Meghan Vael's Locket.

So… was I the only one that was curious about this little trinket? Yes? Oh well. I found it strangely disappointing that there seemed to be no story to this item like there was for Sebastian's bow in the DLC and apparently no reaction from Sebastian when Hawke goes round wearing an heirloom of his dead family. Since I seem to have developed a taste for the Sebastian X F Hawke pairing (or rather I've developed a taste for corrupting handsome chantry boys)… this is what I came up with inspired of course by that bloody locket!

First chapter should be fine for most audiences… but chapter 2 is for mature (18+) audiences only! As always, apologies for any and all spelling / grammar mistakes. I come up with stories… writing them down is the hard part!

She was infuriating… maker damned sin personified. She was a self-centred, ruthless, merciless… drunken… whore!

Sebastian shook his head a little to clear the venomous thoughts from his mind. He needed to return to his prayers… he needed Andraste to cleanse him of this vile hate!

But was it hate? Really? A wicked voice whispered in the back of his mind. Or was it something… else?

He'd travelled with Hawke long enough now to know she was ruthless yes, but thankfully never cruel. Her dark ways were never without reason and often it seemed she played a hand of the maker as she carved her way through hordes of slavers, criminals… even blood mages weren't safe from her wrath. She stood by the Templars and their sacred duty even though her family was afflicted with mages.

As for her drunken whoring… well… she always seemed so sad… so lost in her own shadows; when she was drunk and flirting around with Fenris or… maker forbid… Isabella, light seemed to creep back into her face. She'd even taken to turning her flirtations on him, making lewd remarks… in the chantry no less! Tempting him with a mischievous flash of her golden eyes or tossing back her beautiful, wild black hair. Yet, no matter how much she made him blush, he couldn't bring himself to scold her or even to outright refuse her, not when she seemed to take so much pleasure in it. She smiled- just for a split second- when she teased him, knowing full well she could never have him… that he could never have her. And that – that right there! That's what it was that bothered him so much, why she tormented him to the edge of sanity. He didn't hate her- not one bit- but maker, did she have to be so alike to him? To his days before the chantry?

He smiled his bowed head as he wondered for a moment what her reaction might be if he recommended she join him in the chantry, to give up the worldly riches she'd fought so hard for in the hope of becoming a better person. No… he dared not even suggest it… even in jest. She supported the Templars yes, but Sebastian felt this had less to do with faith in the maker and more to do with a dislike or distrust of magic. She'd never attended the chant as far as he was aware and aside from him, she seemed to avoid priests in general. Something to do with her upbringing perhaps? Always having to run from the chantry because of her sister and her father?

He shook his head again and got up from his knees. It seemed solace in prayer was going to be harder to find today. Hawke had been on his mind, distracting him, with increasing frequency lately.

He had been wary of her first, especially considering how well she'd taken care of the flint company and then of Lady Harimann and her demons. Then he had been wary of her for a whole host of other reasons, from those fierce golden eyes to the sway of her smooth hips.

He leaned forwards and rested his elbows on the stone banister, overlooking the main hall of the chantry and the door in. 'Chastity is not for princes' she'd said… he heaved a sigh. He'd asked so many times for a sign from the maker, something to show him the road he should take. What if he was ignoring the most blatant sign the maker could give? Had he not been provided with every tool he could possibly need through his alliance with Hawke? Wasn't that in itself a good enough answer? What did he expect? That Andraste herself would appear to him and give him the crown or a priests robe?

On the other hand what if he was kidding himself? What if he was seeing her as a sign when in truth she was sent to test him? Temptation embodying everything he ever wanted in a woman… in a companion… a consort… just put in front of him to test his resolve? Maker! Why must everything be so frustrating when it came down to that woman?

"Who is Meghan Vael?" The sound of her voice behind him made him jump so much he was sure he would topple over the banister. When had she come in? He'd been watching the door… she must have arrived earlier. Had she been here all this time? He was usually more attuned to her presence – to everyone's presence. It had been part of his training as a boy – did she distract him that much?

"Hawke!" He exclaimed, trying to right himself and appear casual. "I didn't see you come in." He indicated to the door he'd been starring at moments before.

She shrugged. "I came to ask about funeral arrangements."

