Techniecalities

by Doxx

Sebastian and Fenris are attracted to each other, and together they explore loopholes in Sebastian's vows.

11. Epilogue part 1

Technicalities – epilogue

This is an optional epilogue, that will lead to the next story with Seb and Fenris (which will be from Fenris's POV, and set in Starkhaven). I'll write a quick 'story so far' before starting the next story, so you can miss out the epilogue if you wish.

This part contains the events of the chantry explosion. It may get a little dark as Sebastian copes, but I can promise Fenris and Seb will get a happy ending (leastways, till I get at the pair with the next story; Loopholes).

warnings: suicidal themes, m/m, explicit sex, and the longest damned epilogue ever.

It had not taken Varric long at all to begin to smirk into his ale, soon after Sebastian walked into the Hanged Man, with Fenris following behind him. The dwarf said nothing, didn't need to, both he and Sebastian knew that he knew, and that was enough for Varric to take on an air of smugness, as if he had orchestrated the details of the pairing between the archer and Fenris himself.

Fenris had been more than a little uncomfortable, being a private creature by nature, but Sebastian had taken him aside at the first available opportunity and argued for the dwarf. He explained that people would find out eventually, and, more importantly, that they had nothing to be ashamed of.

He did wish that Fenris had discussed with him beforehand his plans, rather than the elf returning to the table, taking a delicate sip of wine, and then leaning over and kissing him full on the lips, in front of everyone. Sebastian had been too shocked to do anything other than blush, and he cursed that Fenris could ruin his usual composure so completely with nothing but a kiss. Still, it was worth it for the look on Isabella's face.

Sebastian had readied himself to fend off the comments about chastity and vows that he was sure would follow. However, something in the way Fenris glared, arms crossed and posture challenging, seemed to put off the collected group from saying anything more than 'oh', and in Varric's case a quiet "'bout time."

And that was it. Hawke quickly accepted that if he was going out fighting he would be taking both Sebastian and Fenris or neither. Sebastian had a feeling that Anders had been less than delighted at this turn of events, still wary of Fenris from the incident in the Darktown sewers, and so had not been surprised when he found that Hawke called upon him less and less. Given that Hawke seemed to be dealing with bloodmages, and great demons, and more, Sebastian was actually quite glad that he and Fenris did not have to risk themselves.

Aveline kept her thoughts on their relationship to herself, but did start to ask Sebastian, repeatedly, to encourage Fenris to be a bit more mindful of his stolen mansion and not offend his Hightown neighbours on her behalf. Sebastian dutifully passed on her words, then when Fenris snorted in reply, said no more on the matter. Luckily, Sebastian had already taken steps to befriend and charm the nobles that had been on the cusp of lodging complaints about the drunken elf that lived nearby, his friendly and polite manner disarming them from their resentments. He'd made a show of entering and leaving, donned in his white and gold armour, and the sight of a human, who looked as if he ought to have such a fine house, seemed to settle the majority of the noble rabble.

Merrill said little, having established long ago that neither Fenris nor Sebastian approved of her blood magic, and thusly, her. As if to make up for the Dalish's silence, Isabella frequently made a lewd comment or five, but once, when Fenris had practically bristled at the mention of 'sharing', his lyrium tattoos glowing warningly, had given her a much deserved scare. So the sea wench had learnt to make sure that he was out of ear shot of her comments and observations in future. That didn't spare Sebastian her inane chatter, but he could cope, and not fall for the obvious ploy to gleam more details about their bedroom activities, much to Isabella's dismay.

Varric, who would wink at Sebastian occasionally, seemed to think that without him Fenris and Sebastian might have never made a move towards each other, and though that was not strictly true, the notion seemed to please him, and so Sebastian decided to let the dwarf continue to believe that he was responsible for their happiness.

When not helping Hawke try to keep abreast of the rising tensions between mages and Templar in Kirkwall, Sebastian frequented the chantry. Though he spent his nights at Fenris's mansion, he was welcomed. He did odds jobs, such as running errands and cleaning, and tending the gardens, reading the greenery for the hardship of the coming winter. He'd also begun a second copy of the Chant of Light. Fenris sometimes accompanied him in the evenings, and had sat watching, fascinated, as the archer conjured words and holy phrases from ink and parchment.

Sebastian had developed a habit of speaking out loud the words he was scribing, that Fenris might start to see how the sounds made shapes, and while the Chant was hardly the most simple of texts to learn to read with, Fenris seemed to appreciate the gesture.

He would work, till the candle burned low, and then walk with Fenris through the increasingly chilly autumn air back to the mansion he was started to see as home. They'd cleared the unwanted bodies and portraits, and dusted and mopped till the place looked less derelict. Of the multitude of rooms available, they only inhabited a few, and shared a bedroom.

It took Sebastian a while to get out of the habit of rising at dawn to attend to his chantry duties, but soon the lull of soft white hair upon his shoulder, and the warm press of skin again him, made Sebastian start to fully appreciate lie-ins with his lover.

They woke, sometimes the gentle caresses of morning turning into something altogether more energetic, and would discuss their plans for the day over breakfast, from a pantry better stocked now Sebastian had taken on the task of stocking enough food to prepare and cook nutritious enough meals for two men of battle.

Sebastian would usually go to the chantry, and see if there was anything that needed doing, and Fenris would manage the household, seeing to the dished, the laundry and chopping firewood. Soon, they fell into a routine where Fenris would meet Sebastian at the chantry, usually by mid-afternoon, as if the elf could not stand to be separated for more than a few hours at a time.

In the privacy of his own mind, Sebastian was glad, as it meant he did not have to seek out the elf, when he himself started to miss the lyrium'd skin and bright green eyes.

Given that Hawke had become much too busy dealing with the politics between Orsino and Meredith, Sebastian and Fenris had decided to take the chantry board messages posted in the courtyard, all save for the ones that would be too dangerous to try and tackle by themselves, and complete them. Most were simple matters, locating a lost cat, clearing a cellar of rats, helping a baker who had injured his shoulder deliver his goods, and though the pay was generally what people could afford, Sebastian suspected that Fenris enjoyed the satisfaction in making another person happy almost as much as he did. That it reflected well upon the chantry was an added bonus.

The high cleric Ethane had commended Sebastian and his 'friend' on their hard work, and though she seemed disappointed that Sebastian had not gone to Starkhaven to reclaim the throne, she smiled often at the archer, and Fenris as well. Her disappointment that Sebastian had not strove for a higher purpose was offset by the sizeable donations Sebastian was known to make to the chantry coffers, and she could not begrudge the happiness of one of the Maker's devoted.

Sebastian was happy. He felt he was doing work that while not the most world changing, was making Kirkwall a better place, little by little. His bow was being used regularly, though more of a ward against conflict rather than actually having to face down whatever demons he'd be fighting if he were by Hawke's side. Thugs and gang members tended to back down quickly, rather than cause trouble when confronted with an arrow aimed in their direction, and an elf pulling out from its sheaf a rather large sword, and when a fight did break out, Sebastian and Fenris made short work of the untrained fools.

At first he'd worried that he was forcing Fenris to join the chantry ideals without giving him a say in the matter, but it had been Fenris's idea to address the mounting pile of unattended chantry board messages, perhaps spurred by the opportunity it gave him to continue welding his sword, just as Sebastian took pleasure in being able to make use of his bow, his weapon too much a part of himself to forsake. Also, when Sebastian had been held up with one of the frequent patrons he helped, an older lady who could talk the hind legs off of a bronco, Fenris had gone to the evening sermon by his own choice. Later, he had questions, which Sebastian was only to pleased to address. Though not always easy to answer, for example; 'why does the Maker allow bad things to happen?', Sebastian relished the discussions, and Fenris's curiosity and interest in his faith.

And, if the riotous noise they made come sunset, even though it risked giving the neighbours new things to complain about, was any indication, Sebastian would guess that the elf enjoyed their night-time exploits as much as he did, the both of them often going to bed sweat-soaked, spent and satisfied.

It was a good life, and he did not want for anything. He had enough coin to buy fresh food and wine, and keep both their armours in good shape. He had work that occupied his time, and fulfilled him, and Fenris by his side. He could never remember such contentment, and his belief in the Maker grew, as he realised all he had ever wanted was his.

---

It had been a cold day, when he and Fenris had finished finding the last of a stolen shipment of spices, and had returned them to their rightful owner. Moving the barrels had been hard work, and Sebastian was looking forward to a peaceful evening, perhaps with a heated bath to ease his worn muscles, and a glass of wine. And Fenris, all to himself.

He was smiling as they walked, eyes only mildly suggestive, when he saw that Fenris had stopped. He cocked his head, and heard it, shouting voices, and the bark of a mabari. It could have been anyone arguing in the streets, any dog joining in, but Sebastian had long since learnt that if there was any trouble in Kirkwall, sooner or later Hawke would be involved.

They turned off, heading to the Gallows, to find Meredith and Orsino screeching at each other, as had become a commonplace sight. Sebastian sighed, and hoped he would not have to go and fetch Ethane to sort the bickering pair out again, the high cleric having better things to do than to mediate the on-going dispute of mage rights and city safety against the risk of blood magic.

Hawke, predictably, was there, hands up and trying to gain some silence that he might intervene. Narf-narf too, barked wildly, and hardly helping matters. The air was tense, unsettled, and Hawke's usual collection of allies were keeping their distance watching for the side-lines. Aveline looked like she would very much like to arrest the senior enchanter and Templar knight, for causing such commotion, and even Varric seemed to have misplaced his usual easy-going smile, eyes sharp and nervous.

Fenris did not draw his sword, but Sebastian noted the way his hand went to the hilt, as if to double check it was there, just in case. He gave a nod, likewise checking his bow was in reach, his arrows primed and ready. They approached, carefully, so as not to make a bad situation any worse.

He saw Anders walk up, but Sebastian was too far away to hear what the mage said. Whatever the healer had said, it seemed to halt the argument, as both Meredith and Orsino turned on the healer, and Hawke had stepped forward, to place himself between them and his lover.

Then, the sky started to burn.

He looked, and saw fire, and a bright blinding light that stung his eyes. It took a moment for Sebastian to realise the source, to comprehend that the pieces of falling rock and stone that crashed to the ground were of the chantry.

The air was thick with the sound of broken bricks, and screams, as fire and fragments fell upon the city and its people.

Sebastian couldn't breathe, as if he did not wish to take that fear-laden air into himself, and he watched, horrified, as he saw the empty space in the skyline where the chantry had once stood. All the people who would have been inside, his chantry brothers and sisters, Ethane herself, as well as any passing patron who had gone to pray…. people he would never see again, gone, in an instant.

He looked, to see Anders, unsurprised at the devastation, nod with finality and knew the mage had had a part in the destruction.

His feet were moving before he realised, and he was fast progress towards Anders, eyes full of fury. As he approached he heard as the healer gave Hawke explanation. Something about mage rights, about no other way, but Sebastian could not take in the words. As he came to face Anders, the mage fell quiet. Orsino was pale, Meredith awash in red that might have been the lights of the fires, or her own raised blood colouring her cheeks. They both, in a strange display of unity, moved backwards, as they took in the dark look in Sebastian's eyes.

Hawke was standing, in shock, in horror, mouth open but no words apparent, and so Sebastian spoke;

"Why! In the name of the Maker why…?" His voice demanding, a slight tremble he could not hide, as he struggled to speak, rather than just scream in rage.

"To move things forward, drastic action had to be taken. I will not apologise for doing what had to be done…" Anders had his head down, and spoke without looking to face the archer.

"But for what it is worth, I am glad that you had left the chantry before I… before it…"

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, and he took a step towards the mage, ignoring that Hawke had brought his daggers to hand, held high as if to strike. Unsurprising really, fighting had always come more naturally than diplomacy to Kirkwall's champion, and Sebastian well knew that the gleam of metal was not for show, that Hawke could wield the blades with skill and deadly force. He did not let Hawke intimidate him however, too much was he focused on the mage, the abomination.

"Would it have made a blind bit o' difference if Ah had been inside…?" Sebastian's accent, seeped into his voice through anger rather than passion, and sounded harsher, rougher.

Anders looked up to meet Sebastian's gaze, eyes red and wet; "No."

