"Good evening, my love."
Marian was a hair too slow looking up from her worktable. Sebastian struggled not to look at the sun branded on her forehead, though she was beyond caring if he did.
"Good evening, Sebastian." Her voice was mechanical, like a bad imitation, but she stood up from her work and crossed the foyer to take his hands in hers. She didn't attempt to smile or express joy at his arrival—when she had tried, the performance was so wrong that Sebastian had been nearly driven to tears, and she had chosen to not try again—but she kissed him on the cheek. That was real, something he'd never asked her to do. "How are you today?"
"I've sent out all the letters I needed to. Varric was kind enough to put me in contact with people who will get my messages where they need to go as fast as possible. Soon, I will return to Starkhaven, and I can begin taking the crown in earnest." Sebastian brought her hands to his mouth and brushed his lips against her knuckles. She didn't visibly react, but he did his best to not take that personally. "I can't wait to show you my home. It's beautiful."
"It would be nice to see it," Hawke said mildly, like she were idly commenting on the color of the sky.
"You will be the most beautiful queen Starkhaven has ever seen." Sebastian led her to the couch, where they could both sit down and he could still hold her hands. "And you'll have nothing less than you deserve. Silks, gold, any fine things you desire would be yours."
She blinked slowly at him. A part of her always seemed like it was on the edge of taking a nap these days. "Are you certain you would like me to be your queen?"
"What kind of question is that?" Sebastian rubbed his thumbs between her knuckles. "I made a vow to you. I promised to love and cherish you until death. There is no one I'd rather have as my queen."
"You made that vow before I was made Tranquil," said Marian.
The careless bluntness she used when cutting his heart never failed to catch him off guard. He looked down at her hands, focusing on those when a part of him wanted to just cry. Her hands were so soft. She had some calluses from wielding a staff, but those were fading.
"I have broken many vows in my life." His vow to forsake worldly concerns—broken when his family died. His vow to take no bride but Andraste—broken when he married Marian, even if it was a chaste marriage. His vow to serve the Chantry… no, he didn't feel he had broken that, but rather the Chantry had broken its vow to him. The Grand Cleric knew that Meredith was coming for Marian, and she had said nothing. No one except Marian's friends had fought for her, and they weren't enough. The Templars had corrupted the Maker's word, and the Chantry would rather ignore it and allow innocents to suffer rather than risk political unpleasantness. He had never vowed to serve the wicked and the corrupt, and that's what the Templars and Sisters were in this city. "But I will never break a vow I made to you."
"I will not be able to assist in most of the social responsibilities of a queen. I will not be able to act as a diplomat, nor will our pairing produce any heirs unless we have sex."
Sebastian winced. He was still getting used to her bluntness, even after so long of taking care of her. She had a point, of course: he couldn't bear to take her when she wasn't capable of wanting him to, despite her assertions that she didn't mind (she didn't mind much of anything anymore). No heirs would be a problem down the line, and a Tranquil queen would leave him depending mostly on the nobility, who may not always have his best interests at heart.
"That's a bridge we can cross later." He studied her face. He didn't know why, because she didn't have any expressions anymore. "Do you not want to be my queen, Marian?"
"I have no preference on the matter." Of course that was her answer. He was ready for her to leave it at that, but she cocked her head, studying his eyes. "I would prefer to continue living with you. I can be your queen, or I can be a mistress if you would find that more convenient."
Normally, he'd beg her to not suggest him keeping her on the side like she was nothing, but he was too stuck on what she said beforehand.
His grip on her hands tightened. His throat constricted. "You'd prefer to be with me?"
"Yes. You provide me with protection, purpose, and affection. Continuing to live with you would be ideal." She stared at his eyes as they became glassy, taking in his harsher grip, his trembling hands. "You find this surprising."
"I'm sorry, my love." Sebastian quickly rubbed his eyes. "I just didn't realize you cared whether I was here anymore."
"This distressed you." Her hands were still between his, then slowly, she withdrew one hand so she could pat his knuckles, some facsimile of a comforting gesture. The intent alone was enough to soothe him. "I apologize. I will be more verbal about my appreciation in the future. You are good to me, Sebastian, and I prefer your company to your absence."
"You are an amazing woman, Marian. Even as a Tranquil, you bring me to my knees." He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. If Elthina could see them now, she would be shaking her head, taking this as a sign of how far Sebastian had fallen, how desperately lonely he was that he was ready to cry over a mild declaration like this. Sebastian ignored this imaginary Elthina because it wasn't about how mild it was in comparison to what he used to have. It was about how powerful a preference was in a Tranquil, almost as though their shared love was too strong to disappear entirely under the brand. Hawke still loved him, even if all her emotions were taken from her.
It was a balm on a festering wound in his heart. He hated how much he wanted her to return his love, hated the shooting envy in his chest when he saw happy couples, hated the stirring in his loins when he saw a particularly beautiful woman with a bright smile on her face. It was all so unfair to Hawke, who had lost so much despite being so good. He wasn't worthy of her.
"It may be dangerous in Starkhaven with the political troubles, but I don't want to leave you near the Templars without me to protect you." Sebastian couldn't help but smile at Marian, too happy to care that she didn't smile back. "Carver has requested a transfer to the Starkhaven Circle, and Isabela has offered us the use of a new ship she's somehow obtained. Fenris agreed to come with us as extra protection. The five of us will go together, and Isabela can act as messenger to everyone back here."
"I am surprised Carver wishes to join us," Hawke said. "He does not seem to like being near me."
Sebastian squeezed her hands. "He's chasing rumors of a cure. Between him, Varric, and Anders, they will find something."
"He can't look at me when we're in the same room."
It was hard to explain Carver's feelings, considering the man hadn't talked about them. Meredith had hid her plans from Carver. She'd even hid her plans from her own Knight-Captain, instead picking out some select Templars that Hawke had crossed over the years to do her dirty work. Logically, there had been nothing Carver could have done to stop it.
