Disclaimer: I do not own anything Dragon Age 2

Author's note: This is a two-part, Sebastian x FemHawke fic. Fluff with a touch of angst! I may write more fics with this pairing, though I'm not sure if its very popular. I'd also be happy to write other pairings if need be!


MY GRIEF LIES ALL WITHIN

Part 1


Sebastian wasn't sure why he had agreed to be involved in this. Actually, no, that was a lie. He knew exactly why. Aveline was a scary woman and saying no to her was like saying no to a High Dragon: it just wasn't going to happen. Besides that, he had to admit that he agreed with her on this occassion.

Something needed to be done.

Hawke was his friend and when a friend was in need, it was only right that you do all within your power to help them...even if they didn't necessarily want it.

He winced, feeling a new bout of nervousness wash over him. This could end up going terribly, terribly wrong.

"She'll be here soon." Aveline was saying, looking nervous now that she'd set this whole thing into motion. The Captain had never got on well with Hawke; the rogue always so keen to make money even if it meant dealing with somewhat distasteful groups. Sebastian was not sure why the redhead even stayed in contact with the woman, let alone felt the need to help her. He knew they had come from Ferelden together, but he'd never heard the story of what had happened. Perhaps he should ask Varric sometime. That dwarf certainly did spend a lot of time studying 'Hawke History'.

Speaking of which, he really wished that the dwarf was here. He was so much better with words, not to mention the fact that he had a relationship that could be considered brotherly to the rogue Ferelden.

"Do you not think Varric might have been a better...candidate for this, Aveline?"

"No. Hawke gets on well with that dwarf, I know." She held up a hand, a sign she meant to continue. "But this situation calls for someone who will tell her plain and simple."

"Us, you mean?" He suppressed a groan. "You do realise that neither of us are exactly in Hawke's 'good book'?"

"The others are too frightened of telling her what's what. Agree with her methods or not, I don't want to see her continue down this path of destruction. This can't go on."

Sebastian 'hmphed' in agreement. "You might be right, but I have a feeling this is not going to end well..."

"Seb? In the Hanged Man? Have I walked into the Fade?" Hawke's jovial voice sent a bolt of fear through him, snapping him to attention immediately. Her bright blue eyes danced across their faces and then settled onto the drinks set before them. With a grin, the woman sat across from them and reached over to lift the decanter. With a small, delicate sniff, she grimaced and shot them both a look of dissaproval. "Please tell me that's not what I think it is." She didn't bother to wait for a response. "You invite me for a drink and then order in sparkling water? What is that? Apple flavoured?" She shook her head, moving to rise - her intention clearly to get in some ale.

Aveline caught her by the wrist and the dark-haired rogue tensed suddenly. Sebastian swore he saw a flash of anger darken the blue in her eyes. So, she was joking and laughing, but she was clearly not as 'okay' as she claimed to be.

It seemed Aveline had been right to worry.

"We didn't come here to get ourselves into a state of drunken stupor, Hawke." Aveline's tone was stern, leaving no room for argument.

"Well even someone with half a brain could figure that out. If I was hoping for a wild night, I'd expect Isabella and Varric here. Not 'Stick-Up-Her-Ass-Captain' and 'Can-Do-No-Wrong-Chantry-Boy'. No offense." She smiled sweetly at them but one look at Aveline told Sebastian that this plan really wasn't going to work.

Realising that she'd possibly gone too far, Hawke seated herself and gave a soft sigh. "Okay, why am I here?"

Sebastian had never really allowed himself much opportunity to look at Hawke. To really look at her. He remembered her when she'd first come to him, declaring that she'd seen to his vengeance. She was bold and witty and oh-so-charming and he'd allowed himself a moment to let his eyes graze her up and down. It had been wrong of him to do so, but at the time he had not considered that they would see much of each other again. Then, when they had joined forces (if that was how it could be described) he'd become painfully aware that she was a fine looking woman. He also became aware that he was not the only man to think so. Anders had become horribly obvious with his attraction to her and he could even have sworn that he saw an appreciative glint in Fenris' eye from time to time. Isabella – how could he forget her? – had certainly not been one to hold back on her flirtation, either.

