The Waking Sea, Month 1 - Wintermarch, 9:32 of the Dragon Age.

The Oceanlord was with them as they traveled across the sea. Tenkou smiled. A deep inhale of the salty sea air relaxed her. Crisp its wintery bite. It was growing late. She watched the sunset, beautiful the colors it cast. Not like the skies of Norrath, Tenkou heard the torches being lit as the sun settled for the night. A week out at sea the blanket of stars above them, the sound of the wind in the sails, waters lapping as they sailed through the dark waters. The Druid tugged her cloak closer.

Along with the sounds of nature, swords clash with the hearty laughter of the crew with her younger brother and sister's beloved. A shake of her head. She chuckled, watching them. The stern was busy this evening. They sparred through the night the evening before, but not tonight. Tonight, the boys will rest.

Cullen swung with a growl, Okhor countered, pushing the man back. Cullen swung again, raising his shield high for the next incoming blow he knew was sure to come. A kick instead landed on the Templar. Their audience divided either cheered or booed their chosen man. Okhor pressed Cullen, his weight on the shield, with a growl of his own.

"Come on, I got two sovereigns on you, Templar!"

"Oy, where'd'ya get the coin?"

Cullen was sweating, Okhor was stronger than imagined. He was a formidable foe. Bearing down, he lifted himself as he pressed his all into his shield arm, pushing Okhor to change his stance.

If Cullen was indeed his enemy, he would surely meet the Maker. Okhor stepped back, a vicious grin splayed on his face, small sharp fangs bared. His eyes flashed in the firelight. He charged shield first, the small buckler he backhanded Cullen's shield with a quick spin that, as a warrior, he had never seen outside of the dagger wielding rogues he used to train with. Cullen felt it coming. The air seemed to still for just a moment, before impact.

It sent Cullen sprawling on his back. The crew was in a joyous uproar. "Y'll get'em next time, Templar. Good show!"

A stern female voice called for the crew. "Alright, you filthy dogs back to work!"

"Aye Captain!" The crew scrambled to their nightly chores before resting.

The Captain of the Siren's Call sauntered up to the two men. Licking her lips, approved of the sight she had on her ship. "That was an impressive display. I have never seen a man move like that other than Zev. Isn't that right?" Watching the beads of sweat trail slowly down their taut abdomens.

With a nod, he had seen the Warden King unarmored move with just as much agility. "Si, I would say that he would do wonderful with daggers as much as a bulky sword." Zevran smirked, knowing what the woman was thinking.

Okhor helped Cullen to his feet, offering his apologies for the display. "Brother, I meant no harm. I took it too far this time."

Out of breath and dripping with sweat, Cullen shook his head. "It is an honor you do not hold back. I should thank you. I will best you one day."

With a laugh, Okhor slapped the man's back. Seeing his elder sister, he hung his head apologetically.

Tenkou came from the shadows of the ship. "Captain, I thank you for allowing the boys to play, but if they have had more than enough sport, I suggest we rest. Come, I have fixed all something to eat. Clean up please."

Isabela watched the young woman nudging Zevran. "I see why you like her."

"She has an equally beautiful double." Zevran breathed, following behind the Wood elf.

Her eyes widened, head snaps to follow Zevran. "Bookends! Zevran!" harsh whispers, Isabela called in a giddy, astonished after the Antivan rogue.

Bellies filled the night quiet, most of the crew slept while others took turns keeping watch in the night. In the berth, Cullen stirred, fitfully. He woke in a shivering cold sweat. Breathing heavily he sat up with a jolt. Gripping the thick woolen blanket, he tried desperately to even his breathing. Tossing the covering aside, he quietly slipped from the hammock, heading quickly to the upper deck.

Tenkou woke, hearing him rustle in his space. She sighed. At least he slept for a few more hours this night. Seeing his boots ascend the small flight of stairs, she slipped herself out of her cozy cocoon. Okhor heard nothing. He was soundly sleeping. Tenkou closed his mouth and adjusted him before covering him up. He sleeps wild. On with her previous task, she headed up to the upper deck.

