Title: Questioning Beliefs

Author: Maqeurious

Game: Dragon Age 2

Characters: F!Hawke / Sebastian

Months after the terrible events at Kirkwall, and the destruction of the Chantry and the Circle; Hawke disappeared. Disgusted at herself for killing Anders and on a path of destruction of her own, her only hope for death lies in the hands of her former companion, Sebastian. But Sebastian is a changed man too. With his faith in the Maker shaken and his life in the Chantry over, he is given the chance he has longed for since losing all he had.

Hawke wants death, and it's up to him to deliver.

The pieces start to fall into place. But just who is it that's following Hawke? And why does it even matter? But mainly, why can't Hawke be honest with herself when it comes to Sebastian?

Comments and reviews are greatly appriciated. Sorry for the long hiatus! Writers block is a bitch!

A place for everyone, and everyone in their place.

The Honey Pot was thriving with mid afternoon patronage when Isabela and Varric arrived. The brothel was only one of many that dotted the city of Cumberland and catered to both men and women of varying race and monetary wealth. You could hire a fair, buxom wench for as little as a few bits, or indulge in the company of many if you were willing to part with several gold. It was a far cry from The Blooming Rose in Kirkwall, and for this, Isabela was thankful. The place screamed decadence, despite it's placing in the lower realms of the city.

The residence was an enormous two story, orlesian style manor that seemed so out of sorts in the Drakon Bazaar that new comers often mistook it for a wealthy nobleman's home. It's walls were draped in the finest deep red velvet and gold fringe, with intricately carved woodwork trimmings and borders at the ceiling and floors. Muted candlelight bathed the main hall by mounted sconce's that were distributed cleverly around the room, and wrought-iron candelabra placed on each of the numerous cherry colored hardwood tables. To one side sat the bar, with a large mirrored backing that reflected the entire room making it seem even bigger then it was. It was heavily stocked with a diverse range of spirits and ales to suit every taste, much like the courtesans themselves. The centerpiece, and what really brought in the varied clientele was the luxuriant chantry-styled stage area with hanging crystal chandeliers that was used for The Honey Pots lurid burlesque shows. Upstairs the decor was the same and replicated throughout the ten rooms ready and waiting to be hired, while the ground floor followed suit with an additional six, one of which was hired indefinitely by Isabela.

The Madam was a stout woman in her fifties with waist-long sliver braided hair, studded with tiny gems and an elaborate comb pinned tightly with a variety of feathers and pearls. Wrapped securely within her plentiful weaves was her namesake, a large, single, pitch black feather that earned her the title – Ravenna – by her courtesans. Isabela had taken a liking to the orlesian woman straight away, despite her lingering eye and clever tongue. She had a sharp business sense, which was only natural for her line of work, and although Isabela had haggled a good deal for the room she now acquired, she couldn't help but think the madam had taken her for a ride without her even knowing it. When she looked into the older woman's strong, violet eyes, she sensed a story or two there, and decided that before she left Cumberland, she'd sit Ravenna down and extract as many sordid ones as she could.

Varric took a long pull of his ale, the frothy goodness making a ring around his mouth. A laugh hitched in his throat as he drank, spluttering the liquid so much so that it almost shot forth from his nose. Swallowing down the sweetness, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and eyed Isabela who sat opposite him.

"You left them? Together?" He asked, wondering if he'd heard right. The last he remembered, Hawke and Sebastian were so far at odds with each other, them being together seemed almost unthinkable. He still heard the argument they'd gotten into the day the chantry had been destroyed and Sebastian had demanded the death of the blonde mage, in his head. The anger in the chantry-boy had been written all over his face. He was sure if Hawke didn't go through with his demands, then the prince-in-waiting would do it himself. And then there was his insane odyssey to find the champion after she'd disappeared, and bring about his own justice. Varric could never quite understand his reasoning for it and tried on various occasions to talk him out of it. But, like Hawke, he was stubborn.

"I had no choice," Isabela replied, sipping at her third goblet of rich red wine. "Besides, it's my hope that some time together will heal their differences."

Varric shook his head, "And have you thought that maybe your plan would work too well, and the two of them would – I dunno – get closer then you thought?"

