Sebastian frowned as he listened to Hawke take the First Enchanter's side over the Knight-Commander's. It wasn't that he wholly agreed with all the templar tactics of how they handled mages, but he knew something had to be done, and the order seemed to be the only ones willing to step up and do anything about it. Anders was always raving about how horrible all the templars were and how viciously they treated mages, but Sebastian knew better. Not only did he clearly recall meeting templars who were kind and went so far as to help mages if they could, but also mages who were the ones who abused and used others. He also had several conversations with more than a few templars himself in the Chantry, and learned first-hand that the majority of them truly wanted to help mages to learn control over their powers. It was the discipline instilled into them through their training that made them want to help mages do the same. It was just that the loudest templars—the ones everyone paid attention to—were the ones who spoke out against mages. As always, the good deeds went mostly unnoticed. Sebastian had come to expect that viewpoint from Anders—he and the apostate did not get along, to put it lightly—but from Hawke now? He had thought she possessed more sense than to blindly follow one side or the other, to not allow herself to become biased. Through all this time, she remained strong on the middle ground, leaning slightly one way or the other only when circumstances forced her to. Even with her own sister a mage in the Circle, she had not relented. But now…

He focused his attention back to what she was saying. Now she seemed to openly support mages. He exchanged a glance with Fenris, whom he could tell was also disappointed of this new and sudden change. Only Anders looked pleased.

Knight-Commander Meredith abruptly ended the argument and stalked away, leaving Orsino to thank Hawke for her support before he, too, left for the Circle. Sebastian fought back the urge to grab her arm and drag her to the side to find out what in the name of the Maker she was thinking. But he held his tongue for now, in the group. He would speak with her about it privately, later. He would give her the chance to explain herself before he allowed himself to think less of her.

Fenris held no such reserves, and spoke his mind as soon as they were making their way back to Hightown.

"What was that all about?" he asked her.

She shrugged. "What was what about?"

"Suddenly taking a side, after all this time?"

Anders cut in before Hawke answered. "This is no time to be sitting on any fences," he said vehemently. "The templars are trying to run this city and control mages within an inch of their lives." His eyes narrowed fiercely, and Sebastian swore he caught glimpses of Justice—of Vengeance—coming through. "The time for middle grounds has long since past." Fenris glowered at the apostate.

"Thinks are quite volatile right now," Hawke intervened diplomatically. As much as he and Anders disliked each other, Fenris and Anders conversing on just about anything was akin to setting a crate of gunpowder near open flame. And both their heads had been running extra hot lately. The entire city was.

But instead of retorting, Fenris scowled and said, "I should be getting home."

"That's right," the blonde man started, "run away—"

"Before I tear anything vita from your gut," the tanned elf finished, the words almost a growl.

Hawke stepped between them. "Good day, then Fenris. Shall we meet later for that bottle of wine you unearthed?" Sebastian could tell she intentionally kept her tone light. Fenris muttered something angrily, but nodded to her before turning on his heel and striding off.

Anders snorted. "What does he know?" he said.

Sebastian's brows went up, and he could no longer hold his tongue. The armoured archer turned on the mage.

"What does he know?" Sebastian thundered. "Have you ever had a conversation with him beyond that of your own concerns? He was a slave to mages, Anders. Mages that let their power grab hold of their minds to further their own goals."

The fury directed at him cause Anders to literally take a step back, but to his credit, he didn't waver.

"You don't have to be a mage to let power go to your head or for it to corrupt you. Look at what the Knight-Commander is doing in her retaliation in extremes," the apostate shot back.

"That's why those with power—lots of power—need checks and balances. How can the normal man or woman guard against someone who manipulates the elements? Who can be more readily possessed by demons—who choose to be possessed?" The last phrase of the sentence was a snarl.

Hawke had to physically push them apart to keep them from attacking one another.

"Enough of this," she snapped at them both. "Neither of you is going to agree with or sway the other, and you cannot each others' throats out. It won't solve anything and I need you both too much." She fixed Anders, then Sebastian, with a firm, icy stare, daring either of them to defy her.

Anders fumed a moment longer, then visibly composed himself.

"I'd rather not associate or continue in this farce of a conversation with a sympathiser to torturers, anyhow," he said scathingly, then took his leave toward his Darktown clinic, faint crackling and the smell of ozone trailing him.

Hawke watched him go, her hand still absently resting on Sebastian's chest plate from separating the two. With the apostate gone and his anger still hot, the archer grabbed Hawke's wrist and roughly dragged her along as he started walking. She made a noise of protest and stumbled at first until she caught up to his powerful strides, longer than usual due to his ire.

"Sebastian," she said. "What are you doing?"

"We are going somewhere more private. There are matters we must needs discuss. I will not have another scene like that." His eyes stayed focused on the path ahead, his jaw tense and squared.

"But, you were the one who confronted—" Hawke began.

