AN: Hello there everyone!

Goodness it has been quite some time since I have submitted any of my published works on this site. Rest assured I've not been idle; no, plenty of stories are tumbling around in this head of mine. Many I even took the time to write down, plot out, and flesh to a point. This story in particular has been incubating for almost a year now. Dragon Age has always held a very special place in my heart, and now that I am more confident in my skills as a writer, I believe I am ready to do the original story some justice (no Anders pun intended) with my own variations.

On that note, this story will end up sticking rather heavily to the main story line of the game, Dragon Age 2, obviously. The altercations are in the characters, and the additions that I've made. Really, the newest member of the Hawke family is what makes all the difference in this little story of mine. It's made the DA universe just a little bit kinder; as there is so much death and sadness in the original story that I thought I would take the path seemingly less traveled to brighten it up a bit.

Anywho, with all the obligatory- I do not own Bioware© or Dragon Age, or any of the affiliated existing characters. I take credit only for the personality of Marian, the sweet and adorable Hugo, and any other OCs I might throw in from time to time- stuff that every fanfiction author has to suffer through, I bid you welcome, to my little DA2 playground :)

Reviews are VERY appreciated since I am largley unsure of where this story will take me.

And with that, I bid you adieu, and hope you enjoy the ride.

-Ms.P

"Will you shut that thing up before it brings the whole bloody horde down on us?"

Carver took a peek over the rubble. After surveying the area and determining that the horde was not, in fact rounding the bend, he turned back to the others crammed in the tight space along with him.

"Oh yes Carver, among my many talents lies the ability to silence wailing children who happen to be in the middle of a massacre." Hawke hissed as she rocked the screaming babe. Her sarcasm was a very thin cover over the panic that was squeezing her heart like a tourniquet. The baby would not stop crying; not that she could blame it, what with all the darkspawn running about and the general atmosphere of despair, she was sure it did nothing for its brand new little nerves. But for the Maker's sake they were sure to be discovered if the blasted thing didn't quiet.

With his usual assumption that his elder sister had the answers to everything and her ineffability was obviously being withheld from him to make his life that much more miserable from his oh so dismal position in her shadow, Carver turned to his twin and addressed her with more of an exasperated brand of bitching, "What about you Beth? I don't see you trying to help!"

That earned him a glare that might literally turn him to ice, had Bethany been in the right mood, "Of course, brother. I have just the spell to mute the baby. Let me check my Grimoire while we wait for the darkspawn to come and kill us."

"Marian's smart-assery is rubbing off on you, sister dearest."

Finally Leandra shoved herself between the bickering siblings, "Will you all kindly shove it!"

The harsh tone coming from their usually refined and delicate mother shut the Hawke siblings up right quick. They stared at her owlishly with the exception of Marian who still desperately tried to quiet the sobbing newborn and did not have the time to be impressed by their mother's vivaciousness.

Leandra glared around at her children while Carver checked over the rocks once more. With all the lady like dignity she could muster, she calmed herself. Looking at them with steely blue eyes that barley hid her terror, "We cannot sit here any longer. If the screaming child does not draw the attention of those monsters; the horses scent surely will. What we need is a plan, a direction, a path, something. And Maker forgive me, I don't care what it is, just pick before running is no longer an option!"

Carver made to angrily interject, presumably about how his poor feet were so tired due to all the running he'd done since Ostagar, but Bethany cut him off, "Where are we supposed to go? Lothering is gone, and the rest of Ferelden is soon to join it." The panic in her eyes was clear as she looked around her family.

They were all silent for a moment; even the baby had begun to lessen the force and volume of its cries. The quiet must have been the perfect moment for thinking because Leandra's face lit up, "We could go to Kirkwall!"

Just as she spoke, they each froze at the bone chilling screech that came from entirely too close by. Darkspawn.

Carver uttered a very colorful curse that he certainly didn't learn in Lothering, and vaulted over their make shift barricade, Bethany close behind. Hawke and her mother slid down into the cramped alcove where they'd tied up their two packhorses and set about guiding them through the crevice. The rouge grimaced and put a hand on the baby's ear, to try and dull the sounds of battle from over the hill. The horses trotted along behind them, only protesting once in a while when a particularly grating screech echoed around the rock walls. Hawke's eyes darted about above them where all a darkspawn need do was look at its boots to see the trapped women and infant below. She prayed to anything that was listening that her siblings were keeping them occupied.

When the dark little fissure opened up, Hawke stayed her mother and the horses with a hand signal, handing the baby back to Leandra for a quick moment before she slipped into the sparse shadows. Her back flat against the rock wall, Hawke slid up to the very edge and glanced out to where she heard the fighting.

A look at the pillar of fire stretching into the already smoky sky behind them told her that the sounds of battle were not from her kin. As soon as her eyes rounded the corner, she saw what was making all the noise.

