Where Duty Lies: Chapter 10 - Broken Vows

[basbaker]

Title: Broken Vows
Rating: M for sexual content
Author: basbaker
Word Count: 4421
 
Sebastian's temper still smoldered. He had visited the Grand Cleric at first light to tell her of his decision. The journey to Tantervale was something he had to do if he ever hoped to find out who had hired Flint Company to murder his family. But Elthina had disagreed. She had reminded him of all the blood that had already been spilled on both sides and advised him to leave everything in the Maker's hands. She had reminded him of his forsworn vows, vows that he had yet to retake. His duty was to Andraste and the Maker, not to his worldly family.

He knew she was right. It was at times like this that Sebastian wondered if he had truly made the right choice in devoting his life to the Chantry. Elthina was so secure in her faith, seeming to understand the Maker's divine purpose and her place in it. He had tried very hard to emulate the Grand Cleric, more a mother to him than his own, but he had so far failed to find that inner grace. He could not bring himself to sit back and wait for the Maker to put things right with his family. To avenge them. And one thing Sebastian felt beyond any doubt was that his family deserved justice. He was the only one left who could make the murderers pay. It was his duty.

He had disappointed Elthina. He had seen it in the gray eyes that looked steadily into his when she told him that he was impulsive, and lacked any depth of faith. She had called him a fair-weather friend to the Maker. That there was a ring of truth to it only made Sebastian's guilt worse. It also made him angry. He had given the last ten years of his life willingly to the Chantry, to Andraste, even when Elthina had offered him the chance to freely leave it all behind. Why couldn't she just understand that this was something he had to do? The Maker knew about justice. Surely He would approve!

His mood darkened as he approached the Amell-Hawke estate. Now here was someone who would understand the need for justice and would even approve of what he had to do. And yet he expected to enjoy this meeting even less than the one with Elthina. He had asked Andraste for a way to get Hawke out of his every thought, and maybe this sudden summons to Tantervale had been his answer. But leaving her was no less difficult even so.

His knock on the door brought the portly dwarf Bodhan out to ask his business. Since Sebastian's visits were frequent enough to mark him one of his mistress's closest friends, the dwarf stepped aside to let the tall man enter.

“If you'd care to step into the parlor, I'll just run on up and let Mistress Hawke know you're here,” he said diffidently. “If you'd like anything to drink, just let my boy Sandal know and he'll get it for you like winking.”

Sandal, a young, blond-haired dwarf, smiled beatifically up at Sebastian.

“Enchantment?” he asked hopefully.

Used to the simple-minded dwarf and the single word that he used for almost every situation, Sebastian was easily able to smile down at him and nod. “Yes please. Whatever Hawke prefers.”

Sandal's smile widened as he bobbed his head and moved toward the kitchen to get a glass of wine for Mistress Hawke and her nice friend.

Sebastian walked into the parlor, but he was too restless to sit down. Instead he prowled the room, stopping here and there to look at the various items Hawke had collected since coming to Kirkwall. He knew that nearly all of it had been accumulated after Lothering - she and her family had barely managed to escape the Blight with their skins, let alone anything of material importance. Looking around him, Sebastian found himself impressed anew with how much the determined woman had accomplished in such a short period of time. With the money she had spent to renovate the estate, the Amell-Hawke manor was one of the most elegant in the city. And her star was rising in Kirkwall. Every day, more and more people knew the name Hawke. And best of all, everything that he heard was good. She had definitely made her mark here, and not just on him.

He had no more time for his musings. Hawke entered the room and when he turned to greet her, his mouth went dry. He had forgotten how early it was. She had obviously still been in bed, or just risen. Sebastian tried hard not to think about Hawke lying in her bed, but it was a difficult image to banish. She stood before him clad only in an informal robe of wine-colored silk that reached just past her thighs. It was belted, but the panels were parted enough to expose her collarbone and a creamy vee of flesh beneath. Honey colored hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders, framing her lovely face. Her gray eyes still looked slumbrous beneath dark lashes. Maker, but she was gorgeous. He took a deep breath and held it as she smiled and glided toward him, taking one of his hands in hers.

