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rose_in_winterCharacters: Fenris, Mage Female Hawke, Sebastian Vael (Fenris/f!Hawke/Sebastian)
Rating: NC-17
Contains: Canon-typical violence, explicit sex
Fic Wordcount: 117,000
Chapter Wordcount:
Notes: Canon-divergent, ignoring most of Act 3. A thousand thanks tosenmut's Discord server for cheering and brainstorming and reactions and encouragement.
Beta: breadedsinner and MikWrites_InSpace
Summary: After the duel with the Arishok, Ariane Hawke looks around at the wreckage of her life in Kirkwall and asks herself: what is left for me here? As tensions increase between the Circle and the Templars, she turns to helping Sebastian retake Starkhaven. Meanwhile, she is trying to figure out how to love Fenris when he hates mages, and also definitely not looking at Sebastian's gorgeous eyes. Definitely not. Neither is Fenris. Sebastian is not looking back.
Definitely.
Canon divergence in which almost all of act 3 goes in the bin, and three damaged people try to find a way to live with each other and themselves, and maybe heal a bit.
Chapter index here.
Sebastian stepped silently through a side door of the Chantry and closed it softly behind him. It felt wrong to slip out of the Chantry the same way he'd once snuck out of his grandfather's keep. This time, he wasn't bent on carousing or gambling--though he was mostly honest enough to admit that he knew what he hoped for with Hawke and Fenris, and it was not in keeping with his vows. He'd said as much to them, but he hadn't--yet--done anything proscribed.
Sooner or later, he'd have to tell the Grand Cleric that he was leaving Kirkwall--leaving the Chantry. He didn't know if she would try to persuade him otherwise.
He did not know if he wanted her to try.
The buildings of Hightown cast long shadows as the sun sank below the edge of the city walls. He walked quickly, listening carefully to the sounds around him. He thought he'd seen someone following him from the Chantry, as he had been followed on every occasion he ventured forth since they had returned from the Planasene. It perturbed him, especially since Hawke was being followed as well. He didn't know if he would be able to handle a Crow on his own, if that was who was following him.
Would he notice a Crow, though? He'd seen nothing before the moment of the attack in the forest.
He was relieved to reach Hawke's mansion--he wondered when it had come to mean more safety and security than the Chantry offered. He would have to pray on that later. As he lifted a hand to knock, he saw Fenris approaching, his hair glinting almost gold in the evening light. He nodded in greeting and tapped the door knocker.
"Always a pleasure to see you, Brother Sebastian. Ser Fenris." Bodahn pulled the door open to admit them and bowed politely. "Serah Hawke is in the dining room."
They left their weapons in the rack by the door, since even Hightown was no place to go unarmed these days, and joined Hawke in the dining room. She had a glass of wine on the table, barely touched or recently refilled, and was reading a book. When they came in, she looked up and smiled, marking her place with a ribbon. Fenris leaned down to brush a kiss over her hair and gently took the book to set it aside. He studied the cover, his lips moving slightly as he parsed the title, and gave that soft, scoffing laugh. "Annals of Starkhaven?" he asked her as he put the book on a small table that Sebastian knew Hawke kept for that purpose.
Warm color rose in Hawke's face. "Well, it seems likely we'll be visiting it sooner rather than later."
Her words settled against Sebastian's heart like the heat of a fire after a cold day outside. He looked away to hide his own blush. "I would be pleased to answer any questions you might have," he said, and knew from the way her blush darkened that he had not been as successful as he'd hoped at keeping his tone from implying a very different sort of question.
That failure mattered less than it had before their trip and the painful and exhilarating conversation they'd shared, but he was not, yet, free to act on it.
"That," Fenris said, "might be a dangerous offer to make." His smile was slow and matched his tone, and Hawke gave up entirely and buried her scarlet face in her hands. Sebastian swallowed hard and found it less comfortable to move to his seat than it might be. Fenris took his own seat by Hawke and she poured them each a glass of wine. Sebastian limited himself to one sip, though his throat was dry.
Hawke turned her glass slowly, watching the liquid within rather than drinking it. "I spoke to Carver today," she said.
Fenris frowned. Sebastian braced himself. The tension was prolonged by Bodahn and Orana--all unwitting, he was sure--arriving with platters of food. Hawke eyed the possibilities and started with a roll, tearing off small pieces to eat. Sebastian took a slice of ham, cabbage, and some roasted potatoes.
"About what?" Fenris asked her once Bodahn and Orana had left.
She stared at the bread in her hands.
Fenris turned and scooped food onto his plate, which he then put in front of Hawke and took her empty plate to fill for himself. Once he was no longer looking at her, she drew a shaky breath. "Meredith and Orsino both need to go," she said to the table.
