At one time, solitude had been fairly easy for Sebastian Vael to come by. Even in Kirkwall, teeming with people, if he'd wanted or needed privacy or quiet, Sebastian had always known where to find it. And while he did not regret the decision to choose prince over priest, he did miss that solitude. It was far more difficult to come by in his new life.
Particularly now.
He wasn't yet free to walk about Starkhaven proper without a complement of guards, which rather defeated the purpose of going for a walk at all, if being alone was what he wanted. And with as many people as were in the palace at any given moment, solitude — true solitude — could only be found behind locked doors. But he was tired of locked doors, tired of sitting, tired of biding his time, tired of waiting.
He had far too much on his mind to remain seated and still, so he walked. Oh, he knew he was still trailed by a guard, though the guard in question was wise enough to keep his distance. And he knew he was watched by Eyes always. But the illusion of walking alone was, for now, enough.
He walked the palace gardens, he walked length after length of bright, polished corridors, he walked to the practice yard, down to the knights' barracks and back again. No one spoke to him. Indeed, the whole palace seemed… subdued. Only a brave few met his gaze and ventured a nod. He thought about stopping to shoot—the familiarity of a bow in his hands would be a blessing, to say nothing of the oblivion to be found in the concentration shooting would require—but knew he would only draw a crowd, and as a crowd was what he most wanted to avoid…
But what shall we bet, Sebastian? What will satisfy them?
No. No, he did not want to shoot today. So he walked.
His steps eventually took him to the palace stables — it seemed a wise idea to check on the horses that had carried his friends the distance to Starkhaven, and to speak with the stablemaster about which horses were sound enough for the return trip, and which would be better off remaining behind. Even once Isabela had her ship back, Sebastian doubted Varric would take kindly to another sea-voyage. And he knew they would be leaving soon.
All of them, he thought, as nausea twisted in his gut.
As Sebastian drew nearer the stables, he heard a noise that sounded as if it had come from the depths of the Void itself. The horrible yowling cry shot down his spine and made him quicken his steps. It sounded like a small child in agony, wailing despondently for its mother, but when Sebastian entered the cool shadows of the stables he found not a child, but rather the stablemaster and two young grooms kneeling in a stall barren of everything but clean litter and hay, their attention focused wholly on something in the corner.
Curiosity now eclipsed all else and Sebastian stepped into the stall, trying to peer over the three heads bent together as if in quiet conference.
"…Gentlemen?"
The stablemaster—a brawny, dark-haired man named Colin—gave a start and looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened immediately and he stood, bowing. "Your Highness," he said, and the two grooms scrambled to their feet as well. They seemed torn between remaining where they were and scurrying out of the stall altogether. Colin glanced at them both and gave a nod; the boys bowed briefly before hurrying off.
Sebastian watched them go, noting that neither boy seemed to be in any sort of distress. "Is everything all right?" he asked. "I heard… I dare not attempt to even describe the noise I heard."
The yowl sounded again, and Sebastian realized it was coming from the corner. He stepped closer and looked down to find, of all things, a cat nursing a litter of kittens.
"Sorry about that," Colin said. "We have something of a… unique situation this evening, I'm afraid."
"So I see," he murmured, looking down at the four tiny, mewling bodies.
"My grooms caught some of the other boys in town tormenting the mother and drowning the kittens — three of the litter were already dead when they chased the little hooligans off. The boys brought the rest to me." He rocked back on his heels and shrugged, looking down at the mother cat aggressively licking the head of one of her squirming offspring. "I can't abide anyone mistreating anything what can't defend itself. And I reckon a barn can always make use of mousers."
Sebastian crouched down for a better look. One of the kittens, smaller and stiller than the rest, its tiny body covered in patches of white and grey, wasn't quite able to push its way forward and claim its meal like the rest of the litter. It lay curled against its mother, eyes closed, struggling to breathe.
"What about that one?"
At Sebastian's question, Colin's mouth turned downward. "That one the boys pulled out of the well. Half-drowned. I don't expect it'll make it, but better to give it a fighting chance than leave it to drown with the others."