Hawke moved then, standing between Anders and Sebastian, flicking his daggers in his hands, a clear warning against Sebastian's anger, against any revenge he might try to take.

Knuckles clenched white, Sebastian turned sharply to the side, unable to look at Anders, knowing that Hawke would protect him from all repercussions. That Hawke would not allow him to get close enough to make Anders pay for the lives he had taken, the lives he had ruined.

Hawke's rag-tag collection of companions stood, like the Gallows statues, and in their stillness invoking as much despair. Merrill clutched her staff, wide eyes full of fright. Varric, who had always seemed a decent sort, looked to Hawke, then Sebastian, taking in the silent plea for help in the prince's eyes, and shook his head sadly. Isabella crossed her arms, resting both hands on the daggers at her belt, but Sebastian could tell she was using the gesture to hide the fact she was hugging herself. Even Aveline, the captain of the guard with a sense of honour Sebastian had oft admired, made no move against Anders.

By their faces, Sebastian could tell that not a one approved of Anders actions, but whether too loyal to Hawke, or too afraid of the champion's wrath, no one seemed willing to stand up against the great atrocity that occurred. No-one, save himself.

Fenris too, was there, though Sebastian had hardly saw the elf run forwards, too busy staring at Hawke, willing the champion not to be so blinded by his feelings for the mage that he would allow his actions to go unpunished. A hand, laced with lyrium, gripped frim upon his elbow, and urged him back, as if Fenris was afraid the presence of the abomination might warp and twist him.

"Don't." Fenris whispered under his breath, on seeing Sebastian's eyes so cold, feeling the tension in his body that shook with rage, causing his metal plates to rattle. Sebastian ignored the elf, too full of hate and hurt, knowing that if he did not act, the mage would be allowed to go on living, regardless of the death and blood he had caused.

He addressed Hawke, whose daggers were stilled raised, everything in his stance promising to use them if need be. Sebastian looked the champion of Kirkwall over, and knew he could not fight him. Not only because the man had helped him destroy his family's murderers and he had sincerely sworn he would forever be grateful, but also because Hawke was too dangerous, too skilled in the ways of the blade, and Sebastian could not hope to win in combat. The others were right to fear his blades, they'd seen countless lives ended at those wicked points. He was glad in some ways, it kept him from throwing himself at Hawke and the mage, like so many foolish thugs, desperately grabbling for vengeance and blood, and instead gave him reason to focus his anger into his words.

"Ah would request that you bring the mage tae stand for his crime… but ah fear Ah already know what answer you will give…"

Hawke gave a short nod that Sebastian though correctly, that he would not give up Anders, even if the mage had just destroyed the chantry and all those inside. His jaw was clenched though, his lips tight and set into a frown.

"Then you leave me no choice. Turn him over, or I shall go back to Starkhaven, an' return with an army. Ah will lay waste to Kirkwall till he is brought to pay for what he has done. Innocents will die in the street, while you protect this monster. Your wounded city would suffer, for sake of one man. It is in your hands."

Hawke's mouth fell open, and he gaped at Sebastian, at the cold words, and at the threat issued.

"You would not do such a thing…" Hawke said, and Sebastian could tell he was hoping the archer would back down. Hoping he would turn a blind eyes, as he had so many other times, when corpses were looted, or Templars quietly despatched for doing nothing but the Maker's work.

Sebastian straightened, feeling the pull of Fenris upon his arm, still there. He stood up to Hawke, and stared at the man.

"Do not doubt me Hawke. This is wrong, you and Ah both know it. Let us show the mage true justice." He paused, remembering that Hawke had said that he loved the healer, and that this could not be easy for him. The champion had lost his sister in the deep roads, and his mother to blood magic, it was small wonder he could not bare the thought of losing his lover also. He took a breath, and lowered his voice so that Anders, who was swaying in place and didn't seem to be listening, would not hear;

"Ah shall grant him the mercy of a swift death."

He had meant it as a favour, a kindness. He'd heard Anders often exclaim he'd rather be dead than tranquil, and after this, the best he could hope for if the Templars were to catch him would be a public execution, if not the brand. A quiet death, clean and quick, without the misery of containment till his fate was decided, or the torture that might occur, seemed the best way to ensure Anders could not hurt anyone again, as well as show him the mercy he had not thought fit to give those in the chantry.

Hawke's face contorted in an animalistic rage, and his lips drew back to a snarl.

"You will not have him! Sebastian, I swear, if you so much touch him I will cut you down." Then, in a hiss, "He is mine!"

Sebastian did not let the raging man, all flashing daggers and teeth, faze him, and he shrugged, shaking his head softly. He looked at Hawke, through the eyes narrowed to pinpricks, the words shouted in such fervour they almost lost their coherence, and held the fearful gaze.

"Ah thought Ah'd at least give you the chance to do the right thing…" Sebastian's voice was hard, and he watched as Hawke swallowed thickly, and then knew his words had cut deep into the champion's heart.

Hawke had always tried to do right for his adopted home city, and though he sometimes could be distracted by coin, or made the wrong joke at the wrong time, his intentions had always been respectable and righteous. When it came to Anders however, Hawke had sometimes strayed from his good intentions. There had been the time when Ella, a mage, had died at Justice's hands, when Hawke had not been able to control or reason with the spirit. Though Anders had been remorseful, he had never been made to take responsibility, even though Aveline had wanted to treat the incident as a murder, and Varric wanted to at least let the family know that she was dead, rather than have them believe she had escaped to become an apostate, as the Templars had told them. Hawke had had the final say, and he had decided to cover the whole affair up, dumping the body in Darktown and refusing to say any more on the subject, to protect his lover.

Forced now to make the choice between what was right, what was just, and keeping his murderous mage safe from harm, Hawke had again chosen to be selfish, hardly the act of a champion. He could not hide this, could not deny the blood and death, seeping into the cobbles. He might had fought tooth and nail for Kirkwall, become respected, acknowledged, but no matter the great deeds, he was undermining them all by letting Anders live.

And he knew it, knew he could not call himself a champion, not any more.

Sebastian jerked his elbow from Fenris's grasp then, and strode away, leaving Hawke bitter and resentful, and hurt, small recompense for standing in the way of Sebastian's retribution. It was enough, however, and Sebastian let his faith absorb his frustration and fury, and focused on taking one step after another, counting them as he walked.

Fenris followed, a pace behind, the elf silent, but Sebastian was too far lost to his anger to acknowledge that he had chosen to stay by his side, rather than by Hawke's. When Sebastian had walked a good thirty paces, calmly stepping over a piece of burning rock, he turned.

He saw Hawke reach to place a hand upon Anders's shoulder, dagger still in in his grip, resting in amongst the feathers.

Hawke might have been quick, with eyes like his namesake, but he was distracted by the way Anders's flinched from his touch, and the knowledge that he could never live up to the Champion that inhabited Varric's stories and tales, and saw too late Sebastian bring his bow to hand and notch an arrow, the movement practiced, and smooth.

There was noise, all at once, the scrape of metal as Aveline drew her sword and lifted her shield, Narf-Narf's thundering bark of distress. Varric's cry urging Sebastian to think first, and Merril screaming shrilly at Anders to raise a magical shield. When the mage did nothing to move out the way or protect himself, Hawke gave him a frim shake, face twisting as he realised that Sebastian had walked far enough away that even with his best throw, his daggers could not reach him.

"Do not loose that arrow…." He shouted, voice full of threat, as he watched Sebastian carefully aim the weapon at the apostate's skull.

Sebastian found he was breathing steadily, his focus clear and sharp and entirely fixed upon Anders. There was no shake to his fingers, no hesitation. As he drew the bowstring back as far as it would go, he did not see the way Fenris looked at Hawke, suddenly very much afraid. He did not hear Fenris draw his sword, nor acknowledge when Fenris moved behind him, sword raised high over his shoulder.

There was a flash of metal, the sound of a blade slicing through the air, and then Sebastian saw his arrow fall to the ground, the tension that had held it in place gone, his bowstring severed by Fenris's sword.

He watched at his arrow clattered on the cobblestones, unbelieving.

"What have you done?" Sebastian's voice was raised almost to a scream as he turned on Fenris, his weapon rendered useless, his chance to end make Anders pay for his terrible crimes gone.

"I am saving your life." Fenris said, lowering his sword. He stood, as if expecting Sebastian to strike out, his feet planted firmly to absorb the blow.

Sebastian could not speak, could not believe that Fenris would have done such a thing. Could not understand how his plan had come apart. Hawke had been neutralised, tricked into thinking that Sebastian's cruel parting words had been the last of his stand against the champion, the truth of them distracting him from realising that Sebastian was, and had always been, an archer. His strength lay in his long distance attacks, as well as his words. Anders had been an easy target, almost welcoming the arrow. If he had only a second more, Anders would have been pierced with an arrow through the head, bleeding, dead. Furious, he looked up, willing the Maker that if he ever loved his people, to do something. Anything.

Fenris placed a hand upon his shoulder, and pointed back to where Anders and Hawke stood. Sebastian, blood pounding, forced himself to breathe, rather than raise fist against Fenris. He lowered his bow, shoulders slumping as he accepted his defeat. Following the lyrium'd finger, Sebastian saw Anders, being shaken by Hawke, but making no move to hold himself strong. The mage seemed smaller, as if he had been crushed under the weight of the terror he had wrought. He saw Hawke, scared at the sight of Anders, scared of the arrow that had almost been launched, his face twisted into something bestial and dangerous.

Fenris breathed a soft sigh. He leaned forwards, so that his white haired head nearly touched Sebastian's chest, even though Sebastian had upon him the look of the betrayed; "Hawke will kill you if you harm the mage, and I cannot, no, I will not allow that to happen…"

One last look at Hawke, at that near-madness in the champion's eyes, and Sebastian understood that what Fenris was saying was true. Part of him did not care, thinking that to see Anders dead he would gladly sacrifice himself. That he would face even the Hawke, if it meant that the lives lost were granted vengeance.

"Please… I need you." It was no louder than a whisper but the words cut through Sebastian's rage, and he turned to look at the green eyes staring at him.

Fenris, pleading, frightened, and painfully right. To throw his life anyway was selfish, and not an option he could take anymore, not when he had made a pledge to Fenris, writ in flesh and feeling. Fenris had done what he needed to in order to save them both from Hawke's wrath, and Sebastian could not find it in him to hate him for it. But neither could he forget that Anders would walk away, because of what Fenris had done.

Bowstring cut, and his world in pieces around him, Sebastian started to fall to his knees. Before the ground jarred his body, Fenris caught him, clutching him tightly. A shift of his head upwards, looking to make sure Hawke kept his distance, the danger of Sebastian's arrows removed.

Hawke was preoccupied, dragging Anders behind him as he shouted that both Meredith and Orsino were crazy, that they could damn well sort this mess out themselves.

Templars and mages alike seemed to appear to fill the space, and magic and blades clashed. Hawke was forced to attack, to defend. Sebastian and Fenris were far enough away that they were ignored (though Fenris's drawn sword, held up as a warning to anyone stupid enough to try and attack the lyrium'd warrior and the archer he protected might have had something to do with that). After Sebastian's actions, they were not asked for their assistance in the battle that Meredith was promising the magi. Hawke reluctantly seemed to side with the Templar knight, on the grounds that Anders would be spared. Meredith had agreed, or appeared to, and Hawke had rallied his allies, even Merrill meekly following to wage war her fellow magi.

The last he saw of Anders, was Hawke practically hauling him forwards, every step the mage took a struggle. It was not the sight of a pair of triumphant heroes, going up against the odds for the good of their city, but a set of robes in the shape of a man, and the other, a skilled rogue who would fight but didn't know what for anymore.

He could still hear the cries, and grind of stone upon stone, but it all seemed distant, unreal. Sebastian looked at his useless bow, and felt the same in himself. He might be able to replace the bowstring, but finding a place and a purpose to fill the void opening in his heart would not be as simple a matter.

He clenched a fist, and hammered in down on the cobblestones, the pain rattling up his arm. Again, and again, till he could feel his hand swell, bruised and scraped.

He sobbed, and then, when he could not bring himself to pound his hand down again, gave out an anguished howl.

