A/N: Despite what I think of this fic, I'm continuing it. :D

T.I.M. – Thanks so much for your comment. I didn't actually think about (well, I guess in the forefront of my mind) about how it reflects society, but I see what you mean. My inspiration for this fanfiction was the fact that I know a lot of heroes/heroines are portrayed as strong willed people who have some pretty set ideologies. I wanted to see a hero who did things out of desperation, like Anders and other companions, and had a problem of her own. I still wanted them to be strong-willed, but in their own way. I haven't really determined what kind of ending it will have, and I hope it is a happy one, but some more challenging things must come first, I believe. There are some brutal scenes that, hopefully, will satisfy the need for some… justice.

For now I'm worried about how I portray the characters and Hawke's character traits. I don't want her to seem like everyone loves her, though in the game you can have it that way, practically.

Even if you don't comment, I hope you guys like it! And if you hate it, well… Nothing is perfect.

Chapter 3

The next day, Hawke insisted on visiting Sebastian in the Chantry. Varric followed her, though Hightown was hardly a place where she feared being. When she was safely at its doors, the dwarf informed her that he would go talk to Aveline and would be back to show her home.

Inside, the Grand Cleric ran into her, offering a small blessing and a smile. She gave her apologies for the hardships she faced in Kirkwall as she led her to Sebastian's room. Lucy knocked twice, heard nothing, and knocked again. Slowly the handle turned, the lock clicking, and the door swung back to reveal the exiled prince. Elthina walked away, leaving the mage to smile warmly up at him. He was almost moved to tears when those blue eyes looked at him happily. His body moved on its own, allowing her small form to slip between him and the door jam. The door was once again shut and locked, allowing at least some privacy. Before he could say anything, her arms wrapped around his torso and pulled herself closer to him. He heard his name being whispered once more and the girl rocking gently back and forth.

"I'm so sorry… I couldn't… I wanted to…" he tried to apologize, but the words could not formulate correctly in his mind. She only hugged harder, demanding a return. Carefully he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her smooth face into his chest. He could hear his name repeated like the Chant as she melted into his body. Every time she said it, it became cleaner, more fluid, and beautiful sounding. "Your voice… it's… beautiful."

She looked up, confused for a second, before she became shocked. Her hand reached for her throat and she felt the small vibrations as she repeated the names of her companions. She clutched at it and tried to scratch a sentence out between her ruby lips, but Sebastian only looked at her sadly as he failed to hear her say the words she mouthed. Disappointment washed over her face as she collapsed into the bed behind her. He sat beside her, offering his shoulder to be leaned on. She happily accepted and nestled into the warm flesh and fabric.

"The names of your friends are… probably the most important words you'll ever use. This simple pleasure, it is surely a gift given to you, as repayment for your hardship. I know mages do not always think of the Maker as a gentle god, but I believe he has been gentle to you. Men have abused a weakness, and the Maker has not seen it fit for them to do so." He was mostly talking to himself, trying to assure himself that he did the right thing the previous day, allowing Cullen to take care of what was templar business. She didn't move, nor did she try to say anything more. "I was afraid, yesterday. I was afraid that I would have to watch that again and again. This must be what Carver had told me about, seeing such a strong creature rendered weak by terrible men. You do—"

"Sebastian?" she asked, looking up into his cerulean orbs. He was mesmerized, captured by that innocent look. "Carver…"

"Oh, I have forgotten. I was trying to find you, because I had gotten in touch with your brother, through the Lothering Chantry. He rebuilt your family farm, he said, and found his old sweetheart. He wanted to know how you were, and he wished he could see you again. I offered to take you back, if you so wanted…" She shook her head. "Hawke? I want you to always do what you think is right, and I wish that you always know that… you are a special friend to me. "

Freed from her stupor, Lucy looked up with curious eyes. She smiled and leaned up to plant a kiss on his lips, quickly retreating to see his expression. With a finger she pointed at herself and said, "Luci… enda."

"Excuse… me?" He asked, confused.

"Sebastian," she said again, pointing at him. She pointed at herself once more and repeated, "Lucienda."

"Oh! That is… your real name?" He felt dense, not realizing what she was trying to say. She nodded and smiled. She held up her hands to form a heart and said his name in a charming tone. He laughed, "So you love me? Or is it just my name? You seem to like saying it."

She thought about this for a minute. She held her hands up again to make the shape, and strangled out, "Everyone."

"So you love everyone?" She nodded once more. Holding her arms out wide, she said, "Sebastian!"

"I guess that makes me your favorite?" She rubbed her face in thought. She shook her head, but then nodded. Four fingers were held up and she listed the names, "Sebastian… Anders… Fenris… Varric."

He wasn't surprised by the thought that she loved them all. Like the love of the Maker and Andraste, Hawke had cherished them all both as companions and as men. He had heard about her previously insatiable lust from Carver, though he suspected it was due to some Lyrium drug the Templars infected her with. He did not think badly of her wanting to hold so many people to her heart. They were a barrier between what was breaking and what was breaking it. Sebastian had first felt disgust when he found the female mage wrapped, though innocently in intent, around the apostate healer in the early hours of morning at one of their camps. Only later did he find out that the blonde had spent several hours into the late night comforting the girl who had nightmares about death and fire. "Sebaaasatian."

He had not realized he had been lost in thought until her hand was waved in his face. He merely smiled at her, taking her into his arms once again. "I… love you too. We all do."

