Disclaimer: Alright. The usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing. Now, on with the story. Brace yourselves from this first chapter of Orlesianness...

Leandra Amell had been a wonderful friend to Dulci de Launcet in her youth, but to be honest, her son caused him great concern. Oh, Garret Hawke was charming, handsome, and possessed a fresh sense of humor that endeared him to nearly everyone he met, even the ones that were at the receiving end of his affable sarcastic quips. He was also a dear at the balls and feasts Leandra had insisted he attend since the Amells rose again, largely thanks to his now famous foray into the Deep Roads (Dulci shuddered as the thought of those Maker forsaken tunnels. They sounded almost as filthy as the Hanged Man!). Unfortunately, Hawke, for that was what most in the city, even among high society, called him had picked up several undesirable traits.

He insisted on keeping the company of those who were beneath him: elves, a mage from Darktown rumored to be an apostate, a Rivaini sailor that wore scandalously little (she had had to direct her husband's attention away from her bosom, obviously magically inflated as no woman has the right to have breasts that big), and the younger Tethras brother who spent most of his time telling stories in a dismal bar. Still, he kept a few good companions. Sebastian Vael sung the Chant beautifully and was a Brother devoted to the Maker and came of good blood and Captain Aveline had proven a capable guard captain for a Ferelden. And she could sympathize with him trying to visit his sister, Bethany at the Gallows. Maker knows she had been trying to visit poor Emile for ages. Still, the others he could have afforded to cut loose after the Deep Roads business!

More unfortunate still was Hawke's apparent disinclination towards finding a suitable wife. He was young still, but he would find himself past marriageable age if he did not consider his prospects. She knew that Leandra had been trying to fix him up with a proper wife. She had even suggested Hawke dance with Fifi or Babbette when she threw the Hallow's Eve Ball and, though her daughters giggled about how charming he had been, he hadn't called on either of them since.

Dulci de Lancet sighed, sitting at the window in her and her husband's bedroom and gazing out at the old Amell estate. Poor Leandra... When she snuck out of Kirkwall with that dashing Malcolm Hawke, everyone was gossiping about it. Every woman and some guys that attended those Hightown parities where he entertained the nobility were instantly smitten with him. (She thought it was his voice. It was just amazing.) It made for a thrilling story. So romantic and dangerous. But then Leandra had to live in Ferelden of all places. How she stood the barbarity and smell of wet dog and the indignity of living as a peasant, if what Leandra told her was true, was beyond her. Didn't her son know his mother deserved the comfort of proper grandchildren in her old age?

Speaking of her son, she could see him right now from her window, but he wasn't alone. Excitedly, she took a pair of opera glasses from her bedside table and peered into his window. He was with... an elf. Oh, poor Leandra! It wasn't just any elf. It was one of his companions, that Dalish girl with the strange tattoos and wide eyes. Oh, that poor girl. Call her soft-hearted, but she objected to noble men taking elvish lovers. They had no idea of the hurt they brought to their family or that of their lover.

Dulci de Lancet tisked to herself, glaring over at the curtains when, as if summoned, Hawke's face appeared. He grinned, winked at her, and shut the curtains to her. She flushed. As if she was a common peeping tom! She approached her husband's desk and began to write. It was her duty as a friend of Leandra's to write her and warn of her son's delinquencies and it was her civil duty to report this act of brazen baseness to her friends in Hightown. Hopefully, by shining a light on his no-doubt secret sexual liason, she would bring a correction to the young Hawke's behavior. Really, she was a good friend to Leandra.

Hours Later in Hawke's Estate

"What happens now? Are we... What did this mean?" Merrill asked softly. She and Hawke were naked after... She blushed at the chaotic but pleasurable assortment of memories assaulted her.

"Now we both decide what happens next," Hawke told her, unusually serious. Strange as it was, she was happy his manner changed. It meant it was more than a random act to him.

"If you hadn't come to Sundermount that day... I can't imagine where I'd be now," she told him. She rested her head on his chest and couldn't help but add, "I love you. I probably shouldn't have said that should I? I always say the stupidest things."

"I love you, Merrill. Actually, I was thinking of scandalizing my neighbors by having my Dalish lover move in. What do you think?" he asked, his eyes sparkling like it always did when he was about to do something particularly funny and flip the world upside down. It was like a kind of magic the Templars couldn't detect.

"Here? In hightown? The rich, fancy part of the city with no rats in it? And you... with an elf? Ma Vhenan... you really are crazy, aren't you?"

Hawke smiled and kissed her and suddenly, she wasn't so concerned. She smiled at him, "If you're not afraid... then neither am I."

A/N. And there you have it. I apologize for having to read Dulci du Lancet's point of view, but I thought it was funny and she really isn't so bad for an Orlesian. Any suggestions for events/characters being featured in future chapters are, of course, welcome. And to make things clear, Hawke hasn't slept with anyone else before this so things are going to be fun. Isabela needs details for one thing.

A/N. 2. Oh, and I made Malcolm Hawke the man everyone wanted in his day. People in real life just love his voice in Legacy and it's not just anyone that can charm a noblewoman to run away with him.