He'd never forget the moment he first saw her, then again, she was not the type of woman one easily forgot. Her voice first caught his attention, as she hurled accusations and insults at him, threatening him and mocking the Order in turn. He'd turned to see her approaching with determined strides. There were few who would risk getting on the bad side of any Templar, let alone a Captain, but she didn't seem to be to be cowed by it in the least. She didn't seem the sort to be cowed by anything.

She was encased in leather armor. It was not the highest quality, but well fitted and well cared for. Her face was more striking than beautiful, with high cheekbones tinged pink from her anger, a firm jaw, her nose a touch too long and her mouth a touch too wide mouth. Her hair was near black, pulled back in a messy bun; her raven wing brows drawn together in a frown above deeply set grey eyes.

She hadn't been alone, though at the time he'd not even glanced at her companions. She had that effect, he would come to eventually realize, naturally commanding attention for merely being herself. When she was present others were no more than an afterthought.

At the time however, he was not able to contemplate such things. His fears were realized when the recruit he had been interrogating split open and twisted into the grotesque form of a demon. He had drawn his sword immediately and focused upon his foe, but he didn't fail to note that her blades joined his as she jumped fearlessly into fray. She was a whirlwind; her daggers flashing with impossible speed, weaving between the hissing shapes and striking effectively. Within minutes the demon and it's attendants had been cut down, and he would have been a fool to think he could have handled it alone.

When he turned his eyes upon her next she'd stood calmly among the ash and gore, a half smile upon her face. She'd wiped blackened blood from her blades, smearing it across her leathers, and re-sheathed them over her shoulders, leveling him with her gaze as she approached. He knew at that moment precisely what she was. Chaos.

Her tone had been no less accusing when the battle was won, but he'd asked for her aid just the same. Despite the hard glint in her eye she followed through. In fact, she'd proved herself to be more than he'd expected.

No, he'd never forget the moment he met her.

The plot she'd uncovered had been sinister, a vile plan to seed the order with possessed recruits. She destroyed the pack of blood mages who had wrought the evil and managed to save a life as well. She returned to the Gallows with the missing recruit and a tale which would have been difficult to believe without proof.

When he'd told the Knight-Commander about Tarohne and her ilk, and the plan that Hawke had uncovered, she had seemed to be suitably impressed. But impressed or not Meredith had disparaged that such aid had come from a Ferelden refugee. Cullen found it strange; that she would say such a thing to him, though their reasons may have been different he was as much an emigrant as Hawke was.

"Keep an eye on this Hawke," Meredith had said, "At least until we can know whether she's friend or foe. I do not trust these refugee's taking over the city."

Keeping account of Hawke's actions proved a simple thing to do. Her name was on the lips of many, her exploits told city wide. The story of the Ferelden girl come to Kirkwall to restore her family name was told by many. He knew that wasn't entirely true, he knew that like many she'd been fleeing the blight. But as it turned out Hawke was in fact the eldest grandchild of a lesser noble family, the Amell's, who'd since fallen into ruin.

Within two years she'd earned the respect of the Qunari, saved the life of the Viscount's son, had ruined the Guard Captain and pushed a Ferelden in his place, and had, of course, foiled a plot to tear apart the Order from the inside out. She'd also undertaken an expedition; returning with riches enough to restore her family's former estate.

Over the years her appearance in the Gallows, though not frequent, was common enough a sight to be seen. Their relationship had... changed over that time. She was a woman who knew how to read people, and enjoyed toying with them besides. Their interactions turned into something hostile and heated. Her beliefs about mages were at war with his own; yet the exquisite tension between them was impossible to deny. But deny he did.

Cullen had learned long ago what danger can lie behind an alluring face. He'd overcome the blushing, bashful fool he'd once been, stuttering over apprentices and sisters alike. He had survived imprisonment and torture only to become stronger for it; and he'd felt the enticing touch of a demon without submitting to desire.

Certainly he could remain cool and detached with one irksome woman who scorned the duties he held so sacred.

Hawke, however, proved to be a trial.