Chapter Text
Garrett Hawke was woken by his twin sister Bethany in the middle of the night.
“Carver’s back. We need to go.”
He blinked, struggling to claw his way from the Fade back to reality. The outskirts of Lothering, their farm house, the room he shared with his sister. And voices - raised - in the main room of the house.
“He’s back? So the rumours were true?”
Bethany looked pale as she grabbed her staff and the ever present quick-escape satchel she kept under the bed. Hawke practically fell out of bed to find his clothes and his own emergency supplies. They were meant for the possible discovery that one of them - or both of them - were apostates. They’d been in Lothering for ten years, the longest the Hawke family had ever managed, but there had been a time in their lives when running was a frequent occurrence. Especially when he and Bethany had come into their magic not six weeks apart.
Carver stuck his head in, eyeing both of them.
“Move it,” he growled, “The Darkspawn are almost here. You shouldn’t have waited.”
Garrett pulled his shirt over his head and then glared at him.
“Mother wouldn’t let us go without you.” He said.
“And I’ve told her she was a fool.” Carver said shortly. The five years between them felt like a lifetime as he regarded them. “It may already be too late to escape.”
The younger Hawke didn’t argue as he grabbed his overcoat and staff. Both of them carried staffs adapted from common farm tools. At first glance, most people would not be able to tell the difference. Safer, that way. Their father had always impressed on them the importance of staying quiet, of not seeking attention. Bethany had taken to the lessons better than Garrett had. He was, to quote his older brother, a sarcastic little fucker.
In the living room, their mother was busy throwing sand over the remains of the smouldering hearth whilst Sabre barked and whined at the door. Garrett sniffed, more awake now, and realised he could smell burning. He crossed to the front door and let Sabre out. There, down the hill in the dark was an orange glow.
“Shit is that -”
“Lothering.” Carver grunted. “Mother, we need to go - now. Leave the bloody fire, we’re not coming back.”
Bethany appeared at her twin’s side, pale in the night.
“Oh Maker, all those people.”
“Most have fled,” Garrett said, trying to stay quiet, “They weren’t waiting for family returning from Ostagar.”
There was a clip around his ear and Carver was standing there, glowering. Of course he’d heard. Their mother slipped out the door, eyes red from tears.
“I didn’t escape that trap to die here.” Carver growled. “Or to listen to your tongue, Garrett. Get moving.”
They moved in the dark, the twins huddling together as Carver pushed them to run and walk in bursts. Bethany kept looking back over her shoulder, squinting into the dark like she could see the darkspawn catching up with them.
“We can’t outrun them,” she whispered, “They don’t sleep, right? What happens when we need to stop?”
Garrett didn’t know. He didn’t really want to think about it. He’d known their mother’s insistence on waiting one more day, just one more day for Carver to return was a bad idea. But how could he have pushed her to run when it was her oldest son they’d have been abandoning? When she had only just started to come out of her shell after the death of their father?
Dawn rose and they kept moving. The first darkspawn found them not long after, Sabre offering a warning growl moments before they burst from the undergrowth, and Carver put his maul through its head as Bethany screamed in panic.
Carver’s eyes found Garrett’s and he said.
“Eyes sharp. There will be more.”
There was a cluster not long later and Garrett remembered his father’s words as he reached into the Fade and pulled back fire. Never in violence, always in self-defence. To protect those you care about. Their mother was defenceless as he burned the creature, heart in his mouth. Carver stepped back, two more dead by his hand. Garrett realised he was shaking. He’d never actually fought anyone before using magic. His fists, yes. But it wasn’t like he could punch the darkspawn.
Ice erupted next to him and Bethany clutched her staff in a death grip as she killed the final blighted creature threatening them.
They ran. And when their mother finally stumbled, it was Garrett who helped her to feet and turned to Carver.
“We need to stop. Mother can’t keep this up.”
“I’m fine,” their mother lied, but there was a tension in her voice, “We have to keep going.”
Carver looked up and down the road, as Bethany chipped in.
“Where are we even going? Where can we run to that isn’t overrun?”
Carver gritted his teeth.
“North,” he said, “We just need to stay ahead of the Blight.”
Garrett swallowed his retort that they’d run out of north eventually - and that historically, the Blight kept spreading.
“We can go to Kirkwall. My family still has estates there.”
The twins swung to stare at their mother. Their mother, the noble woman who’d run away from the Free Marches to marry a Ferelden apostate.
“There are a lot of Templars in Kirkwall, Mother.” Bethany said.
Hawke shuddered.
“Yeah, not a fan. Bad call.”
“Not your call to make.” Carver said, shooting his brother a look. “It’s no more dangerous than Ferelden. The only place the two of you might be even slightly safe would be Tevinter and that’s not going to happen. Come on. We can’t stop.”
As if to prove his point there was a warning growl of oncoming darkspawn and Garrett slung his staff off his back to fight once again.
When they came to a curve in the road ahead, they found a man and a woman in leather armour fighting a dozen darkspawn off. Carver didn’t hesitate - just hefted his maul and charged forwards. Sabre charged after him, a mabari wardog at heart despite the years spent in peace at the farm. Bethany raised her staff and ice crackled, but Garrett had spotted the man’s shield, the style of his armour and hissed.
