Aurora Trevelyan was of the opinion that Templars could absolutely be fun. This was in no small part due to the strapping young man presently fumbling with her bodice. His lips roamed hungrily along her neckline, before they found their way to her mouth. She bit down in turn. Hard. The groan it elicited brought a wicked smile to her face, which promptly faded when her bodice came off with one sharp tug. The laces on her chemise then practically undid themselves, revealing a smooth stomach. The young man slowly slipped the garment off one shoulder, then the other, and proceeded to explore the newly exposed skin with his mouth and hand. Of course, this sort of endeavor could never be pursued for extended periods of time, and it was not long before her skirt became the new focus of his attention. His fingers ran along the insides of her thigh, when he suddenly broke away from a deep kiss.
"Why, you filthy little minx," he exclaimed with a delighted chuckle.
"I thought you might be in a hurry," Aurora gasped as his hand took full advantage of the absence of unmentionables.
"You never cease to amaze me," he whispered hoarsely as he thrust inside her, then quickly clamped his hand over her mouth to stifle the mark of her pleasure.
Aurora surrendered to the rhythm of their bodies, her senses heightened, her skin sensitive, until she felt her blood rush to her head, and warmth spread to her limbs. A pleasant lassitude took hold of her, as she ran her fingers across her man's back with languid motions.
"You will have me stripped of rank and honour," he complained between kisses.
"The sacristy was your idea," Aurora purred. Her words brought a rueful smile, followed by a gradual darkening of features. "Marius, what's wrong?"
It was unusual to come across a Tevinter name within the Andrastian Chantry. Marius Vinicius was not the typical imperial citizen, however. Fed up with his family's indifference towards him – the middle child that happened to be born without magic – the boy decided to run away to a fairer place. At nine years of age, Marius sought a world where a man's worth was based on his actions, not the ability to light candles with a snap of his fingers. The realm of his dreams turned out to be Ostwick, home to the most sedate circle of magi in all of Thedas. Marius was ignorant of that particular detail, however.
Unsurprisingly, the arrival of a grimy, little boy with a cultivated Tevinter accent created quite a stir in the Ostwick Circle. Particularly when the boy in question offered to divulge Imperial secrets in exchange for his admittance as a Templar recruit. Both the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander were at a loss regarding Marius, and puzzled at House Vinicius' reaction to the matter. The single message the boy's family deigned to send was: "Allergic to cats."
Thus it was that the boy got his heart's desire, and after nine years in training, the honorific of "Ser" was tacked onto his name. The rank of Knight-Captain followed six years later. During this time Marius had been mostly happy. An arcane skirt bearing the name of Aurora Trevelyan was his chief source of misery. Presently the aforementioned lady's long legs were wrapped around him, while she studied him with bemusement.
"The news coming out of Kirkwall is troubling," he said, running a slow finger along her collarbone. Aurora rolled her eyes, then hopped off the altar and proceeded to make herself decent. "Things will change here in Ostwick."
"How lucky for me to be on amicable terms with the future Knight-Commander, wouldn't you say?" Aurora quipped.
Incensed by her words, Marius slammed his palms down against the altar, knocking over whatever holy accoutrements had been left standing after their tryst.
"I am well aware of your masculine charms, Captain," Aurora chided while adjusting her hair before a levitating silver plate. "No need to display them quite so crudely."
"How have I held on to my sanity these years?" Marius muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Mages are grumbling all over Southern Thedas, Kirkwall is a tinderbox, but is she worried about it? No. She goes fox hunting on her family estate." No matter how carefully he constructed his argument in support of whisking Aurora away to Tevinter, Marius was unerringly shot down. According to her, mages always grumbled, and Kirkwall had been complete bedlam since time immemorial. Frustrated, Marius expressed doubt of her affection.
"Don't be silly," Aurora said dismissively. "Of course I love you."
"I'm not convinced," he replied, then left the sacristy.
Marius sullenly made his way to the dining hall, when he felt a sudden drop in temperature. A mage passed him veiled in magical currents that left a trail of cold mist. It was Aurora.
Here comes vengeance, Marius thought in alarm, and picked up the pace.
Dinner was in full swing when he arrived, the hall filled with laughter and conversation. Aurora was talking to the First Enchanter, who wore a doubtful look on her face, then turned to the rest of the hall.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention, please," she began, and silence settled as mage and Templar alike had their curiosity piqued. "I would like to propose a toast in honour of a well-loved and respected member of our noble Templars here in Ostwick, Knight-Captain Marius Vinicius." She smiled winningly, and tipped her head in Marius' direction. The weight of several hundred pairs of eyes settled onto the Captain, rooting him to the spot.
