I AM SO SORRY I FORGOT WHAT DAY IT WAS AND OH GOD I ONLY REALISED IT WAS SATURDAY THIS MORNING OH SWEET JESUS!

ANYWAY, IT'S TIME FOR THE REVIEWS! SORRY!

The Invisible Pretender: I was coughing for reasons that shall be disclosed soon. It's a tiny thing and it probably won't be noticed because it's so insignificant but there it is... Or will be o_O

Snowhelm: Following a teenager home... Yeah, that would take some explaining. Hopefully Sparrow does well enough.

MasterAssassinScrolls: He does, but that won't be happening for long... At least he hopes. Also... You breed with the mouth of a goat.

MirandaBasilisk: Oh come on, it keeps things interesting. And thank you, I did.

Without further ado...

Chapter 19: Nest of Hawkes

I come to groggily and every part of me wants to groan at the pain in my head. But a voice makes me realise I'm not alone so I clamp down on it. I realised I'm tied to a chair and applaud my paranoia. Such a useful thing, keeps me wary of my enemies.

Oh god. That's not paranoid. I have actual enemies.

"Who is he?" a voice asks, worried. Woman. Sounds older. More developed. Familiar.

"I don't know, but he showed up with his partner who left and now the Templars are here. He could be working as a spy," a woman says venomously. Younger. Rich voice. Hawke's familiar tones.

"That's a bit of a stretch," a different man says calmly. He's older, with a deeper voice. No idea who he is. "It could simply be a coincidence. Lothering sees more than it's fair share of travellers."

"Regardless, I want to know what he was doing following Bethany. It was rather late for a social call. Unless he thought she deserved a tip." Hawke says sarcastically.

"Him giving her a tip is precisely what I'd be worried about, Templars aside," the older man growls angrily as my mouth curls in distaste.

"I was looking for you, sicko." I groan as I raise my head. The candles and fire illuminating the room are blinding, filling my swimming vision with yellows and orange. The people I heard around me are dark blurs and nothing more. I feel nauseous. I think I might have a concussion. Crap, what do I do? Don't fall asleep? I just woke up!

"And why were you doing that?" the older voice comes out again as I blink furiously, desperate to restore my vision.

"Could I please have some water?" I ask, hoping the soothing chill would invigorate me a little.

"Water later, answers now," the older woman says angrily. I hear her take a step forward, but can make out a seated man stopping her.

"Leandra, enough," The older man warns, a hint of steel in his voice. There's a slight growl before the woman takes a few steps away. I close my eyes and concentrate, Willing the pain gone. After a few moments I feel some of the pain evaporate.

Elvha showed me some healing magic after my encounter with the Captain. I believe her words were, "If you're going to be a fool and look for trouble, you can save me the trouble of healing you."

Me, a fool? I don't look for trouble any more than the next guy!

Well, I did intentionally get caught by an assassin, dragged to her employer, had the royal shit kicked out of me and am now being held hostage for the second time in a few months...

She may have a point.

I open my eyes and am pleased to find my vision returned to normal. With that done, I set about examining my captors and surroundings.

I'm in a small hut by the looks of it. To my left is a fire, with a pot of something gently simmering. To my right, a door that looks like the exit. Ahead are rooms with closed doors, making me only wonder at their purpose. Closer to me is a set of spiraling stairs leading to an upper floor.

The floors are wooden, with no stone or rugs. Only some wooden shutters, no glass windows but that's hardly uncommon in Thedas from what I've seen. There seems to be little to no fancy decoration, just bits and bobs, knick knacks here and there giving the place a poor, but lived in feel. Not cluttered, but not sparse either. A comfortable mix of the two.

Almost reminds me of home.

By the fire is... Hawke. Not Bethany. Marian. It's strange, seeing her wear, of all things, a dress. It even has flowers. But the suspicious glare she's giving me offsets any giggles that may have erupted from her outfit. I've been her. I know how bad she can be. I wonder how she develops without some stupid kid controlling her every move. I hope it's good...

