Marian crouched in the shadows of Lowtown, waiting impatiently for their contact. The merchant stalls were closed, and the only other people about at this hour were the street walkers hoping to sell their bodies for enough coin to survive.

It was dangerous to travel anywhere in the city alone after dark, due to the rising criminal element from the influx of refugees, as well as the truly desperate that would not hesitate to stick a dagger between your ribs if it meant gaining a few silvers.

The Hawke family had lived in a fair share of poor towns and villages in Marian's lifetime, but nothing to prepare her for the crushing poverty, filth and despair she had witnessed since coming to Kirkwall. Tonight's job was just another routine escort, except this one was coming from Hightown, instead of the docks.

She overbalanced, and nearly fell when Carver's knee bumped against her back...again. She sucked air between her teeth, regretting bringing him along for the tenth time in the past quarter hour.

"Shit, Carver," she whispered, "are you trying to draw attention, or have you still not learned to be quiet?" Marian glared over her shoulder as his expression turned into an angry sulk.

"Pardon me for breathing, sister," he hissed back.

She looked past him to Ryssa, a lithe elf, and Jorson, a fellow Ferelden. She beckoned them both closer, and they leaned in to hear her.

"We need to split up, this is too conspicuous. Carver, I want you to go with Ryssa and wait at the docks until we come. Jorson, you're with me."

Carver glared, but when Ryssa tugged his elbow, he followed her without protest. Marian and Jorson waited in their crouched position a while longer. He inched forward, putting his mouth closer to her ear.

"I'm getting a bad feeling about this one, Hawke."

She was inclined to agree. Something felt off, and she made the decision not to wait any longer.

"You stay here. I'm going to work my way closer to Hightown to see if I can't figure anything out. If I'm not back in half an hour, join the others at the docks and we'll regroup there."

She slipped out of the lip of the alley, walking quickly and confidently uptown. She was nearly through the gateway to the upper markets when two men came into sight carrying small crates and looking over their shoulders every second step.

For Maker's sake, what rank amateurs! ran through her mind, followed by, Those are small crates for spices. Hawke shrugged mentally and approached them.

They eyed her uncertainly before she quietly spoke the night's password, and the larger of the two men gave the correct response. She whipped off the cloak she wore and wrapped it around the smaller man, the folds of fabric helping to hide what he was carrying. She beckoned them forward.

They began the trek back to the docks, Hawke's eyes constantly scanning for any threat. The booted slaps against the pavement echoed behind her, and she turned to hiss at them to walk more quietly. The three of them entered a shadowy alcove and she squinted, trying to see into the thick blackness, when one of the men stumbled. She glanced back at the same time a voice rang out.

"Stop right there, thieves!"

Five Templars in full armor stepped into the dim light, and Hawke's heart jumped into her throat, then tried to drum its way out of her chest. Survival instincts kicked in, and she melted sideways toward the darker shadows, inching backwards until she had enough space to turn and run.

She made it out of the narrow lane and around the corner before she ran into a wall of hard metal, and arms closed around her in an unbreakable grip. She looked up in a panic, but the man's eyes were unyielding, even in dim light.

Hawke stilled for an instant at the realization that she was well and truly caught. She couldn't even free her arms enough to reach her daggers, and if she could, they would certainly prove to be ineffective against half a dozen Templars in plate armor.

Templars.

She twisted desperately, struggling against his hold, but he only squeezed tighter, choking off her breath and digging the edges of his armor into her skin.

"Don't fight, Miss, you will only make it harder on yourself." His words were clipped and threatening, but he relaxed his hold just enough for her to drag in a much needed breath.

"Knight-Captain, both these crates contain the stolen lyrium. What are your orders?"

Hawke closed her eyes in defeat. The Knight-Captain…and stolen lyrium? Bloody void. Nothing in half measures, she thought ruefully.

"Return to the Gallows, and lock them both up for the time being. I'll see to the rest myself, after I deal with this one."

Hawke found herself wondering just exactly how he planned to 'deal with this one'.

"Of course, Knight-Captain." The Templar saluted and the group departed.

He returned his attention to the woman he was restraining, but she was shaking her head vehemently.

"Now then, Miss. I'm taking you to the chantry so I can ask you some questions. Are you going to be reasonable, or do I need to bind you first?"

"I am always reasonable, Serrah. But let me save you the trouble. I knew nothing of any lyrium. I was told the men were carrying spices, or I would never have agreed to protect them. Nor would my employer." She frowned at the realization that someone had managed to pull one over on Athenril, which wasn't an easy feat.