"We all know the story of his arrival from distant Tevinter – a little boy in tatters, with a strong voice, and stronger will. What he faced throughout his journey remains a mystery, for he never spoke a single word of it. I am certain, however, that those among you who have come to know him will agree with me that his trials strengthened him. For that is his nature – to brave adversity, and arise hardened.
"Whatever doubts his country of birth may have inspired to begin with, never could we hope for a more dedicated and selfless knight. There are many here this evening who owe life and limb to Ser Marius, myself included. Whether horrors unwittingly released through arcane research – I am looking at you, Senior Enchanter Lydia – or a harrowing gone terribly wrong, our Knight-Captain never faltered.
"What I have done to deserve the affection of such a man, I do not know, but I feel privileged to possess it." The hall became quickly animated at such an admission, with eyes growing wide and smiles blossoming everywhere. It was not precisely news, but no relationship was ever official within a Circle.
"And being intimately acquainted with his character," Aurora went on after the enthusiasm reduced to a happy simmer, "I would like to share a secret with you." Marius groaned inwardly. Here it comes.
"Today is my beloved's day of birth. So I would ask all of you to raise your glass, and join me in wishing Knight-Captain Marius well."
The sound of hundreds of chairs scraping against the stone floor echoed off the walls, followed by a thunderous "Happy Birthday". Marius marched across the hall to deafening applause. Whatever Aurora had planned on telling him once he reached her was smothered by a passionate kiss.
"Do you believe me now?" She finally managed breathlessly. "Or do I have to deliver a speech on the steps of the Governor's Hall as well?"
Marius held her in a close embrace, marvelling at her doughtiness. "Just to see the expression on your mother's face," he laughed, and stole another kiss. "I would also like to see how you'll go about explaining that my birthday passed three months ago."
"From now on, this will be your birthday," came the firm reply.
"It is in the registry," Marius said evenly.
"I told the First Enchanter that you lied about your birthday when you arrived," Aurora shrugged.
"You are impossible," Marius concluded, and loved her all the more for it.
The Herald of Andraste sat comfortably with her feet up on the heavy table that dominated the War Room, and thought of happier days. She took a bite out of an apple she had filched from the mess tent and enjoyed its satisfying crunch. It was a nice change from the shrivelled things she usually received.
She contemplated the life she might have had in Tevinter. It was too late, of course. There was no one who feared for her safety anymore. No one who would have placed themselves in danger for her sake. The dream died two years before, when Ostwick descended into the same madness that had taken hold of Kirkwall. Aurora was her own champion now.
The door swung open, and the Inquisition advisors filed in – the ladies at least. Runners often had difficulties tracking down Commander Cullen, with him rotating between troops to coordinate training exercises. Aurora considered the idea of an ex-Templar as foreign as that of an ex-Warden. But then, the world was changing.
Presently, she swung her feet off the table, and exchanged pleasantries with the new arrivals.
"Commander Cullen should be with us shortly," Josephine assured the Herald. "Last I heard, he was to welcome another group of Templars come to serve the Inquisition."
"I fancied a Templar once, you know," Aurora said bemused.
"Really?" Josephine asked, her brows disappearing into her hair line. "What happened?"
"I got my heart broken."
Cullen stepped inside the Chantry, paying no heed to the admiring looks and whispered words that followed his movements. He was running late, and was irritated that it had become the norm for him. He was only one man, yet was expected to be in three places simultaneously. Reminding himself that his fellow advisors dealt with similar difficulties helped improve his mood somewhat. Then there was the Herald, of course. Lady Trevelyan faced the possibility of imminent death on a daily basis. From this perspective, Cullen felt he had no right to grumble, not even to himself.
"Forgive my tardiness, ladies, but I – "
The Commander's words died on his lips as soon as he noted the women's expressions. For these were not the leaders of the Inquisition. They were women. Smiling in a way that made Cullen feel like a rabbit in a den of wolves. Lady Trevelyan looked particularly predatory when she took a slow bite out of the apple she was holding. He cleared his throat, and did his best to act normally.
"I still believe that – ah… the Templars are the best chance we got for closing the Rift. Herald," his voice oscillated in a manner Cullen had not experienced since adolescence. "Herald, you will be – "
"Speaking to Grand Enchanter Fiona," the lady interrupted. "That tear in the sky is magical. I am not convinced that Templars could help me seal it. We'll deal with them later."
"Of course, Herald," Cullen acknowledged resignedly. If only his sense of foreboding had not been so strong.