Once the air hit Cullen, his rapidly beating heart slowed, his breathing evening out, his jaw hurt. He still shook, he was trying to manage now.

Tenkou watched him for a time before she approached him. A soft clearing of her throat announced her presence. "Cullen, I could always brew a tea to help you sleep. I know how you feel about… Us." The young woman referred to mages. Tenkou's eyes held a tinge of sadness.

Understanding her meaning, Cullen quickly eased her mind. "Lady Swiftleaf, I would not wish to trouble you."

He is still very much terrified of magic. He would have thought the dreams would have left when the Norrathians arrived. Cullen could chase the dreams away, or so he thought. It was but a fleeting fancy. Seeing them take the Darkspawn with gleeful ease, their mother transforming into a creature of great power. The powers they wield are dangerous. That was what the Chantry taught him.

A soft smile, followed by a frown. "It would not be trouble at all. I wish to help. If you would like, could we talk?"

Cullen sat on a barrel, offering a barrel for Tenkou. "I have seen you come up here for the past week. Are you well?"

The Templar took a deep breath, so he was disturbing others. Knight Commander Greagoir was correct. He needed to be away. Cullen looked out at the blackness of the night, hearing the firelight of the torches, the water slapping as they cut through the sea. He sighed. "I thought I would have been free of this."

A soft hum. "Takes time. What was the dream?" Tenkou quietly inquired.

Cullen spoke into the night. "It was as if I was living in that shield again, growing smaller with each passing second. They prey upon me. I could hardly breathe."

Shifting in her spot, she pulled her cloak closer to her. She knew intimately. She herself shares similar revulsion to closed-in spaces. Cullen's was regrettable. Though Tenkou has learned how to challenge her affliction, it is ever present if unchecked.

"I understand. Would you mind if we went back to sleep? I do not do well in the cold."

Seeing him nod in the dim light, she hopped from her seat, walking into the shadows out of his sight. Cullen continued to stare out into the night's dark. His skin tingled, growing anxious he looked to see that Tenkou was no longer there.

Maybe it was something in the sea. "Ridiculous, calm yourself!" Cullen chastised himself. A whimper, the sound of claws on deck to his right. A large brown wolf with citrine green eyes carried a cloak in its mouth.

"Lady Swiftleaf?" Cullen was astounded. He had seen them turn before, but now. She was massive. Another whimper, her bushy tail wagging happily.

Tenkou slowly stepped to Cullen with her mighty head down. When she neared him, she lifted his arm with her snout. "Take the cloak, come with me."

Cullen gasped when he heard her through growls. Doing what she asked of him took the cloak from her mouth, following behind. Tenkou laid under a makeshift lean. Wagging her bushy tail, invited the man to come and lay against her. Cullen tentatively did as instructed, feeling the cloak pulled up closer to his chin. Tenkou curled her massive body in a way that she was near wrapped around him to keep him warm.

When the others noticed at morning's first light. Alerting Isabela, of an oddly enormous beast on board, Okhor informed them they cannot sleep in confined places. None said a word, leaving soft padding for the man to sleep on and the makeshift lean alone on the remaining voyage to Kirkwall.

The Hanged Man, Kirkwall, Month 2 - Guardian, 9:32 of the Dragon Age.

Hawke and Carver had been working their asses off for Meeran for the past two years. Carver is sick to death of it. Hawke could not care any less than he already does. Carver took a swig of ale before slamming it back down.

"I'm going back to the house. You coming or not?" Carver grumbled. There was a bloodstain on his tunic. He needed to burn it after tonight.

Hawke nodded. The young men thought, get in, get out, snatch a purse if need be, go home. It would have been simple if it were that simple. Their hands were not so tightly bound. A job was a job, even if it meant killing someone who was looking out for the people of Ferelden.