Sebastian felt his heart sink. He felt like a fool. Of course she would be… her mother had just been killed. "Of course… I'm so sorry Hawke I…"

She cut over him. "Who's Meghan Vael?"

He was a little surprised by the question; it's not one he'd have expected from her. "She was my niece." He told her. "My eldest brother's daughter. She was just a child but… it seems the Harimanns had her killed too." He glanced away. He had adored Meghan; she was a sweet, well-tempered child. They had shared eye and hair colour. Just before his parents sent him to the chantry Sebastian had taken to teaching her a little archery.

Hawke was nodding a little, her eyes on the floor as she fiddled with something in the palm of her leather clad hands. "I um…" She faltered a moment. It was so unlike her that Sebastian felt a rush of concern. He frowned and stepped forwards.

"Are you alright Hawke?" he asked her. "Do you feel unwell?"

She looked up then, her golden eyes piercing him with their usual ferocity. "No. I'm fine." She glanced away then back at Sebastian. "I was going through some old things I picked up before the whole deep roads thing... looking for something mother gave me… I found this and I figured..." She paused, holding out her closed hand to him. "Well I figured you should probably have it."

Tentatively Sebastian raised his own hand to accept whatever it was she was handing him. The feel of metal, warmed by someone having clutched it for a long time, fell into his palm. He glanced down as she drew back and saw the elegant silver locket, the crest of Starkhaven on the front and the name 'Meghan Vael' engraved on the back. His skin tingled with the enchantments that had been placed on the trinket years ago. Sebastian frowned, his heart weighing down as he recognised the locket. "Where did you find this?" He asked.

She shrugged. "Same place I found your bow actually… one of the flint mercenaries had it. I wore it for a bit…" She shrugged again. "For the enchantments… but I replaced it just before I went into the deep roads. I've had it in a trunk ever since." She caught his gaze with her own again. "When I found it again I thought you'd want it back."

"Hawke I…" Sebastian withdrew his hand and picked up the locket, holding it up in the candle light to admire it. It seemed Hawke had taken care of it. Despite admitting to wearing it in battle, the locket was untarnished and carefully polished. "Thank you." It was all he could think to say, though it was insufficient. "This…" He gestured to the trinket. "This is the last gift I gave to Meghan… before I became a chantry brother. It's nice in a way, to have it back now." He smiled at her. "Really Hawke… thank you."

She shrugged and looked away again, her stance a little nervous. Sebastian put that down to her being in the chantry. She'd never liked the place and always spent as little time as possible lingering where the maker might see her. "Yeah well, just promise me you won't give it away or something equally stupid… I know you have a vow of poverty and everything…"

He raised his hand with a smile. "Don't worry Hawke. I won't part with it."

She wrapped her arms around herself defensively. "There's something else."

Sebastian raised his eyebrows curiously. "Oh?" She looked, if possible, even more uneasy, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and looking anywhere but at him. Seeing her in such distress… was torment to him. He stepped up, unable to bare it and rested a hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a purely friendly manner. "Hawke, are you sure you're ok?"

Her eyes snapped to his, full of fury. "My mother has been murdered by a mad blood mage and you're asking me if I'm 'ok'!?" As soon as the words left her mouth Sebastian saw regret pool in her eyes for just a moment before she closed them. When she reopened them, her face was cool and impassive. "I just wanted to ask if you would see my mother got a chantry burial… she was faithful, even if our… situation… made attending impossible. I don't know much about it but…" Sebastian's heart leapt in his chest. That she would trust him was an honour. Hawke did not trust easily. He knew for a fact she did not even trust many of her own companions, that he might be considered one of the few she did…

"It would be my honour." He inclined his head to her respectfully.

She nodded, then abruptly turned on her heel to leave. Sebastian reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her for just a moment. "Hawke… if there is anything else I can do…"

She smiled… she actually smiled. Just a small flash but it was there. "Sebastian… the comfort I would ask of you is one you've promised away to a… goddess..." She gestured up at the golden statue of Andraste, then shook her head solemnly. "How can I hope to compete with that… no matter how much I might lo… want you?" She looked away again, embarrassed by her near words. "I won't keep you any longer." She wrenched her hand from his grip and fled, almost running from the hall leaving Sebastian to stare after her, blue eyes wide in shock. Hawke loved him? He clenched his hand around the silver locket. Maker… he was such a fool.