Sebastian paused with a bite of food halfway to his mouth. Fenris sighed.
"I didn't say the Circle needed to go," Hawke said to him, though they both knew--and her tone reinforced--that she did in fact think that.
He glanced at her and chose to eat rather than speak.
Hawke bit her lip. "Orsino was feeding information to Quentin. Information on how to--" She dropped the shredded remains of the roll onto her plate and swallowed hard. "How to do the things he did. To my mother and the others." She gripped the edge of the table, her fingertips starkly pale from the pressure.
"In that case, I understand why you want him removed," Sebastian said. He wanted to offer the support of the Chantry, but--he loved Grand Cleric Elthina like a grandmother. More, perhaps, than he had loved his own grandmother. But if she had not yet stepped in to calm the tensions in the Gallows, he didn't know that this would move her either. "And Meredith?"
"Cullen would be a better Knight-Commander," Hawke said, and Fenris looked up sharply. She started to reach for his hand, then set her hands in her lap. The set of her shoulders was rigid to the point of brittleness. "My father," Hawke said slowly, "was very clear when he taught me and Bethany how to use our magic. He said that we could do wonderful, terrible, world-shaking things with it and that because we could, we must always take the greatest of care. He said that anyone with power must consider the responsibility of it before it is used. Meredith demands the power to control mages--and she abuses it. She abuses them. She kills them. She drives them to extremes--" Hawke cut herself off. Sebastian felt a sick weight in the pit of his stomach.
Several ragged breaths later, Hawke spoke again. "Tranquil mages are no better than slaves. And Meredith keeps more slaves than any templar commander I've read of or seen." She was not looking at Fenris, but Sebastian was, and he saw the tension in the elf's face. "I do not believe that mages in Kirkwall are so uniquely weak that it warrants this. Think what you will of Anders, but his friend didn't deserve Tranquility. It must be stopped."
She went back to reducing her roll to ever-tinier fragments of bread. Fenris scowled at the table. Sebastian studied the food he no longer wanted and tried to think through what Hawke proposed as a prince might--as a prince must.
He had been young when he left Starkhaven, but he remembered that the Chantry there had emphasized that mages needed guidance and protection. He remembered raising a concern with Elthina when he'd first come to Kirkwall, and she had assured him that the Knight-Commander had the situation well in hand, and worked well with the First Enchanter. He had taken her word then. But the three years since he'd met Hawke--the number of times he'd seen her flinch away from templars in the streets, the way she'd looked when Fenris and Isabela rescued her from the Gallows, the things they'd found when Carver brought the demon problem to her--they bespoke a deep problem.
His grandfather, he felt sure, would not have looked away. And if Hawke came with him to Starkhaven, he was going to have to be aware of this problem there, as well. He couldn't turn away and declare it the business of the Grand Cleric and the Knight-Commander, not entirely.
"Hawke," Fenris said, and Sebastian looked up. His breath caught in his throat. Hawke's words had been harsh--
Fenris put a fork in her hand. "Eat," he said.
She stared at her plate like she had forgotten what to do with it.
"I need to think," Fenris said, and Sebastian saw that his left hand was clenched tight, white knuckles against brown skin. "Eat," he repeated, "and we can talk about it after." He glanced at Sebastian, who nodded and speared a piece of potato with his fork.
The silence in the dining room was nearly painful. Sebastian ate mechanically, which was frankly an insult to Orana's excellent cooking, but his mind was jumping frantically between the problem of whether Hawke was right about Meredith and Orsino, and what he could do to mediate between Hawke and Fenris, and whether he could persuade Elthina to help. Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker, said Transfigurations. Was that what Meredith was doing? Magic was to serve man, but....Hawke had a point about Tranquility.
They ate in silence--too many thoughts to pass the time in jest and chatter--and when Hawke finished pushing food around her plate (she'd eaten about half of it under wilting glares from himself and Fenris), she set down her utensils and picked up her wine before pushing it away again.
"Tell us your plan," Sebastian said.
Hawke tapped her fingers on the table lightly. "I have evidence that Orsino knew about Quentin's research, which is sufficient to ensure his punishment even without Meredith's zeal," she said. "Carver has agreed to help me." She frowned. "The contract that the Crow was carrying for me had Grace of Starkhaven's name on it. No mage in the Gallows has that kind of money to her name, which means someone used her as a go-between. I don't know who it was, but I'm going to find out--starting with Isabela's contact." She rubbed her eyes tiredly with her other hand. "I probably can't stay in Kirkwall after this."
