Disclaimer: Sadly, I still do not own Dragon Age: Origins, Awakening, or DA2. If I did, you can guarantee there would have been a lot more romance mixed into the game ^.^

Author's Notes: Huzzah, chapter six! I've been dying to get to this one. As a note, both the Warden and Hawke that will be featured in my story are, in fact, based off of the versions I played in my own runthroughs, including design and personality. I thought about using the default Hawke but...nahhh. :D Another note - I have finally finished my first piece of Dragon Age fanart and have posted it on my DA site. A link to my page there can be found on my profile page. I'd link here but... doesn't like that. Sadness.

I'd also like to thank everyone who has been taking the time to review this story - I really appreciate it. I like all kinds of reviews - compliments boost my ego, and criticism improves my skill. So please don't hesitate to tell me what you think!

And as always, major thanks to my beta, Teakwood, for being extremely patient with my inability to keep to a proper Skype schedule despite a four hour time difference.

Arcanum: Fatum

Chapter Six: Hawke

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Yllia wasn't sure what she had been expecting once they'd reached Lothering, but she was unprepared for the sight that stretched out before her as they stood at the crest of a hill, the road into the village stretched out before them.

The village itself was not very large – according to Carver and Morrigan, most of the residents of Lothering were farmers who held land in the surrounding areas, and didn't actually live in the main village. It was the merchants that served the traders and travelers that made up the majority of the village proper population. But, Carver had assured them, they'd be able to get food and supplies, and likely even a room for the night at the local inn, though they would possibly have to double up. Yllia didn't mind that – if it meant sleeping in a bed for one night instead of a tent, she'd gladly share a room with three Morrigans if necessary.

But what Yllia had not been prepared for – what none of them had been prepared for – was the sight of the rows upon rows of refugee tents set up around Lothering, near surrounding the entirety of the village. The sight of it made her mouth go dry and her stomach twist with dread.

"So this is what happened to the owners of those farms we passed," Alistair said quietly, speaking out loud the very thoughts Yllia herself was thinking.

Refugees, displaced by the Blight, fleeing from the darkspawn that encroached upon the land. Running before it was too late to run, taking only that which they could carry and abandoning everything else. Makeshift tent after makeshift tent lined the outskirts of the village, and the sight of it made her throat tighten.

"They can't stay here," she said, shaking her head. "The darkspawn…there is nothing between the Wilds and Lothering. The darkspawn will come, and there won't be anything to stop them."

"Try telling them that." Carver's tone was bitter, and he made no attempt to hide it. It drew a look of surprise from Yllia and Alistair both – Carver had been cordial enough during their travels, even friendly when he wasn't focused on other things. "The general populace of Lothering is a stubborn lot, and if the refugees have camped here it's because they either lack the ability to move further, or they think here is far enough. They probably believe that if they just wait it out, they'll be able to return to their freeholds and everything will simply be waiting for them as it was."

"This sounds like a subject that's come up before," Alistair said cautiously.

Carver's expression darkened – and then he sighed. "By the time recruiters came through Lothering, the darkspawn were already growing in force," he said. "My brother, along with some of the other freeholders, had been petitioning for a forced evacuation. Most of the locals rebelled against the idea. Even the Chantry wouldn't support it. Most of the people who live in Lothering have lived here their whole lives and can't imagine living anywhere else." He shifted uncomfortably. "I argued with my brother about it a lot…but after what I saw at Ostagar…"

"You think he might have been right?" Yllia asked gently.

Carver scowled, giving the sense that he disliked admitting such a thing. "Maybe," he said gruffly, acknowledging as much as he was ever likely to. He pushed his hand through his hair. "Come on. I'll help you secure a room at the tavern before I head for my family's freehold." He started forward, but Morrigan's voice halted him.

"It would appear that either Lothering has deigned to send us a welcoming party," she said, affecting a bored tone, "or else we have yet one more obstacle in our path before reaching our destination."

Yllia saw instantly what she was referring to – a group of armored men milling around the only entrance into the village, and what appeared to be what was left of pillaged wagons scattered around them. She sighed. "Are those…?"

"Bandits," Alistair said grimly, Rhys' growls punctuating the word. He looked at Yllia. "How do you want to handle this?"

