Sunrise caught Sebastian still awake on his bed. Memories of Hawke had kept him up all night; her scent, the way her hands held on to him, her steady breathing as she fell asleep in his arms.
He had left her sleeping in her bed after she had cried herself to sleep. Unwillingly, he had left her side. He couldn't stay. It wasn't right. He didn't want to expose her to needless gossip about a man spending the night in Hawke's estate. And then there was the tiny detail of him being a brother of the Chantry.
So he had left.
The short walk across the quiet night streets of Hightown back to the Chantry, the place he had called home for years, had felt like treading through quicksand. When he had finally reached his room, he used the strength he had left to take off his armor and fall on his bed. But sleep had eluded him and now the sun was up and still his mind was full of her.
"Oh, Maker, what am I doing?" he whispered to the silent walls of his room.
Everything was getting more and more complicated. And it seemed that Hawke's presence just complicated things even more. The confidence he had felt just a few hours ago was gone; doubts haunted him again and his restlessness was pulling him away from everything he had committed himself to. It had to be wrong, this feeling that hauled him towards Hawke and away from his vows, but he wasn't sure anymore.
Sebastian ran his hands over his face, up through his hair. "What am I doing?" he repeated to no one in particular and closed his eyes.
He got up from his bed a second later only to go kneel in front of the symbol of Andraste he kept in his austere room and started praying. For guidance, for forgiveness.
Hawke woke up feeling cold and empty. At first, she couldn't figure out why; her mind was foggy and felt like it was desperately grasping to the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness, holding on to a pair of arms that were no longer there...
Arms.
"Sebastian?" she called, still confused, only the echo of her voice answering her. Why had he been here? It must have been a dream. Sebastian in her bed, holding her, was just not possible... Was it?
Puzzled, she turned to lie on her back, finally opening her eyes and, in that moment, the reason for his presence the night before hit her with the force of a battering ram.
"My mother is dead," she whispered to the empty room. Hawke stared wide-eyed at the canopy bed's ceiling, trying to catch her breath. The horrors of yesterday's reality were crawling out of the corners of her mind, slow, unstoppable, scrapping away at pieces of her sanity. A scream threatened to rip its way out of her throat but Hawke covered her mouth just in time to let only a moan full of anguish escape her lips.
"Breathe, Hawke. Keep it together." Another whisper and a failed attempt to follow her own advice. She sat up to see if that helped her breathe and, at the same time, her eyes started looking for something to hold on to. But Sebastian's light was no longer there to keep away the shadows that were threatening to overwhelm her.
Her gaze locked up on the only thing she could find: her hands. She stared down at them, palms open, knowing too well what they were capable of. The magic she had always taken for granted, the power she had always felt humming under her skin felt tainted somehow now and she was suddenly scared of herself. She closed her hands into fists when they started trembling.
"No..." she groaned and sank back into her bed, attempting to get swallowed by her bed sheets.
A soft knock on her door reached her muffled ears. Someone was outside. A small flicker of hope kept the darkness at bay. Maybe Sebastian was here to keep her from drowning.
Without a second thought, she got off the bed and ran to open her bedroom's door.