Disclaimer: Neither Dragon Age nor it's characters belong to me.
Shine
Slippin' in my faith until I fall
You never returned that call
Woman, open the door, don't let it sting
I wanna breathe that fire again
-The Killers
Sitting on the long wooden bench, slumped over the sticky table next to his empty tankard of wine in one of The Hanged Man's dingy corners, Sebastian wondered not for the first time this night why he'd ever decided that talking to Varric was his best option. Especially, his last remnant of better sense scraped itself off the floor to chide him as he lifted his head to stare at the grinning devil across from him, when he'd been too distracted to remember that Kirkwall's other resident rogue called this tavern home as well. Isabela lifted the flagon next to her with a cheeky look.
"More wine?"
"By the Maker, if I drink any more of that tonight I'll not be fit for the confessional tomorrow," Sebastian muttered, pushing the tankard that had contained his downfall firmly away from him.
"Oh, come now, choir boy," Varric denied good naturedly as he took a long draught of ale and smiled. "Long nights full of drinking and women are what drive confessionals. If it weren't for alcohol you'd be out of a job."
Sebastian turned to him, partly to escape the cat-with-the-cream expression Isabela was shooting him and partly to correct the list of sins that had been laid against his name. "Varric, while I'll admit there has been wine," – which had been a gross mistake, Sebastian now understood; even if it was a spirit the Chantry used in its rites, perhaps he should have remembered that it was used sparingly for a reason – "I have had no dealings with women-"
"Oh, and what am I, chopped liver?"
Determinedly ignoring the former pirate captain, the Chantry brother finished, "-like those you seem to be implying."
Varric gave him all of ten seconds of satisfaction that he'd made his point, before the dwarf shook his head. "But not for lack of trying."
Isabela just giggled, a sound that before tonight he had never paid that much attention to, just taken it as part and parcel of her character. Now he knew it as a forbearer to merciless teasing that had never previously been turned on him.
Sighing, Sebastian let his head drop forward to rest against the table once more.
He couldn't entirely say when it had first started.
Oh, and now Varric was invading even his self-consciousness, with that incredulous laugh and ribbing taunt. Of course he could say where it first started. He was fifteen, and a young, comely lass, daughter of his father's huntsman had batted her eyes at just the right time when the full strength of puberty hit, and Sebastian had learned how utterly divine it could be to truly know a woman. In fact, once it had started he'd been a true nightmare for his family, carousing all night, acting absolutely surly during the day, and overall swaggering around as if he were the Maker's gift to women. Not the worst days of his life, but certainly not the most proud.
The Chantry had put a reign on those desires, curbed them almost into the ground. Though he would honestly admit to anyone who asked that he had fought like a madman when he'd first been sent to the Grand Cleric – had run away for a time, even - and Elthina surely deserved sainthood for getting through those days with a patience he'd never be able to match, he found a completion in the Faith as he'd never managed with any of his string of one night stands. In Starkhaven he'd always be the youngest son of a family that knew its place in the world, forever drifting between one amusement and the next, but in the Chantry he was a Brother in the Faith, and through his devotion to the Maker and by Andraste's Light be able to help those who needed him perhaps more than his family ever had. It was a fulfilling life, and he'd until very recently been able to say that he'd not felt the temptation to slip back into his former philandering habits. He'd even made a vow of chastity upon his return to the Chantry to prove his dedication.
Really, choir boy? his mental version of Varric chuckled again, and Sebastian knew he'd been spending too much time with the dwarf if the nickname was now how he referred to himself in third person. But if he could not be honest with himself then what was even the use of introspection?
Alright, he could admit it, he felt temptation. Not often, certainly never for long, and always quickly pushed aside. A man was not a man if he did not feel the lure of temptation, he bordered on godliness, and Sebastian knew there was only one god of Thedas. But he had made a vow and was determined to stick with it. That was, however, before Hawke.
She was, well, she was cute, he'd thought. He'd seen her in the back row of the Chantry, about seven years ago now, sitting with her arms crossed next to her mother and a young man who could only be her brother. That day, her mother had been the one wearing the determined expression he saw so often now in Hawke's own features, presiding over her small family, her two children sitting on either side of her and purposefully not looking at one another. From their identical set of hunched shoulders and his own memories of a childhood growing up with several siblings, he'd known they'd just had a fight. But they'd come to the service because their mother had likely requested it.
As Elthina recited a line from the Chant, he'd watched as the brother made a rude gesture behind his mother's back and, without missing a beat or glancing over, Hawke had opened her mouth and said something that shut him up for the rest of the meeting. Sebastian had no idea what she'd said that day, he was not sure he really wanted to know, but he knew that after she'd said it, an entirely charming and wicked little smirk had lit her face and shot straight to his groin with a message he well knew. Dangerous. But when her mother had turned back to her with a prescient knowledge, the twist on her lips had slipped into something softer and far more caring and that was when the arrow in her smile went awry and whispered to his heart instead. Sebastian had known it then. Let no man take temptation casually.
But it was barely after that when he'd received news of his family's murder. He'd posted the notice on the Chanter's Board and formally met her only a few days later, a very different Hawke, professional in her dealings with him though he could hear her joking with her friends as they walked through the Chantry to where he had safekept the reward. She'd wished him safety and good day perfunctorily, likely thinking nothing of the courtesy, but when he'd offered the same she'd laughed and asked him to put her name into the weekly prayers: his coin had just secured her partnership in an expedition to the Deep Roads and she'd need a large measure of divine benevolence. A good woman, he'd thought as she left, ignoring her brother as he looked back with faint suspicion. The temptation cooled with the thought. Good women had never been his standard fare as a callow young man, they would not be his downfall now.
Very shortly the name Hawke had been on several lips, but when she and her mother attended Chantry services, it was now without the brother and wearing solemn expressions. He'd heard the rumors, that her brother had been conscripted into the Grey Wardens, and because he knew the sacrifice this ultimate calling involved, knew the incomparable loss of parted family, he'd respectfully let them nurse their grief in peace.
Three years later, though, he'd needed her help again. Investigating the murder of his family, finishing that vengeance which rode through his veins, which tainted him in a way no Brother of the Faith should ever be, which made him question even his right to remain in the Chantry, he'd needed her in that moment, the professional he'd met years ago who'd worked so efficiently in his time of weakness. Let it be over, he'd thought, and she'd come. It had been like a sign.
He'd gone with her that time, both a mistake and the right decision. Because he had been there, to question Lady Harriman personally, he was finally able to earn if not understanding then simply closure of his family's deaths. It was terrible to see what demons could do to a good family like the Harrimans, but he'd needed to witness it, and he would do it over again even if it had been difficult. But because he was there he'd seen the companionship Hawke had with her friends, watched them joke while in duress, perhaps because of duress, watched the loyalty and the seamlessness of their work. In Varric he found the master storyteller who would befriend you with an easy laugh and a swift quip. In Fenris he found a quiet man who stood firm in his convictions, a former slave with a dark past but the occasional hard won smile. In Isabela he saw a female version of the man he had been, a light-hearted reflection of if not more innocent then certainly simpler times, though even he would admit that Isabela often outdid his old self with her outrageous past. And Hawke, who could joke and mock with the best of them but who made upstanding decisions and led with a good heart when it came down to the wire. He knew it was why the rest followed her, that when they looked at her they clearly saw the best parts of her, just as she did them.