He held up a length of rope, and raised his brows. "Free or bound?"

She sighed and stood passive. "You don't need to bind me. I give you my word I will cooperate until we resolve this…misunderstanding."

The Knight-Captain examined her face carefully, weighing her expression, and finally decided to believe her until she gave him cause to do otherwise.

"Very well." He released her from his arms and placed a gauntleted hand to her shoulder to guide her.

She walked willingly, surprised he made no attempt to disarm her, but his constant attention assured her he would strike quickly if the need arose. They continued silently until they entered the Hightown market area, when his hand tightened on her shoulder, halting her as men came out of the shadows, blocking their way forward.

He addressed himself to the leader of the pack. "Step aside, man. I'm on chantry business."

The man gave an oily laugh. "That don't make no never mind to us, gov'na. This is our territory, and you is trespassing. We're gonna have to take ya to task for that." He flicked a hand at the men around him, and they pulled their weapons out.

The Knight-Captain shoved Hawke behind him, drawing his sword and shield. She looked around, quickly counting ten enemies, and drew out both her daggers. Hawke tamped down even more tightly on her connection to the fade. She couldn't afford to blow her act and reveal what she really was to the Templar.

Shouts and battle cries echoed off the stone walls as Hawke put her back to the Knight-Captain's. His sword and shield bashed and cut while her daggers slashed. Their enemies were poorly trained, but rushed them from all sides.

"Is that the best you can do?" she shouted, after dodging to the side of a lanky brunette's sword. "You fight like an old man!"

He roared in anger, lifting his sword high above his head. Hawke darted in quickly, swiping her blades across his exposed belly in a one-two strike, gutting him. Another took his place, and his life blood spurted from his neck when he ventured too close.

Hawke turned back toward the Templar in time to see five men fly back from him, knocked to the ground and stunned. He dispatched two before they could recover, then turned to smash his shield into the face of the next to attack him.

She pulled a throwing knife from her boot and took aim, burying it in another exposed neck. A familiar battle cry sounded behind her, bringing a relieved smile to her lips, even as she moved to engage a fresh wave of thugs dropping down from where they had hidden along the wall. Hawke glanced over her shoulder .

"Carver, behind you!"

He turned and cleaved through three men with a single blow from his greatsword, then ran to stand next to her, pulling the focus off her and onto himself. In his guarding shadow, she pulled a second knife from her boot, throwing it into the back of one of a cluster trying to overwhelm the Templar again.

"Mari, duck!"

She obeyed instantly, dropping to the ground as her brother spun in a complete circle, felling many with his whirlwind strike. Hawke rolled away from her brother, spinning on her back and kicking a man between the legs, sending him sprawling with an agonized cry.

Blood splashed across her face, flying from the Knight-Captain's sword, and she gained her feet again, winded. She danced out of reach of another long sword, and the Templar stepped in front of her protectively.

Carver and the Knight-Captain dispatched the final few, while Marian leaned her hands against her knees, her sides heaving as the adrenalin faded and she regained her breath. Her brother gave her a questioning look toward the Templar, but she gave a minute shake of her head. The worry faded from his eyes slightly, but he kept his sword out, watching the other man warily. The Templar stowed his sword and shield and came forward with a relieved smile.

"You have my thanks, Serrah. Both of you," he said, looking back and forth between the siblings. "I am Knight-Captain Cullen."

She took a step forward. "My name is Marian Hawke, and this is my brother, Carver."

Cullen looked around at the bodies with a grimace. "It seems crime has been on the rise in Kirkwall of late. I have never encountered so brazen a gang before, not even in Darktown." He sighed and gave Marian a long look. "You are rather skilled for a common thief."

She blew out a frustrated breath and bent to wipe the blood from her daggers before sheathing them. "I told you, I am a guardian, not a thief. We knew nothing of any lyrium. What can I do to convince you I'm telling the truth ?"

Carver's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Lyrium? What is all this about, Mari?"

"We were lied to, brother. The men I escorted were lyrium thieves." She grunted in disgust. "I knew there was something off about them. Always trust your gut."

"I don't know why, but I find I believe you." Cullen stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I will give up on the idea of questioning you tonight, Mistress Hawke…on one condition."

Oh, this should be good, Marian thought.

"These thefts have been going on for some time, and it's worrisome. Assist me in catching those responsible, and you will be cleared of any guilt by association."

