Prologue

Bethany was gone and so was the sunshine, only gray clouds hovered over the boat. The ship moved to and fro, making Hawke's stomach all the worse. He looked over to Mother and Carver, Carver tried so hard not to let Beth's death affect him while he was awake; but asleep he had unintentionally curled up to Mother and laid his head on her knee, Mother's hand absentmindedly combed through his hair willing away the memory that made his younger brother whimper in his sleep.

They had lost so many and so much, starting at Ostagar. Hawke and Carver had been in the front lines, forced to watch their comrades around them die, the Grey Wardens die, their king die. All the while the traitor Loghain walked away with all his men. The two men had cut down all the darkspawn they could, before finally retreating at Hawke's behest. The death had not stopped there, but the Hawke siblings had made it back home to Lothering safely. The two Hawke men had time to grab Bethany and Mother from the clutches of the Darkspawn and little else as they left the doomed town. Their retreat had been just as painful as the one at Ostagar, screams from Lothering carrying for miles and fueling the somber thought that the screaming townspeople were buying the Hawke family more time to escape. Death continued though, the Templar had been a perceived threat, the Ogre was not and Bethany had sacrificed her life for Mother's. Hawke could have protected his sister, if he wasn't such a damn coward he could have easily put down the Ogre and saved them all. He was a coward though and was unable to do his best to protect his family, thus loosing Beth to that monster. The image of Mother cradling his little sister still taunted him, reminding him of the restraint he had used to stop himself from dropping down and shaking his sister awake, this was no time to sleep silly. Hawke had tried, tried to keep up his strength and continue to channel his charm. "Maybe we should grieve later" and "At least she'll have Father to keep her company", but he was sure it didn't help, then again, would anything he could have said have worked?

They were lucky when the Witch of the Wilds came, Hawke using his fascination of the dragon turned mage to drown out the image of the little sister he had not seen in so long and would not ever see again. He tried to continue his charming front for Mother, while remaining wary of the witch. There had been a moment, a single instant that intrigued Hawke the most. Hawke had begun asking silly things, just for the sake of judging the Witch's character. The answers before had all been flippant and clipped, "you are an apostate?" "yes, like your sister was." Answers that had caused a cringe from everyone, but all for different reasons. However, when Hawke had asked his silly question: "can you teach me that trick of yours?", the Witch seemed to hesitate and study Hawke and it had set him on edge. Her answer hinted towards a double meaning of something the Witch knew, but chose not to share. "I'm afraid it requires more than what you have." The Witch had only been a temporary reprieve from the theme of death though, apparently it had been too long since the last unfortunate end of someone close.

The Templar, Wesley had the taint and it was finally taking hold. There was no cure, no Wardens to save him now, and his wife, Aveline, hesitated. He asked for mercy and death, the Witch finding it the most merciful action herself. Still Aveline wavered and Hawke worried, he worried about the rest of his family and their future in Kirkwall and Aveline and even Wesley. Hawke knew it would be wrong for him to end the Templar's life, far more than Aveline knew. Hawke looked at the knife in Wesley's hand and made his own plea.

"Aveline, he is your husband. I can't do this for him."

The soldier had given a sad nod, giving her arm and strength to Wesley as the couple sunk the blade into the Templar's heart together, Wesley fading with life as he whispered his goodbye to Aveline.

From there it was a grueling trip to Gwaren and then onto the very ship they were on now. The only question being, who would die next?

Hawke fidgeted coming out of his thoughts and looking over to Mother again, Mother had barely moved and barely talked. Her gaze far away and her hand still moving through Carver's hair at its own accord. He knew when the time came, Mother would jump straight back into action. She was a strong woman and did her best to keep a brave front for him, Carver, and Bethany; but there had been times after Father died that Hawke would find Mother sobbing by the fireplace and Hawke would curl up with her, a blanket, and a cup of tea, letting her cry and tell him of what troubled her. Hawke became the rock his father once was in his mother's life and took the position with as much pride and bravery he could manage, what little it was.

Hawke turned his head the other way and found Aveline, she looked as sick as he imagined he did but once again for a different reason. The redhead was leaning next to Hawke on the mast, staring down at the Templar shield in her lap and trembling. It was obviously a private moment and Hawke turned away to allow it to remain so. Aveline was strong and capable, even attractive. She reminded Hawke of Mother, in the sense he felt she too would jump back and push the mourning away until there was time later. Hawke wished he could be that strong, to fight with everything and not tarry on old regrets.

Without anything else to divide his attention, besides his own dark thoughts, Hawke found his sickness becoming more insistent. His mind buzzed wildly and his skin crawled with discomfort, making him twitch even more. A headache was slowly working its way up and his stomach was pitching more than the ship was, all of it causing him to groan and curl in on himself. His last dose had been at Ostagar, before the battle and it had started wearing off long ago. Gwaren had not had the ingredients he needed nor the substance itself. He could last till Kirkwall, but not much longer after that and so he hoped someone there would at least have the necessary components. It had been a long time since the last time he was unable to find the proper things to rid himself of the burden, back when Father was still alive. He could remember being so sick he had been confined to bed, when Father found out the reason he had been angry. It was the only time he had seen Father truly upset and without a devious smile, it hurt even more when Father begun blaming himself and Hawke had felt as guilty and taken to not talking or looking at his father. Mother had been upset too, she had actually slapped him and he had deserved it. Mother had apologized later, but Hawke knew what he was doing was wrong. Bethany had been heartbroken and refused to talk to him, feeling equally shameful. Carver had been angry that Hawke had upset everyone, but had as rubbed his mistake in his face. The perfect son wasn't so perfect and hiding secrets from his family. It had taken time before Hawke was able to accurately explain it to his family and though they understood, Hawke could tell the relationships he had with them were damaged. Father's hurt the most, as he gave more attention to Hawke instead of less, as if trying to fix a mistake that wasn't his.

Hawke let out another groan. He smiled weakly as he felt a familiar wet nose rub against his cheek and tried to comfort him. Malcom always knew how to get Hawke to smile, the mabari was clever and comforting in his many strategies to get his human to feel better. As a pup Malcom had gone by Dog, Father had been alive then and Hawke was uncreative with names. When Father passed though, Malcom himself changed. When the Hawke siblings had first found and begged to keep the pup it had been indifferent to the family, one of the Chantry Sisters explained that a mabari chooses its master and that none of the Hawkes seemed to be the chosen owner; however, after Father died the mabari begun hanging around Hawke more and more. The grieving son tried hiding away from the silly, maturing dog, hiding in all the corners of the house and eventually the cupboard just so he could be alone. Still the mabari would follow and prod till Hawke gave in and held the dog while crying into it's fur. Carver was a bit jealous that Malcolm had chosen Hawke, but Bethany had been happy the pup was more loving. Still it had been an agreement among the Hawke siblings and even Mother to name the pup Malcolm; a memory that brought another smile to Hawke's face.

"Dear, are you ok?" Mother's hand was laid on his forehead and he didn't have to look to see her worry at his slight fever.

"I'll be fine Mother, I'll just be better when we get to Kirkwall." Hawke put on his most charming smile and lifted his head up, not stopping till Mother warily nodded and went back to comforting Carver in his sleep. It was a shame Hawke could not find sleep now, as it would have provided a wonderful reprieve from his feverish state.

Eventually Hawke settled on polishing his blades, taking each low-quality dagger from its sheath, cleaning away the grime and taint, and checking for chips and dents. All the while Hawke prayed to the Maker he would find the strength to protect his family... and procure something for his Maker Forbidden headache.