Directly in front of me is a woman I know, and a man whom I know of. Leandra Hawke is younger, with a less lined face, and darker hair. Who would have guessed she was a brunette?!

The man, sitting in the chair opposite me... I can see all of his children. Bethany's eyes, Carvers nose, Garretts bearded jaw(or where he would have got it from), Marians hair. He's the one who gave it to them.

Malcolm Hawke. He's a wildcard. Leandra is quiet, but fierce. Marian sounds sarcastic. Malcolm is an unknown, and I decide to treat him with caution.

"The Templars are in town," I slur hopelessly, my tongue feeling heavy without moisture. I crack my neck, wincing and sighing at once. Opening my eyes, I look at Malcolm, who is watching me closely. Evaluating me. Just as I did to them. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me? His eyes are sharp, and there's a hint of anger and fear in there.

"We were already aware of this," Malcolm says passively, as though it's the least of his concerns. But his grip on his armchair tightens unconsciously, revealing his worry. He knows the life of the Circle. He doesn't want his family in chains. "But why would we concern ourselves with the lives of mage hunters? I'm just a farmer, serah."

"Cut the horseshit," I say angrily, taking everyone off guard. Hey, I'm a little pissed at being beaten up and bound by the people I was trying to help. I'll stick a quid in the swear jar when I get a chance. "I know you're an apostate, as is your daughter and that the Templars will be after you as soon as they figure out who you are."

Malcolms eyes widen with fear, as do everyone else's. They're about to panic. I need to stop that from happening. "I'm not with them, I want to help you. I'm a Grey Warden."

The results are mixed. . Marian, she arches a sceptical brow and snorts in disbelief, appraising me again with her piercing blue eyes. To be fair, after that disappointing fight, I would too. But hey, she ambushed me! And she played dirty. Leandra, who shares the blue eyes becomes more apprehensive.

A snarl splits the room and I'm shocked to see the look of rage on Malcoms face. "The Grey Wardens don't help, they take. The last time I saw a Warden, we ended on unpleasant terms," he growls angrily and I'm at a loss for words in the face of his anger.

God, I wish I had a plan sometimes. I really, really wish I had a goddamn plan.

"Look, trust me. I know that's hard and I know that you don't owe me anything. But I have to help you guys," I say desperately. I don't like being trapped, and I'm fearful of Malcolm's experiences with my comrades. I know he was forced into it, and it was a very... unpleasant ordeal. But there sounds like there's more I don't know about.

"What do you mean you have to help us?" Marian asks from the fire. I glance up at her, see the glow behind her eyes. Astute little bugger. Not just a pretty face, but then again my possible concussion already showed me that.

"Let's just say it's a curse of mine," I mutter angrily, wondering how I get into these messes. They look unconvinced so I sigh and try a new tactic, "Look, I'm like you," I say, moving my hand and summoning a fireball.

Immediately there's a reaction. Just not the one I wanted. Leandra steps back in fear of what I may do. Marion draws my Crow Dagger and look to be deciding whether to rush me or just murder knife throw the thing! Malcolm throws his arms out, and I can feel the magic in the room, the underlying current generated by the apostates, suddenly surge into solid wards. I panic and release my hold, causing the fire to dissipate into nothing. "Sorry," I shout in fear. "I didn't mean to scare you I just have to make you understand I'm not a danger."

Malcolm scowls at me before releasing his magic, slowly lowering himself back into his chair. To my left, Marian slowly relaxes, though I notice she doesn't sheathe my blade. She's ready if I pull anything else.

"You're a mage," Leandra says in shock, and I nod emphatically.

"Yes, do you see? I'm not with the Templars. I want to help you evade them," I say, relieved at the considering look in Malcolm's face.

"What, out of the kindness of your little apostate heart? Would you like us to rally around you and beat up the nasty Templars?" Marian mocks from behind her father. I glance at her angrily and then a bolt of fear runs through me. "I'm assuming they followed you here," she adds suspiciously.

Bloody cannon.