Isabela laughed, choking on her own drink this time, "Perhaps, but I doubt it. I just want Hawke to soften up a bit. These last eight months I've seen her at her worse. She was a mess, Varric. I've never seen her so low, not when her sister was taken by the wardens, or even when her mother died. She was like a different person."

Varric nodded, remembering the letters he would receive every now and then from the pirate detailing where they were and how Hawke was faring. Even though she'd left them all abruptly, he still cared for his fellow rogue and wanted nothing more then to see her again. Isabela's letters were grim at times, explaining how Hawke would drown her sorrows in alcohol and sex, and was always – always looking for the next fight. When she'd pass out, it would be Isabela who carried her to a bed. When she'd get hurt, Isabela would be there to heal her. He often wondered if Hawke knew how much she owed to Isabela. For someone who was intent on not being tied down to one person let alone one spot, the pirate was certainly doing that now.

Of course, Varric knew the reasons behind that. Within their motley crew of companions over the years, he and Isabela had an unspoken connection. He could read Isabela, as much as she hated that. He knew how she really felt about Hawke. He knew the real reason why she disappeared with the champion. He just hoped she knew what she was getting into. They'd danced around the subject years ago, but since Hawke was devoted to Anders, it was a non-topic. Isabela had said she was happy for them. Varric knew better.

Lost in his musings, he didn't notice that Isabela was staring at him, her big brown eyes awash with memories of her own and a small smile playing on her lips. "What's going on in that head of yours dwarf? I can see you're dying to say something."

He laughed, a stubby finger trailing a drip of condensation on his mug. "It's nothing, just a fools wondering. But I have a strange feeling you didn't come all the way to Cumberland just to get into my head. Are you two still on this hunt for the amulet then? Have you had a break through about it's whereabouts?"

"Got it in one," Isabela said. "I found out that a man named Tobias brought the amulet and is currently on his way to Redcliffe. Have you heard of him by chance?"

"I think I'm going to need more to go on then just a first name," Varric replied incredulously. "That aside, I can't believe you're still searching for it. What's so important about this amulet anyway? Of all the things you've shared with me about Hawke, this is still a mystery to me. Is it... magical? Dangerous?"

Isabela hesitated to speak. She'd promised Hawke months ago that she wouldn't reveal what the significance of the amulet was. She'd wanted to tell Sebastian the last time she saw him, only in hopes that he would understand why the champion was how she was. No, the amulet wasn't magical, and as far as she knew it wasn't dangerous either. Not unless the wrong person saw it around the neck of someone they shouldn't. It was a symbol. It was personal. It was... a gift. It was also her bargaining chip. The amulet symbolized the promise between her and Hawke, that she wouldn't give up on life until she held it in the palm of her hand again and returned it to where it belonged.

It was also something that ate at Isabela from the inside out. She felt – trapped – in her promise, because no matter how she looked at it, whether she succeeded or not, Hawke was going to leave her anyway. She needed to talk to someone about this, and Varric was nothing if not discreet. If there was anyone she could trust, no – unload on – it was him. What did she have to lose?

Absentmindedly, her fingers lightly passed over the rivaini talisman tied securely to her corset trussing as her mind drifted back to the day Hawke had given it to her. She'd joked with the champion about the fertility charm at that time, while inside; her heart was throbbing and coming into it's own realization of just how much she actually cared for the blonde rogue.

"The amulet belonged to Anders," Isabela said after a few moments. "It was a gift given to him by Hawke years ago. She said it symbolized his struggle in fighting for and freeing the Kirkwall mages, or something like that. I don't know really, but it was important to the both of them."

"OK, but if it was so important, how did it get in the hands of this Tobias character? Wasn't blondie wearing it?"

"He was," she continued after quaffing the rest of her wine. "It's pretty easy to explain really. When Hawke went back to claim his body, he'd already been done over by scavengers. They'd taken his staff, coin, rings.. anything they could carry and sell. He was lucky they didn't strip the very clothes from him. Hawke was pissed, and I mean really, really pissed. She didn't so much care about the other stuff, but then she saw the amulet was gone..." Isabela shook her head as she remembered. The fire in Hawke's eyes then had been like a raging inferno. The streets of Kirkwall were rife with looters and beggars scrounging around dead bodies for anything they could salvage. It didn't take long for Hawke to find someone that knew who stole from her lover. It was amazing how quickly people would talk and rat each other out when they were threatened or beaten to within an inch from death. Not one of Hawke's finer moments as the champion, though at the time Isabela didn't think she really gave a damn.

