Okay, so, I know that I kind of went dark. I get it's been two yearsish at least. I feel super bad about it. I've wanted nothing more than to complete this tale. When I first started it I had every intention of finishing it quick. Unfortunately, life and writers block had other plans.
Here's the deal, I'm finishing this bitch! I have to, for one I'm still getting messages of such love and support, (don't think for one second I've ignored those! ) and two, I have to finish it for myself.
That being said I've decided to reread what I have, just to refresh and revitalize my memory, I'll also be fixing/tweaking the chapters as I go, so I'll be reposting as I finish each one. It won't be huge differences, so if you have no interest in rereading the story that's totally cool, you won't miss any details.
I don't know if there are many people out there still interested, but I'm posting anyways, because, well, why the eff not?
-Scar
The Rogue's Conquest
Chapter One
All evening long the sorrel-haired man, with his bizarre turquoise eyes watched her as surely as a hungry drake stalked it's prey, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop him. No matter that he laughed at the wicked tales his two cohorts boisterously narrated, or raised his tankard of Redcliffe's finest in a roared toast to the fiddlers tune - along with everyone else in the crowded tavern tonight, - Marian felt the man's strange orbs stalking her as she snaked from table to table, always watching, burning her nerve endings till they parted, leaving them twitching, hectic palpitations under the predatory fire in his clear scrutiny. Her heart skittered high into her throat from his primal gaze and she pleaded quietly to the Maker himself to distract the enchanting rogue. Just one blast of lightening, a little divine intervention was all she would need! Had there not been laws about such things she'd do it herself, however explaining a crispy, very well paying customer to Lloyd, and worse, Templars would be… tricky, to say the least.
Why couldn't he tell she wasn't like the other serving maids? She kept her skirts well past her ankles, her scarlet locks tied pristinely back under her cap, and her blouse buttoned all the way up to her neck, the Chantry sisters would seem a more willing target than she. Marian was proud of being a lady, she didn't whisper her name to the militiamen; she certainly never made plans for moonlit walks with them, and she didn't waste the meager wage Lloyd paid on foolish things like booze, or baubles. She had Carver and Bethany to look out for. With their parent's dead, Marian was next in line to be the tiny families' matriarch, a job she took very seriously! Not a man, nor woman could ever accuse her of being too bold. Then, of course, there was also the nagging problem of her mage status. Even if she wanted to be bolder, or shine brighter, any unnecessary focus on her could see her and Bethany locked away if she wasn't careful. The Templars and Chantry were far more relaxed here in Redcliffe, allowing her and her sister to move about semi-freely. She had managed her entire life to not earn herself any attention her way.
Until now… Until this strange, alluring man seemed to set his sights on her… Only her!
Marian swallowed hard, and tried to concentrate instead on not dropping the empty tankards in her hands. Try as she might however, she couldn't pull her curious eye away from the handsome stranger, too enthralled by how his eyes seemed to echo the feverish flames of the roaring hearth he sat near. Absolutely bewitched was she, by the way that same blistering flame seemed to fan out across his golden skin, and flick at his wolfish grin in the exact way she pictured her tongue would.
"Get it together Marian." She muttered under her breath. "You act like you've never seen a man before." The truth was, in all of her seventeen years, she'd seen lots of men - pirates and militia mostly - come marching through Lloyd's tavern doors, with their soiled boots, yellowed teeth and ragged hair, but, she had never laid eyes upon a man such as this one. Judging by his clothing alone, Marian would wager the entire sum of the sovereign stashed beneath her straw mattress, that this man was very well bred, a gentleman even. The fabric was imported, Antivan perhaps, or Orlesian even, expensive to say the least, and Maker, the old saying was dead on, you most definitely get what you pay for. How fine the elegant pieces looked draped over her enticing stranger, his black, leather riding pants hugged his muscled thighs in the most divine places, and his simple white tunic was tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders, left open slightly at the collar, leaving the smallest slice of his smooth, sun kissed chest in perfect view of any who cared to glimpse it. "Ohhh Maker! Pick me! I'll look!" A deviant little voice in Marian's head begged, it's phantom arms waving harder than the stubbed tail of an overly enthusiastic mabari pup.
