Dragon Age and all respective characters are sole property of Bioware.

It was a hard life, to be sure. Sold into servitude, blamed for a sister's death and charged as the sole caretaker of the family that was often more trouble than it was worth. And that was just all in the first week of his arrival in Kirkwall. Ayden Hawke was never one to complain but, as of right now, his life stunk.

"This would be so much easier if we weren't running from your Templars."

Hawke groaned as his younger brother, Carver, continued to whine behind him. The religious Templars were always looking for dangerous apostates- mages not under Templar rule-and Carver always had to remind him of that fact. Hawke doubted Carver was jealous of his gift but was simply bitter about the extra attention it gave him. Even Meeran, their current boss and leader of the Red Irons, focused more on the older brother and usually ignored Carver with all the jobs. At first Hawke and Carver had agreed that Meeran was the right choice for work. A mercenary had to be better than a smuggler, right? Unfortunately, Meeran had proved to be a constant thorn in Hawke's side, sending him on jobs that paid too little and had him bruised and bleeding the next day.

After nearly a year, Meeran had yet to change. A nobleman that dared betray the Red Irons was due for a friendly reminder why it was a bad mistake and it had the men traveling for three days. The target had a second estate just outside the Kirkwall borders, close to the Wounded Coast. It had been raining for days and neither of the Hawke men were eager to travel. While Hawke remained quiet and cursed to himself, Carver had to voice every single ailment and complaint.

"Was this all part of your plan, brother? Trudging through the rain to kill some worthless noble?"

Hawke spun around quickly, causing Carver to bump into him. "Carver, would you just shut up for one second? Yes, it's all my fault. The defeat at Ostagar, the destruction of Lothering, Bethany's death…even being a mage. I purposely did all of these things just to make your life miserable, you've found me out."

Carver was usually fond of confrontation but not when he lacked the upper hand. "I never said you were to blame for everything…."

"No? You and mother blame me for Bethany, you continually harass me over being a mage and serving with the Red Irons was not my choice. I'm trying the best I can, Carver. You want to do better? Leave."

Carver was silent for once and Hawke shook his head with frustration. He tried to go easy on his brother but the young man made it so damned difficult. He left Carver to stand there dumbstruck and trudged forward up the sandy hills along the dreary coast.

Hollington's safe house was well hidden, Hawke would give him that, but not very guarded by the look of it. A tall rock formation kept him hidden from view and he carefully peeked around his cover to plan the best path of entry. Carver slid up next to him and Hawke made room so his brother could survey the area with him.

"Coterie thugs," Carver grumbled. "It shouldn't be any problem for the two of us."

"None at all," Hawke agreed, "but the main group could be inside the house just waiting for an attack. There could be traps so we have to be extra careful."

"Couldn't you use magic to discover traps or something?"

Hawke rolled his eyes. "It depends. Can your swords disarm them?"

"Fine. Point taken. So…what do we do?"

How quickly Carver relinquished control yet always found fault with the outcome. It would be funny if it wasn't so damned annoying. "This needs to be quiet. No need to alert the men inside and double the risk. We take these men out quickly. Sounds good?"

Carver had already unsheathed his sword and he gripped the handle tightly. "I'm ready, brother."

Hawke slipped from behind his cover and weaved an entropic spell around the nearest group of guards. He couldn't help but smirk as he felt the thin cloud envelope the men and all their life was drained away before they could even let out a scream. He glanced over at Carver and watched as the young man skillfully used the pommel of his sword to give the remaining guards fatal blows to the back of their heads. Hawke always knew Carver was an excellent fighter, but the boy was too caught up in feeling shunned by the world to take pride in himself.

Not the time to solve your brother's issues, Hawke mentally chided. Whatever problems Carver had with his own shortcomings was best left for another day.

"Brother!" Carver hissed angrily. Hawke was shaken out of his thoughts and focused back on the mission. They entered the house through the back door and silently made their way through the maze of hallways and rooms to find their target. After opening yet another empty and dark room, Carver let out a growl of frustration.

"Andrastre's flaming ass, where the hell is everyone?"

"Obviously not here or waiting to spring a trap the moment we leave," Hawke grumbled.

"Do you think Meeran knew?" Carver tightened his grip on his sword. "That rotten bastard! He set us up since our debt is almost paid up!"

Hawke wasn't willing to go that far. "Meeran can be a rat but even that would go against his rules. I think he knew this job was going to be more difficult than he claimed. We'll tear our way through whatever is waiting for us when we leave, Carver, and I'll make sure this is the last job we ever do for him."

"You sound so certain."

Hawke just smirked and walked towards the front door. If he was going to face a trap, he was going to walk into it and let anyone who attacked him burn. "I always am, Carver."

The rain had stopped at last. A dense fog crept in slowly, covering the ground and hiding the men that had already died by their hands. In the dimming light, Hawke saw that they were no longer alone and armed men were quickly surrounding them.