Fenris sat nearby, hand on the back of his shoulder, but saying and doing nothing more. Perhaps too frightened to try and intervene, or perhaps he understood that Sebastian needed to let his rage be known, lest he try and again assassinate the mage, ensuring that Hawke would cut back, swift and sure and deadly.

"It's all gone. Ethane, the chantry sisters and brothers…. The one beacon of the Maker's light in this forsaken city… all gone…." Sebastian's voice would have made his father cringe, so weak and pathetic, the voice of a devastated man. He was crying, he realised, as tears fell from his eyes, splashing against his armour.

"It is not safe here. We should go…" the elf's words were non-judgmental of Sebastian's tears, but reluctantly urgent. As if to make Fenris's point, they both heard the inhuman roar of a demon that shook the earth, as if the city itself was falling to pieces.

"To what end?" Sebastian asked, both of the elf at his side and the Maker above. "There is no chantry, no hope for Kirkwall. The magi and Templars will tear each other apart, and not give a damn the innocents caught in the middle. Everything we have worked for, everything we have done, it has all been for nothing."

"So you will just sit there, and let yourself become a casualty?" Fenris's voice had taken on an edge, tinged with his unease at being out in the open with all manner of magics and maliciousness in the air.

Sebastian shrugged; "Why not. I have nothing left, nothing at all."

Sebastian was not prepared for the pair of hands that fell upon his shoulder, but he was too miserable to defend himself, to try and twist from their grip. He looked up, to see Fenris kneel in front of him, hands either side of his neck, forcing the archer to see him.

"You have me." he said quietly, "You have me. Always."

Sebastian blinked, then gave a nod. He would have liked to smile, to show Fenris his gratitude in making him see sense, but his lips felt so tight they might spilt if he tried. He settled for lifting a hand, and squeezing it across Fenris's. It was a thin ray of light, into his dark thoughts and devastation, but it was enough to grant him strength to stand, and continue onwards.

He got to his feet, and looked across the streets to where the mansion lay. It seemed the fires had not reached there yet, and they would have time to collect some supplies before the riots and fighting consumed the houses.

"Very well. I think we should gather what we can and get ourselves as far from here as possible. Out of Kirkwall. I don't fancy much staying to watch the city turn on itself, and I fear your lyrium tattoos will make you a target. To both sides."

Fenris nodded and rose, and started towards the mansion. "Agreed. If we are quick, we might be able to get passage on a ship before they all set sail. It'd be the fastest way to get out from the city."

Fenris took a step towards the rest of Hightown, and Sebastian paused. He said nothing as he bent and collected the fallen arrow, too much habit preventing him from leaving behind one of his weapons. He turned it, so the point was addressing the sky, and added it back to his quiver, able to tell it from the others. Then he followed Fenris.

As they walked, a brisk pace, weapons (Sebastian had a dagger, though he knew the blade a poor substitute for his bow) at the ready, Sebastian saw many more with various arms out on the streets. The tension that had been allowed to fester over the years finally breaking free, the citizens of the city scared and violent, and ready to attack any threat. Luckily, between Sebastian's armour, and Fenris's sharp glare, most still had the sense to steer clear of the pair as they made their way to the mansion.

Fenris, who had practice in gathering his possessions in a hurry, said he'd see to their clothes and weapons, if Sebastian would collect anything likely to fetch coin. The archer took several silver candlesticks, easy to bundle together and carry, and his extra daggers, finely made and worth at least ten gold, though he doubted he'd get more than two in times such as these. He also took what biscuits, cheese and bread he could fit into a rough cloth sack, and slung it over his shoulder, heading to the door. While he waited for Fenris to emerge from the bedroom, he restrung his bow.

His grandfather's bow felt reassuring in his hand, and the act of making it a formidable weapon once more calmed the rising sense of feeling overwhelmed, and lost. He replaced the bow alongside the quiver, shifting the weight of the candlesticks so it would not impeded his arm in reaching the bow should he need to.

Fenris appeared, and handled a second bag to Sebastian, carrying two himself, and they left.

Sebastian might have liked a chance to look over his home of the last weeks, to make use of the bed one last time, but the noise outside was decidedly unfriendly, and it made sense not to linger.

---

The docks were suffering, panicking people everywhere, the fires spreading fast. Sebastian managed to see a boat in the final processes of casting off, and jumped onto to deck.

It took a brief heated argument, stopped short as the captain saw Fenris's sword, and Sebastian's bow, and decided that he'd rather take the coin Sebastian offered (half of what they had collected for two days work retrieving stolen spices), than have to try and force them off his ship. They were sent below, so as not to be in the way, and with a cry of "Away from this madness!", the ship heaved into the waters, and left Kirkwall.

There were many people in the hold, wide eyed, clutching at each other and their valuables, the stink of fear high in the air. A quick discussion with someone not in so much shock revealed that they were heading for a port, nearby, half a day's sailing away, where the captain had told them they could either wait it out till Kirkwall regained its senses, or find another boat to take them further. There was no food, no cargo, nothing but people, and Sebastian and Fenris had to stand.

There were whispers, desperate echoes, passed back and forth till they became ludicrous; saying that Anders had turned into a dragon to lay siege to the chantry, that Meredith brought statues to life to attack her own Templars, that Orsino resorted to blood magic and transformed into an abomination. That Hawke had fought and died, or fought and survived, or that he had simply vanished in a puff of smoke and left the city to its fate.

No one seemed to have clear idea of the events that had happened after Fenris and Sebastian had last seen the champion, but the snippets and pieces of rumour told a bleak tale of chaos and death.

Every so often, Fenris had looked to Sebastian, mouth parting as if to speak, but each time his words failed to come. Sebastian, taunt and tensed, ignored him, focusing instead on holding onto that small sliver of self-control that was all that kept him standing.

He felt like he had cheated death, by not being within the chantry walls when the explosion had hit, but he felt no joy at the gift on his continued existence. It felt like a punishment, that he had failed to stop Anders, failed to see the evil… To think he had even trusted the mage to heal him, letting his magics touch him, unrestrained by the Templar's control. He had thought the cramped and often crowded clinic was perhaps a sign the apostate was not as terrible as he at first seemed, that there was some good to be found, past the mad ravings about mage rights and demonic glow of the spirit. He had even gone so far as to brave the Darktown sewers to aid in collecting his void-taken regents…

Suddenly, Sebastian gave a groan, and Fenris looked up sharply, while those around then flinched from the noise.

"No…" Sebastian whispered, and cursed himself for being such a fool. The sela petrae, dredged from the shit of Kirkwall. Anders had warned them of touching it with bare hands, saying it would burn the skin. The caustic substance could have no medicinal value, and he remembered the way Anders had been so elusive on its use. Now, hindsight granted him the truth, and it made him sick to his stomach. Worse than failing to see Anders as the demon he was, was that he himself had actively helped the man gather ingredients to destroy the chantry. His chantry. His life.

He blinked, rapidly, but the tears he ought to shed would not come. He clenched his hands to fists, and let the slow tide of despair wash over him.

Fenris was there, saying something, but he could not hear. Sebastian simply shook his head, and fell silent, the last of his inner reserves having left him. He made no attempt to try to fight against it, did not try to shore up his strength, not when he felt he had failed so completely to protect Elthina, and had even had an hand in her death. Out on the sea, heading to an unknown port, Sebastian felt truly adrift.

As he slowly departed the boat once it had reached its destination, putting one step in front of the other, his head hung low, he had to rely on Fenris to find them an inn. He was too worn, too lost to be of much assistance, and though he would have normally argued the price the innkeep quoted them, challenging why he thought it fair to charge those in need more just because he could, he held his tongue, and let Fenris pay him triple what the room would have been on any other day.

It did not occur to him, even as Fenris took his hand and led him up to the room they'd bought, that he wore the exact same look, that of a dead man walking, as Anders had.

A door was closed, and Fenris toyed with the key, a simple piece of metal Sebastian would have no trouble mimicking with two lengths of wire. The elf turned to Sebastian, concerned; "I… I think you need time… and I understand. You have been through a lot. I shall go get us a hot meal, and, when you are ready, we can talk." Fenris's tone did not sound as calm as usual, though Sebastian could tell he was trying to keep his voice level and reassuring.

Fenris lingered at the doorway, as if hopeful Sebastian might make a reply, but the archer said nothing, his gaze firmly cast downwards.

Time passed, and Sebastian took a seat while he waited for Fenris to return. He heard footsteps on the stair, but there were too many, and too uneven to be the elf. More likely a mother herding children, he thought, and the quick chatter of a boy proclaiming that 'Momma shouldn't be so sad, this is an adventure.' outside his door attested to his theory.

He gave a thin smile at the optimistic ignorance of the young, and glanced out the window, his surroundings slowly starting to filter through the fog of his depression. It was a dockside town, much like any other, though he did not recognise the particular layout of the houses and shops. Barrels were everywhere, their purpose ranging from everything from rainwater collection to serving as makeshift tables and chairs, a use found for even those so old that liquid would leak from. Unlike Kirkwall, those unfit for even providing seating had been removed, likely to have been broken down and chopped for firewood, instead of littering the streets. There were colourful lanterns lit, the different colours seeming to indicate which building was an inn, a shop or a public house. Dusk was falling, but the darkness did not seem sinister.

The walkways and so-called roads might not have been more than well-trodden dirt paths, but there was no sign of blood sunk deep under the ground, no sense of foreboding that had seemed so much a part of Kirkwall. That city of chains seemed never to forget or forgive its denizens that its stones had been built on the bones of slaves.

Outside the window, the dockside town was opening wide its doors for the refugees, accepting them and their coin, and listening to the tales of Kirkwall's fall. The sea that separated the locals from the doomed city, was far enough downwind that the smell of salt was not so strong as to sting the nose, and within the inn someone had taken the time to burn herbs to mask the smell of the fish that Sebastian suspected would be unpleasant otherwise. He took in the air, deep within himself, and let it clear his lungs. Here was pleasant, peaceful, and as good as place as any to die.

---

He had decided when he had realised about the sela petrae, that he would end his life and offer it to the Maker, to attempt to make amends for failing Elthina so completely. The sin of the act, minor in comparison to aiding the abomination, for not handing Anders over to the Templars as he was first inclined. Hawke's assurances, and seeing the mage run the crowded free clinic, had caused him to hesitate, and give Anders the benefit of the doubt.

He would not be hesitant now, it would be easy to take his dagger and plunge it into his neck. He had thought about using the arrow upturned in his quiver, the one meant for the abomination, but practically outweighed the appeal of finally granting the weapon blood. He icouldi place it at his throat, and push himself forward into a wall, he supposed, but the chance of cutting deep enough to kill quickly was slim, and he did not much fancy dying slowly, nor risk the chance of being found, of being healed. He knew his dagger was sharp, the edge meticulously cared for, and he would not need long to do damage enough to himself that he would be beyond repair.

Fenris, however, gave him reason to delay.

He had no doubts that his actions would hurt Fenris, but he could not live with himself, and Fenris deserved better than to be tied to a broken man such as he. While he could not find cause to go on, Fenris would, eventually, as the elf was much stronger than himself. Sebastian was aware, as he turned the thought over in his mind, considering the merits of disappearing into the night, that he was in danger of repeating his past mistakes, and he recalled the promise he made to Fenris, and himself, that he'd not leave the elf again.

He loved the elf, and owed it to him to say goodbye properly. A letter would be unsuitable, as Fenris could not read, but if he was not careful with his words, Fenris would be able to see through to his true intent, and try to stop him. Sebastian knew he'd have to be crafty, verging on dishonest, and it pained him to think of using his deceitful skills with Fenris.

Sebastian pursed his lips, and, with the control learnt from mastering his face and expression, softened his eyes, and repeatedly curled the corners of his mouth, till the smile he placed on his face felt settled.

Fenris returned, with two bowls of steaming stew, to find Sebastian sitting upright, and smiling. The relief he showed, in the slightly parted lips and the brightness to his eyes, stung at Sebastian, but he did not let that show, and he did not let it displace his carefully constructed mask.

