She woke, cold and alone, just as she had predicted.
Hawke's tentative green eyes widened and blinked away far too many hours worth of sleep. Looking over at her window, it took her mind a moment to register that she had slept straight into the next day. The sun was veiled behind new clouds and coming rains, but judging by the color of light outside and the ache in her body, she had slept a much-needed sleep.
She turned to regard the empty space beside her, doing her best to ignore the sinking feeling in her heart. She had made a promise to herself – she would not get attached. The truth was bitter and harsh, but she could not allow herself to falter. People were here for themselves, not for her. No matter how kind his words were… A smile touched her lips, but it came and left just as quickly. Smacking her palm against her forehead, she cursed her own stupidity and tore the blankets away from her body. She could see to her life – or lack there of – after she left this forsaken void of a place.
And with that, she was determined to do something, anything productive. She settled for cleaning both herself and her room, enjoying what little time she had to gather her thoughts and to be alone. Times like these would be a rarity and she would not waste it away being miserable and…hypothetical. She briefly wondered how much of her time that guy had paid for, seeing as how no one had yet called on her.
After a hot bath, she dressed herself in a nice evening gown with simple stitching and breathable material. Her hair dried in natural loose waves and her skin practically sang in its freedom from the oils and fragrances. Staring into her mirror nearly brought a smile to her face. It was nice being able to recognize her own reflection. She could fancy up later; right now she wanted to feel like a normal girl, for as long as possible.
She walked quietly to the corner of the room and knelt down to open an ornate ebony chest, inside of which she kept her personal belongings. Her sifting hands gave pause when her fingers found the protruding hilt of one of her daggers. After locating the other, she lifted them both with a wistful air. One was an heirloom from her father, the glittering silver blade still sharp after countless days of practice. The other she kept was a worn darkspawn blade, a replacement for her empty left hand and a reminder of the life she could not save.
She stared blankly at its jagged edges, while a fire inside her stirred into life. She would not give up fighting. She would not waste away in this dump and forget who she was. She would simply have to find time, and a quiet place, to practice. Dealing with these people, there was no doubt in her mind that she would be ready and willing to take out her frustration on something.
With careful hands she set her weapons aside to pick up the two books Bethany had acquired for her. Over the years Hawke had found ways to satisfy her natural curiosity by collecting scattered tomes and texts; but it all had to be left behind, back in Lothering. Luckily, there were some perks that went along with having a smuggler for a sister. She lifted herself up and found her way over to the windowsill. Once situated, she examined the books, running careful fingers along the loose binding. One was a random excerpt from an anthology of Chantry history, and the other was an informative description of the Tevinter Imperium. Ironic.
She read in peaceful silence for some time, basking in the warmth of the sunlight against the windowpane. From where she was sitting, Tevinter felt like some far-off fairyland. Day to day life sounded so different there. What might it have been like if they had to flee to a city like that instead? …For one thing, they probably wouldn't have to spend every day worrying about ducking under templar watch. Growing up with an apostate father and sister, the fear had embedded itself in her. Now, it was difficult to keep an open mind on such a controversial topic. Kirkwall seemed full of controversy. It was one thing getting their mother back here… but could Bethany really make a life here? Could she?
A rock at the window pulled her from her daydreams and Hawke nearly threw the fragile books in the air with alarm. Hastily setting them aside, she was suddenly aware of the dim light in her room, and of the lantern lights outside. The sun was already setting. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust as she opened her window and gathered her wits. Had she imagined it?
"Lady Hawke!"
Peering through the crowd below, she saw him – the only man she could have even wanted to see – standing in the illuminated cobblestone, finely dressed and sporting that trademark smirk of his. It was difficult to hide her smile as she leaned out to greet him.
"Well, well. If it isn't my foreign admirer, come to woo me from the streets." She brushed a feminine hand against her temple.
He chuckled. "That's just the start, m'lady…" He bowed before her like a gentleman, a gesture that appeared to have been etched perfectly into his memory. "I've come to collect on that promise."
Her brow furrowed as she searched for the memory; and her eyes went wide. Curse herself for promising anything – let alone a night of hooky – when she damned well knew she shouldn't be pressing her luck after only her third day of employment. She looked around her room, completely at a loss, and let out a heavy sigh as she turned back to meet his expectant grin.
"I…don't know if I'm allowed…" she called down, unease lowering her voice. "What if-"
"I've paid through the night, don't worry about it," he shouted up to her with a challenging smile, "In fact, don't think about anything! Just come out and live your life a little."