Fenris's chair scraped on the floor, but he didn't rise.
She looked at Sebastian with an uneven, wobbly smile. "I promised I'd help you retake your home, and I will, I'll tell you where to find me," she said, "and I won't--you don't have to--"
"Hawke." He could reach out, touch her hand. It was a strange realization. He touched his fingertips to the back of her hand as she fluttered it in midair. "You'll have a place in Starkhaven." He looked at Fenris. "You, too," he said. "I meant it, when I asked if you would train my soldiers. No matter what becomes of--" He waved his free hand in a loosely sketched circle, encompassing the three of them. "Of us," and oh, the word us warmed his heart and clutched at him with terror at the same time, "I would give you shelter."
Fenris's mouth flattened and he looked at Hawke.
"I won't be able to--" she began, and Sebastian could all but see the pulse beating like the fluttering of a bird's wings in her throat.
"Hawke." Fenris flexed his hand; it must ache, as tightly as he'd clenched his fist while they ate. Then he laid it lightly on her shoulder. "I have to think about your plan for the Gallows, but I don't have to think about that. If you leave Kirkwall, I will be with you." His thumb moved in a slow, sweeping arc over the front of her shoulder. She shivered. Sebastian's eyes fixed on that simple motion and he swallowed hard.
"Isabela's contact," he said, and no, he wasn't able to keep his voice steady at all. "Have you set a time--"
Hawke actually laughed, and some part of the weight in the room fell away. "I, ah, don't think it's that kind of contact," she said. "The address is in the Docks, I think we just show up and try not to get in a fight, or failing that try not to die, before he agrees to talk to us." She turned her hand, just enough for the tips of her fingers to slide across his palm, and Maker, it had been a long time since anyone had touched him like that, but it was still ridiculous for him to react so strongly.
"Tomorrow, then?" Fenris suggested, and Sebastian and Hawke both nodded.
"I should be going back," Sebastian said reluctantly. Fenris and Hawke walked with him to the door, and he had to exert years of Chantry-trained discipline to leave with only a light touch to each of their shoulders.
When he reached the Chantry, one of the lay sisters handed him a wrapped package. He thanked her, bemused, and took it to his cell. It turned out to contain a small leather-bound book and a lengthy letter. As he read it, he felt the slow rise of anger in his chest.
It was, perhaps, a good thing that Hawke was ready to make her break with Kirkwall.
Starkhaven called.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rating: NC-17
Contains: Canon-typical violence, explicit sex
Fic Wordcount: 117,000
Chapter Wordcount:
Notes: Canon-divergent, ignoring most of Act 3. A thousand thanks to
senmut's Discord server for cheering and brainstorming and reactions and encouragement.Beta: breadedsinner and MikWrites_InSpace
Summary: After the duel with the Arishok, Ariane Hawke looks around at the wreckage of her life in Kirkwall and asks herself: what is left for me here? As tensions increase between the Circle and the Templars, she turns to helping Sebastian retake Starkhaven. Meanwhile, she is trying to figure out how to love Fenris when he hates mages, and also definitely not looking at Sebastian's gorgeous eyes. Definitely not. Neither is Fenris. Sebastian is not looking back.
Definitely.
Canon divergence in which almost all of act 3 goes in the bin, and three damaged people try to find a way to live with each other and themselves, and maybe heal a bit.
Chapter index here.
Sebastian stepped silently through a side door of the Chantry and closed it softly behind him. It felt wrong to slip out of the Chantry the same way he'd once snuck out of his grandfather's keep. This time, he wasn't bent on carousing or gambling--though he was mostly honest enough to admit that he knew what he hoped for with Hawke and Fenris, and it was not in keeping with his vows. He'd said as much to them, but he hadn't--yet--done anything proscribed.
Sooner or later, he'd have to tell the Grand Cleric that he was leaving Kirkwall--leaving the Chantry. He didn't know if she would try to persuade him otherwise.
He did not know if he wanted her to try.
The buildings of Hightown cast long shadows as the sun sank below the edge of the city walls. He walked quickly, listening carefully to the sounds around him. He thought he'd seen someone following him from the Chantry, as he had been followed on every occasion he ventured forth since they had returned from the Planasene. It perturbed him, especially since Hawke was being followed as well. He didn't know if he would be able to handle a Crow on his own, if that was who was following him.
Would he notice a Crow, though? He'd seen nothing before the moment of the attack in the forest.
He was relieved to reach Hawke's mansion--he wondered when it had come to mean more safety and security than the Chantry offered. He would have to pray on that later. As he lifted a hand to knock, he saw Fenris approaching, his hair glinting almost gold in the evening light. He nodded in greeting and tapped the door knocker.