"My thanks." He said, as he reached for the bowl, blowing on the spoon before tasting the stew. It was thin, likely had been watered down to accommodate the sudden influx of people, but it was wholesome, and the heat was welcome to fill his stomach.

They ate in silence, Fenris again occasionally pausing as if to say something, but losing his nerve each time. Sebastian was grateful; conversation would only complicate things, and the fewer words he could exchange, the better. He made an approving sound at the stew, and finished the bowl, his spoon clattering as he placed it upon the table. He saw Fenris note the detail, and give a slight nod to himself, before finishing his own.

"I feel I must apologise. I allowed my grief to best me." Sebastian began, forcing his voice into a confident cadence, purposefully using the past tense to lead Fenris to believe that he thought differently now.

"Understandable." Fenris seemed more comfortable, now that Sebastian was talking, was looking less like a broken man.

Sebastian let the pause grow, till Fenris shuffled in his seat. Predictably, the elf moved to fill the silence; "So… what shall we do next?"

"Do we have to think of that tonight?" Sebastian took on a pleading tone, "So much has happened, why don't we head to bed, and think on our plans come the morrow." He looked to the bed, small, but clean, and gave Fenris a slow look up and down.

The heat of the gaze surprised Fenris, and he shifted nervously. That he was not used to handling difficult situations was clear, no words of comfort came easily to him. Still, Sebastian knew as he reached to undo his chest plate with deliberate care, the elf would be hard pressed to deny him, especially as he gave his lips a lick that made them gleam.

"Are… are you sure? As you said, we have been through so much… I do not want to… rush…" Fenris's voice faltered, as Sebastian ran a hand down his breeches in a shameless display, clawing his hand as he pulled it back up, tantalisingly close to his groin.

If Fenris saw that Sebastian's cock was not showing the same signs of arousal that the archer was hinting at, it did not stop him stepping round the table, to press his lips against Sebastian's, gently mouthing, his breath warm.

He made a soft noise into the kiss, murmuring his appreciation of the taste of the elf, succulent, the way their tongues slid against one another, as if in some complicated dance, neither dominating, sharing both breath and power. Sebastian pressed his lips harder against Fenris, his hands coming up to rest upon shoulder and hip, his height meaning he had to bend his head, and Fenris had to stretch his neck.

He was so close he could smell Fenris, smell the smoke of Kirkwall and the stagnant air of the hold on him still, but underneath that crisp scent of lyrium, and the expected smell of armour, well used and cared for, the beeswax Fenris used to keep the leathers subtle leaving a musky odour.

He ran a hand up Fenris's back, feeling each of the ridges of the armour, and carded his fingers through Fenris's hair, soft, and purest white. He looked, to see green eyes grow hazy, to see the warrior, trained and battled honed, relax.

Sebastian let his eyes slip closed, and steeled himself. This, this was how he wanted to say goodbye, with his body, for his words might only betray him. It seemed apt, that he and Fenris should join one last time, for it was through touch that they had come together. Though they had spent many nights together, each caress still set a line of fire down his nerves. He might have spent a good portion of his youth bedding anyone that took his fancy, but with Fenris it was different. Now, even the smallest stroke against his clothed shoulder excited him, made his skin tingle, and his heart beat strong.

However, even with Fenris's body pressed tight to his, eliciting those wondrous sensations, he could not react as he wished. The knowledge that this would be the last time chilled him to the core, and his guilt at failing Elthina weighted heavily upon him, and prevented him from hardening. Given time, Fenris would surely notice, and question it. Worse, he might stop, might want to talk about it. Sebastian tensed, briefly, and quickly thought about his options.

With a tight smile, that hid his clenched jaw and teeth, he moved till his mouth was next to Fenris's ear, making sure he was close enough that even his breath would be felt.

"I want you. I want you inside me." he let his words settle, then, as he felt the elf shiver at the prospect he whispered; "Take me."

He knew that Fenris's eyes would be wide, and full and dark. The hands upon him gripped, and started to reach for the remaining buckles of his armour, and Sebastian took a step back.

"Wait. Oil… did you pack it?"

Fenris blushed, and nodded. Sebastian chuckled, "Best get it now, before we continue…."

Fenris then moved to the bag he'd taken from the mansion, and rummaged down the side. As he did, Sebastian undressed himself, carefully turning so that Fenris would not see him, flaccid and limp. He gave a disappointed look down at himself, then settled himself belly down on the bed, laying his undershirt under him.

Fenris, a glass bottle clinking in his gauntleted hand, made a surprised noise at how quickly Sebastian had set himself down. He walked round the bed, undoing the straps to his own armour, and looked Sebastian over.

With his hand, now dressed down to the lyrium, he stroked between Sebastian's shoulder-blades.

"Are you sure you are feeling like yourself…? You are not usually so… hasty…."

"Who could blame me for being eager?" Sebastian gave another sultry smile, over his shoulder, and hoped Fenris would not pick up the obvious deflection. He reached, and cupped his hand down the curve of Fenris's behind, giving a squeeze and pulling the elf closer. Fenris, practically growling at the sight of the archer laid bare across the bed, waiting, ready, yanked at the remaining fastenings till his chest and arms were free. He paused every now and then in his frantic undressing to rub his palm up and down the expanse of Sebastian's back, fingers splayed, smoothing over the spine.

Under the armour that he wore near constantly, Sebastian was pale, with a dash of colour across his shoulders where a faint covering of freckles graced his cream-coloured skin. He could feel Fenris's hand, the fingers strong, the touch confident, running over skin the elf had long since mapped out. They had learnt each other, the lessons often stretching into the dark hours of night, and just as Sebastian knew where Fenris was most sensitive, the best spot to stroke and tease, the perfect place to bite, Fenris knew that the line of Sebastian's spine was particularly prone to pleasant goose bumps when he applied his fingernails lightly.

Four dragged lines, that caused Sebastian's spine to arch, awakened his skin, jangling his nerves. They were followed by four more, this time scoring across his back in a way that made him shiver. Though his groin was still unresponsive, he could enjoy the sharp pain/pleasure of Fenris applying his fingernails, in slow, sensuous sweeps.

Sebastian made a show of curling his back to meet the points of hard nail, of making a low noise at the back of his throat he hoped Fenris would take as arousal. It was harder than he had anticipated to fake it, the sounds seeming jarring and forced, his movements contrived. Fenris, for his part, seemed to recognise something was wrong, and had slowed down his movements, to a near maddening pace, and Sebastian found his patience wearing thin.

"Please…" he whispered, "Please Fenris…" he had to fight to resist sighing with relief as he heard Fenris pop the cork from the bottle of oil.

Slick fingers pressed into him, slowly opening him. It was gentle, and Sebastian had to admire Fenris's restraint and care he took with the task. Even as the oiled tips brushed against the lump inside though, he felt no stirring, no spark of sensation that would urge his cock to swell. He felt detached, from his body, from the events of the day, all that he knew was what he intended to do, and it kept him from enjoying the feel of Fenris carefully preparing him, stretching and sliding.

Fenris must have noticed how unresponsive Sebastian was being, normally his rich accented voice filled the air as they coupled, and his hands were rarely so still. Fenris bent down and kissed the back of Sebastian's neck, tenderly sucking just so. A brush of teeth, and the raw heat of his mouth, and Sebastian breathed out a soft noise, the gentleness of the elf pulling a genuine appreciative sound from him. Fenris, whose laugh was rare, and precious, chuckled and reached a hand to grasp Sebastian's cock. Sebastian batted it away, then, as Fenris stopped, confused, turned to look the elf in the eye.

"Don't need it… just the feeling of you, so deep. It'd be enough, Maker, more than enough. Let me feel you. Fenris, please… fuck me."

He felt the huff of air roll over his shoulders, and Fenris quickly move to kneel behind him. Sebastian kept his face hidden by his arms, stretched out in front of him, and spread his knees apart, ass raised but body low so Fenris would not see the limp length hanging between his legs.

Sebastian had thought himself well versed in the act of love making, but over the last few weeks, he'd learnt some new tricks. He'd discovered how to focus his muscles, and clench, squeezing the length inside him and how to flutter his diaphragm, that Fenris might feel the vibrations coming from within him. He waited till the initial push of Fenris's hardness into him had eased, the burn ebbing to mere heat spreading through his body, and then tightened himself. The groan that followed, a low long sound, pleased him, more than the actual friction of flesh upon flesh.

There were times when Fenris's touch could put a butterfly to shame, with ghostly caresses so light Sebastian could sometimes hardly tell they were there at all, but this time, urged on by Sebastian's plea, Fenris was powerful, hard. Sebastian felt his body rock, each thrust reaching deep inside him, and he had to push against his arms to keep his position. He let each breath sound, the repetitive grunts growing louder, as he felt Fenris's rhythm become unsteady, the drive of his hips so forceful it rattled his bones.

He felt the warmth inside him, as Fenris stuttered to a stop, and he gave a soft 'uh', clenching tight and then tipping forwards. Fenris rolled from him, and Sebastian bunched his undershirt, pretending that he had spent into it, and then attended his behind. The mummers façade over with, Sebastian dumped the shirt to the ground, and lay beside Fenris, listening to the elf's breaths grow long, and deep.

"Love you." Sebastian murmured, his chest tight, and unable to hide the frown on his face. Fenris though, had closed his eyes, muttering sleepily and curling into Sebastian and the sheets.

Sebastian waited until Fenris had fallen asleep, then carefully slipped his arm free. He got to his feet, and dressed, checking back every so often to ensure the Fenris remained in the fade's hold. Once he had a pair of trews, and a shirt thick enough to keep the chill of the night air from him, he gathered his dagger.

It glinted in the light, testament to its edge, and Sebastian nodded to himself sadly. He was about to leave, when he turned to cast his eyes over Fenris one last time. He could not resist stroking his hand to move the strands of white from the elf's eyes, and placing a light kiss upon the exposed cheek.

With a quietness that Hawke had never managed to emulate, Sebastian crept from the room.

---

He did not know the town, but he wanted to walk, to try and find a chantry or the closest thing, and say a prayer. The night was still, and the streets empty, so there was no one to ask directions. Instead, Sebastian wandered the dirt-paths, till he found the chantry board, outside a small building with a white lantern.

A causal glance over the board revealed much less challenging tasks; assistance requested to paint a ship's figurehead, a reward offered for the sourcing of some lumber suitable for making a bed, mundane, and with no mention of murderous blood thralls or wild beasts. Sebastian smiled, Fenris might be bored to tears attending such tasks, but he'd be safe, should he choose to stay.

The thought of Fenris made him stop. The sensation in his gut, an empty pain, as if he'd swallowed nothing but glass, that had started from when he realised about the sela petrae, was all that kept him from turning on his heel, and heading back to the inn. He could see no other way to stop the pain, than to take his life.

A shuffling set of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, and too many incidences in Kirkwall had him bringing his dagger to hand as a reflex. The man, greying hair and an odd uneven gait, stopped, and put up his hands.

"Easy there. Didn't mean to startle you… just out for some fresh air. Let me guess, Kirkwaller?" His voice was less frantic that Sebastian would have expected, from someone finding an armed man out in the middle of the night, and the man made no move to back away.

Sebastian gave a nod, lowering his dagger. He watched as the man came to the chantry board, and leaned against it, before tilting his chin at the chantry building.

"Ah. It won't be open, I'm afraid. When Sister Henrietta heard about what happened in your town, well she did gather up all those twiddling their thumbs now that harvest is over, and took the lot of them by cart off to help with the rebuilding."

"Rebuilding….?" Sebastian could hear the surprise in his voice, the idea that anyone could be so stupid as to willingly go to Kirkwall astounding him.

"Of course!" The man seemed equally shocked that Sebastian could think that a simple chantry sister venturing into the battlegrounds was anything but expected. "Kirkwall needs a chantry, and the peoples moreso. And there'll be houses to put to rights as well I imagine. From here tell, there's plenty work needing done."

"But… it will be dangerous. Kirkwall's not safe!"

The man gave a grunt; "Never has been. If its not qunari, or slave revolts, its another thing. Yet it still stands. The people won't let it fall; they will haul and hold up the stone, till the city remembers itself again. Sometimes though, they might need a little help, and Sister Henrietta, well, she figured that by the time she got there, those mages and templars will have sorted their differences."