A group of twenty or so darkspawn surrounded two lone figures. She couldn't see clearly from where she stood who the people might be, but it was enough that they weren't oozing black sludge for her to slide out her daggers and glide into the fray practically unnoticed. Within minutes the herd had thinned out to five, their fellows downed by slit throats or well-placed cuts to sever important tendons around their vulnerable legs. Hawke leapt from her concealed place in the shadows to finish the last spawn herself, while what appeared to be a very angry and very ginger sheildmaiden promptly beat the shit out of one who'd been unlucky enough to stab her companion.

Marian wiped the slimy ichor off her blades on the dusty ground as best she could, then turned to look back at her mother- now joined by Bethany and Carver by the fissure. They looked uncertain- or Bethany did, while she held Carver back from charging right up next to Hawke. The timid bit caught Hawke off guard, but as she turned back to the couple, she soon learned why.

The shieldmaiden-practically coated in the darkspawn's blackened blood was desperately trying to rouse her writhing companion back to full consciousness. Aforementioned companion had been run through by one of the darkspawn's wickedly curved blades, despite his bulky armor.

That had the silver sword of Andraste's Templars emblazoned proudly on its chest piece.

The woman managed to get him standing, with one arm thrown over her shoulder, and approached Hawke looking rather like a very angry bull that was about to plead for help, and not enjoy one second of it.

"You," she grated out, her eyes constantly shifting to her Templar companion, "I-..Thank you. Thank you for your help." Taking a deep breath to steady herself, the woman's voice came out remarkably calm, "I am Aveline Vallen, and this is my husband, Ser Wesley." The man shakily looked up at her and made to say something of consequence, but his eyes locked on to something behind her.

"Apostate! Keep your distance!" he snarled, but his show of bravado immediately collapsed into a fit of coughing that brought blood up to spatter his lips. Aveline quieted him and apologized for his behavior, her eyes remaining steadfast and calm even in the face of her husband's imminent demise. Hawke looked at them with caution, feeling her sister's tension rolling off in waves beside her. She tore her attention away only to accept the baby back into its sling across her chest from her nervous mother. The shieldmaiden's eyes locked onto the infant instantly, and Hawke saw something harden further-a distinct urge to protect, no doubt. Hawke had felt it too, when they picked up the tiny thing.

"Call me Hawke," she said with a sarcastic twist to her lips, she motioned to the gasping Templar, "He is in bad condition. You will need more than your stubbornness to get him out of here alive." Hawke could practically feel Carver objecting behind her, but she continued while rubbing a soothing hand along the baby's back, "You are welcome to travel with us, he can rest on one of our horses and the trip out of this Hell will go much quicker for you."

Aveline tore her eyes from the child and narrowed them to slits at Hawke, who could see the wheels turning behind them. She seemed to consider the offer for a moment, but the choice was quickly made for her when her beloved began a very wet coughing fit once again. Indecision warred for just a moment and then she set her jaw, nodding to Hawke. Carver helped Wesely onto their less excitable mare, Jebella, glowering at his sister all the while. He caught her arm when she came over to see their mother helped up as well, "You are making a mistake," he hissed, "they will only slow us down- We don't even know them." Hawke gave him her best -I will not be trifled with - look, "We didn't know the baby, either. And yet here it is- by your bleeding hearted actions, I might add. In fact, wasn't it you who got on their high horse and said, 'The blight struck all of us blindly; who are we to pass by those in need?'" She tightened the straps on her mother's horse and grinned at him as he ground his teeth, "Besides, I have to guard our less deadly companions; it'll be the Maker's blessing that your shoddy swordsmanship is augmented by another warrior."

"And another burden." Carver's mood swings baffled Hawke, but she could only smile in satisfaction as he growled and stalked back to the head of the group, grabbing Jebella's reigns to lead the party down the narrow path along the side of the cliff. Hawke hefted a sigh and glanced down at the baby- who against all odds had cried itself to sleep. Well the Maker does have a sense of humor, she supposed. Her eyes moved back up to her simmering brother; at least she only had to deal with one child, now.

It was a ways down the path and several arguments about which direction they should go- which ended with Leandra smacking Carver upside his head and telling him to listen to his sister, that went over well- when they heard it.

The ground began to shake, and the sky seemed to darken even further. Hawke felt every hair on the back of her neck rise, and she backed closer to the horses, gripping their reins with all her strength. And lo up the hill ahead of them came the stuff of nightmares. A massive ogre, with a battalion of darkspawn at its side, roaring in challenge as it spotted them. She heard Wesely rasp out a prayer behind them, and Leandra promptly began to sob. Hawke gritted her teeth and watched her siblings along with Aveline draw their weapons. Not that she thought running would actually work- but fighting the thing seemed damn near suicidal.