His words kindled the fire in her that she had earlier sparked, and as she stared down at the strange man below her, she could not deny herself anything in that moment.
"You'd better catch me," she warned and put one leg out the window.
And after the baffled onlookers carried on with their evenings, she strolled beside him in reasonable contentment.
"You're a lot heavier than you look from that height," he winced, rubbing his backside.
"I'll take that as a compliment," she grinned. "So where are we going?"
"To my favorite part of this miserable city," he chuckled. "I think you'll like it."
"So this is the Hanged Man…" She nodded in approval.
The sound of music and cheers, the stench of vomit and ale… Hawke could not help but smile at the respite of the evening ahead of her. Her foreign admirer had been kind enough to keep his word, so consequences be damned, she was happy to keep up on hers.
Bearded men swarmed the bar, tipping their mugs and sharing stories while the sway of feminine hips would derail their collective train of thought. Soldiers, commoners, every depraved man and woman in Kirkwall came here to find a peace that was normally vacant in their day-to-day lives. And within those men sat the only two her companion seemed eager to find.
"Oye! Kristof, Brannon!" he shouted, coming up to pat their backs roughly. "I hope there's still some ale left."
The larger of the two men turned from the bar to eye him. "Well it's about bleedin' time ye showed up! We were wonderin where ye'd gone off t-"
"Who's this?" The other leaned back, a wide-eyed, goofy expression on his face that matched his rosy cheeks well.
The first man abandoned his rant and set his mug aside to turn around and judge for himself.
"My friends, this is Hawke," he gently ushered her forward and extended a hand in the direction of his comrades. "Hawke, this is Kristof and Brannon, friends from…back home."
"My lady," Kristof bowed with a wolfish grin. "It is an honor to meet the alluring siren whose call has kept my dear friend drooling over many a pint," he teased as he held her hand and planted a gentle kiss upon her skin.
"The lass must be a mage," Brannon chortled, taking up her other hand, "Because her magic is already working on me…"
Her 'foreign admirer' smacked his palm against his head.
Hawke blushed lightly, quick to note the matching accents as she studied them both. Kristof's hair was darker, sporting a trimmed goatee and green eyes, while Brannon had a simple moustache, his hair kept in a dirty blonde ponytail, and brown eyes. The three men were very charming, and each attractive in their own way, but she was secretly pleased to have met the cutest of the trio. She nodded politely towards them as the barkeep suddenly appeared with a round of drinks.
"Hawke, was it?" Kristof leaned towards her. "…You don't have a sister, do you?"
"Actually," she laughed, "I do. But I'm not sure she's your type."
"If she's anything like you-"
Her auburn-haired stranger finally cut in, moving to stand beside her, practically beaming. "She's something else, isn't she?"
Her blush deepened profusely when he set a possessive hand on her shoulder. Unable to meet his eyes, she reached for an unclaimed mug and threw back half its contents, breathing deeply and willing the single pint to unwind her. It wouldn't take more than two to get the job done, but she would need it if she wanted to control her irritatingly rapid heartbeat. She grimaced when the aftertaste settled in her mouth and swallowed thickly. It had been a long time since she'd had a drink; and those times had been far and few. Still…she did not remember ale tasting like mabari piss.
Idle conversation picked up between the three men, and Hawke peaked a curious eye at the hand still resting on her shoulder, marveling at the turn of events this night. Seeing him again was certainly a surprise… but, then again, he seemed to be full of them. Ever since that morning when he returned, there was something different about him – signs that hinted at something more beneath the arrogance and pretty eyes. She had tried so hard to keep their interactions distant, but her damn curiosity was as persistent as he was. …And his interest in her seemed to be genuine. All his attention on her made it feel like they were here together…
'Stop that.'
She shook her head when Kristof held out his hand towards an empty table.
"Shall we?"
She blinked once before falling in step behind them, trying hard not to make a giggly ass out of herself when her 'admirer' took her hand and helped her into an empty chair. Reaching for her mug, she closed her eyes and gulped down the remainder of the warm foamy liquid, cringing when she exhaled and set it down. Maker, this stuff made injury poultices seem appetizing.
They each followed suit before Kristof slammed his mug down with an amused snort. "Brannon! Why don't ye tell everyone who ye ran into on our way down here."
Brannon ran a hand over his face and her admirer's eyes twinkled in keen interest. "I'm surprised he hasn't told us yet," he teased. "Was it your beautiful 'catch' from before?"
"Worse," Brannon mumbled. "She was a guard."