His head snapped back to look at her. "Were we listening to the same man? You heard as well as I his implication of insult toward Fenris." Fury still flashed I his cobalt eyes before he looked back to where he was dragging her.

"I think you might be overreacting just a bit, Sebastian." She tried to maintain a laughing tone, but he could hear it falter now.

"I think you might be siding with bias with one party member over others," Sebastian growled.

"Hey, now," Hawke said, her tone serious. She tried to jerk her wrist out of his grasp, but he was far stronger than she, and he merely tugged her forward, his calloused fingers like iron. "I do not like the direction you sound to be taking."

He stopped, looking up at her estate, then back to her. "And I do not like how you react this way for Anders, but not Fenris nor I." His eyes narrowed as he released her wrist. "Inside."

She glared at him. "Do not presume to order me around in my own home, Sebastian Vael. Prince or no, I still—"

He made a feral noise in his throat and nearly pinned her against the inside wall of the doorway, his left hand slamming into the hard stone next to her head. She jumped. Sharply, he said, "Hawke! Would you just go inside so we can talk?"

She looked at him a moment longer before sliding nimbly under his arm to open the door for them both. As they strode to her main receiving room, Bodhan and Sandal made to greet her and her guest, but she lifted a hand to quiet them.

"My guest and I need time to ourselves," she told him icily, though the tone and her matching gaze rested solely on Sebastian, he knew. "We have important matters to discuss."

The two dwarves bowed out of the room as gracefully as they could muster quickly, and Faolan lifted his head to watch the two rogues warily. Hawke wordlessly lead Sebastian to a room she had recently converted into her library and motioned him to sit in one of the chairs, while she did the same, opposite him. He waited for her to sit before taking his seat, then gave her no time before launching into angry speech.

"I've a bone to pick with you," he started, the thickening of his burr of an accent going entirely unnoticed by him. It happened every time he got that angry.

"Look, I know you don't like Anders, but—"

"But nothing! This isn't entirely about Anders, if you could stop talking about him for ten minutes." The anger in him exploded again, but this time he couldn't quite pinpoint as to why.

"You sure? Because it really seems like you have a problem with Anders more than anyone else. Maybe I'm not the one you should be talking to," she retorted.

"That apostate and I will never see anything remotely lose to eye to eye, I hold no doubts about that. He is entirely too extremist for my liking." Sebastian's lip curled in derision.

"And being an apostate to boot doesn't help things, right?" Hawke accused, emphasising the same word Sebastian had with mock disgust.

"The way you defend the man, and siding with the First Enchanter over the Knight-Commander in front of everyone one like you did!"

"Would you have had me side with Meredith?"

"No, I would not. What ever happened to the solid middle-ground Hawke I knew?"

A great hurt flashed through her face and settled in her eyes, but her voice was acid.

"How dare you." The volume dropped, but it was only to let more venom out. "How dare you say something like that to me, Sebastian Vael."

He blinked, his anger momentarily given way to surprise at the sudden change in her demeanor.

"I think it is a well-warranted—"

She didn't let him get any further than that. "My sister is a mage in the Circle. Two of my dearest friends are mages, and both the First Enchanger and the Knight-Commander expect me to side with one of them or the other."

"Today sure sounded like you already had."

"What would you have me do, Sebastian? People I care about are mages, and I don't like many of the habits and techniques the Knight-Commander and her templars implement against them. But," she continued as she saw him make to say something, "I also don't like the idea of mages running around unchecked, possessed by demons, and making slaves." She hesitated only a second. "My sister included."

"Hawke, I—" She held up her hand.

"No, Sebastian, let me finish." Her tone was firm, and he could still see the hurt in her eyes. His anger had diffused almost entirely at the sight of that.

"I don't want side over another. I think both have their merits and failings. But I had to."

He shook his head, unbelieving. "No one forced your hand, Hawke."

"Oh, they did. My hand was well forced, do not ever think otherwise. Did you see how Anders nearly exploded when you confronted him about one angry comment directed at Fenris? I know you saw the hint of the demon inside him."

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open a little. She was trying to appease Anders, he realised, but for the exact opposite reason he had been fearing. It hit him that he had blown up himself so violently not solely because he thought she had chosen a side, but because he thought that bias had come from a desirous affection for Anders. Pure, unabated jealousy had gripped his heart, twisted his gut. He felt ashamed of himself, that it would stare him in the face so and he not recognise it for what it was. That he had forced her to explain herself to him. He, who had no right to force anything concerning her.

Her eyes were downcast when he searched her face, and her voice had softened, with just a twinge of fear and pain tugging at the edges.

"Maker forgive me, but I only chose to side with the mages at all because I want to keep Anders as calm as possible," she told him. "I do not want Justice—Vengeance, whatever it is in there—released upon this powder keg of a city. I can only protect him so much as the Champion."

"And even now, since you've publicly sided with the mages… now that is even more precarious because of the Knight-Commander's potential ire," Sebastian added quietly. She looked up at him, and their eyes met. Something exchanged between them, and understanding, and something more. A nameless thing that neither wanted to admit to themselves, let alone each other. But the truth of it sank deep into the pit of his stomach and settled there.