Temptation, of a different kind, flexed its claws then and sunk them deep, and when he gazed at the Chantry when they returned, he'd asked himself what exactly it was that he could do here that he couldn't also do with Hawke? Something in that decision had presaged it, this, the whole reason he had come to Varric, not even four years later, nearly desperate for help. But when had it happened?
They'd spent years in each other's company since then, he had never refused any request she had to join her in an errand, it was hard to say when the balance tipped. Was it when she told him to follow his heart? Was it when she stood with a hand on his back quietly when he read letters from a cousin in Starkhaven? Was it when she laughed at one of Isabela's amazingly crude euphemisms? But he never had to ask himself what tipped it. That he knew, that he lived with daily now, constantly stinging him to action.
Oh, and here he'd happily assign Hawke her fair share of the blame. It took two to dance this Orlesian waltz. She was a good woman, Hawke was, there was no denying that, but she flirted up a storm. She'd originally done it, he suspected, just to see the poor Chantry Brother blush, for a spot of amusement one afternoon. But she must have decided she'd liked it, liked him, because after that he'd been the one singled out for her racier comments. With Aveline and Fenris she was quietly mirthful. With Varric, Isabela, and Anders the banter could become simply outrageous. Poor Merrill didn't fully understand half of the wryly said comments. But for him, oh for Sebastian she would turn her cute face, bat her lovely eyes and say things like "I hear that there's a chant for absolutely everything" or "Is it true that in Starkhaven the men don't wear smallclothes?" And he would stand there, his mind gone utterly blank except for images that had no right being there, and stutter things like "Uh" and "Erm" and "I-I don't think so." Exactly as if he were a naïve boy who'd never spoken to a woman before. For Andraste's sake, the Blooming Rose never phased him, Isabela had never made him choke, but this petite, surprisingly powerful woman… it was rare the day he didn't trip over his response.
And behind her Varric would snigger, Isabela chortle, and Aveline roll her eyes, but Hawke would simply smile. It took months of it, close to two years, before he realized she wasn't doing it as her way of joking with him. She'd found him in the Chantry library one day and sat with him for a full hour before quietly announcing, "How wonderful it is to spend the entire afternoon with you, Sebastian. I find myself jealous of every Mother, even, Maker help me, the most fortunately departed Petrice. How can you bear to bring me to such lengths?"
And he had glanced to her only to find Hawke's eyes were not turned to his own but the smile still peacefully in place and he'd thought, Oh, and knew. She was a woman who laughed about everything, even if she was serious, sometimes especially if she was serious. It was her way in a world that was so savagely dark sometimes he feared the Maker would never forgive men, it was a way he'd grown to appreciate as he'd grown to care about her. Oh, he'd thought, and for once his tongue didn't tie.
"To be able to sit the afternoon with the prettiest Lady in Kirkwall, how could I not?"
She'd laughed in delight at his comment but blushed so prettily that this time both his heart and groin were in agreement. Dangerous. But lovely.
It was a struggle the year after that. He was a promised man, he'd made vows, he had a duty to the Chantry, he wanted to live up to the man that he was certain his parents had known he could be. But she was completely lovely. He didn't agree with all her choices, and as time went by he couldn't even agree with all her friends, but her heart was strong and pure, ultimately in the right place, and he was charmed.
He'd turned to the Grand Cleric about his feelings, but she'd only smiled and asked him why he was dithering. He'd asked Fenris, who'd told him that he was a good man, but to remember that all men were permeable to lyrium fists. He'd spoken to Varric, who had told him that he might be surprised. He'd called upon Aveline, who'd looked at him dubiously but told him it wasn't her decision. He didn't bring it up to Isabela, he was pretty sure he knew what she'd say. He couldn't, unfortunately, speak to the late Lady Hawke, nor Carver, who was so difficult to contact as he was always on the move, and so instead he prayed for several days until he finally spoke to Hawke.
And asked her to marry him. He loved her and he wanted her to marry him. A chaste marriage, he had carefully explained, interrupting before she could even open her mouth. Dedicated in the Chantry. He had made vows, he'd said. And then he'd shut up, nervous beyond belief, because he knew he was asking a lot, he knew if she turned him down it would be for good reason and entirely understandable.
But instead she'd tilted her head, smiled beautifully, and said yes.
He'd mentioned the chaste terms of the marriage again, just to make sure she hadn't missed that part.
And Hawke had only laughed. "I am not deaf quite yet. And I will not say I fully understand. But it's important to you, and you have told me how much the Chantry means in your life. Believe me, I'll keep asking if you truly want it to be chaste, but there is no one else I'd marry." She'd gazed with amusement back at him as he regained color and relaxed, then gentled her expression even as she turned away. "Besides, how could I even claim to love you if I did not wish for you to be happy?"
Less than a month later and they were married. It was a small ceremony, only her friends and his in attendance, the Grand Cleric personally overseeing the vows. Hawke said them firmly, pledging her life to be forever intertwined with his, and he strove to match her in dedication. Later Elthina pulled him aside while the others were congratulating and heckling his new bride and told him he'd found a good woman, and Sebastian agreed.
All through the next months, he knew it to be true. She looked out for her friends and helped them when they asked, within reason. She was a good woman. She walked such a narrow line between Knight-Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino, the line of the people of Kirkwall, that he doubted his parents could have done better. She was a good woman. She would sit down with him, in the evenings in the Chantry before she returned home, and clearly worry about both her friends and the city, to the point that he ached just to hold her close and tell her he would fix everything. She was a good woman.
And Sebastian had told himself a long time ago that good women would not be his downfall.
But when she smiled just right he wanted to kiss her, in front of everybody; he didn't care. When that rogue circle mage, Emile de Launcet, asked if she liked things dangerous, he wanted to do far more than mock the ignorant boy for flirting with her. When she'd decided to switch to pants when for the longest time he'd only seen her in skirts, he wanted to peel them off, with his teeth if possible. When people spread rumors that she was sleeping with the Guard Captain, he wanted to pin them to the wall with arrows and ask why the hell would she sleep with Aveline when she had him?
When he'd accompanied her to Chateau Haine to help with Tallis's questionable scheme, Varric had turned the tables on his friendly line of inquiry into marriage and asked him point blank if Hawke had talked him out of celibacy.
And Sebastian had frozen.
"Not yet," Hawke had quipped with a theatric sigh. And Sebastian knew she was right. Hawke was a good woman, and while she'd asked several times if he wanted to stay the night at her house, out of respect for his values she'd never pushed the issue. She didn't need to either. He was fully capable of questioning his own vows, not just of chastity but to the Chantry itself.
Because Sebastian wanted his wife. Wanted her in Lowtown, wanted her in Hightown, wanted her even on the Chantry floor if he could just figure out some way to do it in privacy. Wanted her since before he'd married her, wanted her still now, and probably would have even wanted her if she were the cruelest woman on earth. Wanted her in the purely carnal way, in a way he could promise that they would both enjoy.