The hit that was ordered was for a man by the name of Harimann. Under the cover of night, Hawke nicked the man so there would be his blood on his daggers. A false death is better than death itself. Hawke demanded that Lord Harimann flee from Kirkwall that night. They dumped his body close to his home in the shadows and left him to figure his way away from the Free Marches. It will cost them some heavy coins. That was what Carver was so bitter about now. Hawke would just have to make up for it. Now he just needed to come up with a decent lie to tell Meeran when he summoned the brothers.

Skulking through Lowtown, the Hawke boys returned to their Uncle Gamlin's home. Hawke went to bed immediately after kissing his mother on the forehead. Bethany looked at her twin, who also went to bed without a word. Both women mirrored worried expressions equal to each other.

.

.

The next morning, Leandra stopped Lineatus before he left for the day. "Son, come, speak with me for a moment."

Hawke took her hand, leading her to the doors out of the house. "Good morning, my beautiful mother."

"Do not honey your words with me. What is going on with you two? Are you having troubles at the tavern?" Leandra checked over her eldest as she spoke.

"Mother no. You worry too much. I am hard at work, both me and Carver." Flashing his most charming smile. He took his mother's hands, kissing them.

With a sigh, she shook her styled silvery hair. "If that is all that it is, then." She nodded, knowing that her children were all very stubborn, especially with her. Remembering that Carver was not out of bed yet offered to fetch him.

"No, let him rest. I will cover his shift tonight. I will see you this evening, beautiful." He waved behind him as he headed toward the Hanged Man's direction. It was a cover, the two of them working there. Hawke's Uncle Gamlin also aided in the ruse. Hawke was sick of this shit, too. He just thought he could tolerate it until last night.

Walking through the poorest parts of Lowtown, he lost himself in his thoughts. How he ended up in this position. Lineatus remembered a time when it was better than now, happier because his father was alive. Although Lineatus was old enough to have mourned his father, he did not, could not. He let the weight of his family fall on his shoulders and upheld the mantle, as the eldest and man of the house. Just before his father took his last breath, he made Lineatus swear to keep the family together.

"Watch over them. My boy, I know I am leaving them in the most capable hands of the Hawke family."

That he did. Keeping his sister Bethany safeguarded, Mother content with his jests, and Carver, Carver was so stubborn it was maddening. He enlisted into the king's army along with him when Carver came of age. The last thing Hawke wanted to do was worry about his younger brother on the field, but the boy held his own. The pay was just enough to tread water.

Then the King announced arms, Darkspawn had surfaced. Of course, their mother worried, pleading with them to not go, they could run to Kirkwall. Hawke knew they needed more with the both of them on the lists twice, as much would make sure they had enough.

After all, he gave his word to his dying father.

Ostagar, Kocari Wilds, Ferelden, Month 5 - Bloomingtide, 9:29 of the Dragon Age.

They sent Hawke to Lord Swiftleaf's pavilion. As Hawke stood waiting, he looked around the camp until he saw a few others coming to join him. All various scouts.

"Sent you here too. Looks like we'll get to see some action after all." One man chuckled. Hawke agreed. They had seen little action.

"Yeah, I came here a few weeks ago, overheard the boys in the king's camp talking one night. The Grey been clearing them out." Another said.

One of the two women with them incredulously gasped. "The Grey alone?"

A few of the others nodded. "Heard more was comin' from Orlais." A few agreed quietly.

They eradicated most of the Darkspawn that had been seen before anyone knew they showed their faces.

Hawke and his new companions grew impatient as they waited.

Hawke spoke up, as it sounded like they had the same idea. "May not be a Blight at all, and we are just going into the wilds just to report back. Not a drop of blood to be spilled on my daggers." This was not a Blight, as the King states, just small sightings of the Darkspawn, none but the Wardens saw.

The others chuckled, agreeing that this is the easiest way to get paid. Behind them, Lord Swiftleaf cleared his throat.

His deep timber alerted them to his presence. "You disagree with Our King?" His question sounded less like a question and more accusing to whoever dared to utter against his Majesty.