Watching the kitten struggle to breathe pulled at him. With its white markings and grey fur… he wondered if it would one day have green eyes. For another long minute Sebastian watched the animal's thin sides heaving.
"Nothing more can be done?"
Colin shrugged uncomfortably. "It's still just a wee babe, Highness. If it can't take milk from its mother…"
"Could… could someone feed it?"
The stablemaster sighed. "If a person had naught but time. I'm—I hate to see a creature suffer, my lord, but in the stables we've none of us time like that to spend. Not when there's the horses to care for and stalls to muck."
All we require is a little more time.
Sebastian closed his eyes briefly. Though he remembered the Fade dream, whenever he tried too hard to grasp onto any particular memory, more often than not the details slipped away from him. He knew Amelle had come after him during the darkest days of his recovery. He even remembered why. In his mind he caught glimpses of a white building in a city he somehow knew was cleaner and safer and emptier than any city he'd ever known waking. He remembered solitude, and prayer, but neither had brought him peace, though he'd been so very desperate for it.
I do have quite a knack for picking up strays. Ask my sister. I was forever bringing home lame animals and nursing them back to health.
There was a cat in that dream. That memory. And a determined young woman he'd hardly recognized at the time. Oh, her face had been familiar enough even then, but when Amelle Hawke had come to the Fade armed only with determination and persistence and love for her sister, Sebastian had realized he'd never seen her before, not really.
You know us Hawkes, Sebastian—always taking up lost causes.
He remembered only a perfect chantry on silent streets, Amelle's set jaw, a demon screaming, and a little orange cat.
This cat was not orange, but he wondered…
Hardly thinking, Sebastian unclasped his cloak and wrapped the tiny, pathetic kitten in its warmth. It barely moved and was too weak even to mewl. For half a heartbreaking instant he wondered if he even had time enough to bring it to Amelle. It seemed like to expire in his hands. He shook his head, ridding it of the pessimistic thought. Then, cradling his bundle of kitten as gingerly as he'd have held a newborn infant, Sebastian retraced his steps, past the practice yard. The barracks would take him through to halls, toward the room where he knew he would find Amelle at Fenris' side, but Sebastian had barely made it halfway to the barracks before he heard someone calling after him.
"Your Highness!"
He turned to spy one of the mages walking with long-legged strides after him, a sack in his arms. It was the young blond one—Landan. Odd, perhaps, that he'd been chosen to be the one to return with the potions, given he made no secret of his distrust, but the reasoning didn't entirely matter to Sebastian, particularly when he spied the tell-tale blue shimmer reflecting off the burlap bag, off Landan's face, catching the light and twisting it into an iridescent glow. Sebastian was certain he'd never been so relieved to see lyrium potion before in the whole of his life.
The mage was just as unsmiling as he'd been before, though the dour expression fled into confusion when he glanced down at the bundle Sebastian carried so gently.
"That's…" he began, brow creasing in puzzlement, "that's a kitten."
"Aye," Sebastian answered. "And it's a kitten that's going to perish in my hands if I don't take it where it needs to be." He nodded at the sack Landan clutched. "I've no available hands to carry that as well. If you wouldn't mind following me, the kitten and those bottles are headed for the same destination."
The young man gave him a speculative look, but fell in, walking ever so slightly behind him. "No need to stand on ceremony," Sebastian said gently. "You had no trouble with the guard?"
Moving up to walk by Sebastian's side, the lad said, "They said they were expecting me, Your Highness. Did—do they—"
Sebastian shook his head. "Time and place, I think. I indicated I was waiting for someone who'd be bringing me a package I needed very much. I did not mention your… skill set."
Landan's long legs kept easy pace with Sebastian. "Because you don't trust us."
"Because up until a few days ago, anyone accused of having those skills was like to see an angry mob," Sebastian reminded him, gesturing for Landan to follow him up a staircase. The bottles of lyrium jangled against each other, soothing rather than discordant. Sebastian hoped they'd give Amelle new strength to continue on, if nothing else. "Even the best things do not change overnight simply because we wish them to." Sebastian lifted an eyebrow. "I admit, of everyone in that room, yours was rather the last face I expected to see making this particular delivery."