"You can just put your eyes back into your foolish head Marian Hawke." Barked Edwina, as she pushed her way roughly past Marian to get her tankards filled by the barkeep first. "Them handsome fellas ain't bred for the likes of you."
After two years of serving tables next to Edwina, Marian knew two things, the first that pushing her way ahead of the older woman would do nothing but cause her a headache she didn't wish to suffer, and the second being, that she had waited too long to defend herself against Edwina's cruel tongue… The second was a pity; after all, the only vice Marian allowed herself to glory in was out foxing the old prig.
"A cat may look at a king Edwina." She sighed, "There is no sin in that last I checked." Her words, even to her own ears, were mediocre at best, a touch wistful even. The nervous shrug of her shoulders didn't help either, Edwina wasn't a woman who knew mercy, Marian wasn't even sure the old codger knew the meaning, surely she'd jump all over this show of weakness.
Squinting, with evil lacing her dark gaze, Edwina smirked wide at Marian, showing the gnarled, tobacco-stained teeth that lay inside her vile mouth.
"Oh kings you say miss priss," she scoffed. " Fat lot you know about em. Right royal rogues' is closer to the truth. Come here to take their sport from us common folk. Handsome as sin and twice as wicked. All the sovereigns in their pockets won't make them Vael's better than what they are."
Not yet kings then, nay, but royalty just the same. Marian pondered, her eyes wide, and her heart hammering her ribcage with such ferocious strikes she feared it might break through. The Vael's held Starkhaven's throne and the start of their reign was legendary, and so, naturally was their way of life. They lived in their fine mansions, with their beautiful ladies and rows of bloomed rose bushes and sweet apple trees that lined walkways of granite, twined with specks of twenty-four karat gold. Fine wine. Fine clothes. Fine food. Fine women! "Ohhh, Maker!" Marian whispered absently, feeling her body sway a could she not have known who they were right away? She'd studied their family, nearly to the point that she could be accused of stalking. She'd seen portraits, listened to the whispers. Maker! Marian had taught herself to read, with books on Starkhaven and the Vaels… Nightly, beneath a blanket of stars, with her books hugged tight to her chest she'd imagine herself walking those walkways, biting into the sweetest, rose-red apple she'd ever tasted…
But reality… reality was cruelly ironic, because as she would savor the imaginary fruit and the visions of being a Lady Vael, her growling stomach and tattered clothing would often crush the fantasy, with merciless haste.
On a bitter sigh, Marian wrapped her arms defensively around her rail thin body. Knowing who he was now, she was no longer shocked that she'd never seen her handsome stranger in Lloyd's before. Unable to stop herself, Marian glanced over to the table closest to the hearth, stealing another look at the prince in her tavern, and nearly keeled over dead in horror. Apparently Marian had tried her luck one too many times, this time he caught her. He tilted his head back a fraction, just a fraction and smiled a slow lazy smile that curled her toes, her cheeks burned so hot she was certain she could light a candlewick on them. Oh, what a picture she presented him to be sure, standing doe-eyed with her mouth pumping open and shut like a fish out of water.
Edwina shoved her hard, forcing her to grasp at the empty tankards in her hands. " I told you to quit your gawking you silly heifer!" Yelping indignantly, Marian jumped away from the older woman, her ribs screaming in protest where the old prig's elbow had landed.
"Oww, Maker, Edwina, he was the one to stare at me first."
"You!" Edwina's cruel features twisted into disbelief. "You honestly believe one of them Vael's fancies a bony, skittish prig like you? The only man that ever looks your way, miss Priss, is ole' Lloyd himself." Immediately, Marian's eyes darted for the door where the tavern's owner sat on his perch, greeting the patrons as they shook off the cold and came in to drink. Lloyd was old; surely twice her own age, if his thinning auburn hair, and potbelly were any indication, and his hands were always damp, a fact, Marian, only knew, because the disgusting fool would "accidentally" brush them against her at least twice a night. "Oh yes, take a good look at him sweetheart. There's your admirer." Edwina laughed harshly, leaning in closer so that Marian wouldn't miss a word, relishing in her bitterness. "Even Lloyd only smiles your way 'cause you're so willing to work yourself to the bone."