Kristof grinned wickedly and turned towards the two of them. "He was too drunk and mesmerized by the red hair to notice he was running his hand over an armored bottom."
"Wait," Hawke laughed. "Was she wearing a leather headband? Because if I know who you're talking about, I'm surprised you even walked away after that."
Brannon sighed and ducked his head, parting his hair to reveal a large red lump. "I think you do know who I'm talking about."
Her admirer chuckled, turning his attention back to her. "A friend in the guard? I don't know whether that's a blessing or a curse."
"She's a good fighter, I know that." Hawke smiled. "Either way, I have a feeling she'll come in handy, in a city like this."
Brannon took a sip from his mug. "I hate guards."
"All of them?" Hawke tilted her head with a smirk. "Or just the ones with a good right hook?"
"Oh, ye don't know the start of it, lass." Kristof shook his head with a smile. "Grab another pint and we'll share some stories…"
Hawke's eyes were wide and full of tears as she brought a hand up to stifle her laughter. "He didn't…"
"Aye, he did," Kristof chortled. "And there's her father, standing there in nothing but his loins, with a sword in each hand, and he says…" He closed his eyes, shaken with amusement, and cleared his throat to deepen it even further. "'I'll have your deflowering piece mounted on my wall beside your head!'"
Hawke chuckled loudly. "So what did he do?" She turned to meet her admirer's blue eyes with bewildered anticipation.
He smiled at her and shrugged his shoulders. "I ran. Fast."
She snickered at the imagery they had conjured, trying not to lose herself to the contagious laughter around the table. Judging by the roguish and scandalous stories she was hearing, it was no wonder her 'admirer' had been so…confident in the area of pleasure. All these tales of drinking, debauchery, and foolhardy adventures made her wonder just how much more there was to this strange young man that she didn't know about.
She noted the stiffness in his posture with a sympathetic smile. His friends were either cruel or oblivious to his discomfort; and she couldn't help but wonder if she was the cause. Judging by the tint to his cheeks, he probably would have kept some of these details to himself, if he'd had the choice. Perhaps she could give the poor guy a break and regale them with stories of her own. She cleared her throat loudly to gain everyone's attention.
"Back in Ferelden there was this templar – big, ugly brute of a man – who kept watch in front of the Chantry at night. He was supposed to allow entry to those seeking safety or guidance after hours, but all he really did was shoo people away so he could sleep on the job."
"A real charmer," her admirer chuckled, shooting her a grateful smile.
"Indeed." Hawke grinned. "Well me and some of the other kids thought we'd repay him for all his hard work and service to the town; so one night we snuck into the Chantry to collect a few…items. Now he must have been particularly tired that night because no matter how many times we poked and whispered near him, he would not budge; he just sat there, passed out against the Chantry doors. So we covered him in women's underclothes – even draping a pair over his helmet – and some robes of one of the lay-sisters. Then we tucked his hand into the top of his pants and left him there 'til morning." She chuckled to herself at the memory "The revered mother was the first to find him the next day, followed by the rest of the templars."
The three young men burst into laughter, Kristof leaning forward with eager attention. "And ye didn't catch any blame for it?"
Hawke sighed. "Unfortunately, my brother spent the following day gloating about our success. The templar overheard just in time for him to recall me draping the smallclothes over his head."
"So what did you do?" he asked.
Hawke simply shrugged. "I ran. Fast."
And again the laughter erupted. Hawke smiled through the jab of pain at mentioning her brother, but the mirth was doing well to lift her spirits. Beneath the table she felt a warm hand cover hers, and she met her admirer's eyes with a swell of gratitude. The moment, however, ground to a halt when a tall man with dark hair stumbled over to where Hawke was sitting. She turned to look up at him, but stopped when he leaned in close to her.
"Well, well," he slurred, his breath capable of felling enemies with its potency. "If it isn't the fiery little spirit from the Rose…" His fingers drifted out to touch her cheek and her lip curled with disgust. "Still available off grounds?"
Hawke inwardly groaned at the disruption and the reminder. Of course this would happen. Why wouldn't she just enjoy a night of distractions from her miserable existence? She was seconds away from standing and slapping him senseless, but his hand was abruptly snatched away before he could touch her again. Her eyes turned back to find her admirer was now standing.
"The only thing you should be looking for," he warned, twisting the offending hand away roughly. "Is the door."
The man hissed and spun around when his arm was released and he stumbled back into another fellow in his chair. "And who the blazes are you," he sneered, "What's this whore mean to y-"
The mans words abruptly ended with a fist to his face, his body sprawling out over the table behind him and knocking several mugs of ale into angry laps. "Hey! What in Andraste's tits d'ya think you're doin?" one of the angry drunkards shouted.