"Well, that's just great," Carver muttered.

"Chin up, Carver," Hawke laughed, "who wanted a dull mission, anyway?"

"You think this is a game?" A man stepped forward from the line of mercenaries and regarded Hawke with a look of disgust. He was dressed in noble attire and had a haughty air of confidence that only over a dozen hired thugs could give. "There were rumors that someone was coming to kill me. Where are the rest of your men?"

Hawke spread his arms wide. "This is it, Hollington. I guess you weren't important enough for more."

Hollington's eyes narrowed with rage and he pointed at the two brothers. "Kill them! Kill them now!"

Hawke took in the battlefield and was a bit disappointed when he saw he was the only mage. To him, the fight was uneven since warriors were often no match for a mage. Especially him.

"Now things get fun!" he roared and retrieved his staff from its holster on his back. It hummed in his hands and the magic running through his veins flared to life. The power flowed from his fingertips and the small courtyard was lit up by the vibrant and wild lightning Hawke conjured. Men and women screamed around him as the lightning jumped from host to unfortunate host, as if it was hungrily seeking out a new body to possess.

Hawke barely registered Carver but occasionally heard his own taunts and laughter as he slaughtered the unfortunate mercenaries. Despite their countless arguments, the two worked flawlessly on the battlefield. While Carver drew attention to himself, Hawke would unleash bolts of flame that exploded and scorched their enemies. It took a great amount of control to burn everyone on the field except Carver but when the tips of his shoes caught on fire, he turned to his older brother angrily.

"Hey! Watch it!"

Hawke laughed. "Better your boot than your hair, brother. Do you think the girls back home would still want you with a scorched head?"

More enemies revealed themselves from the shadows and cut their battle banter short. A coterie thug managed to sneak up on Hawke and he was too slow to react to the dagger coming for him. He felt the blade slice into his shoulder and the warm blood mixed with his sweat, running down his arm and trickled down to the burnt ground beneath his feet. The man kicked him in the gut and Hawke stumbled to his knees.

Use it. Destroy who hurt you.

Hawke gritted his teeth as the tempting whispers echoed in his head. He felt the call of the blood and the power it promised but he remembered the teachings of his father. 'Blood magic is a sin against the Maker and only a coward resorts to something so vile.'

Hawke muttered a spell to heal his arm and then lashed out at the man that attacked him, casting a spirit bolt. It wasn't fueled by blood magic but that didn't make it any less powerful. The spell literally burst through his attacker, leaving a ruined mess of blood and bones to fall at his feet. He was starting to feel the effects of casting so many spells and he knew it would have to end soon. Hawke used his staff as support to stand and searched the grounds for Hollington. The cowardly bastard was running towards a cave further up the coast. If the man had a safe house here for some time then he would also have a backup. Hawke was in no mood to go hunting around for the man in a wet and nasty cave. He drew in on himself, drawing from the last bit of mana reserves in his body and used the elements once more to hurl a fist of rock at the fleeing man. It reached its mark and Hawke smiled with grim satisfaction as he heard the man scream and the sickening pop as his spine was snapped.

Carver ran up to Hawke, out of breath and sporting a few cuts of his own. He followed Hawke's line of sight and just stared at Hollington's still body.

"He's dead, right?"

Hawke leaned against his staff and let out a weary sigh. "Go give him a kick if you're so damned curious."

"Bloody smart ass mage…." he muttered as he walked off to do just that. Carver reached Hollington's body and decided no kick was necessary. No man could bend that way and recover. He returned to his brother, shaking his head. "I don't know what's worse. The magic or how you use it to kill people."

Hawke glared at Carver. "What's worse is how I've tolerated you. We would have lost him in the caves while you were too busy dancing with those other mercs."

Carver's blue eyes widened with rage. "Dancing? You rotten bastard! If it wasn't for me, they would have all come at you and you would be the one broken on the ground."

It was true but Hawke wouldn't admit it, especially when Carver was having a tantrum. "They usually go after the strongest threat, I agree."

"Strongest threat?" Carver sputtered. "You—you—" He was at a loss of words, digging for something with enough venom that would make him feel in control of the argument. "I saw when you got cut and fell, I thought you were finally going to break and use blood magic. It seems to be popular here in Kirkwall."

That did it. Carver was on the ground in seconds and the blade end of Hawke's staff lingered just an inch over his neck.

"I'm no blood mage and I never will be!" Hawke sneered.

Carver saw the fury in his brother's eyes and realized he had gone too far. "Alright, alright. I didn't mean it."

Hawke withdrew from Carver and snorted. "You never mean it yet you continue to say it whenever you can. Let's just go…I've had enough of this place."

I have this and a Mass Effect fanfic that I keep coming back to. I'm swamped with classes so I write whenever I can. ^_^ I hope you enjoyed it.