Disclaimer; I don't own Dragon Age.
Family
Hawke is watching.
She's watching Varric's face as he tells a story, the way it lights up and darkens and twists into whatever expressions are necessary to obtain the right effect.
She's watching Isabela play Wicked Grace, the way she subtly slips the best cards up her sleeve and knocks back her drink like it won't come back to bite her in the ass later.
She's watching Anders and Sebastian argue, their voices raised, Anders banging on the table at regular intervals, and the way Sebastian is steadily getting a brighter shade of red as the conversation progresses.
She's watching Aveline and Carver, sitting slightly apart, discussing something in low voices; she watches the look of discomfort on Aveline's face and the awkward honesty on Carver's, and she wonders what they're talking about.
She's watching Merrill watch Anders and Sebastian, the way her brow furrows adorably and then shoots up, how her mouth opens to interject, and then closes, the words unspoken; the way her lips twist themselves into a frown of puzzlement and the silent curiosity in her eyes.
She's watching Fenris, sitting on his own in a corner, the way he stares into his drink and then lets his eyes shoot up, taking in the rest of the tavern, one hand resting on his blade as he glances over at them, and she flushes when he catches her staring, a smirk playing on one side of his mouth.
She's watching her family as they go about their lives, and from her perspective, caught in the middle of it all, there's no place she'd rather be.