happy dadwc m'dear! how does "one falling asleep with their head in the other’s lap" sound for seb/hawke?
Happy Friday, Rosella! I give you, for @dadrunkwriting , 'A Day at the Beach.'
Sebastian sat at Hawke’s dining room table with the rest of his friends as they came up with a plan. In three day’s time, it would be his lady’s birthday, and Sebastian insisted on throwing Hawke a party she’d never forget.
If only they could agree on what exactly that entailed…
“I dinnae want her in the mansion,” Sebastian said, “she recently lost her mother; the grief is too fresh.”
“I agree,” Fenris replied. “The house holds too many memories for her.”
“Well, we can have it at my place,” Varric offered. “Easy enough.”
Anders shook his head. “Alcohol isn’t good for wound recovery; and she shouldn’t be walking too much.”
Varric huffed. “Shit, Blondie, what are we supposed to do? Drive her in a carriage down all the stairs to Lowtown? She’ll have to walk.”
“As her physician and best friend—”
“‘Best?’ I was her friend, first—”
Sebastian sighed. Varric and Anders had been at odds for the past fifteen minutes over this; their quarrels were making his head ache…
“A palanquin,” Sebastian countered, cutting through the argument. “We can carry her down the stairs.” The two stopped mid sentence.
“And where would we find one of those, Choir Boy? We’re not in Starkhaven,” Varric asked, frustration creeping into his tone.
Sebastian’s blue eyes went wide. Oh. He…hadn’t thought that far ahead, actually. “I—”
“We can make one,” Fenris interrupted. “It’s not hard, just lash a chair to two poles. They used to do that all the time in Seheron for merchants and such. I’ll help; I’ve seen it done.” Sebastian smiled, nodding in gratitude.
“…Can we take her to the sea?” Merrill asked hopefully. “The weather’s been lovely, and it wouldn’t be too far, just out the city gate. We can make a day of it, camp overnight.”
It was an excellent idea, one even picky Varric and Anders approved of. Planning went quickly after that suggestion: Sebastian and Fenris would make the palanquin, while Merrill and Isabela were in charge of entertainment. Aveline and Varric would arrange tents, while Anders insisted upon choosing the menu—a detail that made Sebastian inwardly cringe, considering the man’s infamous cooking skills. He nudged Fenris’s elbow as the others chattered excitedly over gift ideas.
“Fenris,” he whispered. “Fenris, he cannae cook!”
“I know,” Fenris said out of the corner of his mouth. “But Hawke’s still healing; eating the wrong thing could upset her humors and delay recovery.”
Sebastian huffed into his glass, “eating his food will upset far more than just her bodily humors; it’ll give her fecking food poisoning…”
Fenris nearly choked on his wine while suppressing a laugh, “have the Abomination write down the menu; Orana will make it, knowing her.”
A throat cleared at the door; Isabela stood at the threshold, holding a barely touched food tray.
Sebastian sighed, “is she still too distraught?”
“Poor thing cried herself to sleep,” she replied. “What did you decide?” They filled her in over dinner; Sebastian and Fenris excused themselves early, to work on the palanquin.
“We’ll need two long poles, rope, and a wicker chair. I found one in a storeroom,” Fenris said on the way to his house. There was an undeniably excited gleam in his eye. “That, and an umbrella.”
“An umbrella? Why? It shan’t rain on Wednesday, will it? I thought the almanac—”
“For the sun: Hawke’s two shades darker than a glass of milk; we can’t let her scorch.” He unlocked the front door and showed Sebastian in. “This way; I’d intended on using them in the courtyard garden, but I think they’ll serve nicely.”
Sebastian smiled. Fenris was finally setting down roots in Kirkwall after years of insisting otherwise, claiming the mansion as his own. Planting a small garden may have sounded inconsequential for most, but for Fenris, it was an important step towards personhood and independence; Sebastian was proud of his friend’s progress.
They improvised as best they could: two curtain rods became their carrying poles, a serving tray acted as a footrest lashed to the chair legs. A guest room’s curtains sacrificed their fringe and tassels to decorate the oversized umbrella Fenris had found in a broom closet; the two friends stepped back, admiring their work.
“…Will she like it, do ye think?” Sebastian asked. “It’s…” he frowned as the stubborn umbrella tipped to the left again.
“It’s the thought that counts; we’re not carpenters. The only hammers we know how to wield are warhammers.”
Sebastian nodded. “Aye, aye, ye’ve the right of it. As long as it bears weight on Wednesday, that’s all that matters, I suppose… thank ye for yer help, Fen; I appreciate it.”
Waiting until Wednesday was unbearable; Sebastian barely slept, he was so excited. And it seemed his beloved had no idea about the surprise: Anders and Isabela had been the very souls of discretion, keeping their plans a secret. Hawke never suspected them until Isabela herded her to the mansion door early Wednesday morning. The others were already waiting outside, armed with baskets, satchels, and everything needed for a picnic.
“But where are we going?” Sebastian heard Marian ask in the vestibule. “And why did you give me one of your big, floppy hats?”