That didn't stop half of their group from blaming him, and that didn't stop Carver from spiraling. Carver had volunteered to keep Marian company on the days Sebastian couldn't during those first weeks, but Carver was visibly ill after every day he spent with his sister, and he took to drinking when he wasn't with Marian or the Templars. Sebastian stopped asking Carver to watch over her and Carver stopped offering. Instead, Carver searched desperately for a cure in between playing the obedient Templar and sending Sebastian and Marian all his wages.
"Give him time, my love." That was all Sebastian could say, because he didn't know if Carver would ever be able to face his sister again. Everyone knew that Carver had resented Marian, and that joining the Templars had just been an extension of the constant struggle between them, but that didn't mean that Carver didn't grieve her loss. "Everyone else will join us in Starkhaven after I've taken the crown. Then we will march on the Templars of Kirkwall and get you justice."
Hawke nodded. She had never expressed a preference for justice, but it was the one notion uniting the whole group in the absence of her magnetic personality. Even Anders and Fenris were willing to get along for that end.
"What is the Circle like in Starkhaven?"
Sebastian frowned, his brows furrowing. "I'll admit I don't really know. When I lived there, I didn't pay much mind to the Circle. But I promise you, when I am king, I'll do a thorough evaluation of the Circle and its practices. No mages will suffer like you did while I'm in charge."
Hawke nodded again. "That seems for the best."
"Come, my darling," he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, right on her brand. "Let's have dinner. There will be much to do in the coming days."
Carver thought that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to see Marian again. It had been a month or so, and surely it couldn't be as bad as he remembered, right?
He was wrong. So wrong.
Marian walked at Sebastian's arm like a ghost. His sister had been all light and acid and laughter since infancy, and now her eyes were blank, looking at her brother and her 'husband' like they were indistinguishable from strangers. Her brand puckered and darkened the skin of her forehead, and it screamed at him even when she didn't.
You did this. You wanted your sister gone so badly and now she's gone.
It was unnatural how cheerful and loving Sebastian sounded when he spoke to her, detailing his plans for gaining the crown and describing Starkhaven and urging her to admire the ocean after they set sail. No one else could manage talking to Marian like that. Even Fenris and Isabela avoided looking at her, and could only manage strained small talk. How did Sebastian do it?
Carver hated him for it. He hated that some uppity prince easily took better care of his sister than he could. Marian was all he had left, and he'd continually spat in her face up until she was gone. Carver should have been sacrificing everything to care of her, not Sebastian.
And yet he couldn't even fucking look her in the eyes. What a great brother he turned out to be. Bethany would have doted on Marian. Either of their parents would have never left her side. Even fucking Gamlen offered to take her in after he heard the news, promising to keep her in food and clothes and off the street if no one else did. Carver alone was the shame of the Hawke family, and it was for no reason other than his own weakness.
He had asked Isabela to put her booze stash under lock and key specifically so he could avoid temptation, and by the first night, he was sorely regretting that.
There was no sleeping on the ship. His hammock kept rocking back and forth, Fenris glowed in his sleep on the hammock opposite from his, and he kept thinking about Marian and that brand on her face.
Carver eventually made his way to the kitchen. If he couldn't sleep on his own, then he'd hunt down Isabela's stash to help him.
The kitchen was dark. That was why he made it all the way to the cabinets before he noticed his sister sitting at the table.
She sat there silently, papers neatly spread out in front of her, staring at him. Carver jumped with a yell, pressing a hand over his racing heart. "Maker, you gave me a heart attack."
"I apologize." Marian folded her hands on the table, still staring at him. It was like the corpse of his sister insisted on walking around and haunting him.
"I, uh…" Even as he inwardly cringed at his cowardice, Carver backed up towards the door. "I'll leave you to your… whatever you're doing."
"I am designing a new enchantment. Sebastian's bid for the crown is likely to provoke violence and it is best if your weapons are enchanted before engaging." Her eyes followed him across the room. Alert, but empty. "Why did you choose to come with us?"
"What kind of question is that?" Carver was ready to snap at her just like he always used to, but he bit his tongue. He wasn't going to yell at his Tranquil sister. He wasn't going to kick her when she couldn't defend herself. Instead, he turned the venom in his mouth into a weak joke. "You didn't think you could just leave me behind with Gamlen, did you?"
She didn't laugh, of course, nor did she have a clever comeback. "You find my presence distressing."
"No, it's not…" Carver swallowed thickly, the reassuring lies creeping down his constricting throat like sludge.
"You do not need to spare my feelings, Brother. I have none."
Carver looked at the ceiling, anywhere except Marian. "Sister…" His voice cracked. He shut his mouth. He should leave. It wasn't like his sister would care that he was avoiding her.
It felt wrong to just go, though. Like he was failing her all over again after a long string of failures.
"I took you for granted, Sister." He shook his head, still staring at the ceiling. "You practically raised me after Father died. You fought and sacrificed for our family, and all I could do was resent you. Even after Mother…" Carver rubbed his eyes. They were getting too wet. "I'm sorry I was such a bad brother. I'm sorry that I'm still a bad brother."
And there it was. Marian deserved better. She'd always deserved better, but he was just too caught up in some imaginary pissing contest to see it.
"Perhaps you would find it reassuring to know that I always loved you regardless of our conflict." Hearing her say something like that in that wretched neutral tone was like a knife in his gut. "I am not capable of loving you like I did, but I do not blame you for my Tranquility, nor for your discomfort in my presence."
"Don't. Please don't." Carver covered his face. His eyes were overflowing. He could only hold his breath and try to make them stop.
"I have made your distress worse. I apologize." He could hear her folding her papers up and tucking them under her arm. "I will work elsewhere."
She brushed against him on her way out. Her arm was warm, just like any other person's.
"Sister." He took his hands from his eyes. She stood at the doorway, watching him with mild interest. "I still love you, even if you can't. I'm sorry that I haven't been there for you like I should. I promise that I'll get better."
"You do not have to. Sebastian takes sufficient care of me."
"You don't deserve sufficient." Carver rested a hand on her arm. It was warm, but entirely relaxed, like she didn't even notice him touching her. "You deserve the world. Maker knows you gave it to me when I asked."
He squeezed her arm, but she didn't respond. It was like touching a doll. He withdrew his hand. "I failed you so many times. I won't fail you anymore."
Marian didn't respond, so Carver left her with that.