“Sebastian! What in the world are you doing here this time of day? I can only imagine all the weeping of the young maidens that went to hear you sing the Chant this morning. They'll be so bitterly disappointed.” Her eyes laughed up at him, but when she saw the tense cast of his features, she sobered. “Is everything alright?”

“No, everything is just fine,” he heard himself saying. “There is just... something I need to talk to you about.”

Suddenly he didn't want to tell her. He knew how she would react - he could already see it. Disappointment, swiftly masked by the smiling unconcern that she showed when something hurt her. Knowing that he had the power to hurt her made him want more than anything to keep from doing it. But he was going to have to.

Hawke settled down on the sofa, tucking her feet up and adjusting the hem of the short robe she wore.

“Sit down,” she urged him, beginning to feel more alert. She had barely been awake when Bodhan knocked at her door to let her know Sebastian was here. He was one of the few people she had told her servants to allow entry at any hour, but he was one of the last people she would have expected to need that consideration. But he obviously had something important to say. She tried to ignore the feeling of trepidation that had settled in her stomach.

He opened his mouth to tell her about the letter, about needing to leave right away for Tantervale, but just then Sandal tapped on the door and entered with a tray.

“Enchantment!” the dwarf announced happily, setting the tray down on the table in front of the sofa. He poured out a steaming cup of tea, put an unhealthy amount of sugar in it, and handed it to Hawke. For Sebastian, he poured out a glass of pale wine. Then, beaming at them both, he simply stood there.

“Thank you, Sandal,” Hawke smiled at him. She couldn't help it - he always made her smile. It was part of his wonderful charm. “Why don't you go get yourself some pie?”

“I like pie!” he agreed. He needed no further urging. The dwarf let himself out of the parlor, for once remembering to close the door behind him.

Hawke and Sebastian shared a grin that went a long way toward easing tension on both sides. Sebastian sat down as far from Hawke as he could get on the sofa and took a drink of his wine, then started again.

“I've been in contact with a lot of old friends of my parents, and the Vael family, since the murders,” he said quietly, crystal blue eyes staring into the wine. “I'd almost given up hope that my questions would turn up any answers at all. But I've had news.”

She sat up straighter, attention arrested. She had known that eliminating Flint Company was not the end of Sebastian's troubles. She'd even told Sebastian so when she collected the bounty. But she didn't know that he had still been investigating the murders of his family.

“Do you know who was behind it?”

“That's the thing,” he said, and paused. He didn't want to tell her that he was leaving. Right now, seated next to her in the quiet room, he didn't want to leave her at all. Maker, what was happening to him?

Hawke watched him. At any other time, this hesitation and indecision out of him would have amused her. She found it endearing even as it made her worry. It was obvious that whatever he had to say was not pleasant, and not easy.

She and Sebastian both looked over as the door opened again. Bodhan bobbed a bow just inside the entrance.

“Pardon my interruption, mistress,” he said. “But a letter just arrived for you. I would have waited, but I thought you'd want it straightaway. It's from the Grey Wardens.”

Hawke was across the room in an instant, Sebastian's troubles forgotten. She snatched the letter out of Bodhan's hands, not even hearing as the dwarf excused himself and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Sebastian got to his feet, bracing himself for the worst as Hawke opened the letter with unsteady hands and scanned the lines.

After only a moment, she looked up from the letter, her expression radiant.

“Carver's alive,” she said simply. Tears sparkled in her eyes, but her smile was bright. “He made it, Sebastian! He's a Grey Warden now.” She launched herself at him, laughing. “He's alive!”

Hawke threw her arms around his neck as he caught her. Her brother was alive! She had told herself for months that it was true, but knowing it for certain was something else entirely. It was like a constant weight had settled on her in the Deep Roads. She had carried it without even acknowledging that it was there. And now that it had been lifted, she was staggered. Sebastian spun her around once and set her back on her feet, but when he would have let her go, she tightened her hold. She couldn't stop shaking.