He'd not understood it at first. Hawke had a nice face, certainly, but she wasn't outstandingly beautiful. She had pale skin, bright blue eyes and short cropped hair; black, savagely cut. Her appearance was certainly suited to someone of her profession. Yet there was something there, a spark that set her apart from other women.

Sebastian had come to realise that it was her personality. It was true that he didn't always agree with her decisions and that some of her 'employers' in the city were people he would have chosen to flag up to the guard. However, no matter what, Hawke was true to her beliefs. She was as loyal and as stubborn as her Mabari, fierce and feisty and always there to make a joke or bring a smile to someone's face. She was also kind. Incredibly kind. But, more recently, her strength of character had shone through; whether for good or bad. She was a woman, after all, who had lost her home and was forced to flee for her life. She was also a woman who had lost her brother, Carver, to an ogre and her sister, Bethany, to the Dark Spawn taint down in the Deep Roads. He had never heard her word any complaint, nor had she neglected any of her duties to her friends and to the city. She had held her head up high and ploughed along, unfazed by anything thrown in her way.

Until recently…

His heart twisted painfully in his chest to think of how much she had lost. For not only had her siblings been taken from her, but her mother, too. Murdered and turned into a twisted, disgusting blood mage's fantasy.

Hawke's refusal to grieve the death of her mother was concerning. So much so that even the less sensitive members of their band had begun to notice and worry for her. She kept up her normal mannerisms; working and joking and chatting as often before, but the laughter and smiles never reached her eyes and there was a darkness there that was growing all the deeper. Hawke might be fighting it, but sooner or later she was going to reach breaking point.

It wasn't a case of 'if'. It was a case of 'when'. But whenever anyone had tried to talk about it, she just laughed it off as nothing. He had been there when Aveline had first offered her condolences. He remembered Hawke's reply:

'I have a smile on my face, isn't that enough?'

Aveline had been angered at what she thought was an inhuman response, but Sebastian could see what the Captain had not. That Hawke was not joking through lack of care. She was joking because she couldn't deal with the grief of so much loss. She was struggling desperately to continue on as if nothing had ever happened.

And, though it made him somewhat uncomfortable to admit it, he was deeply concerned for Hawke. But only because she was a friend. Just a friend.

"I know you don't want to hear this, Hawke, but something needs to be said." The Captain eased into the topic as tactfully as she could. Which was to say...not at all.

"If you're talking about you and Donnic and your newfound inspiration in the bedroom department, than no, I really don't."

Sebastian, knowing now that this blasé attitude was just a way to wriggle out of this conversation, wished suddenly that Aveline wasn't there and that she'd tasked him with this alone. The woman was serious and fiery and Hawke's joking had never sat well with her.

"We're here to talk about you, Hawke." Aveline's frustration blazed.

"Me? Surely you have more interesting things to talk about. Or…maybe not." She shook her head. "Not many women find a man to dote on them, Aveline. How you managed to find two in your lifetime is beyond me."

"What is it with you and my love life? You're getting as bad as Isabella."

"Can you blame a girl for being curious?"

"Stop changing the subject!"

Sensing the conversation was about to go rapidly downhill, Sebastian interrupted. "We're worried about you, Hawke." Might as well be honest.

"Worried? Why? Have I given you reason to be?"

"You've not spoken much about your mother since…what happened." He paused, unsure how to go on. He wished, now, that he'd rehearsed his part.

Hawke dismissed it. "Because there's no need. I'm fine. Now, I don't know about you two, but I need a drink." This time she stood and made for the bar. Sebastian wondered whether she might use the opportunity to make a quick escape.

"Well this is going well." Aveline sighed, steepling her fingers against her forehead.

"I don't think this is the right way to go about things."