One misdirected punch led to another, and soon the foreseeable bar fight erupted, ensnaring almost every single body in the Hanged Man in a blood-and-beer-soaked brawl.
"Oye! Lad!" Kristof shouted when Brannon slugged him in his jaw.
Brannon opened his eyes and shrugged sheepishly. He didn't seem prepared when Kristof returned fire.
"Ah!" Hawke squeaked in surprise when a hand came over her head and pulled her down under the table. A heavy thud landed above them, causing her to flinch slightly. Her bewildered gaze lifted as a light cloud of dust fell over her head. "It seems I owe you thanks," she shouted, smiling when another body landed near them on the floor, "again."
"While you are most welcome," her admirer smirked, "now is not quite the time." He quickly entwined their fingers and motioned his head behind him. "Follow me."
They practically crawled on hands and knees through the fray of angry boots and flipping tables, eventually finding their way to the exit in time to hear the frantic cries of the barkeep. Stifling their chuckles, they deftly escaped out the door and into the crisp night air.
Hawke breathed a sigh of relief as they leaned against the outer wall. "Should we help your friends?"
"Nah," he waved a hand at the building behind them. "Those two are always looking for a way to beat the life out of something. They probably needed this," he chuckled.
"I don't blame them," she joined in his laughter, almost envious of the opportunity.
The clean air was a blessing to her senses, and she breathed it in greedily as the two of them slowly started walking off their adrenaline. She looked around them with a raised brow.
"So… do you know your way around Lowtown?"
"All I know is a dotted line between the Hightown Inn, the Hanged Man, and the Blooming Rose," he chuckled shamefully.
"It seems we know about the same then," she sighed, "I spend all my time in that damn brothel…"
"I'm glad you came," he admitted quietly.
Her eyes found his, and she smiled. "I am too."
The warmth in her hand brought her gaze downward, and she noticed that their fingers were still entwined. Without thinking, she pulled her hand away, scolding her childish behavior at the curious shift of his gaze.
They had already slept together, for Andraste's sake.
"…I really should get back soon though."
He stole another glance at her and nodded. The moment grew quiet and she mentally kicked herself. Perhaps she could derail the awkward tension she'd gone and created.
"-But not before you tell me something about you," she smiled innocently. "And tales from under the bed sheets don't count."
"Ah," he laughed, shaking his head. "I…suppose you wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, would you?"
"Not a chance. In fact, let's start with your most difficult feelings you've been dealing with lately," she chuckled, her finger on her chin. "I want all those out in the open."
He grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "I did do that to you, didn't I?"
"Aye," she teased. "You did."
"Perhaps the lady might spare me her revenge for another time?" he pleaded.
"...Are you saying I will see you again after tonight?" she asked, the disbelief written clearly on her face. When they stopped, she realized they'd already reached the top of the stairs connecting Lowtown to Hightown.
A light breeze blew by and he turned to face her, his blue eyes intense and unreadable. "…If you'd have me," he smirked and pulled her hand up to kiss her knuckles, much like he did the first night they met. "I'd be lying if I said you weren't intruding upon my every waking thought."
Her green eyes lit with amusement. "Well I suppose depriving you of sleep is one way of getting back at you." The gentle smile on her face slowly faded as she searched his eyes. "…But you can't be serious."
He held her gaze. "I am." His eyes fell to her lips for a moment. "And you needn't doubt it. I find it impossible to lie to you."
This time it was she who had no words.
A million thoughts of uncertainty lingered, yet Hawke felt somewhere between contentment and bliss, bathed in the soft glow of the early morning in the Red Lantern district. Suddenly it seemed so easy to forget about everything else – the Rose, her obligations, her life here… Suddenly, she realized, it was impossible to ignore her growing attraction to the man in front of her.
Their eyes flickered back and forth before he dipped his head down to softly press a kiss to her cheek. It was short, and sweeter than anything she had ever felt, and Hawke was overwhelmed by his closeness, her senses heightened at the familiar feel of him. His scent was so pure, like standing in an airy forest, the leaves, needles, and bark all dampened from a fresh rain. She felt like she was floating. But the soft warmth on her cheek was too soon replaced by the chill of the air around them.
He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. "I…should go," he breathed.
Hawke blinked once and parted her lips to speak, but he turned abruptly. She could only watch him leave. Her heart was racing and her mind was as much a mess as his appeared to be. Still, she stood there, and the minutes passed by beneath the coming dawn.