"I… I hope so." Sebastian offered, marvelling at the sheer faith of a sister he had never met.

"What of yourself? Your accent marks you as not originally of Kirkwall. And you must have seen some terrible things, will you be planning to go back?"

"No."

"Oh… then where will you go?" The man showed genuine enough curiosity, and Sebastian could well understand, Kirkwall's disaster was probably one of the most interesting things to happen anywhere near the dockside town, and the influx of new faces would be a great source of interest for the locals.

"I…" Sebastian faltered, unsure of what to say, then raised his head, "I am going home." He said, simply, the dagger in his hand a weight he could not forget.

The man gave a nod, "That's fair. I tried travel, back when I was a lad. Didn't get too far though; found myself missing this backwater burgh too much. Where do you hale from?"

"Starkhaven."

"Ah. Maker favours you, my lad. There's a boat, due to leave in the next day or two, heading to Minanter River. Faster than traveling across the lands, and you'll get barge to run you up the river to on to Starkhaven. Cammy's the captain, and you tell him I sent you, he'll give you a fair price, or I'll box his ears. I'm Jameson, and the boat's called the Filigree Fish. Its got a gold fish figurehead, that looks a bit like my wife."

Sebastian fell silent, not wanting to offend the man trying so hard to help, but also not wanting the names of ships sailing to Starkhaven, when he had no intention of surviving the night.

"I thank you." He spoke curtly, and looked back to the chantry, walking up and kneeling on the steps, hoping the man would take the hint and leave him to pray.

"I'll be off then, bed is beckoning…and the Misses. Take care of yourself now."

Sebastian felt the man's parting words sting him (Hawke had often spoke of 'taking care' of their enemies), but he said nothing more. He waited till the shuffling footfalls had faded. Laying the dagger before him, that he might clasp his hands together, he searched for words. He could think of none, and so quietly recited one of the canticles of Andraste, regarding her faith and bravery in the face of death.

When he had finished, he got to his feet, and picked up the dagger, the metal seeming colder and heavier. He looked about him, and though there was no one even awake save for him at this time of night, he did not like the thought of someone looking out their window and spotting him. However, the chantry stood, a little way apart from the surround buildings, and the space between the walls was secluded, and out of immediate sight. He nodded to himself, and slipped into the dark, where the lantern light could not touch, and swallowed.

His hand shook, and it took several breaths to steady it, to clear his mind and ready himself. Sebastian had snuffed the light from the eyes of countless enemies, he knew too well how simple a matter it was to rend soul from the flesh, how fleeting the spark of life was. Yet when it came to himself... it seemed… anticlimactic.

He raised the dagger, and found the side of his neck, where the windpipe would not hinder or catch the blade. He turned from the alleyway entrance, and closed his eyes.

"Maker, forgive me." he said, softly, sadly, and then there was a flash of light that cut through his eyelids. At first he thought it was the bright light of the Maker, guiding him home, then he realised it was blue. Blue light. Lyrium.

"No! I will not allow it!" The cry was a shout, and echoed against the walls.

Then the dagger in his hand moved, away from his throat.

Fenris, it could only have been the elf, had rushed forwards and phased a hand through his neck, and held it against the point of the dagger, palm against the metal. The shock of something moving through him, and exerting unexpected pressure outwards had caused Sebastian to slacked his grip, letting the dagger push away from his neck. His throat felt very peculiar, a lingering cold sensation that made his skin tingle and itch.

Sebastian gaped, Fenris's sudden appearance throwing him. He might have stood there, stock still and wide eyed for hours, but the smell of blood in the air alerted him to the fact that the point he held was cutting Fenris. Horrified that he was hurting Fenris, he threw the dagger away from them both, the blade clattering against a wall. Sebastian turned to see Fenris eyeing him angrily, ignoring the blood slowly dripping from the centre of his palm.

"What were you thinking!" Fenris's voice was loud enough to rouse everyone in the town, and Sebastian held a shushing finger without thinking, his time in the chantry making the gesture automatic.

Fenris glared angrily, glowing still, and Sebastian though the elf might reach forward and snap the offending finger. He lowered it, and his head.

"I'm sorry Fenris… I really am, but I can't…" He trailed off, the narrowed green eyes scaring him far more than the blade had.

"You can and you will. You have a promise to keep."

Sebastian looked up, frowning, and saw Fenris, though his voice was stern and his hands clenched, his eyes were wide, and close to tears. He wore a shirt and leggings, and his chest heaved as if he had been running, barefoot, his feet muddy from the footpaths.

"'Never', you said. You said you'd never leave. I am holding you to that."

"You do not understand." Sebastian voice was louder now, as he tried to make Fenris see his reasoning, that it was no small thing that caused him to go back on his promise. "Its my fault. I should have stopped Anders, not helped him."

Fenris bite back whatever he was about to say, puzzled. "Explain." He said, after a long pause. Sebastian sighed, and looked miserably at Fenris.

"The sela petrea…."

Sebastian could see Fenris figure it out, saw the frown of confusion shift to surprise, and then return, furrowed and dark.

Fenris looked to Sebastian, then bent to retrieve the dagger. He held it, blood staining the hilt, and laid the blade alongside his jugular.

"So should I throw too myself upon a blade? I was there as well, I am as guilty as you."

"No, of course not!" Seeing the metal so close to the skin, sent a wave of panic down Sebastian's spine, and he reached to the dagger. Fenris side stepped, and gave Sebastian a raised eyebrow, letting the archer taste what it felt like to see the blade at the throat of a loved one. Sebastian relented, and stood still, waiting for Fenris to see that he'd made his point.

"Then why? Why would you even contemplate killing yourself?" Fenris's voice was bitter, and held a contempt that he normally reserved for magi.

"It was my job to protect Elthina… and I failed her. I ought to have seen Anders for what he was… I should have stopped him."

Fenris gave a great heave of his shoulders as he sighed, and lowered the dagger. "The mage fooled us all. You, me… even Hawke, who knew him best. You cannot blame yourself. Blame him."

He reached over, placing his non-bloodied hand on Sebastian's shoulder.

"I … I do not profess to know the Maker better than yourself, but I don't think He or Elthina would want you to do something so utterly stupid, else He would not have allowed me to reach you in time." He gave Sebastian's shoulder a squeeze, and his voice shifted to a quiet whisper, like a confession. "I never thought I'd be thankful for my slave training, but it instilled in me the habit of sleeping very lightly. Denarius would have me beaten, if I did not rouse when at his lightest touch… so I woke when you kissed me, but I was too late to stop you. And when I saw your clothes missing, I panicked…. I thought you were leaving me… I… I was ready to hit you… I left my sword behind on purpose, else I might have considered…. But I never thought you'd go so far as to…. Maker Sebastian, I nearly lost you."

Fenris dropped the dagger, and wrapped his arms round Sebastian, and dragged in breaths in a manner that sounded suspiciously close to sobs. Sebastian, on reflex, returned the embrace.

Despite charging in and wrecking his careful plans, Fenris was making sense, and Sebastian shuddered to think how close he had come from dying by his own hand. If he had not stopped to pray, or to speak with the old man, or if Fenris had turned to search the other side of town… it did not bare thinking about.

He took a deep breath, and found as he exhaled the tight painful sensation in his gut had eased, else been overwhelmed by Fenris's display of emotion.

"I… I am sorry." He said, though he did not seem nearly enough. He glanced up, and gave Fenris a gentle nudge, "We… should get off the street, I think we've endeared ourselves to the locals quite enough." Sebastian was painfully aware of the street and surrounding houses, and the unfamiliar town, and he desperately wanted to get away from the alley, the walls of the chantry standing witness to what he had almost done. It felt uncomfortable, made worse by the cold creeping into his skin, and the residual unpleasantness that Fenris's 'phasing' trick had left behind, an odd discomfort that felt like a series of bones lodged in his throat.

Fenris pulled back, and gave him a long look over, as if seeking signs that his words had reached him. Sebastian gave a nod, then pointed at Fenris's hand.

"If nothing else, we should see to that, before someone sees and gets into their head that you're a blood mage."

Fenris grunted, not seeing the humour, but moved to let Sebastian walk past. He bent down to the ground, taking the dagger himself, and making no move to return it. Sebastian had expected this, he was used to Fenris disarming him, both by taking his weapons from him, and with words, and made no comment.

In fact, any attempt to make conversation seemed ill-fitting, given the events, and so a silence, as if the night was holding its breath, followed them back to the inn.

---

The stairs creaked as Fenris lead him back to the room they'd bought, and even Sebastian's most careful footsteps could not stop the wood from sounding their return. He could sneak past mobs of people, clad in his armour, and find the best vantage point from which to use his bow, but some simple inn-keeps stairwell seemed to make fun of him. He was glad when Fenris closed the door behind him, blocking the mocking staircase. As he picked out a strip of clean cloth for Fenris to wrap round his hand, the bleeding stopped, the lyrium'd warrior turned and locked the door, pocketing the key and not even bothering to try and hide the gesture.

Sebastian contemplated letting Fenris know he'd have no trouble picking that particular lock, that he had a piece of wire threaded inside his cuff that would make short work of the locking mechanism, but one look at Fenris's eyes, alarmed, and unsure of what he was supposed to do, stilled his tongue.

Besides, the wire bits, hidden in the seams of almost all his clothing, were a secret he'd not shared deliberately. Not that he did not trust Fenris, but if it was known he had such equipment, the possible captors they were placed to best, would simply take his clothes from him and leave him helpless. Over the years, he'd developed several tricks, his high blood making him wary of kidnappers and the like.

There was the stash of a bright red tunic and dagger squirreled away in Darktown, a hooded clock with an elfroot potion in the pocket, and bow with arrows by the docks, and an old man who could not make it up the chantry steps, that Sebastian had come to recite the chant with, in exchange for knowing that in Hightown, there was a door always open to him, no matter what trouble he was in. Little stashes, food and healing supplies and weapons, preparing for every eventually, that Sebastian had put together, all over Kirkwall, gave the archer some piece of mind.

He had not mentioned, knowing that Hawke's menagerie would need no prompting to make fun of his careful safeguards, even though they never asked why Sebastian seemed able to always find a lyrium potion, or injury pack when needed. It was not paranoia, not when his family had been murdered, and Hawke had the habit of picking fights with the most violent creatures on the face of Thedas.

Despite it all though, his plans, his preparations, he had not been able to predict Anders's actions. It seemed some cruel jape, that though he could stand strong against qunari, and demons and blood magi, in the end, it was someone he had called friend who had betrayed him.

Anders, even the name made him grit his teeth, and wish that he'd not taken so long to aim his shoot, that he'd fired the arrow, and be damned if it took Anders longer to die. Sebastian was angered, and hurt, and well aware that when he thought of the mage the images conjured were not fitting for those of a chantry brother. Violent thoughts, evil thoughts, Anders's wrath seeming to have infected him, his own soul tainted, his mind ruminating on revenge. It scared him, how much hate he had for the mage, how easy it would be to fall into the trap of letting his anger consume him. Worse, than making Sebastian see a dark and dangerous part of himself he would have rather not have acknowledged, was that the abomination had dragged down the champion with him.

It saddened him that he and Hawke had parted ways on such poor terms, and even though he remembered bitterly Hawke's refusal to hand Anders over, Sebastian hoped that Hawke had not perished in the resulting turmoil he and Fenris had managed to escape.

He wondered what had happened to Hawke, and the others. To the little old man who had made the sweetest tea for Sebastian as the archer relayed the sermons and chants, to the wine merchant who had always a rosy glow to his cheeks, even in the early hours of morning. He was not so native to think that the fighting would have spared those caught up in it, and knew that even if they survived, people could not be rebuilt as easily with stone and mortar.

He could go, he thought, and give spiritual guidance, help put back the pieces, but the idea of returning made him feel uneasy. He bore no ill will towards Kirkwall itself, but the city of chains held many memories he would rather not relive, and he doubted he could ever look at the Hightown courtyard, and not smell the burning stone.

If he was not to die, he would need to find somewhere to go, something to do.

"You are scaring me. Come back Sebastian. I need you."