"We found out who took it, but when we finally caught up with him he'd passed it on. When we found who had it after that, it turned out they'd sold it on too. Can you believe that? It's like these ingrates knew someone was looking for it, and that someone would kill to have it back. So no one would hold onto it long enough. We went from person to person. But Hawke was beginning to lose any hope of getting it back. She was already depressed and near suicidal because of Anders, and in the end she just stopped caring about it."

"So what changed then?" Varric asked, engrossed in her tale. There were elements in here that he could use for his own musings. "Why are you still looking for it?"

Isabela laughed and cast her eyes downwards. "Well, I begged her."

"You... begged her? For what? And why?"

"You have to understand, she was losing her grip on reality Varric. She was like a husk. Then, I stupidly let it slip to her about Sebastian being in that small village and I saw life come back into her eyes. But it wasn't what I thought. She wanted to see him, but only so he could take his revenge on her. It was her way out, or so she said. I had to do something."

"You used guilt." It wasn't so much a question, but a fact. Varric raised a thick eyebrow at the pirate as he rested his chin on the tips of his fingers. "That's unlike you."

"Is it? I was desperate. After everything we'd been through, she was just going to lie down and let him kill her! I couldn't let that happen." She shuffled awkwardly in her seat as the dwarfs eyes questioned her. "I begged her to stay her hand until I found the amulet, that it was something I owed her after all the shit I'd caused over the years. She refused, but I managed to talk her around after a few days. She promised that until the amulet was back in her hands, she wouldn't do anything stupid."

"But she contacted Sebastian anyway? Why?"

Isabela shook her head, "I'm not sure myself. She promised me she wouldn't after all. But, you should have seen them when they were together Varric. It was... strange. They both looked like they wanted to murder each other, but there was also something... different. I hadn't seen Hawke so – animated – in such a long time. It was like something in her came alive when she was eye to eye with him."

"Is that so? And you still don't think something is going to happen between the two of them? Didn't you say that Sebastian no longer devotes himself to the chantry? What if he does try something with her? You'd have missed your chance once again."

"Yeah well, such is life. I've already come to terms with THAT little problem. Hawke just hasn't realized the finer things that come with the allure of another woman." She smiled then, her big brown eyes glazing over with a subdued demeanor. "Still, it doesn't mean I can't admire from afar and make sure she's happy."

Varric shook his head, disbelief written all over his face. "Bleedin' ancestors Isabela, you've... changed."

"And if you tell anyone," she said with a dry sense of mirth and a wide toothy grin, "I'll deny it then kill you."

o.O.o

Alistair closed the large wooden door quietly behind him, making sure not to rouse the attention of anyone who happened to be in the vicinity. He stood on the steps of the Citadels Keep, the seat of Cumberland's aristocracy, frustration swarming within him like an angry nest of wasps. He knew gaining an audience with the Duke was going to be a chore, but he didn't think it was going to be this difficult. For hours he'd been juggled between the Duke's vassals and attendants, and couldn't help but think he was being given the run around. For the love of the Maker, he was a King!

A shout from below brought Alistair out of his reverie. Shaking his head, he descended the steps heavily, weary from the days events. He missed Ferelden terribly. It was going on a year since he'd felt Ferelden soil beneath his feet, and even longer since the last time he was in Denerim and his own bed. If he'd been smart enough, he would have sent Teagan and Aveline to this enormous city on their own while he stayed behind in Starkhaven. At least the Prince there would see and acknowledge him. Though, it didn't help at all that the current ruler of Starkhaven was a bit... simple. He had to find this man, Sebastian Vael. And soon.

"Your Highness? Are you alright?" Aveline climbed a few steps to meet him, a look of concern on her face. "If I may be so bold, you look terrible."

Alistair raised his head and smiled at his companion and newly appointed member of his personal guard. She looked as tired as he felt. Her warplate was encrusted with dirt and dried blood, the remains of a small skirmish with some bandits outside of Val Chevin. The former Guard Captain had joined him six months ago, offering her services and pledging her loyalty to Ferelden and its King. But behind her stoic facade, Alistair could see the pain and frustration leaving Kirkwall had inflicted on her. Not to mention leaving her husband behind to step into her shoes and deal with the mess that was left.