And therefore he wanted her to be bad.
His forehead felt as if it were resting in the dried splatter of something foul, but Sebastian couldn't really find it in himself to care as he forced ruminations of the past away with a low groan. The past wasn't why he'd come to speak to Varric. It was the future that looked particularly bleak.
"Oh, now, now," Varric hushed like the caring nursemaid Sebastian knew he wasn't. No nurse toted around a crossbow like Bianca. "Surely it's not that bad."
"Check his pants," Isabela rejoined with relish from opposite the table, "and you might find that surely it is."
"I've already checked the buckle, Rivaini, and Andraste's still her stoic self. Now stop torturing the man. Haven't you ever wanted-"
There came a particularly telling pause in the conversation that was proceeding without him, and Sebastian lifted his head to find Isabela grinning smugly and Varric muttering to himself.
"You know what? Forget I even asked. I can tell that question's not going to go anywhere I want it." With one final tsk he turned back to Sebastian. "Really, choir boy, I'm going to ask you the same question because I don't think you answered it the first time. Soliloquies like you just gave me have made dwarves in the Merchant's Guild famous. Why can't you just tell Hawke that you want to sleep with her?"
Turning more fully to face one of Hawke's oldest friends, Sebastian leaned one arm onto the table and prepared to launch himself into explanation once more. "It's as I told you Varric. On the day I joined the Chantry as a Brother I made a solemn vow to the Maker of chastity. And when I married Hawke, she and I made those vows with the understanding that we would contin-"
"Vows like that are made to be broken," Isabela interrupted with a leisurely wave of her ale tankard. "I told you before you married her that you two wouldn't last the week, let alone the-"
"My weaknesses I fully admit to, but I'll not have you slander Hawke! She has been nothing but faithful to the-!"
"Children, children!" Varric broke in swiftly and firmly, slamming down his tankard with such finality that the waitress by the bar hurried over to refill it. "I'm getting tired of babysitting the two of you, and if you don't stop squabbling like rabid nug-lickers I'll leave you to sort your messes out by yourselves. You, too," he added firmly with a pointed finger at Isabela. "It's not like I get paid listening to you go on about that elf."
When the table was silent and everyone's mugs refilled, including Sebastian's since he feared speaking up to Norah would use up the last of Varric's patience, the dwarf took a long swallow, a deep breath, and started over. "Now, choir boy, I am going to repeat the question-"
"I have told you-"
"Repeat the question," Varric said again in a louder voice and an expression that clearly indicated that no one should interrupt him again, "after we go over some basics just so I get the story straight. At that time, you will tell me why you need my help, and then we will come up with a plan. Understood?"
Sebastian noted that both he and Isabela nodded demurely. At least he wasn't the only coward at this table.
"Alright," Varric began, his jovial mood returning as the hum of the tavern resumed around them, "here come the basics of this tale. First, you made a vow of chastity. No need to go over that as we've heard it repeatedly."
"Ad nauseum," Isabela added, her spirit for mischief returning now that she wasn't the focus of displeasure. Not that that usually stopped her. But as Sebastian knew there weren't many good drinking companions in the Hanged Man, no need to alienate one of the regulars. He ignored her comment, as did the dwarf.
"Second, Hawke agreed to this vow as a term of your marriage. As I was at the wedding, no need to review this either." He paused, as if waiting for Sebastian to contradict him, then continued. "Third, you have decided – and I don't care when, I honestly didn't need five minutes of rumination about that –"
"Neither did I."
"- you want to sleep with Hawke. But Fourth," he added quickly before anyone else could make any comments, "you believe that ultimately Hawke is a better person than you are and will want to stick to the vows you made at your wedding."
Isabela snorted. Sebastian sent her a sharp look but let it pass as he turned back to Varric. "Hawke agreed to join the Chantry alongside me when we took our vows, and I know she takes promises seriously."
Across from him, Isabela snorted again. "She's not a stone. Even Aveline enjoys being screwed senseless. And seriously? Ha, Hawke takes things seriously as often as I do."
Varric cut in before Sebastian could contradict this statement. "Now, Rivaini, you know as well as I do that when Hawke gives her word she follows through. You'd not be sitting here if she didn't."
Quieting, Isabela sat back and picked up her drink again. "Alright, I admit it. She's serious enough when it counts. And I suppose she'd be serious about her marriage. It always surprises me when I remember she's the family type."
"Heh, the fact that she still talks to her uncle should convince you of that." Varric turned his attention back to Sebastian. "But Isabela's not that crazy."
"Hey!"
"Hawke's no saint. I doubt they'll even pin her up in the Chantry as 'Sister of the Year'. She's a real person, I'd even go as far as to say she's a good person, but she's not infallible. Hell, yesterday I bluffed her out of ten sovereigns in a round of Wicked Grace."
Sebastian was not impressed. "That is because you are the best liar in all of Thedas."
"Hey, what can I say?" Varric answered with a shrug. "It's a gift. But don't try to get me off topic." Far too assessing eyes for a man who'd drunk as much ale as Varric had met Sebastian's. "I was there at the wedding. There were no vows of chastity in the entire thing. Did she honestly tell you that she would stick to it?"
No, Sebastian was forced to acknowledge as he swallowed compulsively. She'd never promised. But… "It was implied."
Varric sighed. "Choir boy…" he started, but dropped off when Sebastian held up a hand.
"Hear me out. I am not seeking out your help for nothing. Do you think I have not already spoken to Hawke?"
"Oh? Says the man who told me he was Starkhaven's biggest bad boy. You're disappointing me terribly."
"Will you let me finish?" Sebastian asked of Isabela's pout. "On the day I asked her to marry me, Hawke told me she would be my wife even if we never, ah, consummated our marriage. She told me that she couldn't truly say she loved me if she didn't want me to be happy. And she believes that my celibacy in honor of the Maker makes me happy."
A harrumph came from beside him. "While instead it's killing you. The poetic irony stings."
"Not sleeping with you because she thinks it's a sign of love?" Isabela shook her head. "I'm not sure whether to tell you that you had it coming or to buy you a drink."
After a moment of quiet reflection by all three companions at the table on the fickleness of fate, Sebastian took a swig of wine to fortify himself and then continued. "Since we've been married, Hawke has indicated that she would perhaps not always wish to remain chaste and has… occasionally invited me back to her home."
"Which should essentially be problem solved," Isabela noted wryly. "I'm sensing a huge 'but' coming."
"Two nights ago I told Hawke that I was feeling a bit too tired to make it all the way back to the Chantry by myself and did she mind if I spent the night with her. Instead of agreeing, however, she called Sister Seline," - and he had the ignominy of being known to need a Sister– "to walk me back to my bunk. It was if she couldn't – or wouldn't – consider that I was finally taking her up on her offer to end our chastity."
Both Isabela and Varric stared at him. After a moment, Varric gave a low whistle. "Ouch. Well, you knew she was stubborn when you married her, choir boy."
"I'm almost afraid to ask, but surely there isn't more to this story?"