"At this point?" Yllia twitched in irritation before starting forward, expecting them to follow her. "I just might set them all on fire if it'll get us to food and a real bed faster."

Yllia was in a far better mood once they had managed to dispatch the bandits – they'd attempted the 'reasonable' course of action, but the bandits' clear willingness to prey on the weak in such a time of strife had frayed Yllia's final thread of patience, and they hadn't been able to avoid the fight. Their coin purses were, however, far fuller when they were finished, and after getting word out to the refugees that the bandits were gone and most of what they'd absconded was waiting to be reclaimed, they'd set out for the tavern. Alistair and Carver had opted to make the arrangements, leaving the women and the dog waiting for them.

Yllia knew there were issues the moment the two warriors emerged from the building and she saw the look of exasperation upon Alistair's face.

"Let me guess," Morrigan said dryly. "The innkeeper is unable to meet our needs so far as procuring accommodations for the night?"

"Every room is full up," Alistair confirmed with a shake of his head. "With this many refugees I shouldn't be surprised, but it poses an issue for us."

Yllia knew her disappointment was showing. "So it looks like we'll be camping out again after all." It wasn't as if they wouldn't be able to find a place to set up camp, but it made her realize that she'd been looking forward to not roughing it after the harried weeks that had passed.

"Actually, I was thinking, and I just might have a compromise to that." Carver's words drew Yllia's attention, and she looked at him with interest. "My family's freehold isn't all that far from the village proper," he continued, "and although the house itself isn't large, we've got a loft in the barn that's big enough for two or three people. It wouldn't be quite the same, but it'd be solid shelter and at the very least we'd be able to provide clean linens and a meal."

The words 'clean' and 'meal' immediately caused Yllia to perk up again, and Alistair almost laughed at the look on her face. Almost. He didn't fancy being on the wrong end of an ice spell, or worse, a lightning bolt. He did, however, manage a fairly broad grin.

In the end they agreed – eagerly on Yllia and Alistair's part, reluctantly on Morrigan's – to seek out Carver's family and request lodging for the night. Because none of them wanted to linger in the village for longer than they had to, Yllia split her coin with her two companions, requesting Morrigan to see about replenishing their supplies and tasking Alistair to find them some deals on armor – and to touch base with the Chantry and see about warning them about the onrushing flux of darkspawn that were making swift progress northward. Carver gave them instructions on how to reach his family's freehold, and the group parted ways.

The Hawke freehold, Yllia was pleasantly surprised to discover, was well-kept and maintained despite the conditions that she had seen in Lothering itself. Not the largest of the freeholds by far, it sported a modest one-story house, a barn that looked as if it had been refurbished a couple of times over, and a menagerie of chickens and cows corralled in fenced-in pens that were just big enough to be manageable but not so small as to be cruel to the animals within.

"It isn't much," Carver said diplomatically as he undid the latch of the front gate, "but its home." He took a moment to stand there and stare, unable to hide the emotion in his eyes. He'd very near given up on ever seeing the place that he had called come for the last ten years. Yet now, here he was – home at last.

"It's lovely," Yllia said, and meant it. The only place that she could even come close to calling home had been Kinloch Hold, and could a prison really be called such? It was simply the place she had lived for sixteen years – not home.

Carver's cheeks flushed slightly, and he managed a slight grin. "My mother will like hearing that," he said. He closed the gate once Rhys was through, the Mabari gluing himself to Yllia's side, and motioned for her to follow him.

They hadn't taken more than two steps before Rhys suddenly planted himself directly in front of them, ears pricked and fur standing on end. His muscles tensed and trembled – and then he released the loudest, deepest bark that Yllia had ever heard. She had to resist the urge to clamp her hands over her sensitive elven ears – an urge which only grew stronger when an answering bark came from somewhere inside the house.

The front door sprang open and a light-furred Mabari, nearly as big as Rhys, came bounding out onto the small porch. He stood at the stop of the steps, barking furiously, glaring down the threat to his territory. Rhys' lips drew back into a snarl, baring fangs.

Carver moved instantly, shoving himself in front of Yllia and Rhys, holding up his hands. "Loch!" he said firmly. "Down! Stand down!"

The warning barks ceased, but the Mabari didn't back down from his defensive position. Yllia dropped her hand to the back of Rhys' neck, lightly running her fingers through his fur in an attempt to get him to calm down as well.