He didn't sleep any better.
The politics were a mess. One noble made the grave mistake of hiring thugs to rough up Marian as a threat to Sebastian. Marian of course remained unharmed, because it had been Carver's turn to look after her, and he slaughtered the attackers before they made it to her room. Fenris and Isabela had then been kind enough to break into the nobleman's house and kill him and all his guards.
Sebastian may have once felt sorry to seek vengeance like that, but nothing mattered more than keeping his wife safe. If the nobility of Starkhaven chose to sink to such means, then they should not be shocked when it backfired.
After a few weeks of intense politicking and maneuvering, Sebastian was crowned king. He was already married to Marian, and he wanted to spare her the pressure of large public crowds, so her crowning as queen was a private affair. It was just the two of them with the Seneschal and all their friends, freshly taken from Kirkwall. Sebastian had even brought in Gamlen, promising him temporary lodging in Starkhaven so Marian could have all her remaining family there. (It was also so that Gamlen wouldn't be in Kirkwall when Sebastian began his march on the Templars.)
Marian was radiant, as usual. Sebastian paid attention to that, to the way that his mother's crown settled on her brow with all the dignity due to a queen, to the way her hand neatly folded in his, rather than to the unsettled feeling in the room.
Isabela passed around beer, loud to make up for the quiet, but one woman alone couldn't muffle the uneasiness. Carver and Fenris flanked Hawke and Sebastian as guards, stoic and silent. Aveline sat uncomfortably in her chair, stiff with her hands folded in her lap. Merrill's smiles were clearly forced, though she tried to smile throughout the whole ceremony. Gamlen was partaking in Isabela's beer even more than usual, and seemed more interested in peeking down Isabela's shirt than anything. Varric kept leaning back in his chair, watching with a grimace and his arms folded.
Anders was the worst. He wasn't even watching. He was staring at the floor, his hands folded as if in prayer.
The crown glittered with diamonds in Hawke's black hair. As the Seneschal formally pronounced her Queen of Starkhaven, Sebastian kissed her cheek.
"I love you, my queen."
Merrill broke into cheerful clapping. Isabela joined a moment later after kicking Gamlen in the shins, and after another moment, others joined in slowly, a trickle of polite applause. Sebastian smiled at Marian. She didn't smile back, of course. He wished she would.
"Oh, I always love weddings. I know this is a crowning, but it feels like a wedding, doesn't it?" Merrill said, jumping up from her seat.
"Now we have a queen and a Templar in the family," Gamlen said, raising his fourth glass of beer. "Cheers to you kids for dragging our family out of the gutter." His eyes lingered on Marian, then he took another long drink.
Everyone stood up, giving their congratulations to the couple personally, or in some cases, taking the chance to drink even more.
"Congratulations to the both of you," Aveline said stiffly with a bowed head. "Sebastian, when you have a moment, I'd like a word."
"Of course, Aveline," said Sebastian with a smile he didn't feel. She would want to talk to him again about his plans for the Kirkwall Templars. She was afraid of casualties, afraid of what it meant to march on a city with the intention of forcefully removing Meredith from power. Sebastian understood her fears, but Meredith was dangerous, and the crime she committed against Marian would not go unanswered. Good men understood when they had to die for a cause greater than them.
"The ceremony was lovely, Sebastian." Anders' voice was soft, but weighted. Sebastian instinctively tensed, but he still smiled at Anders anyway, because they were tied together now, no matter how much they disagreed on.
"Thank you for coming, Anders."
Anders shook his head. "You know she wouldn't have wanted this."
Marian, at Sebastian's side, said nothing. Sebastian was not surprised in the least that Anders would bring this up now. It was their greatest point of contention. Anders had been ready to kill Marian the moment they realized what happened to her. He'd argued with Sebastian long and hard for the end of her life, nearly coming to blows.
"You cured Karl, even if only for a moment." The argument was route. Sebastian couldn't even get more than vaguely irritated anymore. "As long as there's hope, I won't give up on her."
Anders sighed, rubbing his temples.
"I'd like to talk to you about something anyway," said Sebastian. "I made a promise to Marian, and I intend to keep it. I want you to help me do a formal evaluation of the Circle in Starkhaven."
Anders' hands froze at his temples. "What?"
"I can't abolish the Circle entirely without provoking an Exalted March, but you can help me evaluate the practices here and advise me on what reforms could be done." Sebastian laced his fingers with Marian's. She stared blankly at both of them. "No one is going to be hurt like Marian was while I have anything to say about it."
Anders stared. And stared. And stared. Sebastian began to shift uncomfortably, squeezing Marian's hand. "Do you need time to think on it?"
"No, no, that's not it." Anders shook his head, frowning. "It's just… I misjudged you, Sebastian. I would be happy to help."
Sebastian grinned, glancing at Marian as if half-expecting her to smile as well. She didn't smile, but she dipped her head in acknowledgement, and that was close enough to a smile. At least, Sebastian told himself it was close enough.
"Thank you, Anders. Dealing with Meredith is the priority, but we can start work on evaluating immediately."
For a moment, there was almost a smile on Anders' face. Then his eyes went to Marian, and it was gone.
There wasn't a chance for Starkhaven to reform its Circle. Starkhaven marched on Kirkwall publicly in order to get its hands on the Templars responsible for the Tranquility of its queen. There was no Viscount to concede to or reject Starkhaven's demands for Meredith. The City Guard acquiesced. The Templars, predictably, did not.
Mages in Kirkwall took the confusion as an opportunity to rebel. Blood magic, unchecked Templar wrath, and the vengeance of Starkhaven made the harbor flow red. The Templars killed all the mages in the Circle before the Starkhaven troops could stop them, and after Meredith turned into a statue of solid red lyrium, Knight-Captain Cullen somehow managed to bring order to the battle and surrendered on the condition that Starkhaven assisted in the immediate recovery of Kirkwall.
Knight-Captain Cullen stood trial for the unjust Rite of Tranquility administered on Marian Hawke, but the victory tasted like ash because, as Carver confirmed, the Knight-Captain hadn't known anything about Meredith's plans for Hawke and had been outraged when he found out what she'd done. It was the Knight-Captain who made it so easy for Carver to transfer to Starkhaven, thinking that Carver just needed to get away from the people who had hurt his sister unjustly.