"I thank Andraste daily that I've not suffered more than that," Sebastian replied.
Varric shook his head. "One refusal won't kill you. But I can see now why you came to us. Are you sure though, that you can't just ask her to sleep with you? Hawke is a reasonable woman. Most of the time, at least."
"I…" And here he had to pause. Sebastian considered himself to be overall a brave man. He'd been trained from a young age to the bow by his grandfather. He'd learned to command and fight following his brother's around. He'd been instructed in the intrigues of the court – a truly terrifying place – under his mother's tutelage. And he'd learned to face the reality of life and death from the inspiring example of the Grand Cleric. He was a man who stood for something, he did not often back down for fear. But… it struck him in the dead of night now, when ten years ago he never would have considered it: did Hawke truly agree to the chastity because she loved him, or did she agree to the marriage because of the chastity? A cold, dark fear, unworthy of the woman he loved. But he was not the young, confident buck he used to be, and if she turned him down again… "I don't think I could ask more than once," he finally said quietly. "And if I could it would be months, years…" And what was libido at that point? It would only be a regret to take with him before the Maker, when he had made the oath as a sign of loyalty. And what kind of vow was that?
"But if you told her about your discussion with the Grand Cleric," Varric started.
"It does not matter what Elthina has said, don't you see?" Sebastian cut in, gaining force in impatience. He should not have mentioned that he'd gone to the Grand Cleric first, though if they knew him they surely would have guessed, because her advice was the same as it had always been. "The Chantry has no laws that require its Brothers to celibacy."
"Hmm, I could have told you that," Isabela added. "Sister Nightgale would have been breaking that law all over Ferelden otherwise, and I doubt the Divine selects agents with those kind of… talents."
"Get your mind off your acknowledged but incredibly dirty past," Varric chided absent mindedly. "I know the Chantry has no law like that. Didn't Andraste herself have children? I'm asking why Hawke would still think our friend Sebastian here is exempt from that trial."
Sebastian shook his head. "Hawke knows that Elthina and I have not seen eye to eye on several topics. My vow was one of the first things we disagreed about when I came back to the Chantry: Elthina told me I would come to regret it and I know now that she was right. The Grand Cleric even encouraged Hawke to change my mind. But Hawke has defended me before Elthina even when I have been wrong. She is prejudiced to my decisions-"
Isabela rolled her eyes. "We all knew that."
"Hey, now," Varric inserted.
"-because of love, I believe, just as I am prejudiced towards her." He took a breath, then finished the wine in his glass, too depressed to care that he had already decided to stop a whole tankard ago. "She already knows the Grand Cleric's opinion, which hasn't changed. So therefore it doesn't matter."
"Hmm." Varric tapped the table with one hand as he appeared to review the facts. "So it seems like the only opinion that matters now is yours. Which, I'll point out, you've barely shared with her."
Sebastian opened his mouth, but Isabela got there first. "He was hardly trying. Of course Hawke wouldn't assume that 'let's have a sleepover' means 'mind-blowing sex,' not when the boy's been having less fun than a sponge for over ten years. Andraste's tits, he could have wanted to braid her hair and share secrets."
"Just… is that what you think of me?" Sebastian raised an incredulous eyebrow as he turned to the former pirate captain.
"I'm sure Isabela knew you'd be having the mind-blowing sex," Varric soothed absently. "Hawke is sometimes pretty naïve, though. You'll have to admit that occasionally Blondie and even you, Rivaini, have led her by the nose. Daisy has never managed it only because she's an incredibly bad liar."
A click of the tongue came from Isabela. "You're right, unfortunately. Why haven't we cured her of that yet?"
Varric laughed in reply. "Hawke said it herself. Most of her friends aren't nice people. I think that pretending that we are sometimes helps her get through the day. She did grow up with Junior after all."
"Oh, now, I think Carver's grown up quite well. He even offered to demonstrate how much…bigger he's gotten."
"Ha! Wait until I tell the elf you said so."
"You wouldn't -!"
"I don't see," Sebastian broke in loudly, not really ready to discuss the maturity of his brother-in-law, "why referring to ending our chastity vows in the same manner Hawke often does is 'hardly trying.'"
Both Varric and Isabela stopped to look at him. After a moment, the latter commented in a theatrical whisper, "Oh, Varric, he was trying."
Irritated, Sebastian replied, "I am admittedly out of practice. One does not exactly… chat Chantry Sisters up."
"With Sister Petrice running around that Chantry of yours, I can certainly see why." Varric shook his head for a moment before finishing off his ale and setting his tankard back on the table with a resounding thud. "Alright, it seems as if we've got ourselves a plan."
"A… What? When did you-?"
The echoing thud of Isabela's cup interrupted Sebastian's stunned remarks. "It does indeed. Oh, this is going to be so much fun! Please let me be the one to tell Aveline."
"The pleasure is all yours, Rivaini," Varric granted magnamoniously. "Be sure to round up the rest of the crowd as well. We're going to need all the help we can get."
Sebastian stared in consternation at the pair of them, thick as thieves in schemes he did not understand. "Tell her what? What do you need help with?"
Isabela giggled again, and Sebastian felt a shiver of unease. But it was Varric who answered. "Don't worry, choir boy. We're going to help you seduce your wife."
Only two days later Sebastian was back in the Hanged Man, again wondering if the Maker had decided his penitence was to be served in this world after all, at the hands of people that on other, better, less embarrassing days he would have called friends. He absolutely refused to drink any wine tonight, however. Confessional had been absolute torture with the hangover he had sported.
Varric had led them into a back room, perhaps deciding his embarrassment was to be kept among them until it could be aired at the right time for blackmail purposes or serve as the punch line to one of his infamous stories, and there they all were, Isabela, of course, as well as Aveline, Merrill, Anders, and Fenris. At least Carver wasn't here. Sebastian and his brother-in-law weren't on the best of terms – though sleeping with Hawke might actually make that better, surprisingly – and while he didn't relish receiving tips on how to 'seduce his wife' – Maker! – it was absolutely unimaginable that he'd receive them from her brother. Small mercies, apparently, did exist.
"So, the 'Scourge of Starkhaven Morality' has come to the restricted former Circle mage for instruction?"
Anders's crack earned him a forced face-plant into the table by Fenris, who sat next to him, and Sebastian thought that perhaps –
"Don't insult him, mage. It takes courage for a man to admit that he needs… help in this arena."
Thank you,Fenris, Sebastian thought with a spark of irritated if resigned irony. He honestly should be more patient, he was a man of the cloth, but it seemed as if this endeavor was going to strain all of his vows to the Chantry. The comment was not entirely unexpected from the man who had threatened to put a fist through his chest if he hurt Hawke, but still… what had Isabela been telling the others about him?
With a sigh Sebastian took a seat at the end of the table. "Even you, Aveline?"
The Guard Captain sitting next to him smiled her particularly pointed smile. "Hawke told me something very important once, you know. Friends sometimes push."
"At this moment," the Chantry Brother replied with a wry twist of lips, "I am not sure I am even thankful for our acquaintance, let alone friendship."