"No, if you fight you won't win. And if you run, they'll never stop chasing you," I lie slowly, calming myself. If I panic, we're in trouble. And right now I desperately need a plan.

If the Templars find the Hawkes, they won't stay in Lothering. They'll be shipped off to the Circle or jail, or they'll run far and fast and never come back. And they have to stay in Lothering.

Which means, I have to get them to trust me enough to not only let me go, but also help them.

"We've ran this far," Leandra says fiercely, showing some of the steel I admired in her. There's a reason you don't eat Leandra's cakes!

"I don't want you to run ever again," I say softly. "Look, this doesn't make sense. How are the Templars even here? I didn't bring them?"

There's silence for a few moments as the Hawkes look among themselves. Eventually, their gaze turns upwards at what must be the only mage not present.

Bethany.

"Did she do something, something that would lure the mage hunters here?" I ask incredulous. Bethany was smart, she was clever. If I didn't know she was a mage from my experiences with DAII, I wouldn't have known. She would have been invisible.

"Not that she's said..." Marian unsurely, worry in her voice. Worry for her younger sister. I remember the way the cold eyed Templar stared at her.

Shit.

"Marian," Malcolm says severely. "Wake your sister. Carver too. This concerns the whole family." Marian pushes herself away from the fire and rushes up the stairs, stomping like an elephant as she disappears from sight. Malcolm raises himself to his full height and produces a knife. I nearly shit myself in terror."I'm going to cut you free."

"Mal?" Leandra near shouts in confusion. Malcolm glares at her and Leandra tries to read her husbands expression. But whatever she see's causes her to relent, with a small glare aimed at me. Malcolm crouches over me, cutting the bindings on my arms and legs. I rub my chafed skin as Malcolm points the blade at me.

"One false move," he warns threateningly. He doesn't have to say the rest. We're both adults. With an abundant reservoir of threats and imagination.

I rise to my feet and stretch my stiff joints, limbering up a little. God, it's good to be up!

Bethany and Carver are tiredly led by the anxious Marian, who looks vaguely surprised to see me free. She brushes it off however as Bethany and Carver notice me.

"Mr Sparrow?" Bethany says in surprise, yawning and rubbing an eye. "What're you doing here?"

So obviously she wasn't aware of her siblings kidnap of me. Nice to know that sweet little Bethany didn't lead me into a trap willingly. I think my feelings would be hurt if she did.

"Mr Sparrow is here to deliver a warning," Malcolm says coldly, facing his daughter. "The Templars are here looking for someone. They've heard of apostates in Lothering." Bethany looks up at him with fear, but something's off.

"W-what do we do?" she asks, terrified. Beside her, Carver has the same expression of fear as he looks towards the mages of his family. I don't have to imagine what it's like to have your family taken from you. I don't wish it on any of them.

"First of all, we find out why they know we're here. Bethany, did you show anyone your magic?" he asks fiercely.

"No!" she shouts in outrage and fear. Something's definitely not sitting right.

"Have you been practising outside of the house?" He shouts. I know what's happening. He's scared. Scratch that, he's terrified. When he and Leandra faced the Templars all those years ago, they didn't have as much to lose. Didn't have a family. Didn't have a home. Didn't have a life. Didn't have the lives of his children. He's looking at losing all of that, everything he has just because he was born different. Because his daughter was born different.

"No, I swear," she shouts, tears forming in her eyes. "Why do you pick on me? You're a mage as well!"

"I know better," Malcolm shouts, and the anger is giving way as more and more of his fear bleeds through his voice. "I wouldn't put the family at risk like this!"

"Neither would I!" Bethany shouts, the tears falling now. She's terrified, so's her dad. But neither are to blame for the mess we find ourselves in.

Malcolm sucks in breath to start another shout but I step forward. "I believe her." He turns to me, his eyes aggressive. "She blended in at the town, she was practically invisible. I doubt she was stupid enough to put your family in danger Hawke." My mouth keeps going for a second, but no noise comes out.

I just called Malcolm, Hawke. It felt so weird.

