Summary: Love is supposed to make you sing to the sky in joy. Loving a man of the cloth only makes Kilaen ashamed.
Disclaimer: If I've said it once, I've said it a million times...
Queen's Quornor: It's taken me several months to finally work up the spare change to purchase the two main downloads for DA2. I didn't think I'd like Sebastian, really, but once I started hanging around with him I realized he's actually a pretty cool guy. I don't really agree with his view on mages, but I do respect him enough to let him speak. Besides, listening to him talk is a total eargasm! So I got to thinking about what it might do to certain types of Hawkes who fell for this man, and Kilaen came into being. As you might guess, a rogue like her isn't entirely happy with her crush on the holiest man in the group...
In the Dark
Kilaen fisted her hair in her hands, burying her face against her drawn knees. The Chantry was not her usual refuge, but she had come here in the hope that the Maker could offer her some measure of peace. As it turned out, that had not been among her better ideas. Seeing the reason for her torment going about his duties at the altar had shattered her brief serenity, forcing her to flee into one of the storage areas off the entrance. Sheltering between a dusty statue of Andraste and several piled boxes, the rogue attempted to keep silent in spite of the tears she knew were racing down her cheeks.
Champion or not, she could only handle so much.
The door opened and she froze, scrunching herself deeper into her little nook so as not to be seen. The light was removed as the portal was pulled shut, leaving her bewildered and blind.
"I know you're in here, Kilaen."
Of all people, why him? Even Elthina would be easier to face right now!
She listened to his booted feet scrape softly along the floor, his calloused fingers dragging across the numerous stacks in a careful search of the darkness. At last his hand fell atop her head. "Found you," came his affectionate, purring broque. She could hear the smile in his tone. "Care to tell me why you're hiding in the storage room?"
Kilaen shook her head, unable to speak for the lump in her throat.
"Then I'll just sit here with you, until you feel ready." His hand slid away from her head and she listened to the faint jingles and scrapes that marked his journey to the floor across from her. His legs bumped against her lightly. "Cozy, isn't it?"
She nodded, fully aware he could not see her in the gloom.
"You aren't very good at hiding from me, you know." He chuckled softly, easing her misery and increasing her discomfort somewhat. It was such a pleasure just listening to him speak. "I saw you come in, even though you kept to the shadows. Most of the supplicants don't limit their wardrobe to unadorned black, and you have the longest hair in Kirkwall. When you ducked in here, I figured something was wrong. Are Meredith and Orsino giving you another headache?"
She snorted; that happened almost daily. This was hardly where she ran when she needed a break from their shouting matches. The Hanged Man was more her style than the Chantry.
"No, that couldn't be it. You only ran from the sanctuary when you spotted me." She could almost see him appraising her hidey-hole, his arms folded and one hand cupping his chin, one thumb smoothing along his jawline in thought. "I think I have it, so please indulge me my speculation. You ran because you didn't want to face me? Or do you not want to face what I represent to you?"
She squirmed beneath the imagined scrutiny of his electric-blue eyes, grateful to the friendly darkness for hiding her blush.
"I know you have feelings for me, Kilaen. You don't have to feel ashamed of them," he told her, his voice pure silken comfort. "Feel free to answer me any time you wish."
Kilaen wrapped her arms around her knees and chinned atop them, searching the gloom opposite her. "I can't help it, Sebastian. I have all these dreams and thoughts about you, and things I'd love to do with you. But you're so good, so pure, I want to hit myself for thinking about you that way. I defile you in my head, and you deserve better than that. You're my best friend, and I shouldn't think of you this way, but I - "
She stopped as a long finger came to rest on the corner of her lips, the tip further up her cheek than he likely intended. "It sounds to me as though you've placed me on top of some pedestal as a perfect example of what a Chantry brother should be. But you should know that I'm not as pure as you think."
"You already told me about all that."