"Oh, neither was I when I heard those words," Aveline dismissed easily. "But every one of us is also here for Hawke. If you're not making her happy, I certainly want to know why."
"Perhaps I'm just trying to make her happier."
A cool gaze sized him up for several moments before the woman nodded. "Good answer. A bit smooth, in fact. Maybe you're not a lost cause after all."
"He's just a little out of practice," Isabela defended with a grin from the other end. "Soon every blushing young maiden who attends Chantry service will have to fear for her virtue."
"I certainly hope not," Fenris muttered.
"Fear for her virtue? In the middle of the Chantry? With all those people watching?" Merrill looked suitably horrified and unfortunately fascinated at the same time. "Wouldn't that be terribly embarrassing?"
Almost, in fact, as embarrassing as this moment. In the midst of Isabella's mirth, Sebastian shot Varric an expression that clearly said, Help me!
"Well, now," Varric interrupted, just as Sebastian remembered that Varric was the one to get him into this mess, "we don't need to go that far. But as Hawke herself has managed to cling to that maidenly virtue against odds, according to Anders, that are simply amazing, it doesn't hurt to have a goal."
Sebastian fought the urge to once again let his forehead commune with the table, repeatedly. Instead, calling upon the deep reserves gained from listening to yet another Sister sing 'Lead us, Andraste' off-key, he took a deep breath and said, "I would appreciate it greatly if what we speak of here does not pass any further."
Of course, the table of companions seemed to chorus. It was the best, he knew, that he was going to get.
Sighing, the target of this well-meaning tutelage surrendered. "Very well. How do you suppose I should broach the subject to Hawke?"
Three hours later, Sebastian had a full repertoire – most of it, he would admit, was sadly just a refresher – of dirty jokes. He was pretty sure he could pick up a barmaid in any tavern in Thedas. He knew just which phrases would get a pretty lass into a Tevinter Magister's bed – admittedly it didn't seem to require many – and which wouldn't get any mage worth her magic into a Templer's bed – apparently the whole Free Marches dictionary. He had been told that he should hold Hawke, but not too tightly, that he should let her be her own woman, and that he should repeatedly remind her that he respected her as the Champion even if they were sleeping together. He also was advised to bring her flowers, the pretty ones, not the prickly ones, oh, and with plenty of elfroot – it evidently meant he thought their relationship was worth saving. He'd thanked Merrill at this advice but told her that he didn't think Hawke was considering a divorce.
All in all, Sebastian felt he was as prepared to ask Hawke to, ah, become his wife in every sense of the word as he had been the day before, which was not at all. But when he'd finally voiced this opinion, Isabela had thrown her hands in the air and asked, "How much preparation do you need to tell a woman to put her arse in the air because you're going to praise her Maker until she knows the Chant backwards?"
Anders answered this with a decided whoop that turned into a choke as he set his mug down and hacked into his arm away from the rest of the table, but Aveline just looked mildly bemused. "Hadn't heard that one lately."
Isabela sniffed. "You have to judge your audience."
Beside Sebastian, Varric just shook his head. "Alright, I'll admit it, we didn't plan this one too well. After all, none of us are married to Hawke." At the soft sigh Sebastian released, though, he took a more firm tone. "But don't think we're through with you yet, choir boy. You're not sleeping with her either. You came to us for help," he reminded with a smile, "you haven't even seen the best of it."
The next evening they started role play. Sebastian had never appreciated his wife more. Oh, her friends had memorized a good deal of her mannerisms, that in itself was a little nerve-wracking, but in other things… Hawke did not giggle. She chuckled. In a charming manner. He could honestly say that he loved that little laugh she gave, when she found things funny when they shouldn't have been. That slightly muffled but uncontrollable chuckle. But her friends… giggled. In Merrill it was a bit cute, almost okay, really. In Aveline in was intimidating. In Isabela it was unnerving. And in Anders it was just downright scary. Fenris and Varric ignored the apparently rampant urge to giggle entirely. Sebastian was too relieved to speculate on their versions.
And when they really got into it, when Sebastian managed to deliver a few lines of romantic nonsense that could precede a leap into bed, scenes got entirely out of hand. Aveline became the most commanding Hawke Sebastian had ever seen, detailing exactly what was about to happen. Maybe to some people it was a turn on to hear the dirty little event played out with words before actions, but coming from Aveline it just felt as if he was going to be drilled at the end of the recitation. Isabela revealed the most promiscuous Hawke, purring absolute nonsense about the Chantry as she spilled into his lap. Sebastian had stared at her in amazement for a second before turning to Varric, who just rolled his eyes. Fenris barely managed to catch her hands before they delved beneath the belt line. Merrill was by comparison the easiest, as after his first practiced proposition she announced cheerfully, "Of course I'll sleep with you!" then ran to hug him before turning to the others and saying proudly. "There, done!"
"If only, Daisy," Varric had sighed back, before calling, "Next!"
Fenris's attempt was just awkward, Sebastian wasn't even sure he wanted to remember the details, and the elf had never actually agreed to sleep with him. If he was the friend that knew Hawke best, this was a bad omen. Anders had acted so feminine that Sebastian, in his amazement, had continually flubbed his seduction, and it was decided that after fifteen minutes with continued failures to just move on to the next actor.
Varric, hands down, was the best of the lot. His mannerisms were dead on, his personality appropriate, and his falsetto voice not half bad. It was just that, with his stocky height and full chest of hair, Sebastian was thrown every time he looked at him. He took to closing his eyes as they played out the rest of the now dreadfully familiar bedroom scene.
"No use looking away," Varric laughed as he ribbed the Chantry Brother. "In fifty years, I might just look better than Hawke. My family has always prided itself on how well we age."
"By the Maker, I have just pretended to sleep with every one of you. Grant me some respite." In fact the only thing he'd felt he'd learned this evening was how to deliver amazing lies under duress. Something surely – hopefully – that no true Chantry Brother would ever need.
The dwarf laughed again. "Alright. We'll leave this until tomorrow night, same time."
The next night they played diamondback. Sebastian was never happier to lose twenty sovereigns in his life.
"We're going to try the role playing thing again, choir boy," Varric announced the night after that, to the obvious disappointment of only Sebastian and Fenris. Everyone else seemed either thrilled or at least agreeable. "I figured out what we did wrong last time. I noticed none of your performances had the ease that a man needs when he's trying to convince a girl to sleep with him."
"He doesn't need ease," Isabela heckled gleefully. "Plenty of fun can be had with men decidedly not at ease. In fact, I think it makes it better."
"And I don't think choir boy needs any help in that department. Hawke can handle the 'unease' portion of this strategy. She seems to have done perfectly fine so far."
She did indeed, Sebastian thought, escaping into a haven of his memories of Hawke before her friends distorted them in odd ways. Especially in those new pants of hers. Her brother had even mentioned the Grey Wardens had a similar uniform for their female mages. Imagine, all that blue raiment up those long legs…
"Uh-hem," Varric interrupted with a pointed look. Sebastian had the good grace to blush before sitting up straighter. "As I was saying, a more suitable locale for this pretend seduction might be the Chantry."