Cullen was released. The few remaining Templars that could be linked to Hawke or other unjust Rites of Tranquility were executed despite the Chantry's strenuous objections. There might have been an Exalted March if it weren't for the mage rebellions suddenly erupting all across Thedas in response to the events at Kirkwall, and all the Templars formally split from Chantry control in order to pursue the mages.
The war between Templars and mages was sudden and bloody.
When the Templars broke away from the Chantry, Carver chose to lay down his armor rather than join them in their anti-mage crusade. Without the Templar Order, Carver had little else to do but be a lyrium-infused royal guard. And by royal guard, he meant 'professional queen-minder.' He'd laugh at the irony of spending all that effort to get a life away from his sister only to be wrapped up in her again, except it was too tragic to laugh at.
It wasn't all about Marian. Sebastian had made him captain of the royal guard, separate from the city guard now that politics were so volatile. Considering how vicious the war was becoming, it was wise to strengthen royal security, since Sebastian was known to be anti-Templar and the queen had become a symbol of mages' suffering. Rogue Templars might attack, or else mages seeking to stoke Starkhaven's rage against Templars might kill Marian and frame them. Either way, Carver was in charge of coordinating guard patrols throughout the palace, but more often than not, he was personally watching over Marian herself.
Over the last few years, being with her had… it wasn't easier, but he had become stronger. With the wounds not as fresh, he could still suss out a bit of his sister still in this shell. Tranquil weren't all exactly the same, after all; they still had unique preferences and habits. Marian preferred to be helpful. She preferred to have company. She preferred it when no one else tampered with her workspace. These were all things that had carried over from who she was before, but in his darkest moments, Carver couldn't see how those traits added up to his sister.
Tonight was one of those dark moments. Carver stood at the door, watching Marian's hands as she slowly put together the materials she needed for another enchantment. They were calm and collected, and that was normal.
With a twist in his gut, he remembered when it wasn't normal, when his sister was terribly impatient whenever she was working on something and threw things across the house. He couldn't imagine her losing her temper anymore. All those years where her voice would swell and sigh or broken remains of half-forged staffs were thrown through the house were becoming more and more distant, until the ghost seemed more like his sister to him than the memory of life.
"Did I do the right thing?" The words tumbled out of him. Marian rested her fingers delicately on the edge of the desk before turning her empty eyes towards him.
"The right thing in regards to what?" she asked.
"You used to tell me that you'd rather die than be Tranquil." Carver fingered the pommel of his sword. Her eyes flicked to his hands, but there was no alarm on her face. There was nothing there. "Should I have killed you?"
Anders had been the one who said they had to kill her. The question had divided their friends, with Sebastian, Isabela, and Varric firmly on the side of letting her live, Anders, Fenris, and a tearful Merrill saying she should die, and Aveline caught in the middle, unable to make up her mind. Carver was the tie-breaker. He was her brother. He knew she and Bethany both would have preferred death over Tranquility.
But he couldn't kill her. Even if he couldn't bear to look at her, he couldn't stand the thought of her dying. He'd already lost so much, and he was desperate to follow that thread of hope for a cure like a starving dog, hoping for some way to fix his mistakes.
"Killing me might have been more practical," Marian said. "You and Sebastian would not have to dedicate so much to me if you had. My ability to enchant does not outweigh the resources my security consumes."
"Sister, stop." This conversation was hard enough as it is, but where Carver once died a little every time Marian talked about herself like an asset rather than a person, he was now simply tired by it. "I'm not asking about practicality. I'm asking if it was right to make you live like this."
"Forgive me. The practicality of my life is easier to address than the quality of it." She turned back to her enchantment, slowly lining a runestone with glowing lyrium. "I do not believe I would have wanted life, but I am not that person any longer. I would prefer to live, if possible. However, if you choose to slay me, I will not stop you."
Carver let out a harsh noise. "You wouldn't stop anyone who tried killing you."
"That is correct."
Carver eyed her back, touching his pommel. Even if he killed her now, the damage was done. The ghost was superseding the living in his mind. Whenever he tried to remember his sister, he would remember her as a shell, not as the infuriating and wonderful person she once was.
His hand dropped to his side in disgust. Was that why he was having these thoughts? Because he wanted good memories of her? Not because she was always so terrified of this fate?
He'd made this bed a long time ago, and yet he was still selfishly focusing on how he'd messed things up for himself, not for her. It wasn't fair. Even after all this effort, all this time dedicated to her, he was still a terrible brother.
"I still love you, Sister."
Still. As if she could take it for granted that he had loved her before this mess. He had been terrible, throwing any instance of affection or concern in her face, doing everything he could to spite her. He wouldn't have blamed her for doubting his love, but whether she had or not was a question he didn't dare ask.
"Even now?" Marian was still neatly arranging lyrium dust. Not even a declaration of love could make her look up. "Your and Sebastian's capacity to love me continues to surprise."
Sebastian was a better man than Carver. Sebastian never wavered in his devotion.
Carver slouched against the wall, watching her hands work while he hated himself.
Maybe Sebastian could forbid any non-Tranquil women from entering the palace.
But no, that wouldn't help anything. It would just make it harder to govern Starkhaven and the nobility would still find ways to wave women at him.
Tonight, he had to entertain the nobility during talks of what to do about the war between mages and Templars burning through their land. Marian wasn't to join the party, since nobles stared and she preferred not to be the center of attention. The Seneschal had taken care of event planning, but Sebastian needed to go to each family to hear their concerns and calmly reassure them. Nearly every family with a daughter his age or younger had dressed her up with a plunging neckline. One girl who couldn't have been older than sixteen sidled next to him with doe eyes and thrust out her chest as if to invite him to peek down her dress, and that was easily the most uncomfortable experience of his life.
If that were all they did, he'd be irritated, but safe from temptation. He had controlled himself around flirty women since he promised himself to the Chantry, and some power hungry nobles wouldn't change that.
It was the smiles that did him in.