"That's not true none of it," Marian cried. "And I swear to you, Serha Vael, has been watching me all night." In spite of Marian's bravado Edwina's poisoned barbs had managed to hit painfully close to the mark. Why would the old woman believe that the Starkhaven prince, with his fine way of life, had any interest in her when she, herself could scarcely believe it?
Edwina's watery, blue-grey eyes were sparkling with malicious triumph and the mischief behind them sparked brighter. "Then go prove it, ask him if he wants his glass filled. If he's been eyeing you all night, as you say then he will take any chance to have you up close. Go on little Hawke, show me."
" Oh, no Edwina. I couldn't." said Marian quickly, desperate to keep the alarm from her voice. "It wouldn't be right, they're your table. If they're Vael's as you say, they'll be tipping well. I'm sure you don't want to lose the extra sovereign."
"Go on," goaded Edwina, "keep bumbling your excuses. You afraid you'll cross ole' Lloyd? Unless you're scared? Or outright lying!" She hissed, narrowing her old eyes to slits.
At her words, something in Marian snapped, and with a force greater than she knew she was capable of she slammed her empty tankards down atop of the bar, whirling around so fast her head spun and stars flitted about her eyes. If she hesitated for even a second she'd lose the sudden courage, something she could not afford. Edwina had gotten the better of her all night, it was Marian's turn to shut the old hag up once and for all. Swiftly she threaded her way through the tables, chairs and crowds of merry drunkards. In an almost obsessive nervousness Marian smoothed her hands repeatedly over her apron, and as she did a small amount of electrical energy sparked from her fingers. She began giggling a little hysterically, looking around to see if anyone was charging the unfettered "abomination." Thankfully no one seemed to be rushing her with pitchforks blazing, in fact no one seemed to notice her at all. "Perhaps the Maker can be kind." She muttered. The last thing she needed was a Templar's boot treads engraved on her forehead. What a scene that would make; Starkhaven's finest would certainly find the entertainment they'd come for.
He watched her approach, his expression charming and demeanor calm. With easy grace he took a swig from his tankard, eyes never leaving what Marian knew was her blush-riddled face. Sharing none of his savoir-faire, she stopped before him with awkward abruptness, her heart renewing a harsh barrage against its bone prison. Her mouth was so dry she prayed she'd be able to speak, only to realize in sheer horror that her prayer hadn't been heeded, she was speechless, her brain fled and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Swallowing convulsively, Marian opened her mouth to try her words again, but nothing came! Not even a squeak of sound.
"Good day tae' ye' lass." He said, saving her from herself without even a hint of mockery. "Or good evenin' considerin' the hour."
"Whichever Your Majesty, desires." She finally managed to push out around the growing lump in her throat, a breathy, whispered sound nothing like her voice, but sound was good, no matter how foreign it was to her ears. "It is indeed night, but if it pleases you to call it day, then so it shall be day." She didn't think it possible to blush harder, but, after her nervous rambling she was certain every ounce of blood in her veins had taken up residence in her face, painting it a strawberry red to match her scarlet curls. Maker! Edwina was an evil woman. Still he didn't tease or ridicule her, he simply nodded his head that lazy smile still on his face, - and for her amusement only. –
"What an agreeable creature ye' are." He whispered softly to her. "Willin' night intae' day simply because ah' wish it."
"Yes, Your Majesty." She whispered back, finding it hard to focus on the conversation. His eyes were a deeper shade of turquoise than she had realized from across the room, under the sweep of his thick, coffee lashes the firelight seemed to dance around the gleaming orbs, like old lovers across a grand ballroom. "Andraste's perky backside!" What a man, magnificent, chiseled out of the finest marble, by the most precise pair of hands. And Maker that accent! Swoon!