He heard Fenris's voice, and realised he had allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts, the poor timing for such distraction causing the elf to grow quiet, and fearful. He smiled, or tried to, as best the haunting memories of Kirkwall and its inhabitants would allow, and rubbed at his eyes.

"Apologises… I was just thinking… about Kirkwall. And what we ought to do next."

Fenris nodded, and gave him a long hard stare, "Were you… serious, when you said you'd bring an army against Kirkwall? Is that what you want to do?" Fenris was fighting to keep his voice even, but it was easy to tell the idea did not sit well. Sebastian shook his head, rapidly, to reassure Fenris he had not turned quite so bloodthirsty.

"I could I suppose, but it will not undo what has been done, will not bring back Elthina. And she'd look sourly if I allowed any innocents to suffer in the name of bringing her justice. There is no sense punishing Kirkwall for the crimes of one man, probably since he has likely long since scurried down one of his blighted escape tunnels. I spoke in anger…. Rest assured, I will not put the people of Kirkwall through any more hardships. In fact, I'd rather not have anything more to do with the city of chains."

His small shoulders lose their tension, and Fenris seemed to breathe a little easier. Sebastian could not help but wonder what he'd have done if Sebastian had chosen to follow through on his threat to Hawke, and felt that Fenris might agree to anything, if it gave Sebastian a reason to live. That brought up new possibilities, and the cold calculating part of himself that Sebastian fought so hard against, suggested that this was an opportunity to coerce the elf to agree to something he might not normally.

At the back of his mind, a new plan started to form.

"Where… where shall we go then?" he said, watching for Fenris's reactions, "We could stay here, seemed a nice enough place, but I fear we'd both be bored to death by the end of the season. And I doubt very much that you wish to return to Tevinter…" Fenris gave a snort, which caused Sebastian to smile thinly. "So…Starkhaven? I can insure us a comfortable life, my royal blood is good for that at least."

"And then…?" Again, that small unspoken plea in Fenris's voice, grasping for a purpose for Sebastian, something for him to live for. Same as if they were to stay in the dockside town, they both needed something to fill their time, boredom being the least of the fates that could befall them. Sebastian smiled, and made note to remember that Fenris knew him well, knew that without a purpose, he stood the chance of failing apart once more.

"I am not sure. I do not wish the throne, not at all... but perhaps…" Sebastian fell silent, as ideas and thoughts started to solidify inside his skull. He might even have been able to call it divine inspiration, as righteous retribution against Anders came to him.

Leaning in, Fenris asked; "Yes…?"

Sebastian felt several things click into place, and knew his eyes had widened, bright and blue. He found strength to sit up a little straighter, and looked to Fenris; "We could go to Starkhaven, and ensure that what befell Kirkwall is never allowed to occur again."

Fenris was patient as he listened, as Sebastian with a rush of enthusiasm explained his plan, sorting out the details as he went. The elf asked questions, mostly about Starkhaven and the situation Sebastian planned to go and change so drastically.

It took some time, but eventually, as night drew to its darkest, the outline was complete, save for some niggling elements that would need to be reviewed as Sebastian learnt who was actually running Starkhaven.

"Well…?" Sebastian knew Fenris would be hard pushed not to see the light in his eyes, the way he'd become animated, alive, but there was the chance that Fenris's past, and his own set of sensibilities might interfere with the elf's ability to see the good that could be achieved.

"It is… extreme." Fenris said, carefully, not wanting to break the newly formed purpose Sebastian had found.

"It needs to be, don't you see? I know you'd rather have nothing to do with mages, but for the sake of Starkhaven, we have to address the problem at the root."

Fenris looked uneasy, but Sebastian could see that his words were being considered. The plan was extreme, and complicated. There were any number of things that would jar and disrupt the delicate nature of changing the nature of the Starkhaven from the inside, but Sebastian was confident in his abilities to make others see, even if at first he might have to bend the truth to a more acceptable shape for those in power in Starkhaven.

And the goal, to protect Starkhaven from mages, all magi, circle and apostate, could not be more admirable. Even if it meant things would have to change, and not in ways the people would be particularly open to.

Starkhaven was a city of routine, the people knew their place, and were satisfied in the way things were. To restart the circle, long since destroyed and left in pieces, would be a mammoth task in itself, not to mention how Sebastian intended to run it. The events of Kirkwall would help, perversely, and Sebastian could play on the fear Anders had produced. There was a small contingency of Templar in Starkhaven, and about fifteen magi at the last count, set apart in a small sector of town near the alienage, not a circle by name, but close enough. Once people could see that Sebastian's method, no matter how radical, worked, he could petition to expand, and take on more mages.

That would be Fenris's role, to act as a mage hunter, and bring the apostates to Starkhaven. The danger involved in apprehending magi did not deter the elf, but the idea of having to deal with magic users directly clearly did not hold much appeal. The elf had also quietly mentioned the inherent risk in bringing the rouge magi to Sebastian's hometown, but Sebastian had reassured him that there would be the Templar, and the both of them, to keep safe the populace.

Fenris had reminded Sebastian that mages were always dangerous, to which Sebastian had agreed. This was no risk-free venture they planned, and the stakes were high.

Still, as Fenris thought over what Sebastian had proposed, he started to nod.

"If things are as you say, and we are able to successful put your plan into action… then yes… I believe it would work." Fenris paused, pursing his lips. "I will say, I do not… I do not exactly agree with your methods, but I can see it is for the greater good. And I cannot fault you for trying to save Starkhaven from Kirkwall's fate."

"Then, you agree?" Sebastian was secretly pleased at Fenris's trepidation. It would keep the both of them wary, and having someone he could trust to tell him when he went too far was an invaluable aid.

"Yes."

"Excellent. Really, I could not do this without you Fenris. Yet… there is one last thing I ought to mention. Starkhaven… will not approve of us. It cannot be known that you and I are together. It is going to be hard enough getting them to accept their wayward princeling, never mind if I appear with a male elf lover. I hate to say, but it is the truth."

"So… you wish to part?" Fenris's voice trembled, and it pained Sebastian to see his ill-chosen words have such an effect.

"Maker, no! I want you, by my side, in my bed. But for sake of appearances, in public we have to just be friends, warriors who had survived Kirkwall. Maybe… once things have begun to change…" Sebastian was suddenly wistful, hopeful in a way he had not been since Kirkwall. "We could really make a difference… to everyone."

"I see."

Sebastian brought himself close to the elf, and gathered a lyrium'd hand in his, holding it up to his lips and laying a gentle kiss upon it. Fenris had doubts, and they danced behind his eyes, but the elf, just as Sebastian always knew, was strong enough to face them down. The road that he had laid out for them was not an easy one, and they'd have lay more than a few bricks themselves.

But it was a path, leading to a great goal, and with Fenris at his side, Sebastian felt he'd be more than able to face any and all hardships in his way.

---

It was blessedly easy, to follow Jameson's advice and charter passage on the Filigree Fish the next day, after a much needed lie in. Later, once a time and price had been decided upon, Sebastian sought out Jameson himself, grateful for the delay he had caused in speaking with him the night before and meaning to offer a small token of his appreciation, though he had no intention of speaking on the details of Jameson's timely interruption.

He was directed to a door the other side of town, and before he knew, he was sat at a small kitchen table and being treated to some tea, and pleasantly sweet honey biscuits. The man, Jameson, bickered with his wife near constantly, and though at first Sebastian was made uncomfortable by the insults, he soon saw that the wife was grinning ear to ear, and occasionally throwing back a barded comment of her own.

Once the tea was done, Jameson did not want to take the small pouch of coin Sebastian had produced. The wife though, must have known Sebastian would not be so easily refused, and went to the kitchen, coming back with a small bundle of biscuits, for the journey to Starkhaven. She pushed them at Sebastian, then met his eyes as she closed her hand round the pouch of coin he still held in his hand. Sebastian kept his face still, secretly impressed at the woman's efforts to preserve her husband's pride, and released the pouch. He only just caught sight of it being whisked into her apron, and had to check himself from grinning too wide as he bid both of them farewell.

He met Fenris back at the inn, and could see that Fenris was relieved that he'd returned without incident. He wrapped his arms round Fenris, holding tightly, then told him of the ship that would take them the next day. He recommended they'd best get a decent meal, and sleep, for the trip would take nearly a week to get to the mouth of the river, and then a couple more, on the slower moving barges, and the rations would be merger. He decided to keep the biscuits as a surprise.

Fenris did not seem to want to discuss the events of the night he was almost too late, and Sebastian did little to encourage the topic. It was a subject difficult to speak of, and while there was a tension in the air, Fenris seemed to accept that with his new plan and purpose in Starkhaven, Sebastian was safe to be left alone.

The freedom he was granted felt like a step in the right direction, and Sebastian hoped that soon Fenris would lose the fretful look in his eyes, the way he constantly glanced across to him, as if seeking some sign that Sebastian was in danger to himself. It would take time, and after such an ordeal, Sebastian was prepared to wait as long as it took for Fenris to be confident that Sebastian no longer wanted to take his life.

On the surface, things remained as they had been, the gentle caresses at every opportunity, however, when Sebastian had gone to his knees while Fenris sat on the bed, and offered to 'make it up' to him, Fenris had politely refused. Sebastian had been confused, then realised that Fenris had associated the night of intimacy with his suicide attempt. When he thought about it, it made sense that Fenris could not bring himself to partake so soon, and he had got to his feet, laying a sweet kiss upon Fenris's cheek.

"Do you wish to talk about it?" he had asked, and Fenris had shaken his head.

So they spoke of other things, of boats and supplies, of how the weather might delay them, how easy it would be to negotiate passage on a barge and whether they would be expected to help work the ship, or if their status as passengers would allow them to have a brief respite for manual labour.

"I would not mind if they needed an extra pair of hands." Fenris had said, and Sebastian had nodded. He did not think that bringing some books to occupy himself on the journey would greatly offend Fenris, but he did not want to risk it, and so helping the boatmen should they ask seemed as good a way as any to fill the time.

The conversation slowed to a halt, and so Sebastian looked to the window, and the setting sun.

"We ought to get ready, and rest."

He had no need to pack their bags, most of what they had managed to bring from Kirkwall was still stuffed into the canvas bags. He did repack some of the more crumpled clothes, that they might fit better, and make sure that the silver candlesticks were covered so make them less of a target for thieves. Soon, the room was clear, save for the clothes set out for them to wear the next day, and so, following his own advice, Sebastian settled down to sleep.

Fenris crawled beside him, his arm moving to hold Sebastian by the shoulders as the elf curled himself round Sebastian's form. Warm, and comforting, and an easy lull into the fade.

Day broke, and Fenris and Sebastian wore their armour down to the harbour, to save from trying to carry the weight of it. Sebastian felt slightly put out, that Fenris had not given him back his daggers, though he had allowed Sebastian the bow. It was too soon, he knew, but hoped that Fenris would eventually trust him enough with a blade, even though he hoped and prayed that they would not need such weapons in Starkhaven.

The journey on the Filigree Fish/was long, and though briefly brightened but the biscuits, Sebastian spent most his time trying to sneakily touch Fenris when no-one else was looking. Perhaps not the most productive use of the long hours, but it kept him sane, and seemed good practice for when they reached Starkhaven.

He had tried to keep his hands to himself, but both of them had found the lack of contact too much to bear. This way at least he could sate his desires and at the same time, reassure Fenris that even though to an outside they were no more than a pair of warriors, he still saw him as so much more.

After a long, uneventful journey, Sebastian found himself surprised as the ship gracefully sailed up to the port upon the Minanter River, that nothing untoward had occurred. He was so used to calamity hounding his every step, that the peaceful docking of the boat had him on edge.

He could see the lack of anything more threatening than a couple of grey clouds on the horizon was also troubling Fenris, the elf walked with his own sword ready at his back, him as well too much used to unexpected surprises to be comfortable without its reassuring weight. Sebastian's bow rested in the hold, for when coupled with a quiver, it was too cumbersome on deck to wear. The lack of having something to hand only compounded Sebastian's sense of unease.