"I… missed… you." She whispered as best she could. He was shocked, but he didn't let it show when he looked at her bright blue eyes and smiled. "I missed you too."

Her intention seemed pure when she once again reached up to capture his lips, and so he let her calmly press them together, but before he could react, he was shoved into the mattress, her body and mouth leaning into him needily. He moved to gently push her off, but his body went numb as magic poured through him, a paralysis spell no doubt. Sebastian was not worried about harm being done to him or Lucy, and he was no stranger to such actions, but his vow to the Chantry and the Maker seemed to be in more danger than his well being. He gave no offense to the beautiful mage, but his promise to the almighty was one he definitely intended to keep. However, it seemed to be out of his power as she greedily pulled layers of clothing off of him. The archer was not about to accuse her of acting like an animal, but when she looked up at him with those crystal eyes, he saw no light of the quiet spirit she possessed. They looked worn and pleading, as if she needed this. He couldn't object, the slave of a simple spell that was powerful in her hands.

As she rode him, his body pinned to the bed, her voice was freed and his name was sung like the Chant through crystal bells. He could not lie that he was not enjoying himself when her soft, warm body interrupted his fervent prayer begging the Maker and Andraste for forgiveness. She was inviting and her body did not feel spoiled from years of forced entry. If he was not a brother of the Chantry, he would have gladly taken her like a lover and shown her the tenderness she deserved. Now she was giving it to herself, treating him gently as if he was willing, and periodically looked at him with a loving gaze. Eventually, the magic holding him dissolved in an erratic fit has her body tightened around him and her moans grew louder. When he knew he was free, however, his body did not allow him to move before its purpose was fulfilled. She collapsed on top of him, sticky with sweat panting heavily. Her body shook on his chest and sobs echoed through the small room. Sebastian was shocked, if not just recovering from the terrible strain placed on his body. Muscles stretched back out, joints worked themselves back in place, and brains started working again.

She leapt from his still body, gathered her robes about her in the tidiest fashion she could muster, and fled from the room, being sure to close the door behind her. A sigh escaped his lips as he washed himself lightly and pulled his own clothing on himself. He forewent the armor and bow as he silently slipped out of his rented home and sought out the Grand Cleric for advice.

Sometime after they got back from the Deep Roads with their mountains of treasure, Varric took the money and found some 'connections' that could get the old Amell estate back to Hawke. Now she lived in a relative luxury that she constantly ignored, with Bodahn and his son Sandal taking care of the place. Her dog liked to sit in front of the fire and would playfully bother her when she came home. Today she had locked herself in her room and no one could get her out. Varric refused to pick the lock, saying that he may do it to his brother, but she was more than just family. Merrill tried a bit of blood magic to see if she could read her mind, but it went unfruitful. Anders was there now, drawing pictures on a piece of flat parchment that Bodahn found. He attempted to communicate at least through this silent means, but she never sent a message back. In a last ditch effort, he drew a big heart with a question mark inside it on the back of the sheet. After a few minutes of it sitting beneath her door, it disappeared quickly and rustling could be heard. His ear was pressed against the wood, straining to hear whatever it was she was doing with the drawing. Eventually it slipped back out and he picked it up hopefully.

Scrawled across the heart were two names that were terribly written: Anders and Sebastian. Outside the heart was a circle with the word 'friend' written backwards above it and the three names: Varric, Fenris, and Aveline. Outside both the heart and the circle was a box with the name Merrill written inside. Nowhere on the page was the name Isabela. In a corner of the page were the names of her family, outlined in a red ring. It was probably blood, but he did not think about it. What really caught his attention was what was done to the two names in the heart. His name was underlined in pen and an upside down question mark was above it. Sebastian's name had a strike through it and what looked to be the words 'hates me' and 'I am a monster' written beside it. In his own pen he circled the words, putting question marks around them; next to his name he drew several hearts and her name. The paper once again flew beneath the portal.

He didn't expect the door to open and for him to see a disheveled and dirty looking Hawke. Her eyes were rimmed with glistening tears and the paper was crumpled in her hand. She didn't look at him as he cautiously stepped inside. He was startled when she closed the door behind him and saw her move to her bed. The paper was discarded on the nightstand as she curled into a ball on the plush cover. He sat down on the opposite side and moved the hair out of her eyes. Her hand gingerly grasped his wrist and eventually pulled him down to lie beside her. Their eyes met briefly before their lips interlocked. It was a night of tender caresses and kind words as she was rocked into a state of complete relaxation.

In the morning, Anders found himself alone in a bed that was not the small cot he kept in Lowtown. There were no sounds of the sick outside the door, the room was not poorly lit, and there was a pleasant cooking smell wafting through the air. He was also devoid of a familiar angry feeling and felt more like his old self back in Amaranthine. He dismissed the thought and lazily got dressed. What concerned him the most was one absent Hawke.

He found her downstairs in the dining room with a plate of breakfast in front of her. Also occupying the table were several plates of assorted foods and an empty platter next to her. Anders took it to be his seat and took as much as he pleased from the various selections. He looked her and smiled. She smiled back. After breakfast, Lucienda washed her face and lied down on a big sofa lying in a nice side room that also functioned as a library. Before Anders left, he kissed her goodbye and settled a blanket on top of her.

For the rest of the day, Anders could not quite understand what was missing. He was, undoubtedly, very happy that whatever it was had disappeared, because he was feeling much livelier and did not miss the need to write useless manifestos.