"Always a pleasure to see you, Brother Sebastian. Ser Fenris." Bodahn pulled the door open to admit them and bowed politely. "Serah Hawke is in the dining room."
They left their weapons in the rack by the door, since even Hightown was no place to go unarmed these days, and joined Hawke in the dining room. She had a glass of wine on the table, barely touched or recently refilled, and was reading a book. When they came in, she looked up and smiled, marking her place with a ribbon. Fenris leaned down to brush a kiss over her hair and gently took the book to set it aside. He studied the cover, his lips moving slightly as he parsed the title, and gave that soft, scoffing laugh. "Annals of Starkhaven?" he asked her as he put the book on a small table that Sebastian knew Hawke kept for that purpose.
Warm color rose in Hawke's face. "Well, it seems likely we'll be visiting it sooner rather than later."
Her words settled against Sebastian's heart like the heat of a fire after a cold day outside. He looked away to hide his own blush. "I would be pleased to answer any questions you might have," he said, and knew from the way her blush darkened that he had not been as successful as he'd hoped at keeping his tone from implying a very different sort of question.
That failure mattered less than it had before their trip and the painful and exhilarating conversation they'd shared, but he was not, yet, free to act on it.
"That," Fenris said, "might be a dangerous offer to make." His smile was slow and matched his tone, and Hawke gave up entirely and buried her scarlet face in her hands. Sebastian swallowed hard and found it less comfortable to move to his seat than it might be. Fenris took his own seat by Hawke and she poured them each a glass of wine. Sebastian limited himself to one sip, though his throat was dry.
Hawke turned her glass slowly, watching the liquid within rather than drinking it. "I spoke to Carver today," she said.
Fenris frowned. Sebastian braced himself. The tension was prolonged by Bodahn and Orana--all unwitting, he was sure--arriving with platters of food. Hawke eyed the possibilities and started with a roll, tearing off small pieces to eat. Sebastian took a slice of ham, cabbage, and some roasted potatoes.
"About what?" Fenris asked her once Bodahn and Orana had left.
She stared at the bread in her hands.
Fenris turned and scooped food onto his plate, which he then put in front of Hawke and took her empty plate to fill for himself. Once he was no longer looking at her, she drew a shaky breath. "Meredith and Orsino both need to go," she said to the table.
Sebastian paused with a bite of food halfway to his mouth. Fenris sighed.
"I didn't say the Circle needed to go," Hawke said to him, though they both knew--and her tone reinforced--that she did in fact think that.
He glanced at her and chose to eat rather than speak.
Hawke bit her lip. "Orsino was feeding information to Quentin. Information on how to--" She dropped the shredded remains of the roll onto her plate and swallowed hard. "How to do the things he did. To my mother and the others." She gripped the edge of the table, her fingertips starkly pale from the pressure.
"In that case, I understand why you want him removed," Sebastian said. He wanted to offer the support of the Chantry, but--he loved Grand Cleric Elthina like a grandmother. More, perhaps, than he had loved his own grandmother. But if she had not yet stepped in to calm the tensions in the Gallows, he didn't know that this would move her either. "And Meredith?"
"Cullen would be a better Knight-Commander," Hawke said, and Fenris looked up sharply. She started to reach for his hand, then set her hands in her lap. The set of her shoulders was rigid to the point of brittleness. "My father," Hawke said slowly, "was very clear when he taught me and Bethany how to use our magic. He said that we could do wonderful, terrible, world-shaking things with it and that because we could, we must always take the greatest of care. He said that anyone with power must consider the responsibility of it before it is used. Meredith demands the power to control mages--and she abuses it. She abuses them. She kills them. She drives them to extremes--" Hawke cut herself off. Sebastian felt a sick weight in the pit of his stomach.
Several ragged breaths later, Hawke spoke again. "Tranquil mages are no better than slaves. And Meredith keeps more slaves than any templar commander I've read of or seen." She was not looking at Fenris, but Sebastian was, and he saw the tension in the elf's face. "I do not believe that mages in Kirkwall are so uniquely weak that it warrants this. Think what you will of Anders, but his friend didn't deserve Tranquility. It must be stopped."
She went back to reducing her roll to ever-tinier fragments of bread. Fenris scowled at the table. Sebastian studied the food he no longer wanted and tried to think through what Hawke proposed as a prince might--as a prince must.