Landan frowned. "Nadie was going to come, but she has the girls. Didn't seem right. It's—there's still a risk. As you said. If there'd been trouble with the guard. Or with the townsfolk."
"Or with me?" The kitten made a tiny, distressed noise. Its heart was racing; Sebastian could feel the struggle to survive. He quickened his pace to a near-jog. Landan said nothing about the change, merely keeping up.
"Begging your pardon, but I don't know you, my lord," Landan said. "You seem decent enough, and you made a good impression with Nadie, which counts for a lot. She's… she's not wrong about people. You know? I draw the wrong conclusions all the time, but she never does."
A faint smile pulled at the corner of Sebastian's lips. "It's a marvel to behold, isn't it?"
"My lord?"
"A talent like that. For people; for understanding the heart of people. I envy it. I am… too swift to judge. Often."
Landan huffed a breathy chuckle. "Nadie tells me the same thing. All the time."
Sebastian paused at the next turn to get his bearings before choosing the left fork in the hallway. "She downplayed it, of course, but she seems a good leader."
Landan raised his eyebrows. "You'd have to be, wouldn't you? When you think about it? She kept a Circle safe in Starkhaven for more than seven years. Grew our numbers. Kept us… we didn't feel like apostates. Can you understand the difference? She was so careful, but we never felt like prisoners."
"Ahh," Sebastian said. "I begin to see why you were so dour earlier. You were afraid she was misstepping? After all that time? Trusting where she oughtn't trust?"
The young man shrugged, hitching the burden in his arms. Sebastian's own burden was starting to fail, the tiny heart slowing. They were, however, almost there.
"I mean you no harm, Landan," Sebastian said. "Though I cannot guarantee how long or how well my protection will last. The truth is, half a dozen years ago I'd have turned you all in to the nearest authority and believed myself doing the Maker's work. I… I know a woman who sounds a great deal like your First Enchanter—rarely wrong about the true substance of a soul—and she has done a great deal to show me the value of individuals over the importance of tradition and… rules that may or may not be necessary."
Had the reason for Sebastian's visit not been struggling for both breath and life at that moment, he might've been amused at the look on Ser Braden's face as he approached. Surprise led to deference and a brief bow, which then turned to outright bafflement when he caught sight of the kitten. He barely spared Landan a second glance. Shifting his cloak and the kitten to cradle in one arm, Sebastian knocked briefly and opened the door, before Amelle had time to reply.
Inside Fenris' sickroom, Amelle had thrown open every window, and even now the curtains fluttered in the early evening breeze off the river. The day's sunlight was waning, but it was hardly evident given the glow her healing magics radiated—so brightly, in fact, Sebastian could barely make out her features at all. From the corner of his eye, he saw Landan give a start. Sebastian himself could feel how different the air felt in here, how charged; it only made sense someone sensitive to magic would feel it even more keenly than he.
The light died away with a stutter when Amelle looked up, realizing she was not longer alone. Her smile, though strained with worry, was still pleased, if a little puzzled, and she stood, shaking out her fingers.
"Sebastian," she said, standing and coming around the other side of the bed. She glanced first at the bundled cloak, and then at Landan, her brows quirking. "Is everything all right?" she asked, green eyes sliding back over to him.
"The prince said you were in need of lyrium potion," Landan supplied, nodding at the gently clinking sack.
Amelle blinked, startled. "Lyrium potion? I… I didn't even—didn't dare hope there'd be any to be found." And then she tipped her head at Landan, eyeing him shrewdly, but Sebastian could not tell if it was his resemblance to Anders, or if she could tell he was a mage as well that had caught her attention. "Thank you so much. You have no idea…" she glanced over her shoulder where Fenris lay, and Sebastian saw the naked pain flash across her face before she shuttered it away again, all in an instant. "Thank you."
Now Landan looked between Amelle and Sebastian, his own expression revealing his puzzlement. "You're welcome, uh, my… lady."