The others look at me strangely as I shake myself. I turn away and pace back and forth, hands on my hips. If nobody saw anyone in the family do magic, how can anyone know there's apostates here? Unless it's me they want...

But that still doesn't make sense. The last time I used visible magic excluding tonight was in Denerim. Fuck sake, I'm missing something here and I don't like it. "Dammit, I wish Duncan were here," I say angrily as I scowl out of the shutters.

"Duncan?" Leandra asks in confusion.

"My Commander. He was called away to settle some matters in Denerim. Carver actually delivered the letter," I say absent-mindedly before my head cocks. My breathing pauses. My eyes narrow. Something occurs me.

Hang on a bloody second.

"Carver?" I ask with a squint as I turn to the youngest in the family. He looks at me with a trace of trepidation. "Where the hell did you get that letter? Duncan said it was from Denerim."

"No, a woman gave it to me outside in the street. An Elf. She said it was really important," he says in confusion as my blood runs cold. The brood of Hawke's shares his look. Here they are, a family on the verge of being torn apart and imprisoned and I'm worrying about some random letter.

Someone lied. Elvha wasn't in trouble. They lured Duncan away. For what?

So I was vulnerable.

"The elf, was she a red head? Did she wear a veil?" I ask in fear. Adaia. She never forgot about the bounty, she was just lying to me to lower my guard and she's still after me and shit she's the one who called the templars and oh shit oh shit I brought them to the Hawkes and she's coming for me SHIT!

"No, she was old with white hair and wore some robes," Carver says with a look as if to say "who let the idiot in the house?"

Oh. Right.

I take a breath - ignoring how shaky and relieved it is - and brush a hand over my head. Okay. Good. Very good. Almost lost my cool there.

Moving on.

"Did you know her? Did she say who she was?" I ask, much calmer now that I know an assassin isn't after me again. Sue me, I'm selfish.

"Nope," Carver says unhelpfully and I frown. Was the letter forged? Duncan said something felt wrong with it, maybe it wasn't written by Elvha at all. But why? What would be the point of getting Duncan away?

Who benefits from the Commander of the Grey's absence? Who would want him out of the way, but not dead.

The answer eludes me and again I wish my friend was here.

I rub my eyes as I try to crunch the cogs of my mind together. "Something led them here..." I say thinking hard. What could Duncan do? If he was here, what could he actually do? He's an exceptional warrior... Respected, feared by some. Influential. Powerful. But none of that should matter down here?

What does an absent Commander have in common with a squad of Templars and an apostate family?

"Okay... My enemies aren't behind this..." I mutter to myself, trying to put the pieces that aren't fitting in my head into better perspective. I turn to the Hawkes. "Don't suppose any of you are gonna throw in your two cents?"

"Excuse me?" Leandra asks, confused. A small smile graces my lips, followed by a pang of sadness. Everyone knows that saying. Except they don't. Not here. It's just me.

Dammit man, there's bigger things than some homesickness, get a fucking grip.

"Do any of you have any enemies? Any at all?" I ask, exasperated. Sometimes people just exhaust me. Especially when things are lost in translation.

"Well, I owe a few blokes some poker money," Marian says cheekily and let out a small snort of laughter. The Hawke's roll their eyes. I see Malcolm's face twinge with mirth, but then he frowns. I'm about to ask when he shakes his head, as though dismissing the thought.

Oh no you don't.

"Who?" I ask Malcolm, taking a step towards him. The elder Hawke daughter moves towards me cautiously and I halt. No trust.

Then again, I wouldn't trust me either. Scratch that, I don't.

"There was a woman. And elf. Many, many years ago when I was in the Circle. She was a mentor of mine, and I used her to escape. But there's no way she would have found me," he says dismissively but my eyes brighten.

I grin. Jackpot.

"Never underestimate revenge Hawke," I say darkly, a sour taste in my mouth as my thoughts go back to the Captain. "When you put someone through Hell, you gotta watch for them crawling back out for you."