With heavy feet, she returned to the Blooming Rose.
A cold and tired glare greeted Sebastian as he pushed through the brothel doors. The proprietor scowled as she warily took his coin. "If you're planning another nightly excursion with my girl, you're going to have to wait over there," she jabbed her finger at the empty tables in the corner. "She's with a customer right now. You can have her after he's done."
His trademark grin faded and a noticeable frown marred his features. Had his antics from last night gotten her into any sort of trouble? Stepping away from the counter, his stomach churned as his line of sight traveled up the stairs. The old woman's words set off a warning inside him, but all he could do was wait. He sat at a small wooden table against the wall, forcing a calm over his mind. As the minutes ticked by, however, the constant tapping of his foot gave away his growing impatience.
Sebastian had spent the entire night unable to find sleep. If his eyes had shut, it was only a matter of minutes before they would open again and he would curse and pace about his room. Nothing made sense. And whenever he was away from this girl, things made even less sense. To make matters worse, he had bumped into his father on the main floor of the inn that morning, and the 'Prince of Starkhaven' simply looked at him and shook his head before leaving. That of course did nothing to improve his mood. A night of thinking, drinking, and cursing found him – again – at a loss. Finally he had passed out around mid-morning… and the first thought that came to mind when he awoke was her.
Movement on the stairs caught his eye and he turned to see a large pot-bellied man descending with…an unmistakable glow to him. The grizzled thug cast the other girls a predatory grin before stalking confidently out the door. Sebastian did not miss the mischief in his eyes that accompanied his smile, or the way the girls sent a knowing look of disapproval after him when he left.
His desire to see Hawke broke his thoughts and spurred him instantly up the stairs. He knocked politely at her door with a furrowed brow, able to discern audible fumbling and muttered curses before her voice sounded.
"I'll be right there," she called, the weariness in her voice painfully obvious.
Sebastian waited patiently in the hallway before her quiet "come in" ushered him forward, his heartbeat coming in quick, erratic bursts. He opened his mouth to speak as he shut the door behind him, but found himself staring at her back, rather than her front.
"Hawke?"
"Oh, it's you…" Relief flooded her voice, and she turned to greet him with a smile on her face.
His own smile was short-lived.
Her eyes went wide. She quickly moved to cover her face, but his gentle hands stopped her and turned her chin to face him.
An eerie quiet and discomfort settled in her room. Very slowly he turned her face from side to side. His examination was painfully deliberate; but the look in his eyes silenced any of her complaints as he studied the cut on her lip and the darkening bruise around her left eye.
Sebastian was livid. His body and mind were surging with an anger he had never known. The idea of killing a man had never felt so…compelling. His normally clear blue eyes were clouded with an unfamiliar disquiet and an unsettling darkness.
"Someone was not gentle with you."
It was a statement, rather than a question. Hawke sighed and looked away.
"It's no surprise really. I was bound to get a 'rough' one sooner or later." Her resentment practically dripped from her words.
His thumb brushed the cut on her lip and she flinched. "Did that stout bastard do this?"
Hawke cast him a meaningful look and gently pushed his probing fingers away from her face. "And what if he did, hmm? What happens in these rooms stays here," she reminded him. "No one is dead, so he did nothing wrong."
"My ass he didn't," he seethed. He met her eyes with something he chose to mask with anger. "I'll-"
"Do nothing," she soothed with tender strokes to the side of his face. "Please, my foreign admirer," she light-heartedly teased, "I've…had a rough day. But your unexpected appearance has made it seem brighter. Just…let it go."
While her gentle ministrations eased his desire to chase after the man and end his life, Sebastian's mind was waging a war on itself – torn between inaction and injustice, to wondering what rights he felt he had over her in the first place. He closed his eyes and sighed as her soft hands ran through his hair. The gesture seemed innocent at first, playful even, but as the moments passed it grew into something more.
A possessiveness he had never known gripped him, and in a desperate act he pulled her to him suddenly, a strong, protective hand covering her head. He wanted to shield and shelter her, and the notion of it…frightened him. His heart wretched painfully inside him as last night's realization replayed in his mind. He'd been so lost in his pursuit for answers, so caught up in their playful banter that he never even stopped to consider how right she was to question his reappearances. He really would be gone in a matter of days. And where did that leave her?
Unsure with himself even more than before, he pulled away to find her green eyes staring up at him.
"Your concern for me is quite endearing."