Carver of course was the first to charge the beast head on, and it might have been his end had Bethany not blinded it with a fireball to its face. He lept up with a roar and made to slice open the ogre's chest. His attack was thwarted with a swing of the monster's meaty arms, and he slid back in the dirt- barely keeping his balance but looking twice as determined as before.

Hawke had no time to sit around and watch her brother play hero, however. The excess darkspawn were pouring out of the side paths around the plateau they stood on, and heading right for the defenseless party she guarded, which was ever so conveniently backed into a corner. She held the baby close to her chest with one arm and handed Jebella's reins to her Mother with the other, "Under no circumstances are you to let these horses get away from you, understood?" She snapped. Leandra nodded, trying to steady herself as the enemy grew closer.

"What of the baby? You can't honestly hope to fight with it-"

Leandra should have been used to her daughter proving her wrong, by this point.

Marian Hawke whipped the bow off her back and was instantly firing arrow after deadly arrow like a machine. By the Maker's grace each bolt found a home in one of their attackers, and if it did not slay them, it slowed them down enough to be taken by a follow up shot. The arrows flowed like water into her hand and onto the bow. Even under the awkward circumstances she had to fire them in; with the now awake and wailing infant strapped to her chest- the adrenaline high somehow took down every single spawn that dared to approach them.

Meanwhile out of the corner of her eye she saw Carver bury his blade right between the eyes of the monstrosity the other three had been battling this whole time. She had no time to focus on that though, as yet another wave of darkspawn screamed towards them. Her arms burned and her supply of arrows was dangerously low, but she couldn't stop, the cries of the new born on her chest assured her of that. The three other fighters were backed up in front of her, desperately bashing enemies with a shield, cleaving heads from shoulders, and freezing them where they stood. But Hawke could see Aveline's blows weaken, getting pushed back behind her shield by the endless numbers of darkspawn. Carver's sword swung down with too little force and got stuck in a spinal column, causing him to curse and pluck the unfamiliar curved sword of the enemy from its dying grasp and try to beat them back with it to no avail. Bethany's brow poured sweat, her eyes dilated and red with weakness. Her skin paled visibly and she shook from head to toe with exertion. The poor mage barely had enough fight left in her to conjure a candle flame much less a needed fireball, so she resorted to shoving back enemies with her staff, which quickly failed as more and more stacked up against her. The horses screamed and kicked out as they were backed up against the sheer face of the cliff, having nowhere to run to and successfully bashing in a few darkspawn heads with their frantically bucking hooves.

The situation looked hopeless-that is, till the most terrifying roar any of them had ever heard ripped across the plateau.

The world burst into fire. Hawke could only watch in awe as wave after wave of white hot flames poured over them. She held the baby with both arms, crouching into a ball to shield it from what she assumed would be their end. But the fire only seemed to affect the darkspawn attacking them, which screamed and flailed as their skin rapidly peeled away from the bone underneath and their very armor began to melt.

Magefire.

That was the only thing that it could be, Hawke thought, as the flames consumed the rest of the battlefield, turning the battalion into nothing but screaming columns of fire that ran around in circles until they eventually fell into twisted, unrecognizable shapes on the ground, and moved no more.

A gargantuan shape flew overhead and their necks nearly snapped trying to follow its path. The beast skimmed over the field, picking up any left over darkspawn in its talons and dashing them against the cliffs in a wet crunching of bones. It circled up once more and dropped them into the flames with their burning brethren and let out another triumphant cry. It surveyed the chaotic battlefield once more before folding its wings in and plummeting towards the very center of the inferno.

Hawke thought it might have been Bethany who screamed-or it could have very well been all of them together- as a shockwave blasted out from the point of impact and knocked them all off their feet- even pinning the screaming horses back against the wall. The blast was so intense that every flame on the battlefield instantly flickered out, and all was silent-eerily so.

As the dust began to clear, Hawke heard her mother gasping and choking out little exclamations of pain as her horse staggered away from the rocks. One hand instinctively on the back of the still crying baby's head, she scrambled up from the dirt and moved over to her. Her mother's head had hit the wall rather hard. Hawke guided her down from the animal as easily as she could, and held her as her eyes fluttered closed. Well, Brightside; if they were going to be blown up by a scary mage-dragon, at least her mother wouldn't have to witness it from the blessed embrace of unconsciousness.

But it seemed they had bigger problems to deal with.

Out of the dust cloud, strode a woman.

Her white hair whipped around her in a spectral wind and power rolled off her in nearly tangible waves, some curling back to look like hair no longer- but sleek and deadly horns. If anyone could ever be described as looking like a dragon without actually being one, it would be this armored, yellow eyed and very dangerous creature. Who strode towards them without a care in the world, and a lazy smile on her painted lips.

"My, my…" Her unsettling, grating voice drawled, "What have we here?"

Those reptilian eyes settled on Hawke, and moved down to the babe in her arms. The woman smiled.

"Wonders never cease."