To the people of Kirkwall, my sister is a hero, a champion, a warrior.

To me, she is a friend, a guardian, a sibling.

To her friends, she is a leader.

To me, she is a sister.

To her lover, she is naughty, a fun loving devil.

To me, she's wonderful, a saint of kindness.

To her enemies, she is fearsome.

To me, she is loving and protective.

To the nobles, she is fakely respective.

To me, she is genuinly honest.

To the Templars, she is a fugitive.

To me, and all other mages, she is a saviour.

She knows mages and Templars should all live in harmony.

She knows how to always make me smile.

She knows that elves are people too.

She knows slavery is wrong.

She knows that some people hate her.

She helps them anyway.

She is a proud representative of both Fereldan and our family.

She is, for all her achievements, just like you and me.

She is always loving, kind, and caring.

She isn't proud; she believes she is ordinary.

She believes that lovers should stay together.

She believes it is her fault Carver is dead.

She believes it is her fault I am in the Circle.

She believes Mother died because she didn't watch her closely enough.

And I believe she is too hard on herself,

And that the world has been too hard on her.

And I believe she is the closet thing to a perfect human.

I love my sister, and she loves me.

That is all I ever wanted from her.

She could have been untalented.

She could have been ugly.

She could have been mean.

She could have been a mage, and I could have been normal.

She could be poor, or an invalid.

And I would still love her.

I know she would love me too.

To everyone else she is Hawke.

To me, she is Sister.