied in an icy tone. "I was not lying…I have no coin."

What was this man's problem? "I didn't want coin," Hawke snapped. "I wanted to help you. You sound Ferelden and I know how we're a target for pretty much everything these days."

The man brushed his ash blond hair from his face and regarded Hawke with curiosity. "I thought you sounded Ferelden…which part?"

"Lothering," Hawke replied.

The man nodded. "A good little town, if I can recall. It was lost to the Blight, so I heard."

Hawke nodded. "It was. Well, you're fine now so I guess I should be—"

"You're bleeding."

Hawke frowned. "What?"

The man smiled softly and approached Hawke. "You got punched pretty good back there." He touched Hawke's forehead and muttered an apology when Hawke flinched. "Step inside and I'll heal that up for you. It's the least I can do, I suppose."

Hawke shook his head since he could easily heal it himself with magic when he got home. "Oh, I'll be fine. I can easily take care of it when I return home."

"So you think it's a good idea to wander through Darktown with a bruised face? You don't look like the type that lives down here so you're just going to attract more attention to yourself. Either from more thugs thinking you're easy prey or the city guard asking you questions what happened."

More thugs Hawke could take care of but without Aveline by his side to keep the rest of Kirkwall's Guardsmen off his back, he didn't want to take the chance. He doubted the man would do more than throw a peppermint salve on it to stop the bleeding and offer him a sink to wipe the blood of his face. It would be enough until he returned to Lowtown to finish the job correctly.

"Fine," Hawke finally agreed with a sigh and walked into the clinic after the man. Well, clinic was being polite. The large space housed several cots, a fireplace and not much else. The man actually lived here?

"I can tell by the look on your face that it's not what you expected," the man said softly.

Hawke forced a smile on his face. "No, no! I just thought…oh, who am I kidding? Yes, I didn't expect a clinic to be so…well…so.." He struggled to find the right words so he wouldn't offend.

"This is Darktown," the man chuckled. "What else did you expect?"

"Good point."

"Now hold still, this won't take but a second."

Hawke waited for the disgusting feeling of a poultice on his face or the harsh aroma of a healing salve but it never came. Instead he felt a warm and soothing sensation that spread across his skin and there was a slight tingle as he felt the cuts on his face literally closing by themselves.

"Y-you're a mage!" Hawke sputtered with shock.

The man's soft brown eyes narrowed. "A little louder, if you please. Perhaps the Templars in Hightown didn't hear you."

Hawke laughed. "Oh, no worries there, my friend." He held out his hand and called forth his favorite weapon, fire. The conjured flame danced in the palm of his hand and, with just a thought, it was extinguished as if it was never there. Didn't I just say I needed more friends? Hawke mused. What are the odds that I run into another apostate?

He extended the hand that had just held the fire. "I'm Ayden Hawke….everyone just calls me Hawke, though."

The man hesitated for a moment but finally shook Hawke's hand. "Anders."

"Have you been in Kirkwall long?"

Anders seemed to think about his response but finally nodded. "I came here to escape the Blight, just like everyone else. With so many Fereldens sick and tossed away down here, I had to help."

"That's noble of you," Hawke said, "not many would help out others that way."

"You did," Anders chuckled.

"That I did. It was Argus's fault."

The Mabari had been sniffing around up until that point and turned around to growl softly at Hawke. He walked over to the clinic entrance and let out a soft howl. He wanted to go home.

"That's my cue," Hawke said. "Take care of yourself, Anders."

"And you."

Hawke left Anders' clinic and headed back to Lowtown. It had been an interesting night but he doubted he would see Anders again. Solitary apostates usually stayed that way since too many mages in one spot was just dying for attention. It was still a comforting thought to know that there was another person that shared his magic prison. Hawke froze when he realized what he just thought of his gift. No, he was just tired and feeling trapped in that dirty rat trap called a house. Everyone was counting on him to take care of their lives and because of the magic that flowed through his veins he had no choice but to stay. They made it back to Lowtown without incident although one or two guards inquired why he was out so late. 'Walking the dog' seemed to be the easiest lie and Argus even played along occasionally by lifting his leg, pretending as if he was about to urinate on the guardsman feet. They were quickly ushered along and once they stepped into Gamlen's hut, Hawke wished he was back outside. The air was nearly as suffocating as the confining spaces of Darktown and he already heard the annoying snore coming from the room he shared with Carver. Something had to change…and soon.

As he removed his armor and laid down on the hard wooden cot, he remembered the whispers he heard around Lowtown about some expedition into the Deep Roads. It promised money and a chance to escape the city for at least two weeks. What was the dwarf's name? Bart-something. He would just have to ask around in Hightown and corner the dwarf until they go the job.

If Carver and I could be brought on as hirelings then that would solve our problem, Hawke thought as he tried to ignore Carver's snores. Or part of it. Carver will still always be an ass.

Tomorrow, he promised himself as closed his eyes and slowly drifted to sleep. Things would be better tomorrow.

Thank you Hatsepsut for the kind review!

Thank you Shini-neko-chan! And yes, I plan on writing it as much as I can between classes and work. I'm on Deviant Art too but I haven't uploaded much just yet.