"Oh, really? Well what do you suggest?" Aveline looked suddenly angry and Sebastian had the sudden desire to sink down in his chair and disappear.

"I think she needs to be left to deal with this her own way. Us forcing the issue is not going to make things any easier."

"So wait until she snaps?"

"I don't think we have any other option."

"Well fine, but I'm trusting you to keep an eye on her when I'm not around. Have I made myself clear?" The Captain stood. "I'm heading back to the Keep."

"Wait, what? You're going?"

Aveline fixed him with a glare, then, turned and departed.

Sebastian hung his head in his hands, rubbing them down across his face. Great. Just wonderful. Now he'd have to put up with Hawke's badly placed humour all alone…or…not. The spot she had been standing in was now vacant and the dark-haired rogue was nowhere in sight. He groaned at the realisation of his failure and, realising how bad it would look for him to be seen here in the Hanged Man alone, stood and left.


"Did I…miss something?" Merrill asked in a not-so-quiet voice.

"Well if you did, Daisy, I missed it too." Varric hefted the sturdy, smooth weight of his beloved Bianca over a shoulder and sent a glare across at Isabella who reached out to run her fingers playfully along the trigger. "I've told you before, Rivaini. Bianca is a one-man kind of lady."

"Why does no one like to share anymore?" She smirked. "How about a trade? I tell you what's going on with Hawke and you let me borrow Bianca for a while, hmm? You can even come, too." She winked, massaging her fingers into Varric's shoulder.

"You know what's going on with Hawke?" Merrill asked, surprised.

"Of course I do, kitten." Isabella fixed the dwarf with a meaningful look. "So, what do you say, Varric?"

"I say it's a cheap trade. I could go and ask Hawke myself and she'd tell me."

"Suit yourself." The pirate stepped back into line, knocking into Sebastian as he tried to pass. He muttered an apology and the flirtatious woman groped at him as he passed. "There. Want to know what's wrong with Hawke? He just walked by." She giggled.

"What? Choir Boy?"

"See you later." Isabella teased.

"Not staying, Rivaini?"

"Not this time, see you at the Hanged Man later." She moved off, hips swaying. "Have fun."

With an amused shake of his head, the dwarf scurried off after the white-clad archer, slowing his pace the moment he caught up. "Am I right in saying that you're the reason Hawke is in such a bad mood this morning?"

"She told you?" Sebastian stiffened.

"I take it that's a yes, then."

"You had a fight?" Merrill asked, drawing up on Sebastian's other side. "That doesn't sound like you."

"It wasn't my intention to anger the Lady Hawke." The archer insisted. "She thinks I'm trying to instil in her the importance of faith in the Maker."

"I bet that went down well." Varric chuckled.

"No…it didn't. She told me to…"

"…Mind your own business, Sebastian. I know who put you up to this. It was Aveline wasn't it? What has she got to gain by sticking her nose into my business? Now look, I've tried to be nice, I've given her the opportunity to back down by changing the subject and cracking jokes but this…this has to stop." She threw up her hands in exasperation. "It isn't helping."

"She's worried about you, Hawke. We all are."

"For the last time; you don't need to be. I'm fine! Everyone dies, Sebastian, that's a part of life. I've already lost my father, brother and sister, what's one more family member to me?"

To his horror, tears started gathering in her eyes, though she managed to hold them at bay.

"I don't need you or Aveline watching out for me, waiting for me to fall just so you get to say; I told you so."

"We're your friends—"

" So act like one and leave me alone."

"There is a plan for all of us, Hawke. The Maker's will is not always easy to understand. I'll be the first to admit that. But—"

She had struck him; a sharp fist to the jaw, cutting off the sentence that was supposed to have offered comfort. Unconsciously he rubbed the spot she had struck, snapped back to reality by Varric's sharp bark of laughter.