Sebastian choked. "T-the Chantry is hardly the place for such a discussion! If the Grand Cleric overheard-"
"She might congratulate you?" Varric said on a sigh. "Look, the Chantry is a place where you often spend time with Hawke. How often, exactly, have you been invited into her bedchamber?"
"Not as often as he wants," Anders commented with a laugh.
"And there's no use preparing for a situation that will not occur," Varric continued. "The Chantry is as good a place as any. Honestly, I could have picked Hightown market."
Swallowing, Sebastian quieted. Fenris sighed. "Let's just get this over with," the elf requested.
Again came the parade of Hawkes. Varric first this time, to "put everyone into character," a comment directed pointedly to a certain elf. Sebastian struggled through with Varric's coaching given in asides: "A little more direct, choir boy. I'm not understanding that 'archery' equals 'fantastic sex.'" Fenris cut others in line to get his turn over with. It was as successful as the last pantomime. Sebastian was beginning to despair. And then came the line of 'lady' Hawkes, Anders included. At least Sebastian managed to respond correctly this time to the mage's trilled lines.
By the time he reached Isabela, Sebastian was resigned. Again the almost sacrilegious… scratch that, definitely blasphemous monologue about the Chantry as the former pirate captain puddled into his lap, played with his hair, stared into his eyes-
"What exactly is going on here?" a wry but displeased voice asked from behind him. A very familiar voice, one he almost always recalled with fondness. He didn't have to ask Isabela why she suddenly froze on his lap. Sebastian shifted to stand, prepared himself to give the most excruciatingly embarrassing explanation of his life.
"Hawke," Varric was saying, the address surprised and more than a little chagrined. "I didn't expect you to be back from visiting Junior so-"
"I noticed." The words were delivered lightly, still in that decidedly cheerful tone, but to the friends who had been listening to this woman speak for years, the clip at the end was like ice. Sebastian stood abruptly and barely caught Isabela by the arm before she dropped to the ground. The former pirate didn't pay him the least bit heed. Instead she was staring at the woman behind him with an intensity that was more unnerving than her giggles.
A sigh. Sebastian turned to look.
The beautiful woman he'd married let her glance skitter over him for the same length of time as everyone else in the room. He felt as if he'd been slapped. "You never invite me to your best parties anymore, Varric," she commented almost playfully as her eyes at last settled back on the dwarf. "Makes me want to go home and cry, honestly."
"Hawke," Merrill breathed restlessly behind him even as Aveline finally added her voice in a commanding, "Hawke, you need to listen to us."
But his wife was a leader herself, Sebastian knew this very well. It was one of the reasons why he'd followed her all those years ago, why he still followed her. Ignoring the instruction, she shook her head, the smile playing across her lips decidedly placed and decidedly unhappy. "I think I've heard just about all I need to tonight. If you want to, you can speak to me, oh, maybe tomorrow. Until that time I'm afraid I just won't be home to visitors." Her gaze flicked to Varric once more, before sliding to Isabela. "Exactly as you planned?"
And then she turned on her heel and left. Varric was rubbing at his forehead with a grimace on his face while the woman still in Sebastian's grip reeled.
"That… probably wasn't the best scenario," Anders finally said quietly.
"No shit," Varric muttered back.
Isabela snapped with a sudden harshness back to reality. A slim knife pressed insistently into Sebastian's neck, wild eyes met his, and the former pirate captain issued the calmest and deadliest threat he had ever received. "You will fix this. That was the only true friend I have ever had who walked out that door, hating me, all because you lack the balls to tell her how you truly feel. You will fix this!"
"Let him be, Rivaini," Varric interrupted placidly, dropping his hand to glance over at the pair of them. "This is as much our fault, yours and mine, as it is his. Perhaps more so. It was all fun and games until we remembered who we might be hurting."
The knife slid from his neck but Sebastian remained completely still. From the back of the room, Fenris's solemn voice announced, "Every one of us was at fault." Merrill sniffled.
Glancing at her, Sebastian knew what he had to do. "I'll fix it." He smiled a bit as Merrill turned big, worried eyes to his face. The rest of the room, he felt, moved their attention with her. "Isabela is right. It's my fault. I should have been honest with Hawke from the beginning. Instead it was my weakness that brought all of us here. Don't worry, I'll explain everything and she'll be here with you tomorrow, joking about how silly we were." His smile turned a little rueful. "Just… don't forget that elfroot idea, lass."
Turning abruptly, he left before they could do anything other than stare at him, left perhaps before he lost the courage to do what he said he would. By the time his feet hit the streets of Lowtown he was jogging. By Hightown he was running.
So what if he got turned down? So what if Hawke had married him for the safety of a chaste marriage? Who cared? She'd married him, hadn't she? She'd told him she loved him, hadn't she? He'd live all his days in celibacy and not regret a one as long as she wanted to be part of them. Her love, her happiness, was all he needed at this point to make him happy.
He slowed to a walk a block away from her house. That was it, wasn't it? Perhaps she hadn't really understood his reasons for wanting a chaste marriage, but he hadn't really understood her reasons for accepting it. But now he thought that maybe he did. For her happiness, he'd do anything. Lower his head to the floor, beg for hours, leave her as untouchable as the moon for the rest of his days, anything she wanted if she would just let him-
Bodahn stood outside the door.
Sebastian came to a complete halt, pondering the meaning of this move. Hawke had been in foul moods before, he knew full well that, as Varric had said, she was no saint, but she'd never barred her door with the dwarf she'd taken in under her roof. It seemed, he felt, like a very poor sign.
But her friends, his friends, had not been entirely wrong. He wanted, ultimately, to woo his wife. If not into his bed, then at least into forgiving him, into listening to his explanation. It wasn't a bad idea to stick with the ways he knew, surely it was not philandering to flirt with your own wife, surely the Maker, in Sebastian's greatest hour of need, would understand. And he had just gotten a lot of unrealistic, even mostly unhelpful, but still a lot of hours of practice. Taking a deep breath, Sebastian strode up to the dwarf stationed almost militantly on the stoop.
"Mistress Hawke is not currently receiving visitors, sir."
"Is that so?" Sebastian replied, feeling his words roll back into a stronger accent even as his manner became more reminiscent of what it had been when he resided with his family. "Well then, would you please tell Madame Vael that under the rules of the Starkhaven court I don't count as a 'visitor.'"
Bodahn stared at him for a moment, a very assessing stare Sebastian noted, which he would have appreciated in the man often guarding his wife's house had it not been turned on him, before bowing. "Very well, sir. If you will remain here."
Sebastian also noted the last line was phrased as a request, but delivered as a command. And this was the shopkeeper, the supplier, that had traveled with Hawke to the Deep Roads?
Bodahn returned in less than two minutes, straightening his tunic before he addressed the man still waiting. "My mistress bids me to inform you that while you may be currently married, this is not your house nor even Starkhaven, she is not your 'Madame', she is Champion of Kirkwall, and you are not-"
A very poor sign indeed. "Thank you," Sebastian interrupted, sidestepping the dwarf to open the door, "but your mistress and I will continue our conversation inside. Personally," he added, just in case there was any confusion.