She tried to joke, but there was a darkness in her eyes that had not been there the night before. Already he could see beginnings of the worn and weary look normally carried by the women who walked this path and lived this lifestyle. She would lose herself in this place. …But what could he do?
"…Let's get out of here."
Hawke blinked twice. "But, what ab-"
"No buts." He began searching her elegant dresser drawers for more suitable clothing. "I've paid for the evening again."
She opened her mouth to protest again when a cotton blouse landed abruptly over her head. In another sigh of defeat, she turned around to change.
Moments later they were out on the street, both in comfortable evening attire and neither having said a word since Sebastian's sharp acknowledgement to the proprietor that "they'd be back."
The air was warm, but not at all humid like before. It was a clear, beautiful night, and the stars shone brightly down on Kirkwall as an offering of some peace to the troubled hearts below. It felt good, and Sebastian was in no hurry to sully the silence with 'what if's' and hypothetical nonsense. Instead, he walked beside her – tending to the present as he did best – making her feel an equal rather than a submissive or a slave. When the Blooming Rose was no longer in sight, she inhaled deeply and flung her arms wide out into the air. He didn't know whether or not he imagined the twinkle of happiness in her eyes, but then and there, Sebastian swore that he would use every ounce of his power to see it again.
She laughed when she suppressed a cough. "Maker, this city stinks." She looked up at the stars as they strolled, a polite distance between them. "I miss Lothering."
"What was it like there? No special stories," he explained, "Just…tell me about it."
Her smile brightened. "…Well, for one, it was damp." She pointed up one finger to start counting, a reminiscent smile on her lips. "Lots of mud. Ferelden can smell a little like wet dog and garbage during the soggy months, but the temperature is always…average."
"Average sounds good," he chuckled.
"Winters were cold, summers were hot, but it was bearable. There weren't too many extremes to deal with, apart from all the mud," she giggled. "Carver and I used to help our father chop the wood for the fires in winter, and he'd get so mad when I could chop more than him," she laughed. Her voice grew quiet. "He was always so competitive, and I used to hate it, but now…" she sighed, "Now it's probably the thing I miss the most about him."
Their walking slowed when Sebastian set a gentle hand on her shoulder, but she held up her hand to stop him before he could say anything.
"Thank you, but it's okay. Really." Her smile appeared genuine, despite her sadness. "I think the more I talk about it, the easier it gets." She looked ahead of them, at nothing in particular, as they kept their pace. "A lot has happened recently… And I know I'll never truly forget, but it's nice to know that I actually have…someone to talk to apart from my family."
She stopped to look at him and he could do nothing as her sincere gaze melted his heart. He felt like a fool of a man. All of his pride, all his confidence, it all shattered in her company and faded away to leave…something he didn't fully understand. No matter what, this girl always found a way to humble and dismantle him.
She broke their gaze and an indefinable expression spread over her face.
"What's wrong?" Sebastian craned his neck at the unfamiliar scenery.
"I…" she looked around. "This…is where my mother and sister live, with my uncle."
Sebastian thought back to the details she had mentioned about her uncle, and about her family's present situation. He understood her trepidation. "Do you wish to see them?"
"…I don't know," she answered solemnly. "I haven't seen any of them in almost a week." She slowly ascended the dirty limestone steps and rested her fingers on the small wooden door. "I know I shouldn't be, but… I'm so ashamed…" she admitted quietly, just loud enough for him to hear.
"Well don't be." His voice was quiet as well, but solid with a certainty she had been faking for quite some time. "Your sacrifice for your family is a noble and selfless one. You act with the strength of twenty men in one small body, and you…" She turned to look at him and he nearly lost his breath at the appreciation in the depths of her emerald eyes. "…Are truly an amazing woman, Hawke."
Smiling, she squeezed lightly on his hand and ushered him away from the door at the sound of her mother and sister's voices inside.
"…I will visit them," she decided. "But not tonight. I don't think I'm ready."
"And in that, there is no harm," he reassured her.
"Thank you. Truly."
He offered his arm and she seemed happy to accept, linking hers beneath his and quietly exiting Lowtown's old city slums. Their peaceful and aimless stroll again worked to quiet their worried souls.
The simplicity of this night felt good. Nothing was planned and nothing was expected of either of them. Thinking back on it, Sebastian could not recall a time he had ever felt so at ease in another's presence; and the more time he spent around her, the more he found it came quite naturally.
"So," his brogue sounded, "Does the fair maiden wish anything on the eve ahead of her?"
She giggled at his superfluous pleasantries. "Oh? Are we not due to meet up with Ser Kristof and the charming Ser Brannon?"