There was one woman, a little older than him and already with gray in her hair. She was a minor noble that barely even lived in the city. She had such a wonderful smile, and she laughed so easily.
He couldn't help but talk to her. They talked about the war, about the weather, about how nice Starkhaven was that time of year. Her voice rose and fell. It tittered and hummed. She shifted her weight from side to side, smiling, laughing, and her laughs were so bright and genuine that they made the world fall away.
The Seneschal noticed that Sebastian talked to this woman the most. She raised her eyebrow from across the room, but she never made any comment, likely because she had been urging him to find a more suitable queen for years now.
When it was time to send the nobles away, the woman clasped his hands when she thanked him for hosting. Her smile was so beautiful that, if she had kissed him, he wasn't sure he would have pushed her away.
But she left without taking any liberties, and he was stuck with his own weakness.
Sebastian paced his quarters, trying to get his body under control. Images of women smiling and laughing kept flashing in his head, more erotic than any body part. His face flushed, and he breathed deeply, rubbing his eyes and trying to imagine his own wife, her own smiles and laughs.
That killed the stirrings of his body, but it replaced them with a hollow ache that was starting to seem permanent. The Marian he married always smiled and laughed, especially when it was inappropriate. The Marian he married could never sit still, could never keep a neutral tone. The Marian he married brought noise and joy and chaos into the quiet Chantry he'd promised himself to, and she had whisked him off into wild adventures he'd never dreamed of.
But the Marian he married wasn't the Marian he was now married to.
Sebastian mostly had a hold of himself by the time he entered Marian's quarters. Carver, standing faithfully by her door, frowned at him. Marian, writing in her journal at her desk, didn't even look up from her work.
"Is something wrong?" Carver asked.
"Nothing. I just… may I have a moment alone with my wife?"
Carver didn't look convinced, but he didn't pry before dipping his head and backing out of the room. Marian lay down her quill delicately before glancing at Sebastian.
"You are upset." She pushed her seat out and stood, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "Why?"
Sebastian shook his head. "I'm not worthy of you, Marian." Maybe this was a punishment from the Maker for his arrogance. He was never supposed to take any bride but Andraste, but he gave into temptation and formed a chaste marriage, thinking he could make a loophole in the Maker's laws. Was the Maker cruel enough to destroy Marian for Sebastian's sins?
She crossed the room. She took his hands, smoothing her palms over his fingers. "Why are you upset?"
He tried to find her feelings buried under the little gestures. She wanted to soothe him. She wanted to know what was wrong. Maybe she wasn't warm, but she cared. Maybe she couldn't laugh or smile… maybe she never could again…
Sebastian wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest, burying his face in her neck. She didn't resist or lean into the touch. She hung limp in his arms until she rested her palms on his back.
"I miss you," he murmured into her skin.
She had no response for him.
Throughout Thedas, it didn't look like things could get much worse… and then a hole appeared in the sky. The Divine was murdered, along with everyone else attending the Conclave. Everyone except the new Inquisitor.
Carver was the first to hear whispers of a cure from White Spire. It was said that a Tranquil had seemed cured, but in fact was actually possessed by a demon. Wasn't it interesting that both stories of an incompletely cured Tranquil he knew of had something to do with a spirit or demon from the Fade?
And wasn't it interesting that the Lord Seeker split from the Chantry almost immediately after the death of the possessed Tranquil?
Maybe he was being paranoid—years of obsessively guarding his defenseless sister would do that to a person—but the connection was more than they had gotten in years. He had to investigate.
"I promise I'll send letters," Carver said as he shook Sebastian's hand in the grand hall of the palace. Marian stood at Sebastian's arm, looking curiously queenly with her serene face and dignified silence.
"Promise you'll be careful, Brother. That's all I want," said Sebastian. After so many years, it didn't even feel weird to hear Sebastian call him a brother anymore.
"I'll promise that, then." Carver turned to his sister, taking her hands in his. "I'll come back for you, Sister."
"You cannot promise that," she said. It was the closest she could get to sounding sad, which wasn't really all that sad at all.
"No." Carver kissed her cheek. "But I'm promising it anyway. One way or another, I'll be back."
He let go of her hands. Turning away was possibly the hardest thing he'd done in his life.
But if there really was a cure out there, someone knew about it. That someone was most likely a Seeker of Truth.
And the Inquisition was the only place he knew a Seeker would be.
Sebastian,
The Lord Seeker betrayed the Order. Varric was there. I overheard the Inquisitor speaking to Seeker Cassandra afterwards.
We found it.
Carver
Traveling with Hawke was difficult, even with the war between mages and Templars momentarily quelled. Hawke would take basic care of herself, but she wouldn't struggle if attacked, so it was up to companions to make sure she made it out of every altercation with a highwayman or wild animal unscathed. For that reason, when Sebastian got Carver's letter, he recruited Anders to help him escort Hawke to Skyhold. It was hard to find a regent Sebastian trusted not to betray him while he was gone, but it was worth it.
After almost six years, there might be an answer.
Carver met them outside of Skyhold. He had a new scar under his eye—courtesy of a red Templar, according to his letters—but he smiled widely as he shook Sebastian's and Anders' hands, then kissed Marian's cheek. "Thank the Maker you got here safely. I was worried you might run afoul of a rift on the way."
"We were able to avoid most rifts, but I can't say the same of red Templars. We had the pleasure of meeting with some on the road." Anders leaned on his staff with a wry smile. "We took care of it."
"I feel like it was mostly Justice who took care of it," Sebastian said, heart lighter with their goal so close.
"It might have been mostly Justice." Anders shrugged, still smiling. "He likes red Templars even less than regular Templars."
"As long as he's still on our side, I'm happy." Carver's smile faded into a serious line. "I don't know much about the cure we found. I was only able to hear a bit of the Inquisitor's conversation, and Varric poked around for me. They've kept it very quiet so far."
"I thought they sided with the mages in the war." Anders' expression darkened. "Why would they keep such a big secret from them?"
"I don't know. Whatever it is, I think it had something to do with the Lord Seeker turning on his own Order." Carver gestured them towards the gates. "The Lady Ambassador is no pushover, and she doesn't know that I found out about all this. I'll show you to her."