Sebastian felt the tremors in her slender frame and guessed the cause. His hold on her tightened, and he pressed his cheek to her soft hair. One arm stayed wrapped firmly about her waist while he stroked her back soothingly. The tenderness seemed to snap something inside her. A wrenching sob broke from her, then another. Without thought, he swung her up into his arms and carried her back to the sofa. He felt scalding tears on his neck as she buried her face against his skin. He held her even tighter, trying not to think about the feel of her in his arms, nestled against him in his lap as he murmured quiet words of comfort. They stayed like that while she cried herself out, and Sebastian wondered how long it had been since anyone had bothered to offer the strong-willed, confident Hawke a shoulder.

Hawke clung to him. She didn't know where the tears had suddenly come from. One moment she was overjoyed, and then reaction had washed over her. If Sebastian hadn't been holding onto her, she would have collapsed under the force of it. Finally she could grieve at the loss of Carver and admit to herself how desperately she missed him. She could start to forgive herself. And so she cried, and held to the man that rocked her so tenderly, because he was solid. Because he was Sebastian.

Eventually the storm passed and she sat quietly in his arms, the occasional hiccuping breath her only sound. But she didn't move away, and Sebastian couldn't bring himself to let her go. She was as close to him as she could get, and the silken robes she wore did nothing to disguise the softness of her breasts pressed against him, or the warmth of her skin beneath the hand that now lay still at her back. Realizing as never before just how small and feminine she was, he felt a surge of protectiveness mixed with desire. He didn't even try to deny it. His body tightened as the comfort he had offered her turned to something more primal.

Hawke felt the change in him and started to pull back, but it was too late. Sebastian's hand was under her chin, lifting her face to his. His blue eyes were heavy-lidded, meeting her own uncertain gaze for the briefest moment before his mouth came down on hers.

She knew she should push away from him, tell him to stop, but the words wouldn't come. His mouth moved softly, coaxingly against hers. Her eyes slid closed and she let herself savor the sensation of being kissed as she had wanted to be kissed for so long. When he lifted his mouth to run his thumb gently along her lower lip, urging her to open for him, she sighed softly and gave in.

Their lips met again, and this time Sebastian didn't ask. He demanded. When she parted her lips, he dipped his tongue into her mouth, delighting in the tiny whimper she made. He took his time exploring the softness of her lips, kissing and nipping, tasting her with his tongue, until she started to kiss him back.

Being kissed like this was a new experience for Hawke. She had been sheltered all her life, kept from anyone who might learn her secret. And then, in Kirkwall, she had met Sebastian. She hadn't wanted anyone else to kiss her. But this was more than she had ever imagined. This was a slow, deliberate assault on her senses. Sebastian's mouth was firm and insistent on hers and when his tongue stroked hers, she felt heat washing through her. It sapped everything but the need for more. Her fingers curled against the nape of his neck as she stirred in his arms, trying to find a way to press closer.

Sebastian closed his eyes against the feel of blunt nails scraping along his skin. He dragged his mouth from hers, trailing it along the line of her jaw. When her head fell to the side, he took advantage, exploring the place where neck and shoulder met with his lips and teeth, drawing against the sensitive skin. The throaty moan he got from her in response sent heat searing through him. His control slipped a notch.

He needed to touch her - to put his hands on her and feel her shiver in response. He lowered her down against the arm of the sofa, smiling in satisfaction at the flush on her lovely face. He could already imagine how she would look when he was above her, inside her, and just the thought had a fresh ache spreading through his loins. But there was no rush. He wanted to explore.

Sliding a hand inside the belted robe she wore, he splayed it across her stomach and slid slowly upward until he met the curve of her breast. He heard her breath catch and hold and looked up at her, smiling as he ran roughened fingertips over the soft flesh, trailing ever-tightening circles that left her aching. She bit back a cry when he rolled the hardening bud of her nipple between thumb and finger, tugging and teasing until she was shaking, arching up against his hand. He repeated the process with her other breast.