A very faint smile pulled at Amelle's lips. "Amelle will do fine, thank you."
"Landan and his colleagues knew where some stores of potions might be found," Sebastian said, then shifted the kitten in his arms. It seemed suddenly almost painfully frivolous, bringing her such a tiny life to save when she was pouring so much mana into Fenris. And yet. "And I've… brought you something. Perhaps—rather, it is my… hope you can help." Sebastian coughed, hating the way his voice twitched that last word upwards into a question.
Amelle lifted one eyebrow at him and came closer, peering over the edge of the cloak as Sebastian shifted the small animal in his arms. When she saw what he held, she breathed in a soft gasp and brought one hand up to run a gentle fingertip across its head.
"What happened to it?" she asked, letting Sebastian transfer the bundle into her arms.
"It nearly met its end at the bottom of a well," he replied, unable to keep the darkness from his tone. A lucky thing he hadn't come across the boys in question — a lucky thing indeed. "Is there anything you can… do for it?"
"I imagine so," she murmured, gently easing the small, furry body from the cloak. "Maker, the poor thing — it's so thin."
"Do you need any—" Sebastian began, indicating the bag of potion bottles, but Amelle shook her head.
"I've just taken the last of my own—your timing is impeccable, might I add—but this is rather straightforward." She smiled at the tiny furry body. "Not a drop of magebane to be had in this little fellow." With that, the light at Amelle's hands flared to life as she cradled the kitten against her chest. It took less than a minute, and when the glow of magic and power finally ebbed away, the kitten was still small and thin, but its breath came more easily. After a second or two, it opened its infant-kitten blue-grey eyes and let out a tiny, plaintive mew.
Sebastian smiled for what felt like the first time in ages, and was embarrassed to feel the prickle of tears in his eyes. "The stablemaster said it would need to be fed by hand," Sebastian said quietly, his brogue gone heavier with emotion. Amelle glanced up at him and her eyebrows quirked. "Though if it's healthier now, perhaps it might suckle. I could take it back to its mother."
Beside him, Landan cleared his throat; when Sebastian glanced over, he was surprised to see the dour mage looking surprisingly less dour. "The mother might not take it back into the litter."
Amelle nodded, giving the kitten a fond look. "Your friend's right, I'm afraid. There's a reason I always had to nurse animals back to health myself."
"It's… the magic," Landan explained, setting the bag of potions down on a nearby table. "My parents had a farm when I came into my powers." He grimaced at some private memory. "The chickens in particular didn't like me."
Amelle nodded. "Most creatures don't like the residue it leaves behind—I had a devil of a time finding a horse for the journey. They all seemed to want nothing more than to throw me." She shrugged, stroking the kitten's head. "It's not quite natural, perhaps. Best send for milk and a rag. And a glove, maybe. One you don't mind me ruining." Sebastian supposed he must have looked terribly confused, because Amelle explained, "You poke a hole in the finger and use it as a nipple. Works wonders." Her eyes remained sad even as her lips smiled. "This isn't the first kitten I've hand-fed, believe it or not."
"Will it survive?"
She regarded him for a long moment, and though he wanted to turn away, he did not. He had the uncomfortable feeling she was peeling back layers upon layers, and seeing more than he wanted anyone to see. His legs itched with the desire to keep moving, keep walking, but he remained perfectly still.
"Of course," she said at last, almost cheerily. "A little care and compassion goes a long way."
At the word compassion, the kitten mewled again, louder, and began to squirm in Amelle's hands.
He swallowed hard. "Amelle, the trial is set for—"
"For several days from now," she interrupted. "Let's deal with today first, shall we?" Her words resonated with false brightness. "First day of the rest of this little one's life. It's an important occasion. Wouldn't want to rush it." She ran a fingertip over the kitten's tiny skull and huffed a breathy laugh when it turned its head, looking to suckle. "Might want to rush the milk, though. It's clearly lunchtime."
"I'll send for it at once."
Her voice stopped him as he reached for the handle of the door. "Sebastian?"