After Sebastian cleaned scuffs from his pearly white armor and brushed Hawke's hair into the grand braid she used to prefer before her brand, they swept into Ambassador Montilyet's office with all the dignity a royal couple should have. Anders was left to scout the grounds, and Carver walked ahead of them, dipping his head when the ambassador looked up from her papers.
"Lady Montilyet, may I introduce my sister and brother, queen and king of Starkhaven?"
The ambassador, an Antivan woman with bright golden clothes, stood from her desk with a wide smile and immediately curtseyed. "Your majesties! How lovely it is to meet you at last. I had not expected you to come in person!"
"My lady Montilyet, the pleasure is mine." Sebastian bowed, and Hawke gave a delayed curtsey. Lady Montilyet's eyes flicked to Hawke's brand briefly, oh so briefly, and then they were back on Sebastian's face without her smile twitching in the slightest. She had more tact than most of the Free Marches. "I apologize for not sending word ahead of our arrival, but we left Starkhaven in a hurry. I would like to request an audience with the Inquisitor at her earliest convenience."
"Her worship is extremely busy with the battle of Corypheus. What would you like to discuss with her, if I might ask?"
Lady Montilyet's smile remained unwavering, but there was steel in her eyes. Sebastian was certain that he would not get past her if she decided not to let him.
He coiled his arm around Marian's. She placed her hand over his, but the motion was mechanical, something she did because she knew he liked it rather than something she wanted to do.
"We received word that the Inquisitor might have discovered a cure for Tranquility."
That shook the ambassador's smile. "Oh." Her eyes flicked to Marian, then to Carver. Carver didn't even pretend to be hearing this for the first time. "Oh. Of course." She didn't try to smile again, her brow knitting together. "I must confess I do not know much about it, but why don't you take a seat and I can send for someone who does."
The ambassador had many plush chairs, and Sebastian sat next to Hawke, keeping a grip on her hand. Under his veneer of civility, he trembled with anticipation, praying over and over for Andraste to please grant him this one miracle. Across from them, Carver stayed standing, shifting his weight foot to foot and staring at the door, as if half-expecting someone to jump in and kill them all right before they could save Marian. Of course, Marian showed no sign of nerves.
The ambassador sent a messenger away, and it wasn't a few minutes later when a Nevarran voice boomed in the hall, "I am going to KILL Carver!"
The door slammed open, making everyone (except Marian) jump, and an armored woman with a scar across her cheek stormed in. The ambassador leapt to stop her, but she stopped in front of Sebastian, crossing her arms. "Carver has wasted your time. We cannot restore the Champion of Kirkwall. You will have to leave disappointed."
"Hey now!" Neither Sebastian nor the ambassador were able to respond before Carver was suddenly in the armored woman's face, his face red. "They didn't cross Ferelden just to be turned away like bad trash. I heard you say you found a way to fix my sister, and we want to try it!"
"The Champion was a mage and has been Tranquil by lyrium brand for nearly six years," the woman said acidly, somehow looking down at Carver like he was a child despite the fact he was taller than her. "We found a method used to cure non-mages who made themselves Tranquil a few days after their Rite."
"But non-mages can't be made Tranquil!" Carver snapped.
"That is where you are wrong. We have discovered multiple cases of non-mages making themselves Tranquil and then curing themselves." If the ambassador was silk with a hint of steel, this woman was all stone and sharp edges. "The only example we have of a Tranquil from one of the Circles seeming cured turned out to be a Tranquil possessed by a demon. The Inquisition will not be held responsible for the Champion of Kirkwall becoming an abomination."
"You haven't even asked her if she wants to risk it!"
"She'd be ready to sit down for her own beheading if you wanted her to! And that's what you're suggesting!"
"My sister hasn't laughed in six years!"
The armored woman opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Carver's fists shook at his side from rage. "If it were your sister, or your brother, wouldn't you risk anything to save them?" he asked.
The color left the armored woman's cheeks. She closed her mouth.
The door creaked open. "Varric told me that I should see what's happening here."
There was no mistaking her. A green tree bloomed on her face. The holy Mark flashed on her hand.
"Oh, Inquisitor!" the ambassador winced sheepishly, the first to move to the Herald of Andraste, dipping her head. "My apologies. We didn't mean to distract you from your busy schedule."
"That's alright." Somehow, the Inquisitor's soft voice forced everyone else to fall silent. "What's going on here?"
"Your worship, it is an honor." Sebastian stood, squeezing Hawke's hand before letting it go and approaching the Inquisitor with a bow. "I am Sebastian Vael, King of Starkhaven. May I introduce my beloved queen—" As if signaled, Hawke stood from her seat and settled next to Sebastian, as if they were appearing in the palace for court. "—Marian."
The Inquisitor did not move to acknowledge his greeting—instead, she raked him over with her vivid purple eyes, then Carver, and finally Marian.
"Your beloved queen is Tranquil," said the Inquisitor.
The ambassador visibly winced, but Sebastian refused to be put off. Years of being friends with Merrill had more than prepared him for Dalish bluntness. "That is why I'm here. We heard that you might have come across a cure."
"One that hasn't been tested on someone like her," the Inquisitor said, arching an eyebrow.
"We are willing to take the risk," he said. After almost six years of no love and constant monitoring, some horrible, traitorous part of him wanted this to be over, one way or the other. That part frightened him, but it was worth the risk to cure Hawke.
The Inquisitor looked to the armored woman. "Cassandra?"
"You know the risks, Inquisitor," the armored woman said, her voice softer now.
"Just—just tell us how, and we'll do it on our own," Carver said, trembling with the effort to stay still. "The Inquisition doesn't have to have anything to do with it!"
"On the contrary, if there is any hope of curing her without turning her into an abomination, you'll need me and certain members of my circle helping personally." The Inquisitor folded her arms behind her. She looked at Marian, staring at her eyes rather than her brand. "Before I make any decision, I want to talk to you privately."
Sebastian instinctively grasped Marian's hand, narrowing his eyes.
"I won't hurt your queen," said the Inquisitor, not even looking at Sebastian. She kept her eyes on Marian. "I just want a chance to ask her some questions."
