Notes: I apologize for my spelling errors and somewhat jumbled sentences at times. My mind runs a million miles an hour at night, so that's when I write, but being tired, I sometimes only half pay attention to what I'm doing. I also read crazy fast sometimes, and overlook when proofreading. I will be doing my best to keep a closer eye out. As I am writing this, I am not sure how this chapter is going to play out. I slept on it, but I am still not sure where to go next, or what exactly to do. I hope you all like it at the end nonetheless. =)
Tortured
Sebastian had never been in an awkward silence. It was almost suffocating, but the words he wanted to say were refusing to surface. Come to think of it, he wasn't even certain what it was he wished to say to the trembling woman in his hold. There had been so much to confront her on, so much to uncover, but the moment she had acquiesced to being in his arms, he had, quite simply, drawn a blank. He bit the inside of his cheek, frustrated. It was like he was thrown from his body and was only allowed to observe and not act, or speak.
It turned out to be Hawke who broke the pregnant silence. "There were some clothes on the desk that the guard seems to have forgotten. Could you please retrieve them for me? I am feeling a little…exposed," she said wryly, seeming to just realize she was sitting there in the tattered remains of her robe. Thank the Maker her small clothes hadn't been rendered useless. She wasn't sure if she could handle any more shame, on top of all the shame she already carried with her.
He nodded but found his eyes looking her over as he slowly released her to stand. She was indeed exposed; though he could be thankful for the fact her intimate parts were adequately covered. He frowned. That wasn't important right now. For once his vows could shove it, he mused as he moved around the side of the desk. Even if she was bare as the day she was born, it wouldn't stop him from comforting her. Not after what she had been through. It didn't take him long to find the clothes she'd spoken of and he brought himself back to her carrying a blouse missing a sleeve, a vest, and a pair of women's trousers.
He held the clothes out to her, but she didn't take them from him immediately. Instead she peered up at him, strands of her fire hued hair hanging in her vision. Her expression was blank. Her eyes moved restlessly across his face, as if searching desperately for something. The moment passed and she gave a weak smile, taking the clothes from his outstretched hand. "Um, would you mind turning around?" She whispered, holding the clothes to her chest as her cheeks suddenly seemed to catch fire.
Sebastian blinked, and then his eyes widened. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. Of course." He almost stuttered out the words, his own cheeks tinting red with embarrassment as he did as she asked. He heard movement, and the sound of ripping cloth. He figured she considered her robe a lost cause and was simply discarding of it. As much as he fought it, he couldn't stop unwarranted thoughts from creeping in. He could picture her there, sitting in the light of the lamp on the desk, her porcelain skin tempting him in ways he had forgotten. He had forgotten the needs of his body, the useless lust that had caused him nothing but suffering in his life before the chantry; at least, he had forgotten, until Hawke.
Hawke's eyes watched him as she went through the task of tearing the remaining pieces of her tattered robe from her bruised and battered body. Even though he had his back to her, she couldn't help but feel vulnerable in her state of undress in his presence. For so many years of her life, she had wished for nothing more than this; for Sebastian to see her as the Maker had born her, and to love her as the Maker had intended man to love a woman. Even as the chantry where he had taken his vows lay in ruin, the prince had all but stayed true to them regardless. Even if the structure was gone, and his friend along with it, she knew that he held value of his vows in his heart; even before the love he had confessed to having for her. She was only now realizing that she came second, and would never be first in his heart.
Shying away from these tortured thoughts, Hawke slipped on the blouse and vest, though one of her arms remained bare because of Deccan's fun. He'd silenced her with that missing sleeve and as she started down at her arm, she could not help but think of what that Templar had done to her. Tears began to build in her eyes and she couldn't help the sob that slipped free from her lips.
Sebastian started as he heard her sob and quickly turned around to see that the proud mage was crying once more. Despite the fact that she wore no trousers, he knelt quickly at her side to grasp her face in his hands, though he was quick to gentle his touch as she winced from the pressure against her bruised jaw and cheek. His brows came together over his eyes and that bright blue ocean searched her silver pool. "What is it, Hawke?" He asked worriedly.
She gave a bitter laugh. "Back to that, are we? I suppose you weren't as torn up about this as I was."
For a moment, he was confused. He didn't release her face but instead moved his face closer. "What do speak of?" He inquired curiously; he had an inkling of what she meant, but wanted no misunderstanding between them. There was already too much of that to add more.
"What do I speak of?" She repeated. "You wanted me to be your wife in the chantry, Sebastian Vael, Prince of Starkhaven." He winced at the title, his mouth forming into a thin line. She shook her head in his hands gently. "Obviously, this thing – " she waved her hand to emphasis whatever this thing was. "It was never meant to be. You are by far too selfish for love."
"Selfish?" He was astounded at that; of all the things he was, he had never thought himself to be selfish. "You are mistaken, Serah Hawke. If I was selfish, I would never have taken my vows to the Chantry, I would never have given away my life of pleasure and debauchery to serve the Maker, and I never would have returned to Starkhaven to rule despite my desperate longing to stay with you, despite what you and Anders did."