Then Loch lifted his head into the air and sniffed. His ears twitched and he tilted his head, regarding Carver suspiciously – as if he weren't entirely sure that the man standing in front of him really was Carver Hawke, who had been gone from Lothering and out of his sight far longer than any Mabari preferred to have one under his protection be. Carver didn't move, still keeping his hands up, until at last the giant dog relaxed and his tail began to wag.

Carver finally lowered his hands. "Good boy, Loch," he said. "Good-"

"Carver!" Loch was nearly run over as a dark-haired girl in a peasant dress came running out of the house, her skirt hiked up to mid-calf so that she didn't trip over it. Carver barely had a chance to look shocked before she threw her arms around him, practically smothering him in her enthusiasm. He staggered back under the force of her hug, then laughed and hugged her back in return.

"Bethany!" he said happily, his eyes shining as he looked down at her – he had a good half a foot of height on her. Then he looked to the older woman who had emerged behind the younger, the similarity between both women so strong that there was no mistaking one was mother and one was daughter. "Mother!"

Tears sprang up in his mother's eyes as she walked swiftly towards him, reaching for him as soon as he was in reach. "Thank the Maker you're alive!" she said, as Bethany stepped back to allow Carver to give their mother a hug. "When we heard what happened at Ostagar, we feared the worst."

Carver hugged his mother tightly, closing his eyes for a moment. "It was bad," he said quietly, his expression a bit more sober when he drew back. "Getting out of there was no easy feat – but I had to get back here as quickly as I could."

Bethany noticed his arm then, her eyes widening. She reached out to put her hand on it. "You're hurt!" Immediately she grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the house. "Come inside – I'll get that taken care for you." His mother nodded, moving to his other side, both of them looking like they intended to corral Carver right into the house. It made Yllia's mouth twitch into a smile.

"Why don't the two of you give Carver a chance to breathe, and maybe introduce his companion?" Yllia looked up, startled by the sudden addition of a male tenor to the conversation, and found that it was coming from the direction of the porch.

Standing at the top of the stairs was a man slightly taller than Carver, with dark red hair that fell just past his shoulders, some of the strands tied back in braids behind his head and leaving the unruly ones to fall across his face. Yllia couldn't help but note that he was handsome, with high cheekbones and a jaw covered in the barest hint of dark stubble. Whereas Carver was more rugged in appearance, this man seemed…smoother, an air of calm around him in contrast to the sharp edge that the warrior came equipped with.

He cut an imposing figure, standing with his arms crossed, legs slightly apart, and eyes surveying the scene in front of him. But although she didn't detect any animosity in his gaze, Yllia could not help but notice that he didn't move forward to welcome Carver in the way his sister and mother had done.

And from the way that Carver suddenly tensed, looking at him with apprehension, Yllia decided that it was a fair assumption to make that this was Carver's as-yet-unnamed elder brother.

"Hello, Brother," Carver said with a touch of stiffness.

Their mother looked from one son to the other. "Don't be like that," she said firmly, and at her words some of the tension between the brothers eased. Not all, but some. Neither wanted to upset their mother.

Carver looked slightly embarrassed and shifted awkward, looking away from his brother and half-turning towards Yllia. "Everyone," he said, "this is Yllia Surana. She was at Ostagar, like me…we met up on the road here and traveled together."

The older woman turned to look at Yllia for the first time. The surprise that passed over her face – that look of, 'oh, an elf!' – was expected, and Yllia let it roll off of her without comment, used to it as she was. But then her eyes went to the staff that Yllia did not bother to conceal, to the robes that she wore, and her entire body tensed for the briefest pause.

But she covered her surprise graciously, extending her hand with congenial smile. "My name is Leandra Hawke," she introduced herself. "You brought my son home?"

Carver's cheeks flushed slightly, and Yllia quickly accepted Leandra's hand and replied, "It was more of a mutual helping. My companions and I were already headed this way when we ran into Carver, so it made the most sense for us to team up together. Another blade against the darkspawn is never turned away."

"Darkspawn?" The elder Hawke son's voice was sharp, drawing Yllia's attention back to him. "It's true, then? The darkspawn have breached the Wilds?"