"Marian, stop staring you dumb cow! Ask the man if he wants more ale before he wilts from thirst." She mentally kicked herself, then finally found her voice once more. "Your Majesty, would you like more ale?" She asked, struggling to turn the tides back to her original goal. "Or is it something finer, Your Majesties are drinking this evening?"
"Yer' Majesty?!" Barked the man next to Marian's prince, if the same dancing orbs they shared were any indication, she'd guess them related. "Yer' Bluidy' Majesty, Andraste's tits Sebastian! Nary a wonder ye've been eyein' this wench all night."
Instinctively Marian stepped away from the bolder, much more drunk Vael. Her father had taught her long ago, to always keep an arms length between men who had drank too much, and herself. However backing away from one Vael, sent her closer to the one they were calling Sebastian. Before she could protest, or even notice really, he grabbed her hand, lightly tracing small circles from her palm, to the inside of her elbow and back again. The trail his fingers left felt electric, like she'd been shocked. She gulped heavily, squeezing her eyes shut; she'd done it this time, the electricity had to be a side effect of her twitchy nerves, there's no way he didn't feel it too, and soon he'd bring the Templars down on her. Cursed magic!
When he didn't immediately drop her hand, nor scream "abomination" at her, Marian cautioned a look, peeling her eyes open slowly to glimpse his beautiful face. To her great surprise and utter relief, the lazy smile was still in place, his eyes seemed to have darkened, a hunger behind them she didn't quite understand, but she found no hint he'd noticed the electricity and that was all that mattered.
He spoke then, eyes never leaving her face, his hand never halting its light caress on her skin. "She's merely statin', the immeasurable judgment O' mah' true worth brother. Which proves without question, why the lassies find me more favorable than either one O' ye'. Isn't that so pet? Refreshin' tae' meet a lass as wise as she is lovely."
Her brain told her she should pull her hand away, that it shouldn't be a difficult task, she'd had to do it a million times before, but her heart… the bastard traitor, disagreed, to it, there was no logical reason to pull away from this man's delicious, feather light caress. He, in mere moments, had disarmed her completely.
"Alas sweet child, I am nae' Yer Majesty, nor anyone else's fer' that matter. I am simply Sebastian Vael, O' Starkhaven. An' these two worthless rogues are my brothers." He said, pointing at the brash drunkard first "That ole' fool, is Gabriel," then nodded toward the silent man who had yet to acknowledge her existence. "An' that arrogant arse is Garrus."
With a slight nod and bow, Marian curtsied to both; unsure of how to act, the situation had quickly ran away from her. Him calling her lovely had confused her. She looked down at their entwined fingers, and watched, enthralled by his big calloused hands as they ran so gently over her red, abused little ones. She knew him calling her lovely was from the strong brew he was drinking. She was naïve to the world, but she had no false perceptions of herself, she was homely, nothing more, nothing less. Her curly hair was near untamable, and though she struggled all night to keep it in her cap, she was certain that by now it was sticking out in defiance, in spite of the effort. She was too thin, her eyes though a deep blue and could be considered pretty, held dark circles from sleepless nights. The short of it was, the life Marian suffered had aged her. She wasn't lovely and never would be… Still, there wasn't any harm in listening to a man this charming, handsome and gentle tell her such pretty nonsense, even if it was only for this moment.
"Ere' now Hawke, when you're done playing patty hands with prince charming, do you think you could do your job and get us our ale?" Demanded an irritated male voice behind her. There was nothing gentle about the hand that suddenly snaked around her waist, yanking her away from Sebastian and nearly off her feet.
Knight-Commander Harrith was a regular at Lloyd's, and with his status as head mage hunter in Redcliffe, Marian did everything in her power to please him. For his tankard to run empty was nothing less than her failure, to herself and Bethany. Harrith was a key player in their freedom, even if he was also the biggest "nug-humper" -as the dwarf Dwyn, had once called him- that she had ever had the displeasure of meeting.
Harrith and the four Templars that drank with him this night roared with laughter, as she lost her footing, blindly grabbing for anything to balance herself, not wanting to land face first at the Knight-Commander's boots.
