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Hawke could only gape as the unarmed Starkhaven prince stared down the Templars. It was like a scene from one of Varric’s blasted romances—only he was no virile knight and she no swooning maiden.
Well. Not usually.
Or: Hawke is granted a limited period of legal asylum in the Kirkwall chantry. There, she falls in love with Sebastian.
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"Just, fuck, Andraste, fuck.”
“Shh, Marian,” Sebastian—the bastard—laughed against her sweat-drenched hairline. “Watch your mouth. We are in a church, you know.”