I. Sneaks

Malcolm had very dark hair and very blue eyes and perpetual scruff along his jaw that made his smirk seem all the more dashing. For the first few months, Leandra told herself that it was the sneaking around that appealed. And it was very exciting—him sneaking around past the Templars and her sneaking around past her parents.

She might have been done with it and pretended at happiness with her betrothed, but one night Malcolm came to her window. It was a stormy night, the sort that began a long story of adventure and romance, with rain driving in from the sea to plaster his hair to his forehead as he tapped at the glass until she opened it.

"I'm leaving Kirkwall," he said, staring at her with those fierce blue eyes.

Leandra gasped. "You're going to become…" her eyes shifted around and her voice lowered to a conspirator's whisper, "…an apostate?"

Malcolm nodded. He gave her a sad look. "I want to ask you to come with me, Leandra," he murmured, reaching a hand out to trail rain-soaked fingertips across her cheek. "But I can't force that kind of life on you."

He leaned through the window, likely thinking that it was to be their last kiss, but her mind was made up. She didn't even pack a bag, just gathering some of her jewelry to pay ship fare. Just like that, Leandra Amell became a Hawke.

II. Stares

Everyone else says it's the tattoos, but the first thing Hawke notices about Fenris is his stare. The deep green of his eyes, the wide elven shape that he hides with a scowl, the way even his pupils reflect the glow of the lyrium in his veins. Not just the eyes, either, but the entirety of the stare. There's depth and emotion, raging bitterness and icy calm, the juxtaposition of enforced ignorance and expansive intelligence.

He entrances her but she plays it cool, until she loses her cool that night, when he pushes her against the wall and stares at her, guilty and ashamed. His lips are soft but his kisses are hard. When he leaves, she pretends to have found her cool again. He still stares at her, though, as they play cards with their friends and his wrist flashes with that red scarf of hers. She wonders what it means, losing her cool at night afterward, coming home drunk and arguing with her mother.

Then Leandra dies in a gruesome patchwork of other women's deaths and Hawke can't even cry. She's too stunned, clinging to her mother's wrong, awful psuedo-body until Aveline and Varric pull her away and lead her from the warehouse. Fenris trails behind them, silent as the others, but he returns later that night. He sits on the edge of the bed beside her, not touching her, and stares at her face. In his low voice he somehow comforts her, offering wisdom instead of platitudes. But she can't keep her cool that night either. For the first time he remains with her for the entire night, holding her to his chest until she weeps herself into a coma.

It takes him three years to ask forgiveness as the city falls apart around them.

He tells her that helping the mages is a mistake, staring at her with shock and fear and adoration and fury in his eyes. "But I will not abandon you," he announces. The others glance at him; everyone is aware of their romance though they do not announce it, keeping their affections behind closed doors. And then as they wait for the Templars to break in, he grabs her and kisses her with such force and passion that Isabela whistles and a few of the others clap. He stares at her as she pulls away, brushing her messy hair away from her eyes for a moment, and draws back to stand with the others as she speaks to Orsino.

The battle is terrible, yet they all survive. With everyone helping to fight, the abominations and monstrous men and women are defeated, Meredith last of all. When all is said and done, she gives Anders a shove toward the new Knight Commander Cullen and offers him as the new First Enchanter, tasked with rebuilding what he destroyed of the Chantry and the mages who died in the Tower because of his actions. From the corner of her eye she sees Fenris stare at her in surprise and then smirk at the punishment as the mage sputters and the Templars agree.

Fenris walks alongside her as they exit the Gallows once and for all, the rest of their friends trailing behind.

"We have to leave now," she says, staring at him as they walk through ranks of Templars, away from the charred corpse of the crazed Knight Commander. "We can't stay in Kirkwall."

He nods as if he expected this announcement. Once they are free of the Gallows courtyard, he laces the cold metal of his gauntlets with the brass knuckles of her gloves.

"Perhaps we could visit Seheron," he comments, squeezing her hand.

III. Serious

Bethany's older sister is a rogue and a number of her friends are rogues and she's never met a rogue so serious as Nathaniel. His lips press into a flat line of concentration each time he aims his bow and when he smiles, it's a slow process wherein the corner of his mouth rises and his teeth never show.

When she first arrives at the Keep, sweating and shivering and in such pain from the Blight searing her veins, his are the strong arms that sweep her off her feet and into the chamber where the Joining is conducted, albeit on a barked order. She lets her head sag against the broad chest, trying not to laugh at the irony that he is the first man to hold her like this, aside from her father and Carver, who don't count. He sets her down in the center of a stone-floored room that sways around her and she grips his arm before he can back away, using his solidity to steady herself. Gray-green eyes meet hers for a second and he stands still as they mutter words over a cup of black liquid. When they pass her the cup, he pulls away without a word.

She drinks and the fire in the veins turns to ice, to lightning, then to stone. Every cell of her screams as the Blight flares within her and horrifying visions of dragons and Darkspawn rend her mind. There's powerful magic at work in this ancient ritual, but all she can do is ride along the crashing wave of it until blackness settles and she collapses.

He stands behind the ranking Warden when she awakens afterward, watching her with a serious expression as she sits up. She sees, for the first time, that patch of hair beneath his chin and the tapered jaw, the thick corded muscles of his neck and the ornate longbow at his back.

"Good morning, Sunshine," says the other Warden, also handsome in a less dangerous sort of way with an open face and a charming, lopsided grin. But the nickname reminds her of Varric, and of Kirkwall, and her mother and sister, and she bites her lip to hold back tears. "I'm Captain Alistair, but you can just call me Alistair."

"Call me Bethany," she says, not meaning for her voice to sound so sharp.

Alistair blinks and gives her a slow nod. "The Joining is... rough. The dreams aren't great, either. Neither are the Darkspawn. Come to think of it, orientation is pretty rough all around." Even though he keeps his tone light and still amusing (and he's nowhere near as funny as Varric or Isabela) he has a sympathetic grimace as he speaks. "How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts," she admits, lowering her eyes. She purses her lips as she stands and extends her hand to shake his. It wouldn't be good to start off on the wrong foot by yelling at her Captain. "Sorry for being so grouchy. I just don't like to be called Sunshine."

"Consider it noted in your file," Alistair grins. He steps back and gestures at the archer behind him. "This here is Nate- er, Nathaniel Howe. He's going to be giving you the grand tour of the Keep here, ending at the kitchen for supper."

"Pleased to meet you," Nathaniel says, in a deep lilting voice that makes her heart flutter and her stomach tight. He takes her hand in his large, rough one and she realizes that he's taller than Alistair by a few inches, taller than her by almost a head. When she feels his calloused palm and fingers clasping hers, her mouth goes dry.