“For the sun, sweet thing,” Isabela replied. “Not a cloud in the sky.”
“They’re coming!” Merrill whispered, peeking in the keyhole.
Sebastian nodded to the others. “On me signal: Three, two, one—Happy Birthday!”
The surprise on his beloved’s face was so worth it, once Isabela and Anders supported her out into the square. Marian’s blue eyes widened, her jaw falling agape when she beheld the palanquin.
“W-What’s all this?” She asked. “Seb?”
“Yer carriage, me lady,” he said with a gallant bow. “To the party planned in yer honor.”
“…A party? For me? But I can’t—”
“I think Mother wouldn’t want you to stay cooped up in the house on such a fine day like today, sister,” a voice said behind him. Sebastian grinned, stepping aside; one of the perks of being an Almost-Chantry-Brother was that he could use his connections to request a leave of absence for Bethany at the Gallows. They rarely refused him, on account of his closeness to the Grand Cleric.
The joy on Marian’s face was the greatest gift ever. “Bethy,” she cried, eyes filling as she held her sister close.
Sebastian’s throat went tight watching them together, bittersweetness settling in his chest. He’d give anything to see his brothers again, to embrace them like that, beg their forgiveness for his wild folly in his youth. But they were lost to him now, thanks to those damned Harimanns.
He blinked hard, “it’s Hawke’s day,” he reminded himself. “Dinnae let yer sorrow cloud her joy.”
The walk through Lowtown turned heads, but Sebastian didn’t mind the gawking. He proudly led the way through the streets, as throngs of onlookers cheered their newly appointed Champion. Sebastian beamed. Marian looked so regal on her palanquin, waving and smiling like a Queen addressing her subjects. She’d make a perfect Princess: benevolent, merciful, wise. Perhaps, in another life, where he wasn’t a Brother…
“You’re in love,” Merrill sighed happily, walking abreast with him. “I can see it in your eyes; you haven’t stopped smiling all the way to Lowtown.”
Sebastian adjusted his grip on the palanquin, face going hot, “I…am pleased for Hawke, is all. She deserves some happiness after everything that’s happened.” He glanced over his shoulder, sighing in relief; Marian was too busy talking to Bethany to pay him much mind.
Merrill shook her head, “you ought to tell her how you feel; that will make her even happier.”
His eyes widened, “Sweet Andraste, Merrill, I cannae do that! It’s…”
How could he voice what was in his heart, that he was at war with himself over his beloved? His love for Marian was forbidden: Chantry Brothers didn’t have love affairs, let alone marry or have families. But he couldn’t help dreaming of a life with her. No matter how hard Sebastian prayed, how many vigils he endured to cleanse himself of his desires, he stubbornly held onto that dream with both hands and refused to let go. He was willing to brand himself an oathbreaker and a sinner, for the sake of his beloved; that realization simultaneously surprised and frightened him.
“You still have a chance,” Merrill said after a silence. “To make your own path, I mean. You don’t have to follow the one laid out for you, if it makes you miserable.”
“But I have a duty to me parents—”
“...I think they’d rather see you happy first and foremost, rather than living with remorse. Any parent would, I think.” She gave him a smile and walked on, leaving him to ponder her words as they left the city behind.
Merrill’s suggestion to go to the beach was a perfect one: Marian’s smile rivaled the sun in its brilliance, especially when Sebastian and Fenris set the palanquin at the water’s edge. Even if she couldn’t go swimming, she could still enjoy the water, even wade a bit—under Anders’s strict supervision, of course. It was, all in all, a glorious summer’s day of bright blue skies, laughter, and warm sea breezes, one that Sebastian wished he could catch in a bottle and keep forever.
Later on, after they had their picnic, ate their cake, and had given Marian her presents, Fenris and the others passed the lute around the campfire. Sebastian slipped away during one of Isabela’s raunchy ballads, joining Marian as she stargazed.
“And how fares me lady? Are ye tired? I can help ye to yer tent; dinnae push yerself too hard,” he said.
She smiled, “I’m fine. Come, sit with me.” He accepted, sitting beside the palanquin with a contented sigh. A sun-drenched fatigue settled on him like a comfortable mantle; he leaned against Hawke’s leg with a smile, fingers laced with hers.
“Look! There’s Satina,” she said, pointing to the thin crescent moon not too far from the other. “My father used to tell us stories about the night sky, you know. Apparently the moons were lovers, once.”
Sebastian looked up to her, “truly? What happened?”
He listened as Marian recited a fairy tale from her youth, of two lovers separated by Fate and could only meet once a year, during Satinalia. Even if he couldn’t see her expression well, he could hear the wonder in her voice as she described their pining and eventually happy reunions. He would have liked to hear more of her stories, but alas: his eyes refused to stay open. The waves lapped gently on the shore, lulling him asleep as his beloved spun tales of stardust and magic, fingers gently carding through his hair. Sebastian smiled to himself, etching the day and its ending in his heart as he drifted off.