Their long trek from Val Royeaux had not only been exhausting, but less then fortunate. They'd come away from the luxuriant city with nothing more then a flippant remark from the Empress. As much as it annoyed the ex-warden, at least it was something. At least it wasn't a 'no'.

"I'm fine Aveline. Frustrated, tired and starving, but otherwise just peachy." He forced a smile, making his eyes crinkle delicately at the corners. He was really beginning to feel his age lately, and blight take him if that wasn't the cherry on top of his huge, depressing cake.

"I take it the Duke wouldn't see you?" Teagan interjected, falling into step beside Aveline. "I told you we should have made a formal request to see him. Arriving in the dead of night and demanding an audience never really makes a good first impression. You know how these marchers are."

"Is that sarcasm Teagan? I can't tell these days." Alistair scoffed, raking a tired hand through his dusty blonde hair. "I suppose busting in there and bellowing that I'm the King of Ferelden wouldn't go down well either?"

Aveline laughed despite herself and shook her head. "Not if you want a riot on your hands, Your Highness."

"Yes well, something tells me the Duke wouldn't care if I pranced around his feet like a fairy in a pair of the Divines holy underpants, singing the chant at the top of my lungs . The only thing he's worried about right now is his cities hosting of the Grand Tourney in a months time."

"However amusing that image may be Alistair," Teagan said, hiding a grin, "let's focus on what's important. What the Duke should be worried about are the magisters out there using his city to recruit scared mages who see them as the best of a bad situation. The templars are everywhere and hunting them mercilessly. It's no wonder they're taking refuge with them. It's only a matter of time before the magisters wind up with an army of blood mages."

The thought alone made Alistair cringe. He'd seen first hand how blood magic could manipulate a mage, even one with good intentions. He also knew how hard it was for a mage to stop using the taboo art. But those were memories for another time.

"What am I doing?" Alistair asked his uncle restlessly, "I mean, really. I've left my own kingdom to city hop the marches, and what have we really accomplished? Starkhaven's current Prince is a blithering idiot. Nevarra's King is too busy trying to quell the uprising over the Blasted Hills. Kirkwall is still trying to put itself back together - without a Viscount. And now this? No one seems to be taking me seriously at all. You'd think after 10 years on the throne I could command some respect out here. Is that too much to ask?"

"Moaning doesn't become you Alistair," Teagan scolded, "besides, we're not here to deal with the mage and templar crisis. Our mission is bigger then that. If we can't unite the kingdoms before this... darkness... comes to Thedas-"

"I know, I hear you." Alistair turned his head in order to catch Teagan's eye. His uncles face was weathered and tired, but usually showed a hint of humor that the King occasionally found solace in. Tonight however, he saw nothing but an exhausted, middle-aged man. Since when did things become so hard? It only felt like days ago he was attending his own court and dealing with his own people. Now, he literally felt the whole world on his shoulders.

"It's funny you know," he said quietly, more to himself then to his companions, "any other time I'd be chomping at the bit wanting to enter the Tourney this year. Apparently it's supposed to be the best yet."

The scowl on Teagan's face could have set Alistair's armor ablaze. "Oh yes Your Majesty, I imagine Queen Anora would love to see you battle it out with Thedas's most distinguished warriors. She already has a complex about losing another King, let's not give her any other reason to bring up her petition for you to abdicate your throne."

"There is no love lost between us uncle, you know that. Our marriage is of convenience, nothing more. If I'd had it my way -"

"Stop right there Alistair," Teagan interrupted. "I know this isn't how you wanted things to turn out, but it's been 10 years since the blight, and almost 2 years since you last saw..." He caught himself mid sentence, not wanting to dig up that old wound if it wasn't necessary. "There's only so much your reign can take before your citizens start to lose faith in you. If we had an heir, however..."

Alistair rolled his eyes and took a hesitant step towards his uncle. "I'm not having this discussion with you again Teagan. I don't love her. She will only ever be my brothers wife in my eyes. I cannot sire a child with Anora. It wouldn't be fair on her or the babe. Not while my heart lies somewhere else."

"And yet there is already a bastard child with your name on it Alistair, sired out of nothing but the fear of death. Don't be such a hypocrite."