"I know you and Aveline mean well. And heck, maybe you're right, but right or not, Hawke has got to work this out for herself. I've known her a long time and I've never seen her cry. You weren't there when it happened, Choir Boy, it was horrible. Real horrible. If I was her, I'd have broken down and wept like a baby. But she didn't. She was just quiet. Very quiet. Sometimes you just have to work through things yourself. We'll be here waiting for when she's ready."

"Poor Hawke…" Merrill echoed softly.

The door to Hawke's estate swung open and the woman stepped out into the street. Her tight fitting armour hugged at her curves, so many buckles that it was a wonder it didn't take her hours to get into the thing each day. Her short black hair looked much like the ruffled wings of a raven, framing her finely featured face. She grinned at them - clearly in a better mood now - though the grin faltered at noticing Sebastian.

"Where's Isabella?" She asked. What she had meant to say was painfully clear to them all; why is Sebastian here?

"Busy, apparently." Varric replied. "Ready to go, Hawke?"

"I suppose we'll have to make do."

"Are we still going to Sundermount?" Merrill asked uncertainly.

"Yes. I know it makes you feel uncomfortable, Merrill, but it's important to show your face every now and again, don't you think? And, since you won't go alone, I need to find excuses to go. Luckily I have a good one, today."

"Oh?"

Hawke threw the Dalish mage a grin. "I'm hoping to…acquire some items from them."

"Why do I get the feeling that when you say 'acquire' you really mean 'steal'?" Varric laughed, turning to head out of Hightown.

"You know me too well." Hawke replied, pausing to eye an extremely quiet Sebastian. "Here's your chance to back out."

"Don't mind me."


"Quickly, Hawke."

"Almost there." The rogue was knelt down beside one of the many locked chests in the small Dalish camp, three lockpicks held firmly in her teeth, another in her hands as she teased at the lock. It was intricate work but certainly satisfying. There was a sharp click as the mechanism came undone and, with a hushed cry of triumph, the woman eased the lid open and peered inside.

"This is it, Merrill!" She called out, snatching a bottle of the prized ink and pocketing it before anyone could notice. Then, swiftly, she moved back into the open, seeing to the padding of her armour and giving a subtle wave to Varric and Sebastian – who had been tasked with causing a distraction.

"So, what's next on your list?" Varric asked.

"There's more?" Sebastian's disapproval could not be contained.

"No one's stopping you from leaving if you feel uncomfortable with this." Hawke pointed out, turning to Varric and Merrill. "We need to speak to Keeper Marethari."

Merrill looked uncomfortable.

"You can wait here, if you like."

They agreed to do so and Hawke felt their eyes on her as she strode over to where the Keeper sat, cross-legged in the shade. One pair of eyes, in particular, seemed to be burning holes in her back and the thought of the look the archer must be giving her saddened her. Why was the death of her mother causing rifts between friends? Yes, so she did things differently from Aveline and Sebastian but…but she'd known Aveline for a long time and Sebastian…well, he was…nice. Really nice. She just wished they'd stop dredging up feelings of grief in her. Feelings that she didn't feel ready to face.

"Keeper Marethari." The rogue greeted, kneeling to join her.

"Ah, Clare Hawke. I see you brought Merrill with you today."

"I thought it might do her good to be back with her people for a while but I may have been mistaken."

"She is a good girl but innocent. I was hoping time away from here might…well, no matter. What can I do for you this fine day, Hawke?"

"I'm after a Varterral's heart." Straight to the point as always.

The Keeper's eyes widened a little. "And you think one may be living up here?"

"I had hoped. Or, at the very least, that you could tell me of them. They're linked to elven history, are they not?"

The Keeper leaned forwards, elbows resting against her knees. "Created in the time now lost to us. Yes. There is a cave not far from here. Several of our hunters travelled there some days ago. They have yet to return. It is possible that the creature you seek lies within. A small chance, but one worth investigating, perhaps? I would also be very grateful if you would consider going to that cave to seek our missing hunters on the off chance that any still…live."