Turning to look over his shoulder, he raised his eyebrows.
Amelle fixed him with a shrewd look, still running one fingertip absently down the kitten's ribs. "This wasn't meant as a… distraction, was it? From… other things?"
Sebastian clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels slightly. "That hadn't occurred to me. I just thought—I remembered what you said, about taking in strays and nursing wounded creatures. I thought maybe…"
The shrewdness never left her eyes. She glanced briefly at Landan before looking back at Sebastian. "You remember more than I thought you would."
Sebastian only shrugged at her careful, veiled words, and indicated the tiny kitten, keeping his features neutral. "Better for this wee one that I did."
Amelle looked at him and it felt, for a moment, she was looking through him until something akin to surprise registered and she finally said quietly, "Yes," she said finally. "Yes, I suppose you're right about that."
The silence that followed was an awkward one and Sebastian shifted his weight from foot to foot. "If there's nothing else…"
She nodded, but the slight frown didn't leave her brow. "Actually… might I have you alone for a moment?"
Landan didn't need to be asked; he simply slipped outside, closing the door quietly behind himself.
Amelle waited a moment longer, pacing to the window and back again. "Where did he come from?"
"Starkhaven's Circle. What remains of it."
She shivered. "Not… Grace and her ilk?"
"No, indeed. The opposite, if I understand correctly. It's a longer tale than we've time for, and unfinished yet, but some few mages have remained all this time. They came to speak with me. Saw some hope in what happened yesterday."
She closed her eyes. "Thank the Maker someone saw some hope in it. Forgive me. I… don't mean that. I don't suppose any of them have a talent for—" she waved an absent hand at the bed.
"No healers, I'm afraid."
Amelle sighed and moved back to Fenris' side, reaching down to brush the hair from his brow. "I'm in their debt for the lyrium, in any case, and more grateful than I can say."
"I will leave you to it, then—"
"Sebastian," Amelle said quietly, without looking up at him, "have you spoken to her?"
He winced as though she'd slapped him. "She said all she needed to say."
"Right," Amelle said. "I have no trouble believing that. But the question is… did you return the favor? She's used to making the decisions and expecting them to be followed without question."
"There is a reason for that. She's usually right."
Amelle nodded thoughtfully. "Usually. But not always. And I fear in this case her judgment may be… somewhat clouded."
"I will consider that." He inclined his head. "And I will send someone with the milk."
Outside, Ser Braden was staring at Landan, and Landan was doing his damnedest not to stare back. After speaking with a passing servant to see Amelle received what she required to care for the kitten, Sebastian turned and headed back toward his office, gesturing for the mage to follow him. Landan no longer looked dour, however; his expression had slid entirely into something very much like incredulity. This astonishment lasted most of the walk, before Landan began to speak, half under his breath.
"I'd never have believed it, if I hadn't seen it myself. Such open use of… no, I'd never have believed it. And the control. I'm not sure you understand the control. To shift between the amount of power she was wielding when we entered to the amount necessary to heal an infant animal? I—Maker. Would that I could ask her all the questions I have." Landan shook his head wonderingly, then seemed to recollect himself, and his audience. "Ah. Your Highness. Forgive me. Thinking aloud. I, uh. Do that."
Sebastian nodded, ushering the young man into his office, where he promptly set to work gathering the coin he had readily available. Landan protested, but Sebastian merely closed the man's hands around the purse. "You've done me—and her—a great service. Coin is the least I can do. And… as to the rest, I cannot say. If things… should things turn out well, perhaps she will answer some of those questions. Likely she has some of her own. Having only ever had the one teacher, I imagine she must."
"One teacher," Landan breathed. "Maker's breath."
The young man was still mumbling his wonderment under his breath as he left. Sebastian sat at his desk, grateful for the silence, shuffling through papers without actually reading any of them, wondering if Amelle might be right about her sister.
Kiara, after all, wasn't the only good judge of character in the Hawke family.
Usually, but not always, Sebastian thought, allowing himself a grain—just a grain—of hope.