Her brother's lips twitched in amusement. "The Knight-Captain wants my sister's help?"

Cullen looked confused by the comment, and she sent Carver a warning glare, then crossed her arms. "What would you have me do?"

He stepped closer and lowered his voice, though most of the ears nearby would never again take in sound.

"I think you may be able to find out things I cannot. I'm sure you or your associates have contacts or ways of gathering information?" At her slight nod, he continued. "Anything you discover, bring it to me at the Gallows. I am there every day, or if I am not available, you may leave a message for me. How shall I reach you if I have need?"

She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, feeling his eyes boring into her. "You can leave any message with the barkeep at the Hanged Man in Lowtown. Say it is for Hawke, and I'll get it."

"Very well, Hawke." He nodded in agreement. "You are both free to go, but I will expect to hear from you soon," he said firmly. "Maker watch over you." He started off toward the chantry, and she watched him go with a worried frown, certain he would come after her if she didn't fulfill her end of the bargain.

"And you," she said grudgingly, then turned to the bodies, quickly retrieving her throwing knives, and liberating coins from pockets before she joined Carver for the walk home. It didn't take him long to pipe up.

"Andraste's flaming sword, Mari! You've really stepped in it this time. Maybe you should just go introduce yourself to the Knight-Commander, and have done with it." He couldn't keep the goading laughter out of his voice. With nerves already frayed from the stressful night, she snapped at him.

"Shut up, Carver."

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, then smiled sweetly and wrapped her arm around his. "Your neck will stretch right along with mine if we're caught, so I suggest you take care with your comments in future."

His jaw clenched, but he didn't attempt to shake her off. "I hate you," he muttered, and she chuckled quietly.

"I know, brother, I know. I love you just as much, and did I happen to mention that I'm very glad you came with me tonight?"

He snorted in disbelief, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

~o~

"A Templar? Oh, Creators, scrutiny from chantry guard dogs is just what we need," Athenril muttered, throwing up her hands.

Hawke frowned, scratching a fingernail against a blood stain on her leather armor. "He didn't seem a bad sort, despite being, well- what he is. If we find a way to give him these lyrium runners, I think he'll leave us in peace." She pinned the elf with a hard look. "You know how important that is to my family, not to mention business in general. Besides, he knows my name and my face."

Athenril paced in the small Lowtown alcove which served as her base of operations for the day. "Alright, alright. You focus on this for now, but be careful, Hawke. The Carta does all the illegal lyrium in town, and if you aren't discreet, we'll have a lot more coming down on our heads than angry Templars."

"Don't worry, discretion is my middle name."

"Oh sure," the elf snorted, "because seventeen bodies in Hightown is the very mark of subtlety, right?"

Hawke gave her a cheeky grin. "Some people just can't take no for an answer. Now, who should I speak to first?"

She gave Hawke an amused smile. "Leara was my contact, so you'll probably want to start with her, but she works out of Darktown, so take someone with you."

Hawke pushed off the low wooden stool she had been perching on. "Is Jorson busy today? His glare tends to keep anyone at a distance."

Athenril shook her head. "Everyone is busy today, especially now that I have to cover for you. Why don't you take Carver? I haven't given him anything yet since he hasn't bothered to report in."

"I'll check in later," Hawke said, with a wave over her shoulder.

Marian stuck her head into the Hanged Man, her eyes going to the far corner, and alighting on a familiar face with a sigh. She crossed the floor and poked a finger into her brother's shoulder. He swatted her away irritably.

"What do you want, Mari? I'm busy."

She looked at the three empty glasses on the table in irritation. "Clearly," she said sarcastically. "Isn't it a bit early in the day to squander coin on drink…even for you?"

He smirked and drained his ale. "What else do you suggest I do, follow you around?"

Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose, sick of the same complaints, and in no mood to get into it again. "Never mind," she muttered, "I'll take the dog. At least I can count on him to be sober in a fight."

Carver frowned, watching his sister walk out, then shrugged and ordered another ale.

Marian cursed under her breath as she walked through the tunnels into Darktown, alone and disgruntled. She could just tell it was going to be one of those kinds of days when she arrived at Gamlen's house to find her mother had gone out and taken the mabari with her.

Unfortunately, Gamlen had been home, swearing and railing against everything and everyone, in his usual charming manner. Her mother's absence and Carver's installment at the Hanged Man so early in the day made perfect sense.

