Anonymous asked: F!Hawke/Seb, 24

24. tender

Sunlight warmed the sitting room, gentling the cool autumn air and attracting both of the royal suite's occupants to the long sofa opposite the fireplace.

Sebastian glanced up from his book, studying Hawke discreetly over the thick pages. She, too, had settled in for some afternoon reading in the unexpected free time they'd been granted. Embroidered rust-red finery hugged her figure beautifully, skirts crumpled into an undignified mess as she tucked her legs up underneath her backside to get more comfortable. Here, she was safely away from prying eyes who would judge the newly-crowned princess for such posture. It was a comfort, both to see her acting so much herself and the rare moment alone during the day.

Part of him longed to take advantage of such an opportunity, to break the silence and close the short distance between them, yet he reined it in. He had been doing his utmost to give her space - to allow her to branch out on her own in his homeland, to explore and grow into her role as a ruler and all that it would entail. She could not do so freely with him constantly hovering nearby, especially if he was unable to keep himself from intervening or making suggestions.

It was proving very difficult to keep a healthy distance when he wanted nothing more than to be by her side.

And all of this was in addition to the fact that they were still navigating what it meant to be a couple only after marrying, something quite different when they were no longer throwing an active coup with nary a moment to breathe.

He absently overheard the shuffle of fabric as his eyes scanned the pages, seeing but not reading the words as his thoughts traveled.

"Sebastian?"

He lifted his head and turned. Hawke had abandoned her book to the floor and was now patting her lap invitingly, grey-blue eyes fixed on him. "Come here."

He hesitated, but only for a moment. This was the first time she had ever offered this particular intimacy, and he was starved of her enough that he didn't have it in him to resist. He lay on his back and settled his head atop her thighs, one leg bent at the knee and the other swung over the edge to accommodate his height. As he folded his hands over his stomach, there was nothing in Thedas that could have kept the smile from his face.

She tugged the royal circlet free, and he heard the clack of it against wood as she placed it elsewhere. Though as soon as her fingers began weaving patterns through his hair, she could have thrown it across the room and he wouldn't have protested.

"I feel like I haven't seen much of you lately," she said, running long, even strokes around his temples. "It's odd and I don't like it."

He chuckled, closing his eyes. "Aye, but you've done well without me all the same."

"I have, haven't I?" He could hear the smile in her voice, and he hummed appreciatively when she moved her attentions to his ears. "Still, I'm glad for moments like these."

He felt a knot that had wound itself around his heart relax at her words. He had given her space, distance, freedom – and she had come back to him.

"As am I, mo ghràidh."