"Sounds like I'm more likely to find a survivor than I am the Varterral."

"You would be rewarded for your efforts."

Hawke's eyes lit with interest. She was a magpie when it came to glittering treasures and coins. "I'll see what I can do."

Calling the others to join her, she gave them the summarised version. Merrill seemed eager to be involved, keen to find these missing hunters – perhaps in an attempt at winning some of her old clan over. It was the first time that Hawke realised just how lonely the young Dalish elf must have been, pinning her hopes on something so small as this.

"You know this cave, Merrill?"

"I think so."

"Mind leading the way?"

"Me? Oh, yes, certainly!"

Rolling her eyes, Hawke waited for the elf to start, moving to follow a couple of paces behind her. Together, in single file, they tracked up the steady incline, moving at a swift but not uncomfortable pace. Merrill's bare-footed trot seemed strangely energetic as she moved along the grass, pausing every now and then to check they were still following. Then, when the gaping mouth of the cavern loomed to welcome them, the elf dropped back to walk alongside Clare Hawke.

"There it is."

"Ugh, are there spiders? I think there're spiders." Varric growled. "Give me the creeps."

Hawke laughed good-naturedly. "Kill them quickly and they won't get near."

"Yes, ma'am." The dwarf loaded a bolt into his crossbow and flexed his shoulders, taking steady aim. Beside him the bow string of the archer creaked under tension and in the next moment bolt and arrow drove through the air and deep into the swollen abdomen of the first of six giant spiders. Merrill's earth-based spells came next, dragging rock up from the ground to encase legs and momentarily block their way.

With a whoop of exhilaration, Hawke dashed ahead, swift on her feet. Only when she was within a few metres of the arachnids did she leap into the air, bringing her duel daggers down like fangs, sinking deep into flesh. Blood spewed from the gaping wounds, splattering her face and armour as she swept into a dizzying dance of death, wielding her blades as if they were mere extensions of her own body. Around her the whirring whine of arrows and bolts found their marks and the electric stutter of magic spells sent the air crackling with life. And, in that moment, every strike she made healed her soul; little by little. All her grief and pain and anger armed the point of each dagger and the screams of the giant spiders sent a thrill down her spine.

In battle she was free.

And so it continued, down into the gaping maw of the cave and into the long, winding tunnels lit with torches to guide them. Many had burned out, but luckily, time had worn the earth above their heads. In many places the ceiling had crumbled in, allowing great pillars of light to stretch into the chambers beneath.

Covered in stinking filth, but stupidly content, Hawke almost ran straight into a young elf coming the other way. She fanned a dagger out, slashing at the air and only just managed to keep the blade from making contact with his throat. The elf fell backwards, crawling away in fear.

"Woah, easy there. You're one of the missing hunters?" Hawke asked, sheathing her blades and holding a hand out for him to take. After coming across the corpses previously. she hadn't expected to find anyone still alive. "Almost mistook you for a spider." The teasing tone in her voice died.

The lad – who looked to be no more than nineteen – fixed his eyes somewhere behind her shoulder and she froze in horror, wondering what could possibly be sneaking up on her to bring that reaction in him. She whipped her head around and started. Only Merrill, Sebastian and Varric were there, and behind them…nothing.

"Pol!" Merrill pushed forwards. "Pol! Are you okay?"

"No. No! Stay back! Keep away from me!" He was gathering his feet under him now, his face a picture of terror.

"Wait!" Merrill took a step forward, extending a hand. "Please, Pol, it's dangerous!"

But the young hunter was paying no attention, getting his feet underneath him and taking off down the corridor.

"He…did you see the way he looked at me?" Merrill sounded distraught, her wide eyes seeking comfort, her hands shaking. Hawke could offer her none.

Sebastian seemed ready to give the Dalish elf a lecture on the choices she had made, but seemed to think better of it.

It was Varric who came to the rescue. "Don't worry, Daisy. We'll go after him."

Hawke nodded. "Let's go."


To be continued...