"There's no way she could have found us. Maker's Breath, we've crossed the ocean to escape that life," Leandra says reasonably. I nod for a second and then my eyes snap up and give her a hard glare.

"Your mentor you say?" I glance at Malcolm, who nods hesitantly. "So she taught you everything you know? Trusted you with the secrets of your craft. And you used that trust, used that knowledge and turned it against her. Most likely she suffered for it. And the one thing that kept her going through whatever the damned Circle put her through, the one thought she's entertained for all these years if the thought of making you pay."

"How would you know of that?" Malcolm asks in a strained voice. I noticed his face get paler and paler.

"Trust me. I know," I say blankly as my head aches.

I don't even bother going back to school after my fight with Joey. No doubt from the blood covering me I'd be thrown straight in detention after rigorous interrogation from my head of house. Most days it amuses me watching her try to relate to me, understand me etcetera, but today I honestly don't have the energy.

Thankfully, I live close to the school so it's only a twenty minute walk home, seeing as how I don't bring my car. It'd just be a waste, and with fuel prices the way they are it's better to walk. I stride into the house, slamming the door behind me. It's a sunny day and sweat has begun to enter my wounds, leaving them stinging for the last fifteen minutes. I walk into the bathroom to assess the damage. I look into the mirror and curse. My eye is already darkening and as I drag my fingers across it I wince at the tender skin. There's a few small cuts on my brow.. My nose looks a little red but my mouth draws attention from that, being burst and fat.

I'll give him credit, the dickhead can hit. Like a little bitch. But he can hit.

I fill the sink with water and wipe the blood off my face. I stare into the water as copper droplets land, rippling the surface as it's cloudy red begins to lose cohesion in the water.

How could they do this to me? I was supposed to be their friend? And they betrayed me.

When I first met Joey, he was shy, introverted. Kept to the sidelines, laughed at the class joke, kept quiet. I pull away the curtain of his anxiety and revealed the real Joey. Confident, funny, intelligent. My head cocks as I do the math and realise while he was with his own girlfriend - one that I'd set him up with and helped him catch - he was fucking mine!

And Amy... Bookworm, which is what drew me to her. Glasses. Curly hair. Shy. I don't even think I heard her speak the first month after we met. And I loved her like that. If I could go back I would and I'd stop her ever changing. But I was a good boyfriend, made her more confident, more outspoken. More attractive. Guys like nothing more than a girl who knows what she's carrying. And I made her like that.

Am I really trying to make this my fault? Am I trying to convince myself that I'm the reason all this happened? Fuck that, I never stopped paying Amy attention, never stopped showing her how much I cared. And Joey...

Unconsciously, my fist curls, my nails digging into the skin of my palms. I notice when the sharp pain of my skin breaking forces me to relax the muscles and I hold my hand underwater for a minute for the bleeding to stop. Tired of my reflection, I pull the plug from the sink and walk out of the bathroom, up the stairs and into my room. I slam the door shut behind me and collapse on my bed.

For the longest time, I stare at the ceiling, feeling numb. I don't know what to do. Those guys were everything to me and now... I've got nothing. I'm alone.

When I return to school the next day, despite people surrounding me and asking about the fight, what happened to my face, where I went yesterday, I stay silent. I have nothing to say to these idiots. They're all just wanting gossip, so when it comes up later they can seem important, like they know everything.

I'm perfectly happy to know that neither the Coward nor the Tramp were joining us that day. Though I feel cheated that me and the Coward aren't going to have a round two for a while. That launches me into a foul mood, which didn't help that I was the only one whom people could come to for answers. I carried on with my usual routine, class class, smoke break, class class, lunch break, class class home.

My mother was shocked when she first say my face, and one long argument later we weren't speaking to discuss it. I didn't get into many fights, but she'd always told me if someone hits you, hit 'em back twice as hard. Apparently that was all thrown out the window when I come home with a few scrapes. But I wouldn't tell her the story. Couldn't. And my brother had already been warned to keep his mouth shut.

Everything was going so well, I could forget that the whole incident had ever happened. Just move on and put it all behind me. That is, until my attention was brought back to it. Unpleasantly.