"I didn't do anything!" She snapped angrily. She jerked her face from his hands and shoved her hands against his chest armor to push him away, but he only clapped his hands over hers to hold them there. "Why does everyone keep saying that I am responsible for the destruction of the chantry and for the death of my friend? I did not wield the staff, I did not summon the magic; I didn't kill him, I know, but it was Elthina who told me revenge was not the answer! I spared him because I knew it was what she would have wanted me to do!"
Sebastian tried to stay calm, but just as she had grown angry, he found himself doing the same. He tried to calm himself, but all those pent up emotions were raging to the surface. "Yet he remains free, does he not!" He snapped in return, his hands pressing hers harder against him. "In what way has he paid for his crimes? He walks free even now, while you suffer for his actions!"
"That was my decision!" She yelled at him, trying desperately to shove him away, but he held her still. "We were coming back to the city together and after we took a few hours to rest, I snuck away and left him!" She had to catch herself when she said rest, because it had almost come out 'took a few hours to make love.' Something moved through her eyes before she looked away from him, ashamed. Who could have guessed that in the same night she finally herself gave in to Anders' pleas, she would come face to face with the object of her inner turmoil? "It would have been so much easier had I let myself love Anders," she whispered, all the anger draining from her in a sudden bout of defeat, "But even now, after everything, even if we hate each other – I still can't remove you from my heart."
He couldn't help the sneer that came across his features at the mention of Anders' feelings towards her. "He would never love you!" He found himself growling the words. "He could never give you a life. He is a murderer, a fugitive, and a man who would put his ambitions before any concern of yours." He released her hands and gently set them in her lap. He squeezed her fingers until she lifted her eyes to look at him. "Surely you have to see that by now…Necroditei."
She pursed her lips together and then gave a sigh. "Help me with the trousers please; I am afraid my leg still isn't able to hold my weight." He blinked a few times and lowered his eyes to her ankle, the one he'd seen bruised, bleeding, and covered with lacerations. "What happened?" He asked as he picked up the trousers and held them open so that she could slip her feet in. "Trap," she mumbled, almost ashamed to admit what had happened. "I am afraid I am not able to avoid them as easily as I did when you were around."
He couldn't help but chuckle at her joking, and almost teasing, tone. He pulled the pants over her knees and up her thighs; he swallowed hard at the feel of her skin sliding across the backs of his fingers. She was as soft as he always imagined, like silk dancing across his flesh. "Lift your hips, please," he choked out, clearing his throat once he realized how husky his voice sounded. She did as he asked, though the stain of red was evident on her cheeks. He slid the pants over her shapely bottom and had to suppress a groan. His hands began to tremble and he finished his task quickly, tying the trousers shut fast, before moving back away from her.
"I suppose I must resign myself to my fate, then," Hawke mumbled, using the edge of the desk to help ease herself to her feet. He was quick to move back to her side, helping her stand so that she could keep her weight off of her injured leg. "Why haven't you healed yourself?" he questioned.
She cocked a brow and looked up at him. "Really? You hadn't noticed your Templar's new little toy?" She touched her free hand to the chain resting around her neck. "It would seem they have found a way to suppress my magic with this…collar," she sneered out. "I am no threat to you, or your Templars, so don't fret." She yanked her arm from him and hobbled to the other side of the room, though he stubbornly followed her. He grabbed her arm again and turned her to face him, holding her shoulders firmly so that she could not pull away from him.
"Would you stop putting words in my mouth, you stubborn fool!" He snapped out with a frown. The frown eased after a moment, and his hands gentled, instead beginning to softly rub the small woman's shoulders. "I was just wondering. The last thing I want to see you in is pain." He said softly. "I know I felt, I know I have caused you nothing but pain; it is contradictory of me to worry now, I know."
"You will have to continue worrying," she said to him solemnly. "The Templars, they know nothing of what it means to treat mages with anything other than cruelty. It isn't just about freedom anymore, Sebastian. It's not even about being made Tranquil." That had been her biggest fear for most of her life. "It's about my life. You see what they've done to me?" He nodded with a frown. "This is only the tip of the iceberg. And with this new toy of theirs, I am incapable of even attempting an escape. What am I without my magic?"
"You don't need your magic to be strong. You have always been strong," he whispered. The torment inside of him was suddenly too much to bear and he lifted his hands to her face. He stared at her for a long moment, letting her silver eyes drown him entirely. His head lowered and his breath fanned her lips, before he gave a soft groan, closing the slight distance until his lips were finally resting against her own. The kiss was gentle, fragile, but she did not push him away, instead she seemed to lean into his lips with a soft sigh.
It was much potently consuming than he had ever imagined, or dreamed of. His whole body seemed to catch fire and he had to step back from her, removing himself completely, before he lost his senses. She seemed sad at his withdrawal, but nodded softly. "Best summon the guard dogs," she mumbled, indicating the locked door before them.
"I swear to you, I will get you out of here, one way or another." He vowed. And it was this vow that suddenly meant the most, it meant nothing compared to the vows he'd made before. If the Maker had truly wanted him in the chantry, locked away from the world, then he would have made sure the woman who had captured his heart had remained safe. She needed him, and he wasn't about to abandon her again.
Notes: This chapter made me smile. =) More soon! Anders will be making his presence known. Fun!