"I believe she means me no harm, Sebastian," Marian said, though neither her expression nor her tone shifted. "I have no objection to speaking with her."
Sebastian hesitated. Maybe it was a sign that his faith in Andraste was imperfect that he hesitated, but the Maker hadn't been kind to Marian, and maybe He couldn't be trusted with her.
But this was the only way they might fix her.
"Very well." Sebastian let Marian's hand go, and Marian took the Inquisitor's offered arm.
"We won't be long," was all the Inquisitor said before taking his queen somewhere he wasn't allowed to follow.
The Inquisitor returned Marian unharmed, and immediately requested a private audience with Sebastian. That, Sebastian was willing to give more readily. The Inquisitor took him to a Chantry garden, where Sisters hummed the Chant in the shade of the Maker's trees.
"You'll have to forgive me for being frank. I don't know how to be anything else," the Inquisitor said, strolling along the edge of the garden and idly examining the Prophet's Laurel climbing up the stone pillars.
"I have enough politics in the Free Marches. I welcome someone who can say what they mean," Sebastian said, keeping his arms folded behind him. He had left Marian in Carver's care, and he had no doubt that Carver would protect her with his life, so that left him able to pay attention to what the Inquisitor said.
"Great. That will make this easier." The Inquisitor stopped, staring out at a gazebo where a dark-haired child played and Sisters sang. Sebastian wondered what she must be thinking, as a Dalish in the midst of such an Andrastian scene. "You know, Varric tells the story of your relationship. Cassandra may seem harsh, but she finds your devotion to your wife terribly romantic."
"I love her. Nothing will change that."
"Clearly." The Inquisitor leaned against a pillar. "I talked to her about the ritual and its risks. I wanted to make sure she wanted this, not just you. She said she wanted it because her Tranquility made you and Carver unhappy."
Sebastian's heart clenched. "She always did put others before herself."
"This is none of my business, but I'm curious. How have you stayed in love with her? It's been years."
Sebastian gave her a small smile. "Maybe it's none of your business, but I don't mind talking about it." It almost felt like confession, talking to the Herald so honestly. He leaned against the pillar next to her, looking down at the Prophet's Laurel as he considered his answer. "Love's not… it's not always about butterflies in your stomach and reciting poetry. Sometimes it's hard work, and it's appreciating what you have. She still listens when I need to talk, or holds my hand when I want comfort, or sacrifices to make me happy. Her feelings may be muted, but she still loves me as much as she can. There are many unbranded couples that can't say as much." He soothed himself with that at times, with the knowledge that even if Marian never smiled, at least their marriage had love in it. Not every marriage did. "I won't deny it's hard sometimes, but she gave me so much before the brand. How could I do anything less now that it's my turn to give to her?"
The Herald's eyes weren't gentle, but they weren't cruel either when he met them. "You're a good husband, Sebastian." It didn't even sound strange to hear her use his name, no titles or honorifics attached. It felt a little like he might have been talking to a Grand Cleric, holy enough to be above titles, though he doubted a Dalish elf would appreciate the comparison. "You should understand what you're asking."
She crossed her arms, her purple eyes becoming grave. "This ritual is dangerous, especially for mages. It needs a spirit from the Fade to touch her mind directly. The risk is that a demon will come and possess her instead."
His first thought was Justice—but Justice hadn't been able to cure Karl for more than a couple minutes, so perhaps possessing Anders had tainted his ability to cure. Sebastian's stomach sank. "You think the cure itself might make her an abomination?"
"I think I have an idea for minimizing the risk, but it'll probably involve fighting a lot of demons." Sebastian wasn't sure how that minimized risk, but she kept talking. "But we don't know if this works on mages, or if it has side effects we don't know about. She may die, become an abomination, go mad, stay Tranquil… we don't know. Are you ready to take that risk?"
Was he?
Sebastian had to consider. Yes, he was. He had to be. But what would happen if he destroyed her? He found the idea of her going mad so much more intolerable than her dying. Some terrible, horrible part of him wondered if he only found it more upsetting because it would shatter the peace she had gathered, or if it was because a mad wife would be more exhausting to take care of than a Tranquil wife.
But they'd come this far.
"If I had thought there was no hope of curing Marian, I would have killed her myself." The memory still appeared in his nightmares. Her sudden disappearance. Everyone splitting up to search for her. Merrill finding her, sending tearstained missives with beggar children for everyone to come to her home, come quick, something terrible had happened. They had found Merrill crying into Marian's lap, the brand still fresh and red and blistering, her fingers limp in Merrill's hair. Anders coming at Marian with a knife. "She didn't want this. She made it very clear to all of us that she preferred death over Tranquility. But I had hope she could be cured, and this is the chance we've waited for. I have to risk it."
"Alright. I understand." The Inquisitor nodded, brow furrowing in a pensive frown. "You know, even if this works, she might have changed. She might not want the life you've given her in the last five years."
It hadn't even occurred to Sebastian, but that was true, wasn't it? Before the brand, Hawke had exchanged vows with him for a chaste marriage in the Chantry. Now, if she woke up again, she'd wake up as a queen of Starkhaven, married to a man who had undoubtedly changed since their wedding day.
She might not want him anymore.
"I'll deal with that if I must. Once she's back to herself, Marian can make her own choices. Maker knows that I wouldn't be able to stop her, even if I wanted to." By the Maker, he'd be ready to abdicate his throne entirely if that was what she wanted. "Will you help us?"
"If you take responsibility for whatever the consequences of this ritual are, then yes. Under one condition."
"Name your price."
The Inquisitor crossed her arms. The green mark glimmered on her hand. "You probably know that what happened in Wycome. Duke Antoine was poisoning his own people with red lyrium for Corypheus and tried to pin the blame on elves. The people overthrew him with the help of the Dalish, and now there's a council governing the city instead."
Sebastian nodded slowly. All the rulers throughout the Free Marches knew about what happened at Wycome. "Rumor has it that it was your clan that helped them."
"Rumor has it right for once. We know that nobility throughout the Free Marches considers the new government of Wycome to be a threat."
