Just a bit of an alternative take on the battle for Ostagar, with Hawke and Carver implemented, as they were there after all. Also, apparently I really started liking Carver. He is fun to write and I like him more then Bethany anyway. I have a thing for stuck up arses XD This seems to be the biggest drabble up to date. And I suck describing action. Oh well. You were warned :P

Cheers,

AngelT

Battle for Ostagar

They never came. Hawke kept squinting desperately into the dark, shielding her eyes from the pouring rain but not a single arrow flew from the direction where Loghain's reinforcements had to arrive from. The Tower of Ishal was burning bright, the fire painting mysterious and creepy pictorials over the heavy rain clouds. There could be no mistake, the two Wardens did their part and yet…

They were all looking up in the skies, it seemed even darkspawn had paused their relentless assault. As in some sort of ritual trance people were turning their heads to the tower and immediately behind themselves, in the direction of Ostagar. How many of them were hoping it was just a delay? But Hawke knew better. All her childhood she dreamt to be a hero. She'd made a wooden sword out of some tree branches and run around with it, pretending to be a warrior of a mighty army of the King Maric. When she got older she was spending her free time studying the history of war. And, of course, she had read all the noble deeds that Loghain and Maric had done for Ferelden. Loghain loved this land more then he loved anything else in this world. He would throw himself in the battle butt-naked if it guaranteed to save Ferelden. This could not be a simple delay; Loghain decided it to be a sacrifice for a greater good, no less. She had to find a commanding officer, to inform him of the situation and ask for orders, if there were any. Slashing darkspawn on her way and helping out her fellow soldiers Hawke ran to where she thought the commander of her unit should have been. And he was… Or what was left of him. Bloody mess of intestines and bones, no doubt the work of an ogre. Slow giants they were not many in the darkspawn horde but those few were basically unstoppable. No human would be able to take them on alone. Especially not in the dark, with the pouring rain, where you hardly could see where you were going.

"Poor bastard…" whispered Hawke, crossing the remains of her superior. "May you find peace at the Maker's side."

There was no time to waste, so she hoisted her old sword behind her back and ran ahead, where King Cailan should have been fighting.

There were always whispers in the barracks about the king. Some said he is a bit naïve. Others claimed he is a fool and it is Queen Anora who rules the land, pulling the threads attached to her husband and staying in the shadows. Hawke did not deny there was some truth to what people said. Cailan had not been king for that long and the possible Blight was his first opportunity to prove himself so he was a tad bit too enthusiastic. But he listened to his people and did not look down at anyone, valuing their opinions: a trait he, no doubt, inherited from his father.

Lighting ripped through the skies, scaring the darkness away for a brief moment. Hawke found herself on top of a small hill, overlooking what seemed an endless river of moving bodies tangled together in a fight. It was difficult to distinguish her fellow men from the filthy darkspawn but it was not what she was searching for. Before the scenery got swallowed by the darkness once again Hawke thought she saw a bright glimmering sparkle somewhere to the left of her own location. She could not be sure of anything but it did look like a shine of metal and the king was wearing quite a fancy armor for this battle. Better some sort of a lead then wandering in the dark, she thought to herself and rushed down the hill.

The number of darkspawn here was much bigger then back from where she came. Hawke had no choice but to bare her sword and join the fight, ripping her way through the fiends towards where she was hoping to find Cailan. What seemed like an eternity later, Hawke finally made it out in a small clearing.

"My Liege!" she exclaimed, stumbling towards the king, who just took care yet of another hurlock. Her sword felt heavy in her hands. Hawke was a tough woman but the battle was going on for much longer then anyone had expected and she was starting to feel worn out. All that running across the battlefield also added to her fatigue.

"King Cailan!" she called him again, attracting his attention. The king had finally turned around. He was covered in darkspawn blood and guts and yet somehow still managed to radiate the aura of royal grace and honor.

"What is it, soldier?"

"The reinforcements… The tower of Ishal is lit but Teyrn Loghain did not send his army in battle. You have to sound the retreat; there is no chance against the horde on our own!"

