A sequel, or continuation rather, of an earlier drabble titled "Unfair." You may want to go read that first.
Hawke stood in front of the fire, rubbing her arms and staring at the door where Sebastian had just left.
"No," she said out loud, startling herself. With calm, quick motions, she returned to her room and dressed. Within a few minutes she exited the Amell estate, blinking in the night to let her eyes adjust. She walked, sometimes ran, to Lowtown, using the shortcuts she'd discovered from years of traveling the city.
Once she reached the Hanged Man, she strode through the singing, staggering drunks, up to Varric's room.
"Open up!" she yelled, pounding on the door. "I know he's in there."
"What the—?" She heard a muffled dwarven curse. "Who in the bloody flames is asking for an arrow in the gut at this hour?"
"It's me, Varric. Wake up Sebastian—I need to talk to him."
A pause.
"You're drunk, Hawke. Go back home."
She pounded harder. "I'm not leaving until you open this door!"
The door opened. Varric, eyes heavy with sleep and hair sticking up every which way, glowered at her, fingering Bianca with more than his usual care.
"Finally!" she said, glaring back. "Now where's Sebastian? I need to talk with him and you can get back to sleep."
"Hawke?"
Hawke spun around to see a very confused Sebastian standing on the stairs behind her, pack slung over his shoulder.
She blinked. "Oh, you weren't… in Varric's room?"
He gestured behind him. "I just arrived. You, uh, got here more quickly than I, it appears."
"Now that you two have found each other," Varric growled, "I'm going to pretend like this never happened. Good night." The door slammed shut in Hawke's face.
Hawke rubbed her forehead. "I… Maker, this must look terrible."
Sebastian offered a small smile. "It is a bit… irregular. "
Hawke sighed. "I didn't mean to… hunt you down, Sebastian. But you left so abruptly, I thought—" She bit her lip. "I don't know what I thought. I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone."
Sebastian caught her arm as she moved to walk past him on the stairs. "Wait, Hawke. It is I should apologize. When I left I may have been a bit… short. I was concentrating so hard on leaving that I didn't consider your feelings. I'm sorry if I was rude."
Hawke looked at him, at his blue eyes smiling down on her, and remembered that before he'd been anything else to her, he'd been her friend.
"Let's get something to drink," he said after a moment. "Maybe I'll be able to explain myself better."
They settled in a corner table, well away from the main action at the bar. Sebastian flagged down Norah and had her bring them two mugs of hot, spiced cider. Hawke sipped hers, grateful for the warmth that flared to her fingertips and also for something to hold in her hands. There was something about Sebastian that made her… fluttery. In battle she was confident; sure of herself. Her hands were strong on her sword and behind her shield. She was even good at bandaging—she never faltered at the sight of blood, of hers or her companions. Even Anders had been impressed with her skill at dealing quickly and efficiently with wounds. But those skills seemed not to matter when Sebastian was around.
"I… believe I've mentioned my past. Before I became invested in the Chantry, I mean," Sebastian started, seeming not to notice Hawke's nervousness. His face darkened. "I was… a wretch of a man. A scoundrel—and not the good kind. I…" He ran a hand over his hair. "Forgive me. I don't like thinking of those days. I shamed myself and my family with my actions—the Chantry was the best thing that happened to me."
"Yes. You've said that before," she said in an encouraging tone. His calm voice helped her relax—it was like their conversations in the Chantry—well, minus the drunken singing in the background.
He nodded. "You have to understand, Hawke. I was not... a gentleman with my… with the women I pursued. I used them—they were objects to me. Nothing more." His jaw clenched and she could see the revulsion in his eyes. Her heart hurt for him, and she gripped her mug tighter to avoid reaching for him.
"But these… relationships were consensual," she said, trying to make him feel better. "You alone are not to blame."
He cast her a look. "I was in a position of power over these women—I was a Prince of Starkhaven and I used my title to my advantage." He rubbed a tired hand along his face. "I can't tell you how many times I offered false promises and pledges to get what I wanted—promises I had no intention of keeping. Consensual, yes. Equal? No. It was wrong in every way."
They sat for a moment in silence.
"Earlier, when you and I… kissed," Sebastian's cheeks flushed. "It wasn't just remembering my vows that made me leave. All those memories came rushing back. All the… feelings; the desire. It made me suddenly aware of how easy it would be to fall back into that pit. It sickened me, Hawke. I thought I had conquered that part of me—that wretch that I was." He shuddered and took a long drink. "I would rather die than become him again."
"But you're not him, Sebastian," she said quietly, laying a hand on his arm. "You didn't act on your impulses. Not that I would have minded," she admitted with a smile, "but it's your actions that define you. Maker, if we were all condemned for… less than charitable thoughts, I'd wager Andraste herself would be in trouble."
Sebastian smiled, holding her gaze. "You are… a remarkable woman, Hawke. You are strong and kind and good—and even though we do not always agree on everything, you never make me feel as if having different opinions means the end of our friendship." He reached out a hand, gently covering hers with his. "I… I don't know what path the Maker will lead me down… but I would be honored if you would walk that path with me."
Hawke sucked in a breath. "Sebastian?"
His hand covering hers squeezed gently, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles. "I cannot make you any promises…" He paused. "The only way I would be able to abandon my vows is if I am to retake Starkhaven… I… I have no right to ask you to wait for me—"
"I will," she said, startling both herself and him. "I will wait."
Sebastian searched her eyes again and finally, lifted her hand to his lips, brushing her knuckles with a soft kiss, turning her hand over and pressing his mouth again to her palm; the inside of her wrist.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice gone husky. He looked back up at her, eyes twinkling. "I'm afraid that will have to sustain us both for awhile yet."
Hawke took her hand back, pressing her own lips to the spots he'd just touched. She met his eyes again with a slow smile, noticing the flush on his cheeks. "It'll do."