While others stood wide-eyed, Hawke turned, facing the young Lord. "Ser! I was just giving my opinion. Ser!"

A brief nod of his raven head. "Stand down, I have mixed feelings about this." He rolled his eyes as if speaking his mind was a triviality. "We will move out in five."

Hawke looked around, seeing the small number of them. "Just us seven?"

"Dismissed!" His storm-ice eyes bore into Hawke's warm browns.

The others left to wait near the edge of the camp. Hawke, worried about Carver, had no time to cross the encampment to search, letting him know where he would be… in case.

Ikal'antulien could see in the boy's eyes worry. "Speak."

Hawke shook his head. Turned to leave as the Lord instructed. Before he could get too far. "Your name?"

"Hawke, Lineatus. Ser!"

"You have a family." Kal'an motioned for them to walk together.

"I do. Ser. A brother here in camp, a sister and mother waiting at home."

The corners of Kal'an's mouth held the faintest of smiles if you knew what you were looking at. Hawke took a glance at the tall man. He was handsome to behold, features sharp, also was a head taller than he. His raven hair pulled back. Hawke noticed his ears, small tapered, with a small golden hoop.

Black armor like a Dark Knight in stories he used to tell his younger siblings. He understood the effect he had on the women who looked upon him throughout the encampment.

The rumors surrounding that he was not just the Ward of Teyrn Loghain seemed to not affect him in the slightest. Ser Ikal'antulien Swiftleaf proved the rumors wrong, many times in the Tourneys.

His direct way of speaking, or lack thereof, and icy demeanor added to his charming allure.

Just before reaching the others, Ser Swiftleaf gave his warning. "If things take a turn for the worst. Get to safety."

Hawke choked out, confused. "Ser?"

Lord Swiftleaf said no more. When they approached the gate to the Wilds, they opened as if by magic. It was no wonder he and the King were close. He commanded without a word, led without question.

.

.

Scouting the Wilds seemed unnecessary. The Wilds were vast, and many parts were unknown to those that were not familiar with the terrain.

They sneaked around the Wilds looking for anything. Hushed by their tread, watching the Lord and their surroundings, taking signals from him.

His eyes searched in the forest's thick, his hearing sharp. Kal'an stopped, his eyes narrowed. "Move now." he growled. Placing himself between their attackers and their targets. Black cape like the wings of a giant black bird blocked Hawkes' vision.

It was an ambush. Kal'an was injured. An arrow pierced his shoulder. Quiet Death, he knew the smell. Hefting Kal'an on his shoulder, he and another scout carried the man to ruins closer to the encampment.

He panted. "Leave me, go!"

"Ser, we have to make it back to camp!"

Kal'an pushed them off of him as he leaned against the stump of a fallen tree. "If you stay, you die with me. Now run!" The walls left little protection. Their assailants chased them here, herded like cattle.

"We will not leave you, Ser…" The young woman with them shot in the back, her skin turned black upon contact.

Quickly he took something from his pocket, cutting his finger on his blade, wrote with such speed. Tucking it under him, tears formed in his eyes. He looked at Hawke, who was fending off arrows as the others fell around them.

"Run to camp, now!" Kal'an shouted. Growling fiercely, struggled to draw his bow as he lobbed arrow after arrow into the trees. Tears streamed down his cheeks. "You die here, you shall never see your family, run damn you!" He gasped, another arrow pierced him.

He was buying him time. Doing as the Knight asked, he ran, slipping in and out of the shadows to safety.

Ostagar, Kocari Wilds, Ferelden, Month 6 - Justinian.

The guilt Hawke felt, the feelings of eyes upon him. He had left Ser Kal'an to die, be it on the man's command or not. It was not until after the Grey Wardens were carrying back his body; it did not decay. He looked like he was asleep.

The time he remained in the camp, keeping busy hiding what he knew, The Elven woman who brought him back from the wilds met his eye. Heard the cries of the King. Steeling his emotions, he turned when a gigantic wall of fire blocked their contact.