Alistair's eyes widened as his uncles words sunk in. Not a day had gone by that he didn't think about Morrigan, their one sordid night and the child that was the result of it. The deed might have saved his life, and the life of his fellow warden, but he couldn't deny the guilt he'd felt since. He would also never get the sound of weeping out of his head. "After all of these years you'd think I'd become used to your barbs and stings. Funnily enough, they still hurt as much now as they did back then."

Teagan watched as Alistair began to pace the citadel steps in front of him, a numbness creeping over his body. A brief coil of anger took a hold of him then, as it did many times in the last few years whenever the subject of the warden or an heir to Ferelden came up. But like always, the anger was quickly replaced by guilt and the understanding that none of this was easy for his nephew, especially when he was trapped in a loveless marriage. It was moments like these he was both thankful and regretful he wasn't married.

"I'm... sorry Your Majesty," he said, his voice small and pleading, "please forgive me. I speak out of turn."

"Don't be daft uncle. If you of all people can't kick my ass when I need it, I don't know who can." With a distinct edge of weariness, Alistair raked his fingers through his hair again. "You know your words are counsel to me. I'd be pretty lost without you constantly at my side." He smiled then, and Teagan felt the numbness in him dissipate as he returned it.

Aveline was shuffling uneasily beside the two, unsure of what to do with herself. She hadn't been with them long enough to know about the intricate details of their argument, but rumors were rife everywhere and it didn't take a genius to figure it out. The affair between Alistair and his fellow warden wasn't as secret as the court, or the Queen – would have liked it.

"So what now?" she asked them. "If the Duke won't see you, what do you intend to do?"

"I'll keep trying to get in to see him, but maybe we should also consider our backup plan. Do we even know where this Sebastian Vael is?"

"I'm not sure myself," she said, her mind wondering, "but I can find out. I know someone in town who might be able to tell me where he is."

Teagan thought about it for a moment then nodded approvingly. "All right then, let's retire for the night and try again in the morning. Maybe this time we'll go about it more delicately."

Alistair chuckled softly, pretending not to hear his uncles jibe and instead thought of the next hard mattress and pillow that would cradle him for the rest of the night.

Maker, he missed Ferelden.

o.O.o

2 nights later

The high walls of the city towered above Hawke as her stallion pounded the last few feet towards the gateway into Cumberland's inner bailey. It was well past midnight when they finally reached their destination after a week on the road, and Hawke found it difficult to contain her relief. But once the outline of the coastal city shimmered on the horizon against the setting sun, they'd kicked their mounts into high gear, desperate for a decent nights sleep in a proper bed.

The quarter was steeped in darkness with only a few metal lanterns hooked on high poles to illuminate the near empty roads. The heavy clicking of their horses hooves on the chipped cobblestones were the only sounds that accompanied them as they navigated the twisting streets and alleys in their search for the nearest Inn. The last time Hawke had been in the city was months ago, and she'd spent most of that time drunk and in the bed of some faceless soldier who was looking for a night of anonymity just as much as she was.

Crossing a wide courtyard, she pulled the stallion to a halt and turned to Sebastian who fell in beside her. "I hope you know where we're going? I'm completely lost now." She looked at the darkened facades of the building in front of her and winced. "Are you sure there's an Inn around here?"

"I'm quite certain," he replied, squinting his eyes to look down one side of the street, then the other. "We're in the northern quarter right now. This part of the city is a mixture of high-end boutiques and private residences. If we take the path to the right we'll head straight into the Citadel. It's probably best to avoid that road."

Hawke couldn't agree more. "So, we go left? What's that way?"

Sebastian wondered for a moment as he scratched at the shadow of a beard on his chin. "Well, left is the Midtown Plaza and beyond that is the Drakon Bazaar. If we want to head to the docks, that's the way to go. The Oak is in Midtown, we should head there."

"The Oak?"

"The Rose 'n Oak Lodge. It's late, but I know the proprietor. And who knows, maybe Isabella is staying there."

Hawke smothered a yawn with the back of her hand and laughed. "I doubt it. You know just as well as I do she'll be at the whorehouse," then added with a half grin, "she likes the atmosphere."

