Author's Note: Hello! So this is just a prologue – Setting up who and where Hawke is in this fic. I'm starting the story during Act 1. She has recruited everyone (except Sebastian, since he doesn't become a full companion until Act 2) and this is just kind of letting y'all know what her relationship with each of them is so far. The chapters from this point forward will be more scene based and will take place in between quests in the game. If you have been reading my FemShep/Garrus story ("Someone I can Trust"), you know my style. I try to stick very close to the games and the story is kind of "behind the scenes" style. Rated M for some language and smut in (much) later chapters. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: BioWare owns everything! I own nothing!
Sleeping in Gamlen's hovel was more difficult than fighting off a horde of darkspawn. The mattress he had so generously laid out for Hawke was filled with straw, which liked to escape from its fabric prison to mercilessly poke her skin red. When she first arrived in Kirkwall over a year and a half ago, she had tried to use her magic to create a barrier between herself and the straw invaders, but once she fell asleep, she'd lose hold of the spell and would invariably wake up from some beige bastard stabbing her in the face. If that wasn't enough, Carver, Gamlen, and Ser Jack, her mabari, held veritable snoring performances every night. Only by repeating her father's teachings, "my magic will serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base," was Hawke able to keep herself from electrocuting the trio. Well just Carver and Gamlen. I could never hurt Ser Jack.
And then there was that mysterious smell… Pretty much everywhere in Kirkwall, except Hightown, seemed to have an odor. But Gamlen's home had a particular stench she had yet to identify nor, thankfully, find anywhere else. "It's called misery, sister," Caver had said. "That smell is pure and utter misery." For once she and her brother had agreed on something.
Needless to say, Hawke had trouble sleeping at night. Wrapped in her magical barrier, she would think for hours – about the templars, Bethany, money, the expedition, her mother – until stress and exhaustion overwhelmed her. Although far from perfect, life had been easier in Lothering. She had been bored most of the time, but at least she had her own room and a comfortable bed. Still, Kirkwall wasn't the hell Carver tried to make it out to be. She genuinely enjoyed the company of some of her new friends, something she had very few of in Ferelden.
They were an eccentric merry band of misfits to say the least. But in a short time, Hawke had become fond of each of her new companions. She was grateful that Aveline continued to put up with her antics. The soon-to-be guard captain was a bit overprotective at times, but Hawke would be lying if she said she wasn't keeping an eye out for the ginger warrior as well. Aveline put up a brave face, but she had granted her husband, Wesley, the quick death he wished for herself. If she had been in Aveline's shoes, Hawke wasn't sure if she could have done the same kindness.
Varric provided the comedic relief their group desperately needed. She had been skeptical of the dwarf during their first meeting in Hightown. She just couldn't get over the fact that he didn't have a beard. Chest hair aplenty, but no beard! Her life as an apostate had taught her to be wary of strangers, but she knew that she could be borderline paranoid. Varric had proved his trustworthiness more than once since then. Their drinking sessions at the Hanged Man was one of the things that kept her going during this difficult time.
Warming up to Merrill had been less difficult than she original thought. The elf, although adorable, was a blood mage – everything Hawke had been taught to abhor. The way Merrill had so easily summoned a demon on Sundermount during their first meeting… It had more than terrified Hawke – it had angered her. Blood mages were part of the reason she couldn't live openly and be publicly proud of what she was. And the former-First frolicked around like she was doing nothing wrong! Hawke had often wondered if Merrill wasn't a demon in disguise… she was just so cute. The anger she had first felt dissipated after visiting the Dalish in the alienage a couple of time. Somehow, her mind began to separate Merrill from the word "blood mage" and all the feelings it rustled within her. They were both just young mages trying to find their way.
Isabela, on the other hand, Hawke liked immediately. She was brash and upfront with her thoughts not only about herself but those around her. She apologized for nothing, even if it repulsed others (namely Aveline). It was a quality Hawke strived for in herself. While Isabela's taste in whiskey was questionable – the woman drank anything you put in front of her – she knew how to have a good time. She was also the most skilled duelist Hawke had ever met. Isabela might not want to admit it out loud, but Hawke knew the pirate had her back.
Hawke didn't know what to think of Fenris really. The elf was unpredictable, easily enraged, but, for some reason, continued to fight by her side despite the fact she was a mage. She put up with his brooding in an effort to prove that not all mages are like his former master. Still, it pained Hawke to look at him – the scars of magical abuse ever present on his skin. But Fenris was also a constant reminder of the temptations of dark magic and why she had to resist.
And of course there was Anders. Hawke's breath hitched slightly at the thought of her fellow apostate. Even now, months later, she blushed at how she acted around him during their first meeting. Hawke was flirtatious but she pulled out lines on the former Warden that were worthy of Isabela. Carver had mocked her for a week, using the "sexy, tortured look" line whenever he could. Hawke was not normally so brazen – her words had surprised her as much as everyone else. But Anders was different from any man she'd ever met. Well, it's not every day you meet someone bound to a spirit of Justice, Hawke thought. She had become more subdued in her flirting with him as time went on, partly out of embarrassment and partly because he flip-flopped on how receptive he was to her advances. But the apostate always seemed to invade her thoughts during her nightly musings and when she wasn't in the Hanged Man or on some adventure, she was in the clinic helping Anders with his patients.
But it wasn't always butterflies and shallow breaths when Hawke thought about Anders. She worried about the spirit he had allowed inside him. Justice was well and good, but Vengeance was another story. Fenris had pulled her aside more than once to press upon her his dislike for Anders, calling him an "abomination" and some other more colorful names. But Hawke didn't feel the same anxiety around Anders like she did Merrill. He was trying to help mages. He was a symbol to not only her people in Kirkwall, but to Hawke, herself. In Lothering, she and her family had kept a low profile to remain safe. It was a small village – no place to start a revolution. But Kirkwall presented opportunities for change. It was a subject she and Anders had spent entire nights excitedly discussing.
But for now, talk was all they could do. She was still short on money for the expedition. Taking care of her family would always be Hawke's first priority. Hawke's eyelids began to feel heavy just thinking about the deep roads. Only a few more sovereigns… she thought before drifting off to the Fade.
Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed the prologue. As I said before, the rest of the chapters will be longer and less thought-based. This is a Lady-Hawke and Anders romance fic, so that is the centerpiece of the whole story. That being said, other companions will obviously have their time in the spotlight because I just can't resist :) Please review! It really motivates me to update quickly! And if you like my writing style and/or love FemShep/Garrus, please check out my other story "Someone I Can Trust." Thanks!