I blink a few times to get the flashback away and focus on the here and now.

They aren't frequent, and they don't seem to make a lot of sense. But there's something. It's leading somewhere, I can feel it. But it makes me uneasy. It doesn't feel like a good thing waiting for me down the rabbit hole. Nowadays it rarely is.

"Right... Whoever it is, it hardly matters unless they're here with the Templars. A mage leading a band of mage hunters doesn't sound right..." I say quietly, gathering my thoughts. Right now, Malcolm's mentor is as good a suspect as any. Powerful, pissed off mage with a motive to ruin him? Yeah, I ship it, somehow. Not that it does any good but take some of the heat off me. Still doesn't help me solve how to get the Templars back where they came from...

Damn, if only they were all Grey Wardens like me, they can't be taken then.

Oh.

Oh oh.

OH!

"I've got it," I shout suddenly, causing the Hawkes to jump in fright. My face lights with enthusiasm and I hop a little. "It's perfect."

"What is? What do you have?" Malcolm asks unsurely, but hopeful. There's that sweet glimmer in hope that I love in humanity. No matter how dire the situation, we can rise above it. It's a fact that given enough time, a human being can escape from any form of imprisonment. Sometimes even the prisons we erect in our minds.

"The Wardens know you!" I exclaim, and scowl at their blank faces. "We wouldn't let you be taken by the Templars, I would let that happen. At most, we could just ward them off and keep you under our protection. At worst, conscription." Malcolm pales and his eyes dart to his wife. "But..." I add quickly. "Only the Commander Duncan would have the pull to do that. Me, I'm just a lowly grunt. So with Duncan gone, we can't protect you. That's it! The Templars are looking for a mage, we need a mage that they can't touch, someone with immunity," I say excitedly, nodding at them, waiting for them to get it an congratulate me. They stare at me blankly, working it over. "Me, you idiots. Grey Wardens can't be imprisoned unless we go rogue. Seeing as I have an actual certificate letting me off the hook..." I wait for any form of acknowledgement of my brilliance.

Nothing. I pout grumpily. "That could work..." Malcolm says thoughtfully, stroking his chin in thought. His eyes turn to me. "Why are you doing this? Why help us?"

I look at the Hawkes, each one in turn. Carver and Bethany, confused and scared. But a gleam of hope in their eyes. One I remember seeing in Darrien's. The twinkle of innocence. Then Marian, eyes analytical as she frowns, biting her cheek. Leandra. She's strong, her hand resting on her husbands shoulder, lending him strength. But I can see cracks. She's terrified of what will happen to her family if the Templars find them. Malcolm is too.

This family... I feel like I know them. Or will know them. Or have known them. Whatever. The calm Bethany. The brash Carver. The Roguish Hawke.. The loving Leandra. In a few years Malcolm will die. Canon demands it. And they still feel that pain years later. Hell, decades.

Call me sentimental. Call me stupid. Call me whatever the hell you want. I'm a Hero by blood... Time to put some in my nature.

There's also the fact that I need them to be in Lothering for the Blight. Otherwise the entire of Dragon Age 2 doesn't happen. And I have no idea what the implications of that are. I don't want to know.

I look at Malcolm Hawke, stare him dead in the eye. I can see him searching my soul for an answer. What does he see, I wonder? The pain I feel daily as I remember my own family? The fear of never going home? The loneliness of hiding my past from everyone I trust? The burden of having to shape the world in a very specific direction? The tiredness, the want to just lie down and not have to worry about any of my troubles. The shame, at not being good enough, not strong enough to be the man I'm needed to be?

I don't know.

I cock my head and force a mad grin, widening my eyes slightly for effect. Malcolm sees through it, I can tell. Maybe the others can't. I find that comforting. I'm used to wearing a mask around people, even before I came here. Insulation between me and them. It's better that way, especially in present circumstances.

"Why not?"

Read and preview peeps, we WILL be on time next week, Same Sparrow Channel, Same Sparrow hour.