She stepped over human excrement, picking her way carefully through the dirt, disgusted at just how far down poverty pushed some people. Amazing, but she found herself suddenly grateful for the squalid dump in Lowtown. It was still a damn sight better than this.

Darktown gave her the creeps, and it wasn't just because of the obvious. There was something unsettling that seemed to float around her, pushing against her magical sensibilities in a sinister way. She remembered her father talking about the discomfort fade sensitive people experienced in a place where the veil was thin or torn. She shivered, trying to ignore the half whispers only mages were subjected to. The sooner she was able to finish her business and leave again, the better.

She kept her eyes down. Avoiding eye contact was an unspoken rule in such a place, and one she was only too happy to obey. Marian finally made it to the center of Darktown's trading hub. She spotted a friendly face and felt her mouth tug up in an answering grin.

"Hello, you handsome elf. Working hard, I see."

His eyes lit up and he pressed her hand between his impulsively. "Hawke. I haven't seen you much lately. Are you keeping out of trouble?"

She lifted a brow. "Of course not, Tomwise. I thought you knew me better than that by now."

He chuckled and released her then looked past her. "Where's Carver?" He frowned. "You aren't down here alone, I hope."

"Not by choice, I assure you." She looked at him from under her lashes. "It seems just when a girl needs a bit of company, everyone is suddenly busy." His blush made her smile widen.

"Wish I could help you out, but I'm no fighter."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Actually, I just need you to point me in the direction of Leara. We need to have a quick chat."

He leaned against the table that held his wares. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the thing that happened last night, would it?" She opened her mouth to answer but he cut her off. "No, never mind, I don't want to know. She's usually down the east steps."

"Thanks." She turned to go, then paused and reached under her leather chest armor to extract a small purse, and slip it to him. "I almost forgot, Athenril said to tell you that she needs more of the same by next week."

Tomwise pocketed the money quickly and nodded. "No problem. I'll get right on it."

Hawke jogged briskly down the stairwell, glancing into the shadows, and frequently looking over her shoulder. She walked the entire lower end, then started back. A small, booted foot stuck out from behind a barrel, and she cautiously went to investigate.

"Just great," she said under her breath. The petite body of Leara was stiff and cold, laying in a congealed mess of her own blood, with her throat slit and eyes staring sightlessly ahead. Hawke closed the dead woman's eyes, then grimly searched her but found nothing. Whoever killed her had already stripped her of anything valuable or incriminating. She stood to leave, glancing uneasily at two dwarves that were suddenly nearby and watching her closely.

She walked briskly then broke into a run when she was sure she was being followed, hurrying to reach the stairs. Hawke slowed and then stopped completely when it became apparent her path out was already blocked by several men. She held her hands out in a non-threatening way.

"Now, gentlemen, surely this is a misunderstanding." She threw down her meager coin purse. "That's all I have, so you really need not trouble yourself further on my account."

The taller dwarf stepped forward and spat at her feet. "You've been asking questions, Ferelden. Even you should know that's bad for your health. My boss doesn't like curious types."

While he was speaking, the other men drew into a tighter cluster around her, and she went through a quick mental list.

Death imminent- check.

No other recourse- check.

Hawke sent a telekinetic burst that threw all the men back, and stunned them long enough for her to cast fireballs, burning them alive. The final scream cut off suddenly when she drew her small dagger, slitting the throat of the last of them, and looked around grimly.

Leave no witnesses alive to tattle to the Templars….check.

She gathered everything of value not charred to cinders with the swiftness borne of much practice, and got the hell out of Darktown.

~o~

Seven days, and much bad luck later, Hawke stepped off the boat and steeled herself to face the Gallows for the first time since moving to Lowtown. She hated the place, especially hated the sight of the mages who had been made tranquil, and the chilling way they spoke. If there were ever a perfect reason for a mage to avoid being taken to the tower, the prospect of being made into one of those scary, half-people was it.

She straightened her spine and headed for the main courtyard, wiping her clammy palms against her pants leg at the proximity of so many Templars. She caught sight of a merchant selling a number of fine blades and went over to inspect the lot of them. When she had extra coin, she planned to replace one of her daggers with a longsword. Sword and dagger was what she had learned to fight with, back in Ferelden.

She felt a light touch on her elbow and a teasing voice spoke close to her ear. "Looking for me, Hawke?"