"Sir, you are not to enter the house!"
"Oh?" the young Chantry Brother paused only for a moment. "Then I suppose you can call this breaking and entering." The door opened wide enough for him to slip into the front foyer. Blustering, Bodahn slammed in behind him.
"If you continue, I will alert the guard!"
"Be my guest," Sebastian invited, swerving around the surprisingly quick blockade the dwarf was trying to impose. "After all, why should Aveline be allowed to return to Guardsman Donnic while I suffer?"
"This is my last warning, sir! You are forcing me to-"
"Bodahn."
Sebastian glanced up. In the center of the main hall, just past the door, Hawke stood staring at him solemnly, dressed in her favorite crimson robe, nary a smile to be seen. He came to an abrupt halt, and only stumbled slightly as Bodahn staggered into the back of him.
"Y-yes?" the dwarf replied, winded.
"I'll take it from here. You may retire for the night."
Straightening, the former supplier puffed up his chest. "By your leave, I would prefer to remain on guard."
Hawke glanced to the dwarf, then returned her eyes to Sebastian. "Very well," she allowed, the comment to both of them. She tilted her head, and this time he knew the instruction was just for him. "Follow me."
Watching her almost warily, Sebastian made his way behind her into the side room, following Hawke up to the second floor library. Moving to the small desk on the left, his wife turned her back to him as she flipped through old documents.
"You're angry," Sebastian announced inanely after a few moments, his smooth tongue leaving him in this moment of tense unhappiness that stretched between them.
He knew the smile that answered this by the sudden tilt of her jaw in profile. No whisper of it reached his heart. "You know, it is amazingly difficult to hold one's temper at all times. Much like holding a burning plate, I imagine. Sometimes you just have to… let go."
"Please. If there is any time, you must know that at this moment you may tell me the tru-"
"I am tired, Sebastian. I have just returned from a visit with Carver, and while we mostly get on nowadays, the Grey Wardens are not… None of my visits there are easy. And when I arrive at the Chantry this evening they tell me you are at the Hanged Man, as you have been for the last four nights, for the fifth time this week. And when I arrive there…"
"Will you listen if I try to explain it to you?"
Hawke spun to face him at this. "Explain?" She laughed a little, a painful laugh to his ears. "What is there to explain? So Varric throws a party-"
"It was not a party," Sebastian interrupted, taking a step closer. When she did not back up, he dared another one. "It was not a party," he repeated, "it was a gathering of your closest friends because evidently I don't make you as happy as they wish."
After a moment, Hawke snorted and muttered, "That is none of their-"
"They were right." Looking at the evidence now, he knew it was true. "If you cannot trust me, love, you should at least trust Isabela. She would cut off her hand before she hurt you."
At this, the woman in front of him sighed and shook her head. "It is not that I don't trust you, Sebastian." She narrowed her eyes at him and then rolled them as if the very idea was unthinkable. "It is just…"
He took another step and watched as she tilted her head back to meet his eyes before glancing away. "Just what?"
Hawke only shook her head again, mouth drawn tight in wry amazement at what could only be herself, before she straightened up and lifted her gaze to him once more. This, he thought with a surge of affection even as he braced himself for her answer, was the woman he had fallen in love with, who would face anything with a steady hand and eyes wide open. "Jealousy is not a pretty emotion. I know Isabela will not betray me. I still don't appreciate her practically plastered all over your lap."
Surprised, Sebastian took another step forward. This time Hawke backed up to keep eye contact. "And I as surely don't enjoy it when you take trips without me. It makes me start to do downright ridiculous things out of loneliness."
"Ridiculous?" There was a moment when Hawke was clearly at a loss for words, and he lifted an eyebrow at the rarity. But her voice came back to her as she backed up another step and he advanced. "Like decide to replace me with Isabela?"
"Like decide to listen to the advice of your friends. When it now strikes me as a bloody miracle that they managed to have any lasting relationships at all."
The frown of confusion that etched her face was almost as lovely as the wry quirk of lips that followed it. "Bloody? Sebastian. What would the Grand Cleric say?"
Instead of answering immediately, he set his hands about her waist and boosted her up onto the tabletop, Hawke's hands clutching the front of his armor in surprise. "Oh, now, it was Elthina who truly gave me the best advice of anyone. She didn't tell me what to say or how to say it."
"Oh?" Hawke asked, clearly distracted by his hands still at her waist, the thumbs of which were stroking back and forth across her sides. Her face had turned a becoming shade of pink but even as he watched she drew on the firm control he knew she possessed and met his eyes once more. "And what did she tell you then?"
In reply Sebastian leaned down and let his lips hover less than a hands length from hers. "She told me to sleep with my wife."
Immediately, Hawke stilled beneath his hands, her own reaching to grip his forearms and stop his movement. It was not exactly a response he expected from a woman who had just told him she was jealous, then let him boost her on to a table, but it was a reaction from Hawke that did not surprise him. When she was certain that he was still, her hands moved up to tentatively hold his face.
"Sebastian, you do not have to do what the Grand Cleric tells you to."
He smiled a bit sadly. "And do you think so little of me, that I'd do anything Elthina asked?"
She frowned and looked unhappy at that remark, and he almost wanted to add that he'd do anything she asked, but by the time he opened his mouth she had already found her words. "No. I do not. If you were not your own man I would never have met you. But… the vows you make are important to you, Sebastian. And therefore they are important to me."
"And the things you want, love, are important to you. And therefore they are important to me."
Hawke stared back at him seriously and he could feel that she was trying to impart that seriousness to him, so that he understood what she was saying. "I do not want to have sex with you if it means the breaking-"
Sebastian interrupted before she could finish, knowing it was cowardice, but knowing also that he had to correct her understanding before she could correct his.
"I made that vow as a young man, disillusioned with the world, new to the joy of the Maker, a young man who had thought he had finally found his life's one purpose. When I made this vow," he continued pressing his forehead to hers as she tried to comment, "I had never thought to marry. I was the youngest son in a powerful but large family. I was now a man of the cloth. Youngest sons who are Brothers of the Chantry," he explained with a rueful smile, "do not often marry. And when I made this vow, the Grand Cleric cautioned me against it."
"I know she did, but that does not mean-"
"Hush, just for a moment. She was right to caution me. I had lived with almost no lustful temptation in my life for years before I met you. I was unprepared. I wanted you, but I had made a vow. Time passed and I said little. I grew to love you, I still wanted you, and I thought that perhaps I could have what I wanted without breaking the vow, that I could be smarter than the Grand Cleric. It was hubris driving my request for a chaste marriage. And pride is no reason to maintain that vow. It is not the sentiment with which I made it and it is the feeling, not the vow itself, that the Maker is asking for. Besides, I have discovered since our marriage that I cannot keep it anyway."
The look on her face was absolutely rebellious. She had taken up his pennant and was going to ride to his aide as his champion even after he had yielded the field. He loved it, he'd known she was stubborn when he'd married her, but it wasn't making this easy for him.
"You can keep it. I will help you. I will talk to the Grand Cleric-"
"I cannot keep it," he denied, but gently. She was fighting for what she thought was his happiness after all, just as he was fighting for hers. "Because I want you."
