"You're good friends… good… good friends," Hawke slurred out. Marian stumbled between Fenris and Sebastian, the stairs leading from Lowtown to Hightown catching at her toes and heels. Perhaps she shouldn't have had quite so much ale. She couldn't even hold her head up properly or hug her arms around their necks. "You're the best. Walking me home like you do. To my big, empty, lonely house I never wanted. Such good friends."

"Careful, Hawke," Sebastian cautioned. He sent a worried glance over her head to Fenris. The elf was hunched over, withdrawing into himself even has he helped hold Hawke up. She stumbled, uncoordinated feet and inebriation finally taking over, and Fenris grabbed her up to carry her.

"Maker's sake, Hawke," he groused.

"We almost died in the Deep Roads so I could buy that heap for Mother, and what happens? Blighted blood mage gets her. All my fault, always my fault, isn't it? Bethany, Carver joining the Templars, all my fault."

Sebastian watched Marian's hand fist in the back of Fenris's shirt. His shoulders tensed under the fabric when Hawke let out a soft, hiccuping sob. "Do you want me to carry her, Fenris?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

Fenris shot him a glare and held Hawke closer. The look on his face clearly said 'mine'. Sebastian quickened his pace, taking the jangling key ring from Hawke's waist to unlock the door to the Amell estate. Bodhan looked up from the bench inside the door.

"Oh dear, again?"

"What do you mean, again?" Sebastian looked back at Fenris, Hawke still in his arms with her face buried in his shoulder. His face pinched and he hid behind his bangs.

"Messere Fenris has been escorting Mistress Hawke home at least four days a week in this state, Messere Sebastian." Bodhan wrung his hands, concerned for the woman who was not only his employer, but his friend.

"Last week I vomited all over Orana's freshly mopped floor. Because tha's me, Marian Hawke! Ruiner of everything she touches eventually. Too big, too tall, too clumsy, too drunk Marian Hawke. Couldn't save her father, sister, or mother. Couldn't even keep the man she wants from runnin' away from her." Hawke hiccuped and swept her arm out in a wild arc. Fenris stumbled forward as her weight shifted, but caught himself before he dumped her on the floor.

"I think we should get her to bed before she says something she regrets." Sebastian nodded to Bodhan. "Would you mind locking up after we leave, Serah Bodhan?"

"Of course not, Messere Sebastian. I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything for Mistress Hawke."

Fenris edged up the staircase sideways, careful to keep Hawke from hitting her head or feet on the wall or bannister. They stopped outside her room, and Sebastian felt himself go a bit red. "Do you, ah, have her, Fenris? I don't know that it's quite appropriate or necessary for both of us to be in there."

"What, you're gonna run away from me, too, Sebastian? Is it because I'm not enough of a lady?" Marian started crying again. Both Sebastian and Fenris froze. She wriggled around in Fenris's arms, "Leggo, I can do this m'self. I know I'm not small or delicate like a woman's s'posed to be. I'll just take care of m'self."

"Venhedis, woman, stop. You might hurt yourself."

Sebastian swung open the door so Fenris could stumble through with a still-flailing Marian and dump her on the bed. She curled in on herself, flapping a hand at them and slurring, "Jus' go. Jus' leave."

Pressing his lips together, Fenris grasped an ankle and pulled her legs out straight. He started unlacing her boots as Marian pushed at him. "Go. Leave. Mother was right. Jus' a man with woman's parts below the belt, she said."

Both men made choking noises. Fenris recovered first, glancing at Sebastian, "You will say nothing?"

"Of course, Fenris."

"Marian?"

"Go 'way."

"Marian. Please."

"Jus' leave me. Again." Fenris flinched away at that, like he had been slapped. The boot in his hand thumped to the floor, forgotten.

"I-"

"Mother was right. 'M jus' a man. Too mannish, too tall. Couldn't save Father. Didn't save Bethany. Couldn't save her. Can't even be a man right. Carver hates me. You lef' me. Izz dumped the Qunari on me to deal with 'n ran with her book. Jus' a man with woman parts, can' even keep a man. Couldn't even keep my Fenny-Fen. Mother said so. Didn't even get a chance to 'pologize to her for yellin'. 'Sall gone to shit 'cause of Marian." Hawke squirmed, toeing off the other boot with another thump.

Fenris backed away, ashen toned under the bronze. "I-need to go. Think."

"If you need to, Fenris, I'm always available for confession. Anything you need to talk about," Sebastian tilted his head towards Hawke, now flopped on her stomach and starting to snore gently, "I am willing to listen, and it will only be between the two of us. I won't speak with Hawke of it unless you give me permission to, and what I heard here stays here. Tell Bodhan to lock up after you."

He got a nod of thanks, and Fenris backed out of the room, anguish and longing warring over his face before he turned from Hawke. Sebastian exited, settling onto the bench outside Hawke's door. She would need support and comfort in the morning, especially after such a personal revelation.


"Maker's bloody knickers, how much did I drink last night?" Marian stumbled out into the hallway, waking Sebastian.

"Hawke, language. How are you doing this morning? Do you need anything?" He stood, waiting to see whether she wanted a hug, or to talk about what she had revealed the night before.

"I need a bath and for the herd of druffalo in my head to go stampede somewhere else." She blinked at him with bleary eyes. "Did you bring me home by yourself? I could have sworn I remembered Fenris at some point."

"Do you remember anything from last night, Hawke?" If she didn't remember anything, Sebastian prayed that he was making the right choice in not telling her what she'd said. She obviously wasn't ready to talk about it, any more than Fenris was ready to talk about what had gone on between them right before Lady Leandra had died.

"Why, did I try to skinny dip in the Chantry fountain again?" She giggled at him when he spluttered.

"No! Maker's Breath, Hawke! Have some respect!" Sebastian ran his hand through his hair. "Just, please, try to cut down on the ale? It's not good for you to drink so much you can't remember what you did."

"I'll try, Sebastian." He felt his heart tug as she bowed her head and looked at her hands. Good, strong hands that protected everyone she loved. Sebastian remembered an old Tevinter saying Fenris had told him once. In Vino Veritas. In wine, truth. A drunk person spoke their true thoughts.

How Sebastian wished he could tell Leandra that her daughter was a finer woman for having hands roughened protecting the poor and weak of Kirkwall than she ever could be with hands soft from inactivity and needlework. That Hawke was a better woman carrying the weight of the city on her shoulders, broad and 'unfashionable' though they were, than any of the tiny, feather-headed noble daughters of Hightown who never spared a thought for anyone but themselves.

And he wished he could tell Hawke the same, knowing how she truly felt about herself.