Turning around, she felt her breath leave her in a whoosh. The shadowed lighting the night they collided had not done him justice. Earnest green eyes, curling red-gold hair, and a teasing smile, this Templar was…

A heart breaker, she thought.

He seemed to be making similar adjustments to her appearance, if the way his eyes lingered across her face was any indication. He cleared his throat and took her elbow again, leading her behind a massive stone pillar which afforded a measure of privacy. She made note of the fact that he was a very hands-on type of person.

He crossed his arms and looked at her. "What have you got for me?"

She licked her lips nervously and his eyes followed the movement, which made her blush. Hawke looked away, cursing her silly, enamored reaction to him.

"Yes, about that, Knight-Captain," she began, but he interrupted her.

"There's no need for formality between us, Hawke, since we're working together. Just call me Cullen."

She looked at him and smiled. "Thank you, Cullen, and you must call me Marian."

They grinned stupidly at each other for several seconds until Hawke recollected what she was about.

"Right," she said firmly. "I think this is going to take a bit more time than we had hoped."

Cullen frowned. "Why is that? Have you not been able to discover anything?"

She rubbed the back of her neck. "I've certainly found a trail. Of bodies, anyway. There were two separate people I went to speak with, and they were both dead by the time I got there. I'm not certain if I'm being watched, or the culprit is just erasing his tracks."

He looked troubled by this. "I hope you aren't taking any unnecessary risks. When we made our bargain, I didn't intend for you to put yourself in harms way. I'm glad you at least have your brother for protection; that eases my mind."

Hawke smiled, and shook her head. "Actually, Carver has been home with a broken arm for the past week. I'm afraid I'm currently a solo act."

"You certainly do seem to be a magnet for trouble, if I may be so bold as to make that observation."

"You aren't the first one to tell me that," she said with a furrowed brow, "but this time, Carver can't blame me. He got himself so drunk that he fell over the guard rail leading to the docks."

"I'm sorry to hear it," he said, repressing a smile.

"Hmmm, I'm just sorry I won't have anyone to watch my back tonight. I have a feeling I could use the help," she muttered under her breath.

"I can be your protector in the absence of your brother. What are your plans?"

She laughed nervously and blushed. "Thank you, Cullen, but I have to blend in, and well," she gestured to his armor, "you have a way of sticking out."

He smiled, amused. "I can change, you know. Templar armor is actually removable, contrary to popular belief."

Hawke crossed her arms, trying not to picture what Cullen would look like out of his armor. "That's not the only thing… " The blush burned her cheeks to the point that she wondered if they would catch alight.

His lifted a brow at her increased color, and she decided to just say it. "Maker's breath! It seems some lyrium has been sold to the Blooming Rose. They mix it with an aphrodisiac to make it more powerful, and sell it to customers that know to ask for it. I have to pretend to be such a customer, in hopes of finding my next lead," she finished breathlessly.

He was quiet, then nodded gravely. "I have heard something about that."

"Really. How have you heard of it?" Her eyes were wide in surprise, then narrowed speculatively.

"I occasionally overhear the men when they gossip. Some of them visit the, uh, young ladies there. Templars have to take lyrium to deal with mages, so I gather this blend has particular appeal." He shifted his weight, his face now as red as hers, and she snickered.

"We look like a couple of tomatoes, Cullen." They laughed together, and the discomfort faded.

"Have you ever been there," she asked bluntly.

"Yes." He instantly realized how that sounded and tried to amend it. "I mean, no. No! Not like that. There was an incident once with one of my men, and I had to speak to several witnesses to resolve the matter."

"Oh, good. Can you give me a general layout, so I can know what to expect? I hate going into anything blind."

He stared at her, imagining her going into that place. Lecherous men staring and groping, and-

"I'll go with you," he blurted. "I-I-I mean for your protection. You shouldn't go on your own."

She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "How are your acting skills?"

"My…what?"

Hawke shook her head impatiently. "What I mean is, could you be convincing if you were to pretend I was your lover? If so, we could just be a couple looking for a new thrill, and not have to worry about hiring whores. That could actually work out quite nicely."

"I suppose I could manage it," he said doubtfully.

Her smile was teasing. "Don't worry, Cullen, your virtue is safe with me. I promise not to ravish you."

"Yes…..ah…. I suppose…yes."

The smile on her lips faded and she looked at him seriously. "You don't have to do this, you know. I'm sure I'll be perfectly fine on my own, I'll just improvise something."

He crossed his arms and looked at her sternly, shaking his head. "What time, Marian?"

~o~