Sebastian returned her smile. "I suppose you're right. We could find her if you want, but I think we should leave it for the morning. I want to get Rin properly settled for the night."

Hawke shook her head. Her and Isabella had an uncanny knack of finding each other, so for the time being she could let it go. They were finally in the same town. That would do for now. Rin on the other hand was a child who needed a warm bed instead of a hard, leather saddle. If she woke early enough, she could find Isabella and be on a boat to Ferelden by the afternoon.

She glanced over her shoulder. The road into Midtown was dark, but their choice was clear. "It's fine," she said. "I could do with a bed too. That, and the stiff drink you're going to buy me."

oooOOooo

The slowing clatter of hooves on the cobblestones told Hawke they'd arrived. The entire front of the lodge was illuminated with torches and threaded with tangled vines. High above the door swung a wooden sign on a rusted chain that showed the scorched emblem of an oak tree and a rose. Hawke scoffed to herself at how gaudy it looked.

"Come on." Sebastian lowered himself and led Pudding to the railing to secure her halter. Hawke followed behind, tying her stallion and scooped a dozing Rin into her arms. Inside, the smell of roasted meat and firewood hit them, awakening the desire for a proper meal. Hawke inhaled deeply, her mouth was already starting to water.

"Sebastian? Sebastian dah-ling! Is that you?"

They turned towards the front desk and there she was. Hawke's eyebrow raised as she came eye to eye with the proprietor. She was gorgeous. Her curly blonde hair hung in tight ringlets around her face and cascaded down the length of her back. She was definitely of orlesian decent, evident by her syrupy-brown colored eyes, upturned dainty nose and thick accent. She shuffled from behind the desk and flung herself into Sebastian's arms, her multicolored dress barely touched the floor.

"It's good to see you again Tanith." Sebastian said, returning her embrace. "I'm sorry to call on you so late."

"Oh no no, not at all." She pushed herself away to get a better look as her eyes drunk him in. Hawke frowned as Tanith bit her lower lip - almost seductively. "Still as... beautiful as ever Sebastian. I swear, I'll never forgive the Maker for taking you off the market," she sighed. "Such a shame.."

Sebastian laughed, only slightly uncomfortable by the innkeepers sudden closeness. He pulled back even further and took Tanith's hands in his. "I'm dirt ridden, sweaty and I haven't bathed in days. I'm no more beautiful then the rear end of my horse. You, on the other hand are still a vision to behold."

A strained silence fell between the two of them as they stared at each other, making Hawke feel oddly out of place. She couldn't take her eyes of Tanith though. There was something about the way she looked at him that just didn't sit well with her. Sebastian had mentioned they were old friends, making Hawke wonder from when. His time in the chantry? When he lived in Starkhaven? Or maybe, from before he took his vows? The thought made the hair stand on the back of Hawke's neck.

Smiling, Tanith leaned in and gave Sebastian a quick peck on the cheek. "Flattery will get you everywhere my dear. What can I do for -" The rest of her sentence hung on her lips as she spied Hawke standing by the front door. Her smile fell too, which the champion took as a personal victory, however small it may have been.

Sebastian noticed the sudden change in Tanith and turned to Hawke, motioning for her to come forward. "I'm sorry Tanith, let me introduce you. This is Marian and Rin." he said curtly, pushing a lock of hair behind the child's ear. Tanith's face went pallid, making Hawke smile and laugh inside.

"Pleasure to meet you," Hawke said, extending her hand. Tanith reciprocated, her eyes darting between her and Sebastian.

"The...pleasure... is all mine, I'm sure." She stared at Hawke a moment longer, studying her closely. Then as quick as her demeanor changed, she'd pulled herself back together and was the picture of perfection once again. "What can I do for you, my dear?" She asked Sebastian, seemingly forgetting all about Hawke and the child in her arms.

"We need a room for the night. If it's not too much trouble."

"Just the.. one room?" She asked.

Sebastian opened his mouth to answer, but realized he didn't quite no how to. Hawke smiled inwardly again. At least, she hoped it was inwardly. Something in her suddenly felt mischievous.

"Yes please," she said, trying to hide the smugness – more or less. "One room is fine."

Tanith nodded her head. "Well, we have plenty of rooms available so it won't be a problem. I can give you a room with two beds if you'd like. For the child, you know."