"I'm not talking about my life before the Chantry. You see, of late I've been spending a lot of time in contemplation. But it's not because of my decision to retake Starkhaven." He cleared his throat and groped his way down her neck and arm, eventually finding her hand and holding it carefully between his palms. Kilaen blinked hard, wishing she could read his expression. The lack of a light source was becoming a tad annoying. "I've been having some rather impure thoughts myself. I can't seem to get this lovely, black-clad woman out of my head. Every time she gives me a lesson in advanced lockpicking or comes to speak with me about some escapade she has in mind, I crave even more time with her. I can't get enough, and I doubt I ever could."
She started to pull away, ashamed that she was tainting his goodness, but he held her firm. "There is only one escape from my vows, Kilaen. I renounced all but my chastity when I decided to avenge my family, and I have already talked to the Grand Cleric about this path." She felt the intensity of his gaze upon her and she shrank from it, in spite of the sudden frantic pace of her heart. "A vow of chastity may only be ended within the bonds of marriage. I've been wanting to discuss the matter with you, but it was never the right time."
"So it's the right time when we're crammed in a store room, unable to see our hands in front of our faces?" She laughed nervously. "How romantic."
"We're alone, aren't we?" He stroked the back of her hand, making her shiver lightly. "As Starkhaven's prince, there will be much expected of me. I'd prefer to face those challenges with you at my side, if you'll accept me."
"But I don't deserve you," she whispered, misery swallowing her. "I'm nothing but a thief, and I've been with other men. The only reason I'm Champion is because I tripped the Arishok and stabbed him until he stopped moving!" She looked away from his general area, feeling the tears rise again. "You're meant for great things, Sebastian. I'd just get in the way."
"No, you won't." He pulled her forward so she tumbled against his chest with a shocked gasp. When she tried to get away, he caged her in his arms. "I believe the Maker blessed you with extraordinary luck and skill, and you seem to think you are tainted somehow. You are not tainted in any way, and I think having you as my wife would only benefit Starkhaven. You are a mediator, and your silver tongue will be sorely needed in days to come."
"But you're the prince. Won't you be the diplomat?"
"I was never trained as my brothers in certain areas. I can soothe and listen, and make a decent argument to coax people into the Maker's arms, but diplomacy is not quite my strength. Besides, who would not listen to a beautiful woman such as yourself? You can be wily. I can't."
"Oh, I don't know." She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, finally letting herself hope a little. Maybe this wasn't some cruel dream. "You can be fairly sneaky when you want to be. Springing this on me where I can't see you certainly falls under that category."
"Be that as it may, you still haven't answered my question." He carefully smoothed some hair away from her face, fingers lingering on her cheekbone. "Would you come with me to Starkhaven, and become my princess?"
Kilaen threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, releasing only when she realized he probably couldn't breathe. "If you're willing to marry a Ferelden rogue of dubious origins with more luck than brains and monochromatic fashion sense, who am I to deny your pleasure?"
He laughed and embraced her in turn, then rose to his feet, lifting her with him. "Well, my sweet shadow. Shall we tender my resignation to Her Grace? I'm not quite certain she'll believe me unless you're there to confirm my choice."
"So you really were listening to me, all along." She peered where she assumed his eyes would be, envisioning the delighted curve of his lips as he held her in the dark. "I told you there was only so much good to be done as a member of the Chantry. As a prince, you can improve the lot of so many more people, no matter what the nobles say."
"If I hadn't listened, you would have beaten me over the head with you logic until I saw reason. So I am willing to re-enter the viper's nest, so long as you are with me."
She hugged him again, letting him shuffle them towards the door. "Always and forever, Sebastian."
Where before she felt shame, now she only felt joy. The sisters stared with open mouths as the Champion walked out of the store room with their royal brother, and Kilaen only offered them a satisfied smile in reply, ignoring the scandalized gossip which would surely erupt once they were out of sight. She was too satisfied with Sebastian's telling grin to feel small right now. And while Elthina tried to look stern and disapproving of their arms looped around each other's waists, Kilaen spotted the pleasure twinkling in the Grand Cleric's eyes.
Her shame at loving such a wonderful man could not exist in the face of her blessing.