Hawke felt like she was burning. Her skin was dry tinder, and everywhere his hands touched, fire roared to life in their wake. He seemed to know just how and where to touch to drive her insane. She had no idea where she was anymore, and didn't care. As long as he didn't stop touching her. His hands slid under her robe once more and slowly upward over her breasts, feathering over her collarbone before he pushed the silk back from her shoulders, stroking down her arms, leaving her exposed to him from the waist up. The cool air that touched her skin did nothing to stop the heat that pulsed through her. She made a soft noise of protest when his hands didn't return to their caresses.

Sebastian was looking reverentially at the beauty spread out before him. Her hair was fanned out against the dark blue of the sofa, her eyes tightly closed, cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted. Her creamy skin almost glowed in the muted light of the parlor. Her breasts were full and perfect for her size, their crests rosy from his attentions. A tiny waist and firm stomach completed the image. Everything about her was perfection.

“Hawke. Look at me, Hawke.” Sebastian's voice sounded deeper, hoarse. And though he spoke quietly, there was a compelling quality to it that she couldn't ignore. She forced her eyes open, focusing on his heated blue gaze with difficulty.

And then his hands did return. They stroked her stomach softly, teasing along the tie of the robe at her waist before splaying out against her skin and moving upward, firm and slow. When Hawke's eyes shut, the caress stopped at once.

“Look at me,” he repeated.

With a whimper, she did. Her fingers dug into the sofa as his hands moved higher, stroking over her ribs, along the outer curve of her breasts, upward to her neck, then slowly down again until he cupped a breast in each hand. Her eyes stayed on his, though she writhed and shook beneath him, her body silently begging him for more. She saw the desire that had darkened his eyes to sapphire and felt an answering heat unfurl in her belly. Holding his gaze while he touched her was unbearably erotic. He smiled wickedly down at her and deliberately kneaded the sensitive flesh at his fingertips.

“Sebastian.”

“Yes," he growled, and lowered his head to take one of her breasts with his mouth. His tongue lapped over the bud of her nipple, rolling against it before he drew on it with his lips, suckling. When he nipped softly at the over-stimulated flesh, she cried out, her back arching.

Sebastian's control began a rapid slide away from him.

He was kissing her again, and this time there was nothing gentle about it. In teasing her, he had pushed himself past the line of what he could withstand. His tongue dueled with hers, and when he felt her hands slide under his shirt, kneading the muscles of his back, he groaned into the kiss. His thigh was pressed against her center now and she moved mindlessly against it, a slow twist of her hips that destroyed what little ability to think he had left. He could feel the hot wetness of her through the wool of his breeches, could smell her arousal. He had never wanted anything so badly in his life. His hand slid between them, fingers stroking her inner thigh, then over her center, feeling the soft curls, and lower to the slick heat of her.

He gathered it on his fingertips, then stroked them upward until he found the bud hidden between her folds. When he rubbed his slippery fingers over it, her hips lifted, and she all but sobbed out his name.

“Shh,” he soothed her, but his fingers continued to tease.

Hawke was lost. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Her world had narrowed to the hand between her legs, the sensations that it speared through her. Her body was taut as a bowstring, silently straining toward the release that Sebastian was offering. She could feel it building with each stroke of his fingers over her flesh. Her hips twisted, lifted, tried to find the perfect way to end this wonderful torment.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered, and even though she shook her head, she forced her eyes open to find his. Her own were wild, dark with passion.

His eyes on hers, he slid one finger carefully, gently inside her while his thumb stroked her. Her entire body went tense, and then she screamed softly, convulsing as she climaxed. He felt the clenching of her muscles around his finger and nearly lost himself in how tight and hot she was.

“Maker above,” he gasped. He couldn't wait any longer to be inside of her. He wanted to bury himself in her and hear her scream again.

He fumbled with the laces of his breeches, and then her hands were there, helping to free him. She was looking at him now as his shaft sprang free of the confining garment, her eyes wide with curiosity that turned quickly to a very feminine smile of delight. She stroked the silken hard length of him with her hands, fingertips softly questing. When her thumb stroked over the tip of him, he jerked against her hand and growled, pushing her back. He was not about to embarrass himself by spilling his seed right there in her hands.