"That would be great," Hawke purred, "it can get pretty squished when we're all together."

Even Sebastian caught the quirk in Hawke's tone. He turned to her and furrowed his brow, asking with his eyes what she was up to. She just smiled at him. It wasn't her fault the innkeeper thought they were a family.

"Very well," Tanith said tightly, pursing her pretty lips. "I can put you in room 6. Upstairs, third door on the left." She reached behind the counter and unhooked a set of keys, twisting and turning the cluster before finding the right one. She handed the key to Sebastian and smiled. "Usually I wouldn't allow your mabari inside, but I can make a special exception. For you."

Hawke probably should have told her that Merc didn't belong to him, but decided against it. Inns these days were meticulous when it came to animals indoors, but she knew when to keep her mouth shut. Instead, she stepped past Sebastian further into the room and headed for the stairs, leaving them to their own devices. It was smaller inside then she thought it would be, but she took great interest in the bar on the opposite side of the room. She guessed beyond that was the kitchen and the source of that delicious aroma from earlier.

Sebastian cleared his throat as he came up behind her a few minutes later. "Do you mind telling me what all that was about?"

When Hawke turned to face him, she was expecting maybe a cheeky grin or rueful glance. What she got instead was a deep frown and what looked like anger in his eyes. "What?"

"That... performance back there. You now, she probably thinks we're... more then what we really are."

"Really? And what would that be exactly?"

They stared at each other then, both seemingly lost for words. Neither of them knew the answer to that particular question. They'd barely spoken about what had happened that night at their campsite. The night he'd admitted how he felt about her. He'd told her he loved her. And she... well, she didn't exactly deny him either. She allowed herself to wonder what would have happened if the interruption by the hound had never taken place; only once, and that was enough. In the days after that she tried to forget all about it. It worked most of the time.

"How do you know her anyway?" she asked, finally finding her voice. "She seemed very... friendly... towards you."

"We have history. It's not important."

"History? As in chantry life and communion history or..."

"Or what?"

"Or... I don't know!" Hawke shrugged, frustrated. "What else can you do on your knees?"

She bit her tongue then, chastising herself for blurting out such an accusation like she had any business knowing. Sebastian's gaze fell to the floor between them and he chuckled. But it wasn't a happy or amused chuckle. It sounded more derisory.

"We were close. Once. A long time ago." he said coldly.

Hawke could only nod. "I see."

Again an awkward silence fell upon them, longer and more uncomfortable then usual. He reached over and plucked Rin out of Hawke's arms without looking at her, afraid that if he did he'd say something he'd later regret.

Taking a deep breath he tried to steady his voice. "Look, I'm just going to go up and get some sleep. I know I said I'd buy you a drink, but I'm suddenly not in the mood right now." He took a few steps up the staircase before stopping. "Are...are you coming?" he asked over his shoulder.

Hawke considered it. She was tired, but she also thought being shacked up with Sebastian right now was a bad idea. Besides, the bar was still calling her. "No, I'm good. I think I still need that drink."

She didn't wait for his reply but could feel his disappointment anyway. Without a backward glance she stepped around the staircase and into the small bar area, planting her backside on one of the stools at the counter. Asking for two fingers of whatever top shelf brandy was on offer, Hawke finally felt herself start to relax. It was times like these though that her mind began to drift and the old memories would take over. But lately she'd been able to quell the haunting memories. She'd even started to sleep at night without the constant fear of nightmares plaguing her. Even the dreams of Anders had stopped. But now she felt them all starting to come back, and she knew why. She was alone. When she was with Sebastian, her fears seemed to disappear.

"Guy troubles?" The bartender asked, whipping a drying cloth over her shoulder.

Hawke gave the woman a slight smile as she downed her glass and motioned for another. "That obvious, huh?"

"I tend bar honey, I see it all the time." She poured Hawke another drink, this time filling it to the brim. "Comes with the job."

Hawke sipped at her drink, the acrid tang making her eyes water. Maker, she missed the taste of real alcohol. She noticed the bartender looking at her expectantly, like she was waiting for Hawke to continue.

"It's.. complicated." she said, licking her lips. "Sebastian and I are... complicated." She snorted a laugh. Complicated is an understatement, she thought.