A palette of emotions ran across king's face and Hawke could read every single one of them. He could not believe Loghain left them all for dead. He could not understand why. He was hoping the battle still could be won…

"The retreat.. yes." He muttered and raised hand to call one of his men that were fighting nearby however the next second his eyes widened in horror as he stared at something behind Hawke's back. Everything that followed happened in the matter of seconds but Hawke could not do anything, she seemed to be paralyzed with fear. The king dashed towards her baring his sword and, as soon as he was near her, with one strong swipe he pushed Hawke out of ogre's way. She rolled in the mud and hit her head on something blunt. Later she figured out it could be a rock. Or, perhaps a dead darkspawn in a bulky armor. Whatever it was it left her dazed and unable to react on the events, which were unveiling before her eyes. Cailan managed to land several blows on the ogre but this just infuriated the creature. It roared in the blind rage and grabbed the king in its paw. Before Cailan could even release a single scream, the creature snapped him in half with one violent shake and threw the body aside, like a broken doll. But before it managed to find a new toy to play with, something, which looked like a white spot in her vision, assaulted the monster.

Still dazed Hawke stood up and groped the ground for her sword but she could not find it anywhere. There was no time, the king was dead and the spawn was pouring in from the Wilds, thinning the chance for people to escape this cursed battle. She shook her head like a dog, hoping to get rid of the noise in the ears and black spots obscuring her vision. That seemed to help slightly and also cleared her head.

Carver.

I've forgotten all about him and he is still out there!

She knew it was almost impossible to find him amidst all this chaos. She just hoped she could bump into him by sheer luck. After all, all their life all of them depended on the luck.

"Comes in a package with having mages in the family", their father often joked.

And so she ran, as fast as her throbbing head and staggering legs allowed her, struggling against the storm that had finally hit ruins of Ostagar with all its strength.

"The king is dead, pass the word! Retreat! Run while you still can!" she grabbed someone on the shoulder. The person turned around and in the flashes of constant lightnings, Hawke saw a tall woman with flaming red hair. But before the female could reply Hawke rushed onwards, making her way amongst the stream of people that were now rapidly retreating in the direction of the fortress. Obviously, she was not the only one to see their leader fall on the battlefield.

Maybe Carver was a reserve. Maybe he is still at the campsite!

She and her younger brother had not had a smooth and happy relationship. Carver Hawke was eighteen years old and like every youngster this age he was passing an awkward stage of angst, anger and constant denial. He hated his life, what with being related to mages and all and the flippant attitude of his elder sister towards their 'mage situation' greatly irritated him. He could not understand how, after all they had been through, Hawke still supported mages and their right freedom. The heated arguments about the matter often left Bethany and their mother in tears.

"Aleena!"

Hawke stopped at her tracks. She thought she heard someone calling her by name. She looked around but she could only see running people and hear their screams.

"Maker's breath, it is you!" her brother grabbed her by the shoulders and the next moment squeezed her tight. "I was scared you were in the front lines, they got the worst of the horde… All the Wardens…"

"King Cailan is dead. I saw it myself… I think I might have killed him…" muttered Hawke, feeling tears streaming down her cheeks as she was clutching tightly on the fabric of Carver's vest.

"What kind of crap are you babbling there, sister? There's no time, we have to move." Without further ado he grabbed her hand and dragged her to the side, away from where the rest of the army headed and into the forest. Hawke trusted her brother to find the way as he was probably familiar with the terrain. At the younger age he used to leave home for several days in a row as he claimed the family was suffocating him. What he was up to during those days (apart from driving their mother insane with worries) nobody knew and Carver did not desire to share.

Hawke turned around one last time to look at the tower, the symbol of lost hope that had burned in her mind. Next moment she felt icy claws of fear griping at her heart and she opened her mouth to call Carver, who went ahead, but no sound came out.

The fire was still burning bright, giving the situation even more surreal feel. A huge dragon was descending from the skies on the tower. It seemed that the Wardens were right after all; it was the real Blight as the Archdemon had finally showed itself. Perhaps a bit too late as all the Grey Wardens were if not yet dead then soon will be.

"Maker guide us…"she whispered and dashed after Carver.

They have to run. The fifth Blight had fallen upon Ferelden.