Fenris saw him grip the railing, so tight he felt he might leave his hand imprints on the polished wood, as ropes were thrown and caught, and the ship drawn into to the dock. With a slow appraising look, the elf went below decks, and returned holding a familiar blade. Without words, Fenris offered Sebastian his dagger back. He did not need to say 'I trust you'; the words were inherent in the gesture, and Sebastian felt both grateful, and glad to have the trust back, never mind his weapon.

Sebastian nodded, and placed the dagger into the empty sheaf on his belt, and together, after helping Cammy and his small crew unload the cargo of salted fish and dried herbs, they landed upon the shore.

---

There was no shortage of barges willing to take an extra two passengers, the supply routes busy after the harvest. After a couple of hours to steady their stomachs and clear their lungs of the tang of salted fish, and purchase fresh supplies for the next stage of the journey, Sebastian and Fenris joined the crew of a barge heading directly to Starkhaven.

The barge master was a stout man, who laughed when Sebastian asked him the name of the barge.

"Yeh dinnae name a barge like yeh would a ship. A barge is a slow and sluggish beastie, yeh might as well name your wheelbarrah."

The Starkhaven dialect, delivered in rapid succession, with hardly a breath between the words, made Fenris frown, and Sebastian had to remind himself that it could take some getting used to, to unpick where one sentence finished and the next began. The barge master, Todd, spoke speedily, and threw countless slang and shipping terms into his speech, so much so sometimes even Sebastian struggled to comprehend the man. This only served to amuse Todd, and he seemed to spend the next week thinking of new phrases to befuddle the pair of traveling companions.

Whilst the crew of the Filigree Fish had been a quiet bunch, more intent on studying the weather and winds than their additional passengers, the barge master took a personal interest in the manner of persons he had allowed upon his barge. Curious, and not easily deflected by Sebastian's vague comments, or Fenris's sometimes curt answers, when not guiding the barge round the curves of the river, Todd liked to seek out Sebastian and Fenris. Sebastian did not much mind, he could see the man had a good nature and heart, and his company was usually pleasant, if at times a struggle to keep up with his chattering. It did mean, however, that each touch and caress between Fenris and the archer was fleeting, nervous, for they never knew when Todd might appear, and there was not room on the barge to properly hide from prying eyes. Sebastian longed to gather Fenris in his arms, and nevermind if the barge master got an eyeful, but he kept his hands and lust in check, figuring that Fenris would not react well to being interrupted, especially if a hasty disembarking had to follow. While Todd seemed friendly enough, Sebastian could not predict how he would react to seeing how involved his passengers were with each other. Sailors could be terribly close-minded, and it was not worth the risk. Sebastian wanted Fenris to see his homeland in the best light, and it would not do to show him the harsh prejudice against taking an elf for a lover.

Perhaps, reasoned Sebastian, it was for the best. Fenris had already stated his unease for anything more intimate than a brief kiss, and the enforced celibacy would serve to allow him the time he required to heal.

It was hard to judge Fenris's mood, the elf shying from the new faces, and any conversation between the elf and the archer kept deliberately light. They could not speak of their plans, not when there was the chance of being overheard, and Sebastian knew that even the closet of partners would find being stuck on a barge for weeks on end a strain. He worked to give Fenris space, as much as he was able. It was gratifying though, that Fenris often came and joined him as he looked out at the passing scenery, or huddled out of the rain amongst the crates and barrels of cargo, the raindrops thundering against the roof so loud Sebastian had to shout to be heard.

Still, he knew Fenris well enough he could guess at the thoughts left unvoiced. The elf would sometimes shuffle on his feet, even though he had no difficulty balancing on the tilting decks, showing his uncertainty about the path they walked. Other times, he'd stare at nothing in particular, lost perhaps in careful contemplation in the role he would play. Under it all though, was that core of stoic strength, and trust in Sebastian and his plan.

To Sebastian, Fenris's occasional smiles, and glancing touch of his lyrium'd fingers against his hand, reinforced his faith, and gave him courage to face the trails that were sure to lay in wait for them in Starkhaven. He needed no words of reassurance, not when Fenris's very presence showed the elf's commitment to both him and his grand scheme.

Quiet as Fenris was, he was not grave, and Sebastian was impressed at how well the elf managed his days, and the constant company. Fenris, over the course of the journey, had taken to pacing the length of the barge, and when Todd had declared that he was driving the man to distraction, agreed to learn to steer the cumbersome laden boat. Everyone save Sebastian had been surprised to see the elf who seemed to slight handle the barge pole, its weight not much less than his sword, with such finesse.

Together, Fenris's skill and willingness to learn, and Sebastian's good humour and tolerance for acting as Todd's amusement as he tried to recall the quirks of his homeland tongue, they had earned the respect of the barge master and the two other men upon the barge.

Of the two other men, one departed halfway along their journey. Todd explained that he was returning home, seeing that Todd had found himself two likely lookin' lads to help out.

"Bit o' a blessin', really. He was getting' mighty homesick, has a wee wifie, ready wi' child. He'll be hame for the birthin', as a fither oughts to be."

The other, Murrock, was an old dock hand, who had moved to helping the barges in the autumn seasons, the demand for a man sturdy enough to use one of the long barge poles to navigate through the twists and turns of the river making the switch profitable. Murrock didn't say much, but liked to look out across the banks, at the slow progression of farmsteads and little riverside villages.

Todd, however, spoke enough for a whole boatload of people. When not asking Sebastian again what happened to Kirkwall, shaking his head and clicking his teeth at the tale, he was asking Fenris about his 'mighty odd inkings'.

Fenris had at first been reluctant to talk about his lyrium brands, but as the days wore on, he finally relented, and by the time they were nearing Starkhaven, had given a demonstration by phasing his hand through a barrel and pulling an apple out. Todd had been delighted, and swore he'd be telling the tale for years to come.

"An' yerself ma lad, dae yeh dae tricks as well?" He asked Sebastian. Sebastian had taken out his bow, and the apple from Fenris and threw it into the air. His bowstring gave a satisfying 'twang', and the apple had been pierced with an arrow, and fell into the river, bobbing downstream, feathered tuff marking its place.

Todd had cheered, and broke out a small flask of rum, sharing it and chatting away, saying that they'd be by Starkhaven by the next night.

The news was welcome, but at the same time Sebastian felt a trickle of nerves unsettle him. At first he had questioned the additional length of the journey, if they were not using the night hours, and Todd had pointed out that lantern oil was too expensive to use and still turn a profit, and that they had to pull into the bank every night, for it was not safe to try and manoeuvre in the darkness. Accepting the sense, Sebastian had resigned himself to the long drag of days, but now the end was in sight, he realised the momentous task ahead of him.

Fenris was there, his very presence reassuring, even though it was clear the elf itched to have more than 25 paces of ground beneath his feet. Sebastian likewise, had grown tired of the endless sound of water, and the lack of space and privacy.

They had no need of their armour on the barge, and Sebastian wore a simple shirt, and his trousers. Sometimes, briefly, he went bare chested, though Fenris refused to even consider doing the same, even if Sebastian made the valid point that they did not have much in the way of spare clothes. The clothes they had were river washed when needed, and the smell of the less than clean water hung to them. Though they did not want for food, the same meals, day after day, had dulled Sebastian's appetite. He also felt his bow skills slipping, unable to fire and collect his arrows, and not having enough to waste more than one a day as target practice. The upturned arrow, that he had named Anders's arrow, sat in his steadily declining quiver, and he had tied a piece of cord around the shaft to mark it different from the others. By the time they were on the last leg of the journey, Anders's arrow sat alone in the quiver.

When Starkhaven finally came into sight, there was drizzle in the air. The dark granite walls, and steep hill, were unmistakable, and Sebastian felt a pang of homesickness he had not anticipated strike him. There, was the castle proudly overlooking the surrounding houses, and there, the wall guarding against the surrounding woodland, the trees thick and darkest green. There were small fires on the walls, to light the surroundings for the patrolling guards, that Sebastian remembered being steadfast to their routines, and easy to evade. Firelight shone from windows, and the dock was lined in bright lanterns to guide the barge in safely.

He was home.

---

Disembarking from the barge took rather longer than expected, with Sebastian and Fenris dressing in armour again so they did not have to manage the weight, and waiting for Murrock to carefully shore the barge into a free place, Todd then demanding to take his most favourite passengers ever out for a drink.

Deciding that he had been away too long to remember accurately the inns, Sebastian said that he'd buy the drinks, if Todd would kindly point them in the direction of a suitable place they could find a room. Todd had launched into vibrant exclamation, quoting half a dozen establishments. Sebastian took a breath, silently begging Todd to do the same before the man choked from lack of air, and selected the Goose and the Open Gate. With a board grin, Todd led them off onto shore.

Murrock declined Todd's offer to 'come get rat-arsed', and stayed on the barge, resting up for unloading the cargo come morning.

The Goose and Open Gate was cheap, and cheerful. The ale was watery, and the food lukewarm, but after weeks on the barge, Sebastian had never been anywhere so welcome to his eyes. Todd, seemingly jubilant to have reached the destination, grew more talkative, and introduced Sebastian and Fenris to a horde of people, some of whom did not seem to know the barge master, but were too polite to mention that little inconvenience.

When the press of people, close, and too loud after such quietness on the barge, caused Fenris to stare down into his drink, hands curled around the tankard, Sebastian suggested that the elf make use of the bathroom. The look of both gratitude, and pleasant surprise that there was a toilet free for use, and not some complicated method of hanging over the edge of the barge lit up Fenris's eyes, and Todd laughed, and pointed the small smelly stalls at the side of the building out.

Fenris took his time, and Sebastian looked around, taking in the peoples of his home. It seemed much the same as he remembered, people noisy with alcohol, and appearing plenty cheerful. There were a couple of sullen faces, hunched over ales, but the majority seemed both happy enough to indulge, and wore clothes suitable for the coming winter.

There were weapons, but sheaved, and hung odd places on belts, as if the daggers and odd sword were seldom used. He could see very little in the way of armour and it was reassuring that Starkhaven seemed to have managed to keep peace enough for its citizens to grow so lax.

Fenris returned, in better humour for the brief respite, and, once he saw Fenris making wry comments in return to Todd's blusterous laughter, and the both of them smiling at the banter, Sebastian made his way to the toilets himself.

He did not take his time, the stink was offensive to his nose, and even his eyes, but he was pleased to see water available to wash his hands, and lye soup, sodden and soft, but soap all the same sitting at the side of the counter.

There was no looking glass, but Sebastian knew his face was masked in a beard, that had drawn Fenris's eye more than once. He could have borrowed Todd's razor on the barge, but he thought that getting into to Starkhaven unnoticed would make things progress more smoothly, and give him and Fenris time to adjust and tackle the next stage of the plan at their own pace. When he had looked over the side of the barge, the calm water's reflection showed a man, rugged, and unfamiliar.

His eyes had seemed harder, perhaps because he knew the path he walked, perhaps haunted by the events that had nearly destroyed him. Coupled with the uneven (he had never been able to wear a beard with the ease Hawke had effortlessly managed) growth of hair on his face, he had not looked like himself.

Good, he had thought at the time, the Sebastian from before would not have had the strength to see through what needed to be done. He was now stronger, like a blade tempered in the fires of the ruined chantry, his edge keen and ready.

However, now, here in Starkhaven and seeing what he had set out to protect, Sebastian hesitated. The disruption he would cause would affect the whole city. He was not so native to think that his scheme would be universally well-received, at least, not at first. He had thought of ways to circumvent people's distrust, but such dishonesty felt at odds with what he was trying to achieve.

Still, if there was one thing he was skilled at, apart from his bow, it was twisting his words to make them more pleasing to the ear. He had found the technicalities in his vows; he'd find a way to bring his idea to fruition. He would not let Anders win, would not allow him, or any other mage to threaten his hometown.

He walked back to the table where Todd and Fenris sat, head held high, and joined in the debate whether the ale was fit for drinking. Todd decided they'd better have another each, to better judge.

Eventually, after a last round of ale, and promising to check at the docks in a couple of days and see Todd off, Sebastian and Fenris were free to make their way to their room.

As soon as the door was closed, Fenris allowed himself to let out a long sigh, that it seemed he had been holding since the riverside town of Ansburg, that they had passed five days ago.