"Oh, it's true," Carver replied harshly. "And if you want to know how bad it is, take all the reports we've been given about their numbers and progress and multiply that about tenfold."

Leandra paled, looking at her sons in horror, and Bethany hurried to mediate her mother's shock and her brothers' animosity. She took Carver's arm, and then Leandra's. "Mother, come – help me take a look at Carver's arm. I'll feel better after I get a chance to look at it."

Leandra looked at Bethany for a brief, blank moment before determination settled across her pretty features, setting her jaw. "Of course," she said. Then she seemed to remember their guest and she stood there for a moment, torn between being a good hostess and her worry for her youngest son.

"Mother, go with Carver and Bethany," Carver's brother interjected. "I'd like to speak with our guest."

His tone was placating yet authoritative – this was a man who was used to giving the orders, but attempted to smooth the way as diplomatically as he could. Still, Yllia could see Carver's hackles rise, and it took both his sister and his mother to usher him into the house, leaving Yllia to contend with her new…adversary? Acquaintance? She couldn't tell.

So she did what she often did when faced with a situation she could not decipher, and looked at him with cool, appraising blue eyes.

He came down the porch steps then, approaching her, the heavy soles of his boots muffled against the dirt pathway that led from the gate to the steps. "Yllia Surana is it?" he asked, and she nodded.

He extended his hand. "Garrett Hawke," he introduced himself. "Most just call me 'Hawke', though. Thank you for helping my brother make it home safely."

At the civil, even friendly greeting Yllia's apprehension vanished, and she quickly shook his hand. "Of course, but I meant what I said before – it was mutual. He was a great help in dealing with the darkspawn that we encountered on the way here."

Hawke nodded slightly, giving a good-natured grin that Yllia thought suited his face far better than the serious expression he'd worn until then. "Put a plow in his hand and he trips over his feet; replace the plow with a sword and he's something to contend with." He glanced quickly over his shoulder. "Just…don't go telling him I said it. He'd take it the wrong way."

Yllia smiled slightly and revised her initial impression of Hawke – despite the antagonism she'd witnessed between the two brothers, the elder clearly cared for and respected the younger, although it didn't seem that particular view was reciprocated. She felt a slight twinge. What would it have been like to grow up with siblings? A brother or a sister, someone who was always just there – someone you didn't have to always like, and who didn't always have to like you, but could nonetheless be counted on for support?

Abruptly she shoved the thoughts away. There was no point in dwelling on them – she didn't have any brothers, sisters, parents, or family to speak of. Wasting time thinking about it was about as productive as trying to reason with a darkspawn before it ripped out your throat.

"He won't hear it from me," she replied. "I apologize for intruding on your home – my companions are in the village replenishing our supplies, and Carver asked me to come with him."

"Mother would have insisted anyway," Hawke replied with a good-natured grin. "But I'm thinking walking Carver home is the actual reason you came with him. Let me make an educated guess – you need a place to stay for the night. Am I right?"

"How did you know?" she blurted out, unable to stop herself.

Hawke's grin turned wry. "Ever since the refugees began to flood in, the inn has been full up. Travelers either have to resort to camping on the outskirts, or making arrangements with the freeholds. We've already put up a few people here and there, though right now we've got the space available. How many people are in your party?"

"Three," Yllia started, but amended herself quickly when Rhys let out a plaintive whine. "Sorry, four. We're prepared to camp out, but to be honest, we've been doing so since we got out of the Wilds and we're all feeling a bit haggard."

Hawke nodded. "If you don't mind it being a bit cramped," he said, "we've got space enough in the loft. It's clean, if nothing else." He nodded in the direction of the freehold's barn.

"If it's a solid roof over our heads and we don't have to pitch a tent, I don't think any of us will be complaining," Yllia replied promptly. "And we'll gladly pay for the lodging."

He held up his hand and shook his head. "It isn't costing us anything letting you use our barn," he said, "so keep your coin. And if you really feel that you need to give us some form of payment, then I'll accept it in the form of Carver's safe return."

Yllia looked at him for a moment, and she couldn't help but be touched by the man's generosity. She suspected that there were people who would have taken advantage of the situation and tried to extract coin or some other form of compensation. And there were people desperate enough to have no choice but to agree to the terms. "Thank you," she said simply.