That night brought the battle, the failed battle. Hawke got to Carver before he charged into the field. Into the shadows once more, to do as Ser Kal'an said.

Carver protested vehemently. When they looked at the path behind them, it was like a great black tidal wave. The Darkspawn swarmed the King's men. It could have been Carver on that field. The Grey Wardens cut them down as swiftly as they charged them.

In the distance, a large fire lit the ancient tower. A horrendous roar shook the ground on which they stood.

Hawke tugged Carver, heading back to Lothering.

Lothering, Month 8 - August.

Two months passed, with a multitude of rumors. Idle gossips that were frivolous in reality. The one thing remained true for Lineatus. He knew what he heard and saw that night.

Hawke carried with him the image of the tears in Ser Kal'an's eyes. He told him to run for his family.

Lord Swiftleaf saved his life, along with his brother. When they heard that, all died on the field. Hawke knew now was the time to flee.

Carver saw what the Darkspawn did. He did not want to admit his brother saved him; he felt it was right. "Brother, it could have been us."

Hawke nodded. "Lord Swiftleaf saved us." Hawke tightened the bundle he had in his hands. Taking one of the many odd jobs the Chantry had, they needed to gather as much coin as possible. They were short of several sovereigns. Their Bann left to serve under Teyrn Loghain, taking the whole of the army with them. They were defenseless, not counting the few Templars that took the task in their first line of defense.

When the appearance of Arl Eamon's men, looking for the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Knowing it would bring in a King's fortune if he found the Urn, it was just a legend. He was torn between chasing a legend and keeping his eye on his family. He needed to keep his family safe.

Days later, Hawke planned to drive out the bandits on the Imperial Highway that had been chastising the folks fleeing from the fighting. The lands were in violent division. Checking his blades as he walked, thinking of what to say to get them to leave without further bloodshed, heard fighting along his destination. A wall of goods hid him from view. Peering around the tall crates, two mages, a sword arm, and a dog were bringing the bandits to their knees.

They took his bounty. He would confront them when they went to speak to the Templars. He slipped away further into the hamlet and waited. When the group came to the steps of the Chantry, he recognized the one mage and the sword arm.

"Pardon. Miss?"

A curious look crossed the girl. "You?"

Hawke nodded. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

She nodded, sending the man who brought Ser Kal'an to camp inside to gather information and spread the word that the Blight was coming. "Ser?"

"… Hawke. I was there when Ser… Lord Swiftleaf fell. He told me to run. He gave me time." Hawke exhaled, it felt as held his breath since the day he was told to run.

Olett nodded. Just as she was sent into the Tower of Ishal, away from the fighting. Lady Deedolit's offspring saved his life. She would as well. Pulling from her robe pocket her purse. Handing the purse to Hawke.

"The Blight is coming, Lothering is in their path." With a solemn nod, she turned to enter the Chantry doors.

The color drained from Hawke's face. 'Run!' "Aye. May the Maker bless you." Called after the mage. He headed to his home shortly thereafter.

The Hinterlands, Southron Hills, Month 9 - Kingsway.

Hawke ran with his family. They had avoided most of the Darkspawn, the few stragglers that separated from the horde Carver and he dispatched quickly.

"Bethany, I need you to do that thing!"

"You mean the one father taught us!"

"Right. Now!" Hawke and Bethany sent a fireball at the approaching Darkspawn that was tailing them.

Bethany breathed heavy, they had been running for days with little rest. "This would work better if you helped me." She sent another spell that created a wall of fire to bar any Darkspawn path.

"My lovely little sister, how much fun would it be if both of us sent fire raining from the skies? I only know the one spell."

Carver rolled his eyes. "Less talking, there are more up ahead!" Carver went charging at the few now in front of them, blocking the path.

"Carver, be careful!" Their mother called out in fright. Both Hawke and Bethany danced around the darkspawn, Carver beheaded one that came straight at him, while Bethany tended to wounds magically.

"Sister, ease your casting. We need you most." Hawke fell back, taking their mother's hand.