Sebastian nearly choked at the idea of Brannon being charming and had to hold back his laughter. He eyed her playfully, a little taken aback at the accuracy in her banter despite her ignorance of their status. He'd tried so hard not to mention it, or his name. Luckily, that had become something of a game between them now, an inside joke of sorts. …But was there really much of a point in hiding it from her?
"You know, I really don't care that you're nobility."
He stopped abruptly, and the motion nearly pulled her off her feet. She turned around to face him, and suddenly he found it difficult to speak. Apparently she could read his mind, on top of everything else.
He prayed that wasn't true.
Her confusion gave way to amusement. "Come on, I'm not stupid."
He paused a moment longer and hung his head, finally allowing her words to sink in and shake him from his stupor. Sighing heavily, he let the weight just roll off his shoulders. There was nothing he could do about it now. By this point it almost felt foolish, keeping anything from her.
He laughed, despite himself. "I suppose it is painfully obvious…"
She crossed her arms and tilted her head at him with a smile. "You've spent enough money on a girl you barely even know to prove you don't worry about it."
He met her eyes and mirrored her expression. "Were I a poorer man, I would have found the coin. You've been worth it."
Her smile brightened, and this time she did not try to hide her blush. "You're very sweet. So how is it that you're not married off to a cute young noblewoman by now?"
Sebastian fought urge to scowl. "Believe me, my parents have tried – for me and my two older brothers. They may have found matches they're content with, but I can't stand the type of women that parade in and out of court. Everyone is so fake. I hate it."
"Well, well," she teased, a triumphant grin on her face. "My admirer actually has a life. And a family. Here I was beginning to think you were just a figment of my imagination."
"A handsome one at that," he smirked.
She returned the gesture before turning her attention back in front of them as they started walking again. "Wherever you're from, and whoever you are, your secret is safe with me." She chuckled. "Technically, I am supposed to be nobility as well, believe it or not."
Sebastian turned to regard her with heightened curiosity. "So that explains the unnerving accuracy of your talent for court pleasantries."
"Just my good acting, I'm afraid," she laughed. "It's not as though I've ever actually been a noble."
"…Does that have anything to do with your uncle you mentioned?"
She nodded and sighed. "It was a forgotten detail about my family's past that I only recently discovered. It would take a miracle to get any of it back."
Sebastian rolled his eyes. "You're not missing much. …I can't stand it at home," he admitted. "Kristof and Brannon are my closest friends, plus a few others who understand... We all lead double lives we don't want to."
"I know how you feel," she offered quietly.
Sebastian smiled through the self-disgust he felt rising. "There's a difference though… You are sacrificing a lot more than I need to. I am just avoiding responsibility."
"But it was one that you did not ask for." She set a comforting hand on his arm. "Just give it time. You'll find what it is you're looking for, even if it lands you in dirty back alleys or unfamiliar arms," she grinned, "You'll find your calling and rise to meet it when the time is right."
He looked down at her, gratitude and wonder in his eyes. "You sound so wise for someone so young."
"…My father and mother taught me never to doubt what your heart is telling you, to always love yourself." She laughed sadly. "And here all I've been doing lately is doubting and hating myself for what I've become..." She looked up at him and offered him another smile. "I am grateful to have had the support that I did, growing up. I'm sure your parents mean well. Just try and listen. …And don't take the time you have with people for granted. You never know when you might lose them."
"Hawke…" He stopped and held her there, his hands on her shoulders as he searched her eyes. The tightness in his chest returned, along with so many questions... This uncertainty and hesitation was becoming too much to bear. He raised a hand to caress her cheek.
Would it be so bad to tell her everything?
An unfamiliar chuckle broke them from their trance and Sebastian whipped around to find the two of them were cornered in an alley, their entrance blocked by seven armored men.
"Evening, lovebirds." the largest one, their assumed leader, spoke up. "Empty your pockets…" He sent a heated look towards Hawke. "And leave the girl. If you're lucky, we might spare your life."
Sebastian eyed the man dangerously, silently cursing himself for wandering dangerous parts of an unfamiliar town without a bow or anything to defend them with. Before he or the thugs had any time to think, however, Hawke was in front of the one closest her in a flash, her foot spinning into the air and connecting with his jaw. The cracking of bone sent the group immediately into action.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins as Sebastian rounded on the man running towards him, daggers in hand. In one swift motion, he ducked beneath the swing of one dagger and effectively blocked the second. He deftly knocked the wind from his assailant, causing him to fall to his knees before Sebastian brought his elbow down, hard, on his head. The daggers clattered to the ground, and before the next man was upon him, he took them up in defense, all the while desperately keeping an eye on Hawke.