He gave her a smile, and then motioned for her to follow him. "Let me show you where the loft is," he said. "Loch! Come!"

His Mabari, who had settled down onto the porch, sprang to his feet and scrambled down the steps. He stopped and looked at Rhys for a moment – then broke into a run, his long legs eating the distance between the house and the barn in no time flat. He stopped at the entrance and looked back expectantly.

Rhys whined and looked up at Yllia, and she couldn't help smiling at her newfound pet. "Go ahead," she said.

With a happy bark, Rhys took off after Loch, the two Mabari beginning a very hectic game of tag around the barn.

Hawke chuckled. "There aren't any other Mabari here in Lothering," he said. "He doesn't get very many playmates."

"How long have you had him?" Yllia asked curiously.

"Since he was a puppy," Hawke replied. "So…about five years. He was originally supposed to be a gift for Carver and Bethany, but… well, Mabari chose who they imprint on, and he ended up attaching himself to me." He gave a 'what can you do?' shrug. "But he considers the entire family to be under his protection. What about yours?" He paused, and she could tell he was trying to be diplomatic in his next question. "I've never met an elf with a Mabari before."

"Well, he's only been mine for… officially I suppose less than a week." She related to him the story of how she'd helped to heal him, and then after the Battle of Ostagar he had somehow managed to track her down. "He tracked me all the way out of the Wilds. Carver said it means he imprinted on me."

Hawke nodded. "Sounds about right," he said. They reached the barn and he pulled open the door, propping it open so that it didn't shut behind them. He pointed up. "The loft is up there, and there's a ladder that leads up to it. Will it work?"

She nodded. "It will work," she decided.

"Good." Out of the corner of her eye she saw him come to stand next to her, crossing his arms over his chest as a serious expression settled across his face. "So you were at Ostagar as well?"

Yllia turned her head towards him. "Yes."

"A lot of information comes through Lothering from all directions. We hear a lot of things." Hawke didn't look at her, keeping his gaze straight ahead. "They say that the Grey Wardens betrayed the King at Ostagar – that they left him to die on the battlefield."

A chill slid down Yllia's spine, and she drew in a near inaudible breath. "Betrayed the king?" she repeated. "The…Wardens?"

Hawke nodded slowly. "Rumors have it that two of the Wardens were supposed to light a beacon that would signal the Teyrn's men to the field, but they didn't. The Teyrn had to pull back his men or risk losing the entire army to the darkspawn."

"And they think the Wardens did this on purpose?" Yllia was surprised at how toneless her voice was.

He didn't answer the question directly. "The Teyrn's men say that there's a chance that the Wardens who were supposed to light the beacon survived. There were two of them, they say. One, a human warrior. The other, an elven mage."

And now he looked directly at Yllia. "There's a reward out for them – dead or alive."

Yllia spun to face him, her back to the rest of the barn, her staff in her hand and held defensively in front of her. Lightning crackled around her hand, dancing over her fingertips and along the length of the wood of the staff.

Blue eyes of fury stared into impassive green, and then Hawke slowly unfolded his arms and held up a hand.

With a burst of light ice particles formed around his hand, spinning in orbit around his fingers and palm. She jerked slightly in response, taking a step back and staring at him as he cancelled the spell a moment later and lowered his arm. And when he didn't make another move, she slowly relaxed her own stance.

"You're a mage," she said, staring at him. "An apostate. And you're…very good at hiding it." She hadn't detected any sort of magic from him upon their meeting – not a single hint. Yet his mastery over that ice spell spoke of high levels of power that she had never seen in anyone with a rank lower than Senior Enchanter.

"I have to be," Hawke said with a shrug. "My father taught me everything he knew – how to practice my magic in secret and get stronger while still keeping it concealed. He taught Bethany, too, but her magic is more Creation than Elemental so it isn't as volatile."

"Why would you…"

"Now you know a secret of mine," Hawke replied, "and I, yours. I can't turn you over to the Teyrn without risking exposure as an apostate – my exposure and my sister's."

Yllia shook her head. "I don't understand," she said. "If you weren't planning on turning us over, why even bring it up?"

"Because I need to know what the Teyrn's men and the Chantry aren't saying," Hawke said, "and I think you're the only one who can reliably tell me. But I don't want you to feel as if you have to hold anything back in order to keep your secret." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "So there it is. I know you're a Grey Warden, you know I'm an apostate. Do you mind answering my questions now?"