"We will head to Kirkwall, just as long as we keep moving." He gave his word to his father, as well as Lord Swiftleaf.

The Darkspawn caught up, Leandra was exhausted, they all were. Fighting ahead of them the shouts of a woman. Aveline Vallen with her husband Wesley fended off the swarming Darkspawn that surrounded them. Hawkes' quick thinking aided the couple. It was a cruel joke from the Maker Hawke thought the man they saved was a Templar. The very mage hunter that sent them to Lothering when the twins were the age of nine.

A brief respite as more swords and magic were feasible together than without. Differences aside, they carried on. A high plateau forced them to fight. Once more the Darkspawn came. What was drawing their attention? The couple and the Hawke children stood their ground. Gald smiles as they pant. Then, too suddenly, the ground shook beneath them.

"OGRE!" Carver and Bethany announce.

"No, shit." Hawke was showing signs of weariness. He pulled his mother to safety, as he went to grab the twins, it struck Bethany.

"BET NO!" Hawke screamed. It happened so fast, she lay unmoving. Hawke screamed, his vision blurred he ran hard, leaping into the air, daggers set a flame plunged into the eyes of the massive ogre.

He did not survive for this to happen; he gave his word. Hawke charged again. An Emissary shot out. Hawke whipped the dagger, tossing it out haphazardly, catching the twisted mage in the throat. Another fired. It hit Hawke, landing on the hard ground, fighting around him faded around him. It grew hot, a roar drowned out the fighting. He has to save them. It cannot end like this. Not after he gave his word.

When Hawke awoke. "Bet?" Hawke groggily tried to sit up. "Bet…" He groaned.

"They are well… Perhaps, not that one." A feminine voice addressed Hawke with a chortle. "Awake are you? You should get up. Your wounds are not severe."

Doing as told, Hawke held his head in his hands. It throbbed dully, pained he crawled over to Bethany as she laid motionless. "Bet?" He rasped.

"Do not snivel. She is sleeping."

Hawke turned to the voice. There stood a woman with stark white hair that looked like horns. Her armor clung to her like a second skin, scaled, silver, clawed gauntlets adorned her hands. Quizzically looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Thank you."

"Hmm. Do you wish to live or die?"

An incredulous question, Hawke balled his fist. "To live." He mustered up his strength.

"Then I shall have you know you are heading in the wrong direction." The woman turned to leave.

Carver was confused why she would help, just to let them die.

"Why not? I saw that a mighty ogre was vanquished. Now, who could have done this feat? I wondered. I have sated my curiosity. I can leave now." Turning her back once more aimed to leave without further hindrance.

Hawke groaned, coming after the elder mage reaching for her. "Please, we need to get out of here, please."

The smile that spread across her face none saw. "Fate or coincidence. I can never decide." Speaking to no one in particular.

Hawke once more pleaded with a warning from Aveline. "She is the Witch of the Wilds." Checking her husband over.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips. With a shrug, she did not deny it. "Some call me that, yes. Flemeth. Asha'Bellanar." She was coyly playing with her clawed gauntlets. "An old hag who talks too much. Whatever the situation." She smirked, her peculiar citrine eyes scanned the group. "How is this? A simple favor. I get you safe passage away from the horde, and you deliver something near to your destination?"

The warnings that Hawke was hearing, he ignored. He was keeping his family safe and together. They could not do this without the Witch's help.

"Ah, there is one minor problem." Her eyes settled on the Templar with them. "He carries the taint, and the only two Grey Wardens are well out of the way."

Aveline threw her body over her husband as if someone were holding a blade to him. "No, not my Wesley!"

"Aveline…"

Hawke closed his eyes. The boys gathered around their mother and sister. Flemeth stood with her back to them all. Wesley made the choice he was long from this world, he knew. Aveline hefted his shield with ease. Tears in her eyes, bid her husband goodbye.

"Let us be off." Determination through her tears. Hawke, his family, and Aveline soared to the outskirts of Gwaren.