When he was finished, Sebastian closed the space between them, cupped his hands round Fenris's face and kissing him gently, then, as he took in the fact that finally they were alone, pressing more demandingly.

Sebastian felt himself stir, and broke off the kiss, before he passed the point of being able to slow himself back to a neutral state. He'd promised Fenris time, and he'd not let his dick rush the elf.

Fenris however, seemed to have his fill of chastity, and practically pounced the archer, arms wrapped round so tight it made his ribs creak. A mouth, and a tongue moved against his lips, and a hunger he had been resisting rose up, and Sebastian let himself taste Fenris, savouring the sweet slick sweep of mouth against lip against teeth.

Fenris had to learn fast how to kiss someone with a beard, had to measure the drag against his lower face, the hair rough, abrasive. He compensated by using his hands, carded against the grain of the hair, feeling the coarseness against his fingers.

Till he grew light-headed, and his lungs stung with the lack of proper breath, Sebastian kissed Fenris, his hands moving into his hair, down his neck, across his cheek, like he was starving for the touch. When he moved his head to the side, that he might take in air, Fenris moved his mouth down, capturing the skin of his neck, drawing a groan from Sebastian, fuelled by the new breath.

He let the tension release from his body, and leaned against Fenris, breathing nosily into Fenris's ear as he felt the elf leave toothy crescents against the side of his throat, and drag the flat of his tongue over the marked skin, tasting where the beard faded to flesh.

The possessive nature of Fenris's teeth-lined kisses against his neck, and the way he grasped at Sebastian's clothes, was one that they had not yet had chance to fully explore. Sebastian remembered how quickly a well-placed bite, or the way Fenris would tighten his grip against the back of his neck, or around his wrist, could make his blood pound, and his usual control fray at the edges. Not unpleasant in the least, but it was something he was learning to accept and give in to, himself normally the more dominating force in his past bedroom experiences.

Now though, he found himself craving more than ever Fenris's warrior's strength, and the way he would take his submission, as if it already belonged to him. He craned his neck, and pressed forwards, willing Fenris to bite a little harder, take a little more.

A growl filled his ears, and he found Fenris's hand tuck into the curve of his neck, holding him steady as the elf gripped and sucked at his neck, sparking a rush of heat down to his knees.

While part of him wanted to sink down onto a bed, or floor if the bed was too far, it had been too long for Sebastian to remain as passive for long. Not when his hands felt so good against Fenris's skin, dragging sweated fingers over the lyrium curls he could reach, the heat centred in his palm feeling like if he did not share the blaze, it might ignite his flesh. He trailed fire down Fenris's arm, and against the lines of his neck, and set about the task of unwrapping his prize.

All the while, Fenris alternated his assault on Sebastian's neck with hungry kisses and ravenous bites. He'd twist, and shrug a particularly snug piece of armour from him, his own hands working the sides of Sebastian's plate, only pulling his mouth from Sebastian to see better a troublesome buckle. Each time, once the reluctant fastening had been deal with, lips would again meet Sebastian's skin, more determined than before, the fervour of Fenris's passion only serving to fuel Sebastian's own.

"Maker, Ah missed this…" Sebastian managed to half-sigh, as he lifted Fenris's armour from him. He lowered it to the ground, and saw that Fenris's chest was rising and falling rapidly, as he in turn loosened the last of Sebastian's straps, and removed his armour. His undershirt was lifted, Fenris hardly pausing for Sebastian to lift his arms before they were pulled with the fabric, and then Fenris stopped. Fingertips, light, danced over his shoulders, and Sebastian shifted to see what had caused Fenris to suddenly slow.

He almost laughed, when he saw the elf brush over the newly coloured freckles, darker with Sebastian's exposure to the autumn sun, and more numerous. Fenris gave a little smile, and stood on tiptoe to let his lips press against the speckled shoulder.

Sebastian felt the teeth, and his skin sing as Fenris scraped the ridge of tooth over his flesh. He turned, to see Fenris lick his lips, something wild and untameable in his eyes, and then flick his glance to the bed. Small steps, hindered by trying to rid themselves of their remaining clothes, took them to the small mattress. Sebastian fell to the bed, Fenris under him, slim hands pulling Sebastian's larger body down.

He felt the heat cloud his head, as Fenris, hardened length and all, writhed under him, hands up and under his arms against his back, purposefully skittering nails up his spine. Sebastian shifted slightly, so that he did not risk crushing his partner, then leaned down to capture the mouth, panting so sweetly. Fenris arched, and Sebastian felt a cock dig into his belly, so close to his own hardness. He shifted again, and the two lengths touched, causing them both to gasp at the sensation, hot and heavy and hard.

He brushed hair from Fenris's face, and looked deep into the green of his eyes. Pupils large, and gaze open, and honest and hopeful, and he all but melted. His tongue slid against Fenris's, reverberating with a low hum of satiation of the completeness of the moment. Fenris tilted his chin up, opening his mouth wider, and wriggled beneath Sebastian's weight, tipping his hips side to side so that their lengths ground against each other.

The sweet friction of their two cocks together was delicious, but not quite enough, not when he longed to be buried deep within his lover.

Sebastian took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the elf, and then proceeded to mouth against Fenris's lips, kissing, and nipping and sucking and teasing, till Fenris was reduced to an incoherent squirming mass of lyrium coated muscles and moans.

Then, and only then, did he pull back, and leave the breathless body in search of oil. Fenris turned weakly on the bed, eyes unfocused, and Sebastian was glad of his timing. It looked like the elf had been seconds from release, the darkened tip of his cock glistening. From the grateful glance it was apparent that so soon an end to their rediscovery of each other was not what Fenris desired either.

"The other bag. In the pouch near the top…" Fenris offered quietly, as Sebastian's rummaging for the flask of oil grew frantic and his face contorted with irritation. The archer made note that Fenris must have moved the oil to be more readily available, and grinned, showing teeth as he finally found the little glass container.

He stalked back, low to the ground, and knelt on the floor, leaning up upon the bed that he could reach Fenris. He stroked over the skin of the hips, taunt and trembling, and eased Fenris's left leg up, then the right. He set both feet upon the mattress, and did not need to urge or encourage Fenris further, as the elf tilted his knees outwards, and flexed at the base of his spine, bringing his ass into a more suitable position.

"What a sight yeh are… A marvel, truly, a Maker-sent marvel." The thick coating of his accent had caused his voice to drop to a lower pitch, as if weighed down by the Starkhaven dialect. It came out, a mix of warm vowels and soft 's'es, and gravelly 'r's, and Fenris blushed at the words. Or perhaps, it was the brogue that caused such colour to rise, Sebastian was never which, as he only ever spoke in such coarse terms when involved with another intimately, and his homeland accent always took hold in the bedroom domain.

His teeth pulled the cork out, and he scowled at the sour dry texture, when he'd recently been treated to a much more pleasant taste sensation. As he worked his fingers in the oil, he spat the stopper to the floor, and dragged himself up on the bed, till his mouth was over the wet head of Fenris's hardness.

He applied his finger to the tight ring of ruffled muscle, at the same moment he extended his tongue to lap at the moisture gathered at the tip. Fenris, with a surprised noise, bucked his hips upwards, tip sliding on the flat of Sebastian's tongue, his finger having to follow to keep the slight circling movements upon Fenris's entrance.

"Ahh!" Fenris's voice had grown breathy and sharp, and Sebastian rather liked the way the normally carefully contemplative elf could be coaxed into making such delightfully debauched sounds.

As his finger slipped past the clench of muscles, resting just a fingertip's length in, Sebastian took in Fenris's cock into his mouth, again, stopping with just the head inside.

Smoothing the oil against the pucker, he mirrored the movement with his tongue against the flare of Fenris's cock, running round the ridge at the same speed his fingertip slid and stretched. When he pressed a little deeper with his finger, using the bend of his finger to ready Fenris for accepting his now similarly leaking length, he pushed lip covered teeth down Fenris's cock, forming a tight 'o'. His jaw felt like it was held too wide, and it was hard to focus his breathing through his nose, but the soft keening and shivery whimpers coming from his partner were worth it.

He bore down a little more with his mouth sealed round the heated flesh, till it was markedly uncomfortable, pushing his finger up to the knuckle, then pulled both back simultaneously, slowly. Wanting to pursue both sensations at once, Fenris twitched, his hips flexing as he chased the retreating wetness of Sebastian's mouth, while tightening round his slender finger, as if to keep the digit trapped inside him.

Sebastian took pity of the elf, brought to a near-thrashing frenzy, and started to pump with two fingers, while lapping thick stripes up the length bobbing before him, careful to watch that he did not push Fenris too far, and bring their activities to an abrupt finish.

Sensitized, and loosening nicely, Fenris let his head roll back, lewd and luscious noises emitting from the back of his throat. Sebastian added a third finger, aware that after their weeks on boat and barge, Fenris would not be as practiced at accepting intrusion as before, and though Fenris was nearing the point that to delay further would be met with impatience, and no small amount of irritation, Sebastian wanted to make sure he did not hurt the elf.

As if on cue, Fenris gave an eager moan, and pushed back against Sebastian's fingers, sighing wantonly as three fingers thicknesses entered him.

Sebastian felt his groin flare white hot with arousal, and he coated first his hand, then his cock with oil, using more than he would normally. He climbed onto the bed, and brought Fenris's legs up onto each of his shoulders, his oiled hand moving to encircle Fenris's penis, his other hand lining himself up.

With a slow push, that squeezed the breath from his lungs, he slipped inside Fenris's silken heat. He nearly forgot to move his hand, till Fenris used his legs as leverage, and pulled himself up, then down, harder that Sebastian would have attempted. If the first push took his breath, the second forced the reserves of air from him, and Sebastian struggled to hold himself steady and Fenris pulled his hips up and down, the elf fucking himself onto Sebastian's cock.

Neither of them were going to last long, not with the abstinence, followed by such torturous teasing, but Sebastian was at least proud that he managed to regain his senses enough to take a more active role, accepting Fenris's pace and power. He slammed back his hips, as hard as he dared, and found the way he could felt the force of it through Fenris's body to his hand moving firmly up and down Fenris's swollen member send both a jolt of heady lust through him, and a spike of panic.

Fenris's response was to bring himself up till Sebastian's tip almost slid out, then back again, muscles tight down the length of him, and finishing as deeply seated as he was able, panting heavily and growling for more. Sebastian, between gasps, let loose his hips, and drove deep.

Two more of those bone rattling joinings, and Sebastian felt his lust overwhelm him, spilling from him deep inside that glorious molten heat. Fenris with a harsh sound of triumph, spurted, covering his belly, painting over the lyrium brands with milky streaks.

The effort and concentration required to disentangle them was too much for Sebastian, and so he stayed, till he regained his breath and senses, feeling himself soften inside Fenris. Fenris, all rippling inner muscles and suddenly heavy legs over his shoulders, enveloped him, surrounded him, and the elf sighed softly.

Disengaging was messy, and Sebastian grabbed his undershirt in an effort not to upset the innkeep's cleaning staff too much. They would both need a proper wash come morning, but soon Fenris's belly and chest were wiped down, and Sebastian laid the crumpled undershirt under his rear, seeing the glistening trail of oil and seed he'd left there. He gave Fenris a nudge to attend to himself, but the elf had rolled over sleepily.

Rather than let the elf suffer the discomfort of the dawn if left in such a state, Sebastian used his undershirt, and dabbed at between Fenris's legs. Fenris, too tired to resist, spread his knees wide, and Sebastian, careful, aware of how sensitive Fenris would be afterwards, pressed a finger insider, scraping out what he could, and smiling at the soft little moans Fenris was making on each exhale. Another night, when he was not quite so bone weary, he might have pressed further, and tried to coax Fenris to hardening again, rubbing inside till he found the nub of sparks and heat. To push through the haze of sleep and bring Fenris to a second completion, slowly, leisurely.

But not tonight.

He folded the undershirt, and made note to make sure he laundered it himself to save embarrassment. He had to pull an armful of blankets from where Fenris had lain on them, the elf awake but only just.

Sebastian grinned, and moved to cover Fenris's body with his own, wrapping his arm over and nestling his mouth to the back of Fenris's neck.

"Welcome to Starkhaven." He said.