Varric's Version: The Last Heist
Known but unspoken of by most in Kirkwall is the fact that the templars of the Gallows fuel a massive rivalry between smugglers and thieves with their ludicrous underground lyrium trade. Even as a surface dwarf, that sort of information comes second nature – lyrium is our lifeblood.
For years, the Coterie toed the Carta's line, moving in a precarious dance with one another as they vied for any excess dust they could get their hands on. One crate alone could make or break a cell and all the men in it. So I'm sure it comes as little surprise to hear that Hawke completely shat on the proverbial house of cards, with the job she took for her small-time employer during her time as an indentured servant in the underbelly of our fine city.
As luck would have it, the elf she was all but owned by got word of a transfer on the docks – a transfer at a berth she knew the Coterie didn't have their eyes on. Ballsy as it was, she knew the stakes, and turned to none other than Hawke and her mage-born sister to do the job. Lowtown had come to know the dark-haired sisters, with Hawke's daggers as quick as her tongue, and they were fiercely protective of one another. They did good work, and everyone knew it.
It was pushing past autumn, around when the fogs start rolling in through the cliffs, weighing down the choke-damp and providing perfect cover for any deviant down by the docks. You know the time of year. It was perfect.
Under the cover of night, they broke into the quarter, and Hawke left a trail of guards in her wake – oh no, she didn't kill them. She didn't have to. A well-placed dagger incapacitates a limb, while her sister's spells left them equally drowsy. Luck was with them, and they avoided templar detection, finding their way to the locked down berth.
Hawke is one of the few people who even comes close – I'd like to see you try and defeat me, get the lock and we'll prove it – but as she worked through the labyrinth of traps, she heard her sister scream. The Coterie had stumbled on their work and taken the lady mage hostage.
"You hurt her, and your men will be wishing they'd tried to fuck each other instead," Hawke called out to them from her cover in the boatswain's office. She was bleeding badly, her ankle maimed from a sprung trap. They were at an impasse.
Offering herself in her sister's place – and you've seen Hawke, she's got the curves to do it – she tempted their leader Jaffy into the office, sly and seductive. Of course it was a trap, and the thief was just too stupid to know it. Caught under Hawke's blade, he squealed to his men to let the girl go.
Grabbing the lyrium and papers, Hawke's dagger found home, and she robbed the man of his two bits. Jaffy gushed blood, and she pushed him to the ground, pocketing the grisly souvenir. Amidst a hail of arrows they ran down the dock, and when it seemed like they would be dead for sure, Hawke's sister froze the waters of the bay, and they made their escape over a bridge of ice.
The job was the last Hawke and her sister ever had to do as servants to the smugglers – but now you know how it truly came to a head. And that's why Hawke's got the balls to pull off any wack job that comes her way. To this day, she still keeps Jaffy's shrivelled nuggets tied around her neck, a reminder to any who'd threaten her family.