"You have me," Hawke insisted. "We married."
"Listen," Sebastian instructed, then slid his hand out of her grasp and very firmly upwards to cup her breast. "Feel it. This cannot happen in a chaste marriage. Because I want you, all of you, I cannot keep the vow." He stepped one more step, the second to last step, spread her knees to rest against his hips, and touched his mouth to the corner of hers, teasingly, as if just for a taste. "And I will be happy to break it."
He drew back then, just slightly to meet her eyes and found them wide open but dilated with desire. They gave him hope, they gave him confidence, and they gave him more than a little of the 'unease' Isabela had claimed was so important. They allowed him to ask the question. "Do you want to have, hm, I believe the phrase was 'mind-blowing sex?'" He smiled a little as she blinked and dropped her brow in amused befuddlement. But he grew more serious as he continued. "I am out of practice, love, forgive me. But will you break the vow?"
The confusion cleared a little as her mouth pursed but the amusement remained. "Isabela," Hawke muttered.
"Actually, you'll likely be unrelieved to find that everyone was involved in that fiasco."
His wife only snorted out a laugh. "You were right: that was a downright ridiculous thing to do." But instead of waiting for his reply, she leaned towards him, winding her arms over his shoulders and tilting her head to fit with his. Before he could close the distance, she whispered her answer, and this time the smile that accompanied it tied his heart permanently to hers. "But break the vow? Please. It will be my pleasure."
He could admit it. She was the better flirt. But he found he honestly didn't care, as she stripped him of half his armor, as he took that final step and demonstrated just how well they fit, as she murmured almost sternly between moans that she had a bed for a reason. He'd slipped her past the sleeping Bodahn and gloried in that wicked smile she wore. He'd wanted his wife, and he'd wanted her to be bad.
But she also proved him right late that evening, as she curled against him in sleep with a soft smile curving across her lovely face. She restored his faith in the Maker with every breath, as easily as he'd broken his vow. This was Hawke, this was his wife, and she was a good woman.
The next day Hawke had been the one to insist that they gather the rest of his co-conspirators once more. She told him, however, that she would not be the one to send out the invitation, let her friends sweat, and though he had cautioned her that uncharitable feelings tended to hurt those who had them more than those they were turned against, he complied easily with her request. After all, as Varric had said, his wife was no saint.
They'd gathered, all seven of them, Sebastian included, in that back room of the Hanged Man, at the same time as the last four nights, and sat in near silence, waiting for Hawke to arrive. Each of them, Varric, Isabela, Aveline, Fenris, Anders, and Merrill, would take turns glancing at him before hurriedly turning away. They were nervous, and their skittishness affected him in turn, so that even he waited in tense anticipation of when the woman who had collected them together as friends would walk in.
Fenris was the one who finally broke the silence. "Did you follow her?"
"I did," Sebastian answered. He almost felt tempted to ask after the elfroot, but that had been Merrill's suggestion and as misguided as she could sometimes be he didn't truly wish to upset her, and so instead he told the truth. "I explained what had happened."
"Did she believe you?" Isabela asked quickly, her head bobbing up at his words.
Almost immediately, he thought. "Yes."
A nearly palpable tension left the room. Anders even laughed, if a little creakily.
"So," Varric said after a moment, rubbing his chin, "there seems to be only one question left. Did you succeed, choir boy?"
Before he could answer, two raps came at the door. Perfunctory sounds. It opened only an instant later and Sebastian could tell who it was without turning to look due to the immediate attention they garnered from the rest of the room. He turned anyway.
And froze. Hawke stood there as expected, but she was wearing a new outfit, a decidedly blue outfit, with pants… Andraste help him, he sat riveted while she began her revenge in the minor key.
"Like it?" she asked, the comment directed to Isabela, as if just yesterday they were discussing hat shops. "Carver found an old one, a discarded uniform design. He said if the Grey Wardens didn't need it, I was certainly welcome to take it home. He certainly has grown up, hasn't he?" Casually she stepped into the room, ignoring the little start and guilty flush from the former pirate captain.
Looking around, she gave a little tsk of annoyance in the still hushed room. "Oh, now, that can't be right. It looks as if I wasn't expected." The entire room jumped at the pronouncement, and a little tug in his heart told Sebastian that Hawke was smiling, just a tad, even if he couldn't see it on her face. "There's no extra chair," she finished.
But when Anders guiltily stood she ignored him, instead walking purposefully to Sebastian's side and looking down at him. "I suppose it doesn't matter. I can see there's plenty of room here." And promptly sat on his lap.
Varric even winced at that one.
But Merrill by this time, had found her voice. "Soooo, does this mean…"
"That it's 'done?'" Hawke asked, amusement bell clear in her voice. She gentled, though, before speaking again. "Yes, Merrill, it's done."
Aveline shook her head before she spoke up. "You said it before, Hawke, friends-"
"Push? Yes, I did. I also recall several moments where the bounds of friendship were tested. On both sides, I'll grant you." She glanced at the Guard Captain before sighing and smiling a bit crookedly. "But I'll answer the question that's likely on the top of everyone's list. Was it worth it?" Settling more firmly onto her makeshift seat, crossing her legs, and snaking one arm around Sebastian's neck, she let the smile grow. "Hearing that Varric can imitate me like a professional actor, that Aveline knows the sexual process better than a dirty book, that Anders can pass as a woman named Miss Kitty Whiskers, and that the rest of you cannot act to save your life? Hmm, certainly fascinating, I'll give it that." As the room broke into objections and mocking banter, Sebastian watched Hawke's eyes meet Isabela's directly across the table. "But the 'mind-blowing sex?' Totally worth it."
Staring back at her, the former pirate captain finally let out an incredulous laugh as she smiled slowly. "See, didn't I tell you? And you wouldn't believe me."
"I believe you," Hawke returned easily, settling once more into Sebastian's makeshift seat. He in turn tried very firmly to not concentrate on her proximity or those blue pants, though parts of him were insisting quite firmly that he was failing, as she continued. "But the next time you sit in my husband's lap, I'll be learning how to steal a ship. And I'm a very bad sailor."
"You wouldn't!" Isabela replied with a scandalized gasp, still smiling. "What on earth would you do with it?"
"I'm not sure," Hawke said thoughtfully. "What will you do with Sebastian?"
"Oooh. And now I want to say nothing. You've gotten much better at that. Don't you think, Varric?"
But Varric was shaking his head in rueful admiration. "You're an amazing woman, Hawke, you know that? A little scary, but still… But I'd watch out for choir boy here if I were you. He's got astonishingly loose lips."
"Says the man who frequently tells people I killed a dragon in the middle of Hightown. Really Varric, never mind the how, where did I do that?"
"Where else?" Varric easily asked back. "The Viscount's Keep."
And at Hawke's cheerful laughter amidst all her closest friends, Sebastian smiled.
She said I don't mind if you don't mind
'Cause I don't shine if you don't shine
…
The stars are blazing like rebel diamonds cut out of the sun
When you read my mind
-The Killers