"Well, love usually is," the bartender replied with a smile. But as she smiled, Hawke noticed the woman's eyes. They were odd to say the least. One was a deep grassy green, but the other was as blue as the sky. Hawke had never seen such a strange combination. She must have been staring because the bartender winked at her and widened her smile. "That never gets old," she laughed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare."

The bartender just shook her head. "It's OK, it happens quite often. Like I said, it never gets old. Some peoples reactions are... stronger then others. Though I find it interesting you didn't react at all when I mentioned the 'L' word"

Hawke quirked her eyebrow. "The 'L' word? Sebastian and I?" She actually laughed out loud, though couldn't fathom why. "Like I said, it's complicated."

"Well, you either love him or you don't. It's that simple. Unless... you're in love with someone else." The bartenders piercing eyes probed her. "Do you?" she asked.

Do I? What a fantastic question. And a completely hard to answer one at that. How in the Makers name was she supposed to answer that? She didn't even want to think about it. She had feelings for him, sure. She'd even told him as much. But love? No. She only loved Anders. Didn't she? Suddenly, Hawke didn't feel like drinking anymore. Actually, she didn't even feel like being anywhere near here. Draining the rest of her drink, she threw some coins on the bar and stood. She had to get out of here, even for a moment.

Without saying goodbye to her host, Hawke made for the exit and pushed the door open, welcoming the cool night air once again.

oooOOooo

The bartender watched Hawke leave in a hurry as she gathered the coins together and placed them in her apron pocket. She was smiling to herself as she thought about her. Such a pretty girl. Strong too, she could tell. But her hesitation was going to be her downfall. Eventually. If she couldn't figure out her own feelings over something as simple as a man, then in the long run, the champion wasn't going to be any use to her. Something had to change, and change quickly.

"She's gone. You can come out now." Behind her, a small figure emerged from the kitchen and came to the bartenders side. The elven girl also had her gaze fixed on the door Hawke had left through, and she sighed heavily.

"She left? What about Sebastian?"

"She'll be back, don't worry. She won't leave Sebastian and Rin alone."

"You just... let her go? I thought after what she did, you know. I thought he was your friend?"

The bartender bit her lip. "He was." she said softly. Turning to the girl, she asked, "Did you get it?"

The elf rummaged through her knapsack, extracting a small piece of paper with writing on it, and handed it over. "Uh huh. What's it for anyway?"

The bartender gave the elven girl a friendly smile. "I need Hawke at her best. This is going to help with that. I need to test her. I need to see how far she's willing to go."

"You're leading her into a trap?"

"That's the plan."

"And what about Sebastian?"

"He'll follow. He'll have to if he doesn't want his little friend to die."

"That's pretty harsh!" the elf girl gasped.

"It has to be."

The bartender untied her apron and hung it on the hook beside the kitchen door, leaving the coins inside for the next person who should use it. She didn't need them after all. Hell, she didn't even work here. She passed through the bar and stopped at the front desk with the elf girl hot on her heels.

"I don't like her!" Tanith complained, "did you see how she.. how she..." Tanith was so riled, she couldn't even finish her sentence. "How did you even know they'd come here?"

"It's a gift Tanith, my dear." She gave the frustrated proprietor the small note and smiled. "Make sure she gets this OK. They're the directions to Leda's house. Don't give it to her directly though."

"I know! I know!" Tanith groaned as she snatched the note. "I've been doing this longer then you think you know."

"I don't doubt it, and you're very good at what you do Tanith. I won't forget this." She smiled at the innkeeper, drawing her in with her charm. She'd been told once that she was very good at swaying people into her corner. A trait she used more often then not. When Tanith smiled back, she knew her ability was as strong as ever.

"By the way," Tanith said after a moment, "King Alistair has been seen in town. I thought you should no."

A flicker of emotion went through the 'bartenders' multicolored eyes, but only for a second before she managed to reign it back in. I thought I'd have more time.

A sharp whistle escaped her lips, and before she knew it her shaggy mabari was at her side. "Thanks for the warning Tanith." she said as she made her way to the door. "Come on Pallas, we have somewhere to be." She poked her head outside and eyed up and down the street. Satisfied there was no one around, she stepped past the threshold.

"Are you coming Merrill?" she asked the elf.

Merrill nodded, pulling her cape up around her face to protect herself from the cold, and followed.