He had been young when he left Starkhaven, but he remembered that the Chantry there had emphasized that mages needed guidance and protection. He remembered raising a concern with Elthina when he'd first come to Kirkwall, and she had assured him that the Knight-Commander had the situation well in hand, and worked well with the First Enchanter. He had taken her word then. But the three years since he'd met Hawke--the number of times he'd seen her flinch away from templars in the streets, the way she'd looked when Fenris and Isabela rescued her from the Gallows, the things they'd found when Carver brought the demon problem to her--they bespoke a deep problem.
His grandfather, he felt sure, would not have looked away. And if Hawke came with him to Starkhaven, he was going to have to be aware of this problem there, as well. He couldn't turn away and declare it the business of the Grand Cleric and the Knight-Commander, not entirely.
"Hawke," Fenris said, and Sebastian looked up. His breath caught in his throat. Hawke's words had been harsh--
Fenris put a fork in her hand. "Eat," he said.
She stared at her plate like she had forgotten what to do with it.
"I need to think," Fenris said, and Sebastian saw that his left hand was clenched tight, white knuckles against brown skin. "Eat," he repeated, "and we can talk about it after." He glanced at Sebastian, who nodded and speared a piece of potato with his fork.
The silence in the dining room was nearly painful. Sebastian ate mechanically, which was frankly an insult to Orana's excellent cooking, but his mind was jumping frantically between the problem of whether Hawke was right about Meredith and Orsino, and what he could do to mediate between Hawke and Fenris, and whether he could persuade Elthina to help. Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker, said Transfigurations. Was that what Meredith was doing? Magic was to serve man, but....Hawke had a point about Tranquility.
They ate in silence--too many thoughts to pass the time in jest and chatter--and when Hawke finished pushing food around her plate (she'd eaten about half of it under wilting glares from himself and Fenris), she set down her utensils and picked up her wine before pushing it away again.
"Tell us your plan," Sebastian said.
Hawke tapped her fingers on the table lightly. "I have evidence that Orsino knew about Quentin's research, which is sufficient to ensure his punishment even without Meredith's zeal," she said. "Carver has agreed to help me." She frowned. "The contract that the Crow was carrying for me had Grace of Starkhaven's name on it. No mage in the Gallows has that kind of money to her name, which means someone used her as a go-between. I don't know who it was, but I'm going to find out--starting with Isabela's contact." She rubbed her eyes tiredly with her other hand. "I probably can't stay in Kirkwall after this."
Fenris's chair scraped on the floor, but he didn't rise.
She looked at Sebastian with an uneven, wobbly smile. "I promised I'd help you retake your home, and I will, I'll tell you where to find me," she said, "and I won't--you don't have to--"
"Hawke." He could reach out, touch her hand. It was a strange realization. He touched his fingertips to the back of her hand as she fluttered it in midair. "You'll have a place in Starkhaven." He looked at Fenris. "You, too," he said. "I meant it, when I asked if you would train my soldiers. No matter what becomes of--" He waved his free hand in a loosely sketched circle, encompassing the three of them. "Of us," and oh, the word us warmed his heart and clutched at him with terror at the same time, "I would give you shelter."
Fenris's mouth flattened and he looked at Hawke.
"I won't be able to--" she began, and Sebastian could all but see the pulse beating like the fluttering of a bird's wings in her throat.
"Hawke." Fenris flexed his hand; it must ache, as tightly as he'd clenched his fist while they ate. Then he laid it lightly on her shoulder. "I have to think about your plan for the Gallows, but I don't have to think about that. If you leave Kirkwall, I will be with you." His thumb moved in a slow, sweeping arc over the front of her shoulder. She shivered. Sebastian's eyes fixed on that simple motion and he swallowed hard.
"Isabela's contact," he said, and no, he wasn't able to keep his voice steady at all. "Have you set a time--"
Hawke actually laughed, and some part of the weight in the room fell away. "I, ah, don't think it's that kind of contact," she said. "The address is in the Docks, I think we just show up and try not to get in a fight, or failing that try not to die, before he agrees to talk to us." She turned her hand, just enough for the tips of her fingers to slide across his palm, and Maker, it had been a long time since anyone had touched him like that, but it was still ridiculous for him to react so strongly.
"Tomorrow, then?" Fenris suggested, and Sebastian and Hawke both nodded.
"I should be going back," Sebastian said reluctantly. Fenris and Hawke walked with him to the door, and he had to exert years of Chantry-trained discipline to leave with only a light touch to each of their shoulders.
When he reached the Chantry, one of the lay sisters handed him a wrapped package. He thanked her, bemused, and took it to his cell. It turned out to contain a small leather-bound book and a lengthy letter. As he read it, he felt the slow rise of anger in his chest.
It was, perhaps, a good thing that Hawke was ready to make her break with Kirkwall.
Starkhaven called.
Chapter Twenty-Seven