"I—" she stammered. "Thank you, Sebastian. For understanding."

He shook his head. "No, Hawke. You should be the one being thanked. I had no idea." On impulse, he got down to one knee before her and bowed his auburn head. "I pray you find it in yourself to forgive my ignorance and my anger."

Awkwardly, Hawke gripped his biceps and tugged him to standing as she did so herself.

"Don't be silly," she told him, cheeks ruddy. "Everyone's on edge." A tired smile perched on her lips. "And you and Anders never got along to begin with."

Concerned etched its way through his features, and he reached up to lightly grasp her chin and jaw between his thumb and forefinger. The red on her skin deepened and she pulled her hands back.

"You haven't been sleeping well," he murmured. She didn't meet his eyes. Her lips… her lips were so close to his own…

"I am tired," she admitted, breaking his thoughts. "I'm tired of everyone expecting me to make everyone happy. I'm tired of having to play peacemaker between so many of my friends—"

"To be fair, we mostly all have a problem with Anders. Usually."

She shot him a look that made him shut his mouth.

"That's the exact sort of thing I am tired of."

He clucked at himself, tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Forgive me yet again. It was a very ill timed jest."

Despite herself, she chuckled softly. "I would leave the jokes to Varric, if I were you," she teased, sounding more like her usual self.

He smiled. "There's the Hawke I know," he told her. But he remembered the hurt in her eyes, the sudden paleness of her face, the dark rings under her eyes. He still hadn't removed his fingers from her face, and he now tilted it to look up at him.

"You should take better care of yourself, Hawke," he said softly, his thumb gently tracing the line of her jaw. "Else you will wear yourself too thin. We would all fall apart without you." He wasn't entirely certain if he meant more their group, or the city of Kirkwall itself.

A blush rose in her cheeks. "I'll—I'll be all right," she said, though he didn't quite believe her. He let his hand fall away, and almost awkward silence falling over them.

"Perhaps I should go," he said. "It is not exactly proper to be still here this late with you and no one else."

Hawke laughed and made a face. "Of everyone, I think I need worry about you sullying my honour the least," she told him.

His jaw clenched and unclenched, but she didn't notice it. It only she knew, she wouldn't be saying things like that. He would not betray her trust, he resolved again. The vulnerability she showed him flashed through his mind. He was certain few, if any, had seen her like that. He offered her a mild smile, the words of his affection toward her on his lips before he realised what he was about to say, and caught himself.

"I—Goodnight, Hawke," he mumbled instead, shifting uncomfortably.

She eyed him. "You're acting rather oddly all of a sudden. Are you feeling all right?"

He nodded, composing himself. He calmed his mind like his grandfather taught him to do.

"I am just tired from the day, please forgive me," he told her. He gave her a quick bow. "May you have a pleasant evening." The archer turned to go.

A hand on his arm and his name from her lips had him stopping and turning to her. There was something in her voice, a hitch, a catch… And then her lips were on his. A flutter grabbed his stomach and flipped it, and his hands wove their way through her hair around the back of her jaw without any conscious though on his part. He leaned into the kiss as her tongue begged entrance to his mouth. The knowledge of who and where he was slipped from his mind as she slid her hands over his shoulders to she was pressed flush against him. In an instant, it all came rushing back. With a groan, he broke contact with her and pulled back. She looked up at him, lids lowered, lips full from his kiss and slightly parted.

"Stay with me," she whispered. He could feel his resolve weaken.

"I—I would that I could," he replied raggedly. "But I cannot."

"Yes, you can."

"My vows—"

"Are not enacted right now. I know full well Elthina has not let you renew them…" The look she gave him set his insides on fire. "You can very well stay with no remorse. You understand, Sebastian. Like no one has. You know what it is like to be responsible for so many people…" Her tone was imploring, almost pleading.

He couldn't. He would never forgive himself. It would be as if he took advantage of her, regardless of her having asked him. He had not reached the level of atonement in his soul to feel worthy of her. Sebastian shook his head.

"I am no leader. Not yet. I do not know if I am worthy of that honour." His breath was all jagged edges and hidden lines of longing. He denied them both. "Hawke… I'm sorry. I cannot." Even so, his voice faltered and she heard it.

He grabbed her hand as she reached for him again.

"I cannot. Not right now," he whispered again, then pressed his lips against the inside of her wrist, tasting the flutter of her heartbeat. "Forgive me."

Before she could stop him again, he turned and all but fled out into the oncoming night. All she could do was stare at the door he had left open for a long while, feeling empty and alone inside.

A/N: Started out as a fill for a prompt, but I turned it into my own little thing when the story got a bit away from the prompt. Again, apologies for glaring mistakes and typos as per usual. Hopefully I'll get this screen issue resolved soon. Ish. Soonish.

It's so much fun to delve into motives and heads and the like.