"They are afraid that the elves in their own cities will be inspired to revolt." Sebastian himself wasn't too afraid of it. Elves were far from living like humans in Starkhaven, but he put effort into dealing with them fairly and opening up opportunities for them to get out of the Alienage. Fenris had become his Captain of the Guard, and that went a long way to inspiring confidence in the guardsmen among the city elves.
"If I do this for you, I want your word that Starkhaven will create a formal alliance with Wycome and aid them if other city states choose to attack."
He straightened his shoulders and tilted his chin upward, letting all his doubts and worries bleed out. "Your worship, if you do this for me, then Wycome will never see a greater ally than Starkhaven. This, I swear on my queen's life."
The Inquisitor dipped her head. "I admire your devotion to your wife. I'll do everything I can."
The Inquisitor had a short list of things she needed. An outpost miles from Skyhold. A Templar. A healer. Two members of her inner circle—an elven mage named Solas, and an unsettling boy named Cole.
Carver volunteered to be the Templar, and Anders volunteered to be the healer. Sebastian insisted on being included, so that was how they all ended up in a—for now—empty guard post down the mountain.
"If this works, this has huge implications for mages." Anders, for once, looked optimistic. "Think of how many mages unjustly made Tranquil who could be cured!"
"Don't get ahead of yourself. This process is complicated and dangerous," said Solas, He sat next to Cole, who was staring at Anders with strange intensity. "Cole, what do you need?"
"She's not hurting. It's the people around her hurting." Cole rocked back and forth with his hands on his knees, still staring at Anders. "If you wake her up enough to feel hurt, then I can help heal it."
Anders frowned at Cole. "Have we met? I feel like I know you from somewhere."
Cole twisted his hands in his lap. Solas scowled at Anders, but said nothing.
"You half knew me once." Cole spoke slowly, like he had to think on every word he chose. "But we've both changed, and we don't know each other anymore."
"Alright." The Inquisitor's soft voice once again made all the chatter end. Sebastian sat quietly with Hawke, squeezing her hand, and Carver sat on her other side, not touching but there nonetheless. "Does everyone know what they have to do?"
Sebastian let Hawke go reluctantly. She walked to the Inquisitor, meeting her eyes without any hesitation. "I am ready."
Cole slipped soundlessly to the Inquisitor's side, so quick and quiet that no one was sure they'd seen him move. "So am I."
"Then let's get started." The Inquisitor rubbed her hands together, the Mark on her hand beginning to spark. "Places."
Carver drew his sword. Sebastian stood and drew his bow. Solas and Anders drew their staffs.
"Here we go." The Inquisitor stretched her left hand and split the air open.
The green rift stretched open with a crackle, and demons tumbled out, screaming in a mass of heat and frost and gaping mouths. Sebastian took down the first with a well-placed arrow. Carver took out the second.
Then Hawke screamed for the first time in years.
Sebastian dropped his bow. Cole was holding Marian's face, and she thrashed in his grip, shrieking like darkspawn. "Marian!"
Sebastian didn't even see the wraith lunging for him. Anders threw a fireball, catching it just before it tore him open. "Sebastian! Watch yourself!"
Sebastian didn't hear him. He was at Marian's side, holding her hands. Her eyes were rolling, her skin burning, her voice breaking with the scream. He'd done this. He'd done this to her. He'd been so tired of taking care of her that he put her in danger and drove her mad. He was killing his own wife. "Stop! You're hurting her!"
"There's no stopping now," the Inquisitor said, stepping away to strike a wisp with lightning. Cole's hands were glowing. Hawke's eyes were glowing. Was she being possessed? Had he made his wife an abomination? She was screaming and crying and her shoulders were shaking and he'd done this to her—
Cole took his hands from her face. "It's over!"
The Inquisitor raised her left hand. Clenched it.
The rift closed, sucking in all the demons.
Hawke was still screaming. Fire rose from her feet, leaping in every direction. The heavy weight of a Templar's power slammed over them, extinguishing the fire and any other trace magic.
"What's wrong with her?" Carver ran to her side, looking between Hawke and Sebastian and the Inquisitor. "What did you do to my sister?"
"Marian, Marian, it's okay, you're safe now, you're safe, my love," Sebastian kept talking, not sure what he was even saying anymore, touching her face, her hair, her hands, until the screaming broke.
"Sebastian!" Her voice cracked and fizzled, and she just bowed her head, her screams giving way to sobbing.
He took her into his arms, and as she cried into his breastplate, he rested his face in her hair. "You're safe. You're safe."
"The brand doesn't destroy the feelings. It just makes them go somewhere else, and now they're coming back all at once." Cole's voice was soft, but somehow, it carried over the crying, over the shock, over everything. "She hurts now because she needs to. She'll get better."
She'll get better.
The world melted away. All that existed was Marian, crying into his chest, showing emotion for the first time in nearly six years. She'll get better. She was in pain now, but she'd get better, something he couldn't say for years. Supporting her now would be easy.
He kissed her head and squeezed his eyes shut, pretending he wasn't crying too.
"Sebastian—" She pulled away, cupping his face in her hands, and with her face red and her eyes swollen, she'd never looked more beautiful. "I love you." Her cracking voice was music. She pulled his head down and smashed their lips together. It was unfamiliar, different, wonderful. They hadn't kissed each other like this since their wedding.
They parted again, her cheeks streaked with new tears, and she turned her head. "Carver!"
Sebastian let her go, wiping his eyes and grinning so hard that it hurt. Carver's eyes were red, and what thread of control he still had broke with a sob when Marian called his name. "Sister!"
The force of their hug knocked them to the floor, but neither cared. They pressed their foreheads together, white-knuckled grips on each other's arms, and cried.
Anders seemed close to crying himself. Solas stood a respectful distance away with Cole, but the Inquisitor just watched them with a small smile.
Sebastian didn't have his voice anymore. He just mouthed, thank you to her.
The Inquisitor dipped her head.
For the first time in years, Sebastian was happy.
Thank you very much to levelwhat for betaing. This was a response to a kinkmeme prompt here: dragonage-kink .dreamwidth 91059 .html ?thread=365414579 #cmt365414579
Reviews, comments, compliments, and critiques are all appreciated. Thank you!