“Templar!”
It was too late - and Carver needed help. Cursing, Garrett set the nearest darkspawn on fire.
The Templar looked up as the ice and fire hit the cluster of darkspawn, and one of them took advantage to sink its teeth into his neck. The younger Hawke brother swore again as the red-headed woman gave a cry and started to fight with a ferocity that put Carver to shame. She ripped the offending darkspawn off of the Templar and put her sword through it, snarling. Garrett concentrated and tried to summon a fireball. Not exactly a skill he’d had to practise, back on the farm. The rush of fire filled the air and two more darkspawn burned. Huh. He was quite good at this.
Then it was over and it was just their luck the Templar was still standing.
“Stay back, apostates.”
The man was bleeding badly as the woman tried to staunch the flow of blood. His eyes were hard and staring at the two of them. Bethany hesitated, but Garrett moved on instinct, putting himself bodily between the man and his sister. He met the Templar’s eyes with raised chin, heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t Smite both of them, could he?
“Should we have left you to die?” Carver growled.
The woman turned, and Hawke recognised some of her armour as Ferelden. She must have been at Ostagar. With Carver. He stayed quiet, Bethany’s hand clutched in his as a warning that his tongue might not be the best option right then.
“They saved us, Wesley.” The woman said hesitantly. “The Maker would understand.”
The younger Hawke brother snorted, quietly. The Maker. What the fuck did the Maker care what happened? He’d sent the Blight as punishment after all. The Templar’s eyes hadn’t left his and he glowered at Garrett’s reaction.
But when he spoke, the woman’s words seemed to have reached him.
“The north road is overrun. If you had hoped to make it that way, you are too late.”
“Then we’re trapped,” Bethany said shakily as their mother offered a prayer out to Andraste to guide them. “The wilds and the horde are to the south.”
“We’ll take our chances.” Carver said, before eyeing the two strangers. “Come with us, if you want. Or not. I don’t really care.”
The Templar, Wesley, braced himself and rolled his injured shoulder. The woman - his wife? - took his shield without a word. As Garrett walked past, still holding Bethany’s hand, Wesley growled.
“I’ll be watching you.”
“Probably better to be watching for the darkspawn.” Garrett responded.
Carver called out without looking back over his shoulder. Sabre was walking at his feet, alert to danger.
“Shut it, brother.”
Bethany’s shoulders hunched a little. Gritting his teeth, Garrett nudged her ahead so it was his back exposed to the Templar as they walked. He tried to ignore the sensation of the man’s eyes on the back of his neck.
The next band of Darkspawn came running down the road to meet them and between the now six of them including Sabre the blighted creatures died without much struggle. The bigger concern, Garrett realised, was that he was starting to feel tired. He’d never have to fight like this before. How much mana did he and Bethany have left? How exhausted was Carver, having seemingly travelled through the night to reach them? How much longer could their injured companion keep going?
They crested the top of a hill and the biggest monster Garrett had ever seen came crashing up to meet them, aiming straight at their mother.
Carver was there in an instant, maul raised to meet it, but the ogre had momentum and size on its side. Garrett tried to get a barrier up between his brother and the darkspawn, but it smashed straight through and kept going. Everything seemed to slow down around Garrett as he watched his brother crumple in its grip, maul dropping to the floor as the older Hawke was thrown bodily across the plateau.
Reality reasserted itself as Bethany screamed Carver’s name and ice seemed to form in the air, hanging like crystals before stabbing down at the ogre. Garrett blinked rapidly, trying to shake the afterimage of Carver collapsing from his vision as he reached for fire. Heat flared, roiling off his own skin. The ogre snarled and thrashed as it burned, but neither twin stopped casting. It toppled over slowly, downed under the twin’s desperate assault.
Sabre was standing over her fallen master, snarling and attacking a darkspawn that had gotten too close. The red-headed woman who’d introduced herself as Aveline put her sword through the thing and Sabre hunched over Carver, keening.
Their mother stood frozen before the dead ogre, staring into nothing.
More darkspawn were coming. Garrett hurried over to Carver’s limp form. This couldn’t be happening.
Carver had always been so solid, so present. Some of Garrett’s earliest memories were his brother, in easier times, before their father had died. Before Garrett and Bethany had manifested their magic, and they were just the Hawke siblings. Before Carver had been forced to be the man of the house, before he’d promised their dying father to protect the twins. Before the weight of that promise had led him to Ostagar.
His brother was so small, Garrett thought as he stared down at Carver’s broken body.
“More darkspawn,” Aveline said, sounding grim. “Stand up, Garrett. Don’t let them take you too.”
She didn’t know him, but her tone brooked no disagreement. Stumbling, Garrett got to his feet and turned to face the approaching horde.
Maker, there was no way they could fight that many. Sabre snapped and growled and ran forwards. Something in the back of Garrett’s mind whispered that he was the head of the family now. Second-born, by not much at all. He could hear Bethany crying.
Then there was a screeching, piercing cry and Garrett Hawke looked up to see the dragon.