She was like the wind, quick and sharp with her cuts and blows from the daggers she herself had acquired. But unlike Sebastian, she had obviously been trained as a in the art of dueling, as her arms were like liquid extensions of her body that flowed freely and gracefully with every turn, flip, and twist. She was quick, nimble, and acrobatic in her movements, and before long had felled four of the men around her – leaving the leader to stand alone in her line of sight. He moved to charge, but faltered when she practically flew through the air, coming down behind him in a series of flips and cutting through the flesh of his back.
Sebastian dropped the man he had been holding, while he and one other that she had not fatally wounded scurried away, leaving five dead bodies around a very stunned prince.
She searched their bodies, collected a whopping twenty silver and thirteen copper pieces, and stood to stare at him with a cocky wave of her hair.
"My foreign admirer," she spoke amused, a fascinated look in her eye, "is a fellow rogue?"
Normally, he might have thought to cater his wounded ego in a situation like this, but never in his entire life had he known a more enticingly attractive woman than the one standing ten feet away from him. Daggers still in hand, she flipped them once before taking a battle stance before him.
'Oh?'
Sure, he had been caught off guard by her skills, but she didn't actually think she could best his own skills in combat, did she? True, he was naturally more gifted with a bow, preferring to fight at longer distances; but he could deal in close-quarters melee combat if need be. He smiled wickedly then, a new kind of adrenaline filling his veins as he gripped the dagger in his left hand.
And just like that, they were on each other – a friendly spar at the height of an unexpected evening – and it wasn't long before the 'friendly' competition turned into something primal and physical. Fueled by something deeper and stronger, they relished the exertion. Sweat clung to their shirts and dripped in beads from their foreheads as they spun, thrust, and dodged one another's blows, each mindful not to fatally wound one another. Their breathing came in short erratic bursts as she twisted in close enough for a lethal blow, but was stopped when a strong arm encircled her waist. As if in a standing game of twister, their limbs were tangled together in such a way that if she had wanted to, Hawke could have ended it, but she didn't. On the other hand, if she had wanted to escape, she couldn't.
They were inches apart, their breaths mingling together as a cool breeze surged through the alley they were knotted in. All else seemingly forgotten, they stared into each other's eyes. And swirling within Sebastian Vael's crystal blue depths was an emotion he had never felt before, and no one else had ever seen before.
A small sound, a whimper, almost inaudible, left her lips as he ducked his head down to capture them in a soft, loving kiss. Her eyelashes fluttered as she closed her eyes and he held her, pressing her to him with one hand at the small of her back and the other behind her neck. Soft, pliable lips melded together in a savoring warmth that satisfied the ache without a need to deepen it. Perhaps it was the thought of something happening to her tonight, or perhaps it was inevitable the way she was growing on him, but as they slowly parted, Sebastian could not mistake the goose bumps that pulsed over every inch of their skin.
This was much more.
A thundering uncertainty fell on both of them then. He could see it mirrored in her eyes as he slowly pulled away. They discarded their weapons and quickly left the alley, retracing their steps with distracted and watchful eyes.
The walk back was quiet. Once the Blooming Rose was in sight, they stopped to say something… anything… but the silence felt too heavy. Too much, too soon. A polite nod was all they exchanged before parting ways, leaving both to their thoughts as she slowly found her way back into her hell and he to his.
Hawke stared out her window, angry tears rolling down her face, as he disappeared around the corner. She promised herself she would not get attached – not to the stranger with the lovely accent, not to anyone. She promised herself. But if given the opportunity… she would break it again.
The night was empty and restless for them both, and only Sebastian knew that what had grown between them could not last. In two days he would be gone, and never had he hated an idea so vehemently. Never in his life had he cared for something, for anyone other than himself, so powerfully. Never had such fear and indecision felt so… paralyzing. But what could he do? After so many sleepless nights, he fell quickly into a fitful and exhausted slumber.
He awoke with purpose.
A/N: I had honestly forgotten how much fun writing is – especially fanfiction – and I am thrilled to be doing it again. I apologize if, in my haste and excitement to post and publish, I make any errors in grammar, spelling, or continuity. I know this chapter was long, but I had a lot of ground to cover – especially in my editing. ^^ For the record, you can expect a lot of fluff in this story. I'm a sucker for romance.
Thank you to those who offered their reviews, as they are always appreciated. :)