"Do I have a choice?" But she straightened up and slipped her staff back into its straps, cancelling out her own spell as she did so. A moment of understanding passed between the two of them, a silent acknowledgment of the deal that Hawke had just forced upon them both. "Ask your questions, Hawke."

He brushed a few stray strands of hair back from his face, tucking them behind his ear. "How bad is it?" he asked. "Are we in the middle of a true Blight?"

Ah, and Yllia saw what he meant now. If she'd tried to conceal the fact that she was a Warden, he wouldn't have been able to trust her certainty. "Yes," she replied with a nod. "The archdemon hasn't made an appearance, and for that reason the nobility aren't willing to declare it – but for the Grey Wardens there's no doubt. This is a Blight, and the darkspawn are advancing quickly now that Ostagar has fallen."

Weariness and worry spread across Hawke's face, and his shoulders slumped. "I was afraid of that," he said heavily. "I tried to convince the elders and the Chantry that Lothering needed to be evacuated, but no one was willing to listen. When I first started to hear the rumors about the darkspawn I just had a…feeling, you could say, that it was going to get worse. But I couldn't get them to agree." His expression darkened. "I should have taken my mother and Bethany out of here right away. Carver was already in the military's service, we could have met up with him…"

He shook his head. "But I'm not going to second guess the past. Do you have any idea how long it might take the darkspawn to reach Lothering?"

"Days, perhaps a couple weeks," Yllia replied. Always, just in the back of her mind, she could feel them – and if her weaker senses were picking up, then it could only mean that they were numerous. She could almost see them in her mind.

She looked at him steadily. "If you're going to get your family out of Lothering, I would suggest doing it soon."

Hawke closed his eyes, falling silent. The sound of Loch and Rhys' barking from outside the barn echoed in the silence.

He took a deep breath and pushed his hand through his hair, one of his braids coming loose from the gesture. "Thank you," he said, opening his eyes to look at her. "I appreciate you not holding back."

"If I held back, I wouldn't be able to save any lives," Yllia said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm sorry. I wish I had better news for you."

"Please, don't apologize. It's better to know how bad the situation is than to go in blindly." Hawke's expression grew serious. "Carver went into the military shortly after our father died, and I've sought to support my mother and Bethany as best as I can, keeping the farm running and keeping our home in the family. Now we're going to have to leave it all behind."

Another head shake, and he looked at her. "I need to go check on my family," he said. "You and your companions don't have to join us for supper if you don't want to, but I'm sure Mother will insist on at least making you a share. It'll be easier for you to just agree and eat it than argue."

"I'll take that under advisement," Yllia replied.

Hawke moved towards the barn door, and then paused. "If there is anything else that we can do for you before you depart, let me know."

Yllia nodded, looking down at herself as she did so – at the tattered and soiled remains of her robes, which had not, in any way, held up during the trek from the Wilds to Lothering. "Actually," she said, "do you have any idea where I might find a new set of robes?"

Hawke blinked at her – and then he grinned, noticing her appearance. "I'll see what I can do."

A hand passed over the smooth surface of the water, the ripples disrupting the image of the mages that she was been watching. They faded from sight, leaving only the empty scrying pool before her.

"And so it begins," the old woman murmured, her golden eyes gleaming with ethereal light. "The die is cast, the pawns in place. There are no chance meetings, no coincidences – only steps in a grand design."

She rose to her feet and threw open the door to the cottage, stepping out into the Wilds. On either side of her land she could see the lines of darkspawn moving through, decimating and ravaging everything in their path.

And yet they avoided her cottage completely. Even the darkspawn knew better than to challenge her power.

She smiled slowly. There were things to do, plans to make, contingencies to prepare. Time was moving swiftly, and yet time was something she had so much of.

The precipice of change was upon them. Soon, they would have to cling to the side of the cliff and climb – or let go and fall.

9/21/2011 Revision - Oops. I has been brought to my attention that I made a couple of errors in this chapter...they have now been corrected (I hope!). Thanks muchly to Faermage-KH Junkie for bringing it to my attention! This is what happens when both author and beta are way past sleep time and trying to edit a chapter for posting... ^^;