He positioned himself to enter her, and paused. Hawke knew without having to be told. She opened her eyes and smiled slowly up at him. Sebastian felt something tighten in his chest. He tensed, already imagining the feel of her around him, his body demanding it, and started to push slowly into her.

Then he heard the door open, and the excited voice of Leandra Hawke.

“Jillian, darling, Bodhan told me that we got a letter from the Wardens... oh my.” Leandra's face turned crimson as she spun and practically ran from the room. The door slammed.

“Maker, no,” Sebastian groaned, pulling away from Hawke and sitting up with his elbows on his knees, head bent and his hands clutching at his hair. He couldn't believe that he had almost taken Hawke right here, that he still wanted to, ached to. He was too ashamed even to ask for forgiveness. He knew he didn't deserve it, not this time. “What have I done?”

Hawke sat up slowly, pulling her robe back around her and tying it with hands that were not quite steady. That her mother should walk in on them like that was mortifying, but she forced that aside to be dealt with later. Right now she was more concerned about Sebastian. Anguish had colored every word he had spoken. She felt tears sting her eyes, but ruthlessly quelled them. She sat a little ways apart from him, reaching out a hand to smooth his hair only to draw it back again. In the wake of what they had done together, she was more uncertain around him than ever before.

“I'm sorry, Sebastian,” she managed quietly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he told her without looking up. His voice was hollow. “I don't even know how it happened. I wasn't thinking. I didn't want to think. But it was my fault. Me and my damnable weakness. Anders was right.”

“Anders?” Hawke repeated sharply. “What does he have to do with this?”

“Nothing. He saw what I refused to see, that's all.” Turning slightly away from her, Sebastian began to right his clothing.

“This was a mistake,” he told her, pushing to his feet. “I'm sorry.”

Hawke felt her temper stir. “Why does it have to be a mistake? I wanted it. I didn't stop you. You seemed to want it, too. Why does feeling that way have to be a mistake?”

“Because I've sworn vows!” he rounded on her. His beautiful blue eyes were full of self-recrimination and anger. “Nothing should mean more to me than Andraste, than the Maker. Especially not this!”

Not her, but 'this'. As if she wasn't a factor in it. She stood up and turned her back on him so that he wouldn't see the hurt that she suddenly felt. She moved toward one of the tall windows and parted the curtain to stare outside.

“You forswore your vows to hunt for your family's killers,” she said evenly. “But this vow, this one you can't break, no matter what. What makes this one so much more important?”

“It's the only one I have left. Had left.”

“As I understand things, you still have it.”

“The letter of it perhaps, but you and I both know that I broke it, or would have in another second. The Maker sees the truths within us,” he said bitterly.

“I vowed to myself a while ago that I would not let myself become something that you would have to regret,” Hawke said. She had turned back to him now, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Her expression was unreadable. “Apparently I'm not very good at keeping vows either.”

“It's not your fault,” he repeated. “I was weak. I walked openly into temptation and allowed myself to be controlled by it.”

“Hm, well... I can't say that I was weak, or that I allowed temptation to control me. I shared warmth and indescribable pleasure with a man that I care for very deeply, and I did it with full knowledge and acceptance. I'd do it again in a second. But maybe that's just me.”

Sebastian was looking at her now, startled. It was the complete, genuine surprise on his face that finally pushed Hawke from simmer to boil.

“Do you know what, Sebastian? My brother's first impression of you was dead-on. You're a coward. Maybe you should find some backbone before you find me again.”

Before he could collect his wits enough to respond, she had stalked out of the room. He started to go after her, then stopped. She was right, Maker help him. And he was no more worthy of her than he was of Andraste.

Sebastian left the manor and went back to the Chantry to gather his things for the journey. Time away from Kirkwall suddenly seemed very appealing. The fact that he had never gotten around to telling Hawke about it didn't occur to him until it was too late.