"Off with you, you little hussy, an' fetch our ale, before I decide you and your sister need to be looked into a little closer." Harrith stated, an arrogant smile playing on his lips. "We wouldn't want that would we?" he goaded, smacking her backside roughly, knowing the answer without the question ever needing to be asked.
"Oh n-no Knight-Commander, you needn't do that!" Marian stammered, a mixture of embarrassment and anger warring for rights; unshed tears coming dangerously close to the surface. Threatening her sure, but Bethany? Dear Andraste! Her sister still didn't… Couldn't grasp what it was she was doing wrong. "I'll fetch it right now, it was wrong to keep you waiting. I vow to the Maker, on my own life it will never happen again." Marian groveled; shame for her cowardliness worked her over good, like a high dragon would a lone warrior. She turned, tail solidly between her legs, running directly into the broad chest of Sebastian Vael. Damn her clumsiness! Surely Prince Vael wouldn't be pleased with her face-planting his fine shirt! More groveling then?
"Your Majesty, p-p-please forgive me, I didn't know, I didn't mean to-"
"Hush now lass," he smiled gently, helping her right herself. "Mightier foes than ye' have tried an' failed tae' do me in, an' what did Ah' say about being Yer' Majesty." He chuckled deeply, a brassy vibration that reverberated through Marian's palms, still resting on his chest, down to her core and spreading outwards like a wild fire, it's heat warming her all over. She nodded mutely. Noting how the pressure of his palms holding her upper arms, was as oddly unsettling as his fingers had been.
"Listen you little wench! It wasn't a jest when I said my men and I wanted our ale. If you're a wise wench you'll go and get it, NOW do you hear me?" Harrith snarled a breath away from her ear, but still loud enough for all in the tavern to hear the power he wielded over her. She felt Sebastian tense slightly. He raised his head to look at Harrith, the sweet smile still on his face.
" The lass," he nodded pointedly down at Marian. "Does nae' wish tae' hear yer' insults, anymore than ye' deserve her attentions."
In an instant the tavern fell silent, she was sure if a pin dropped all of Redcliffe would be able to hear it. Every pair of ears in attendance strained to hear what their beloved Knight-Commander would say. What he would do about this outsider's insubordination.
Never one to disappoint such adoring fans, Harrith shoved his chair back so hard it slammed to the ground, a deafening sound in the too quiet tavern. He stood facing Sebastian, the slight buzz he had going all but forgotten, his mask of superiority and authority locked into place.
"Now you listen here! Marian Hawke ain't no lady, she's a two-bit serving wench who gets paid to do as I bid. If she's forgotten that, I'm sure there's a place in the circle for her, mage abominations are always welcome!" Harrith glared at her, then focused his attentions back on the too calm Vael. "As for you Serha! I suggest you keep your fine nose out of my business, before you find it broken."
"Do ye' now?" asked Sebastian, with an air of mildness that was fooling nobody. "Here Ah' was goin' tae' offer ye' the same advice."
With both hands Marian strangled her apron, anxiously glimpsing between the lions before her. Physically they were matched, both tall as oaks and nearly as broad, but Sebastian, in his fine clothing, was a gentleman. If it came to blows, Harrith had him out matched, she'd bet her precious wage on it. The Knight-Commander came to Lloyd's specifically to brawl. Nearly every eve his short fuse would blow, and some poor sod would end up impaled on the hidden blade he kept beneath his sleeve. Sebastian would be no exception, if he were lucky he'd only be injured and if not, well, then, he'd be dead.
In her scrutiny of the men before her, Marian hadn't noticed the two older Vael's had moved from their seats until they were standing directly behind Sebastian, their own drunken merriness forgotten, their hands clenched into tight fists at their sides. Nor had she noticed that the tables around them seemed to empty with lightening speed, men and women clambering to get to safer ground. Marian envied them. Right now she'd like to be behind the bar, eyes closed, praying to the Maker she was in the fade. She'd wake up on the floor of her small quarters with Carver laughing at her for falling out of bed again.
Except this was no dream. She'd not be waking on the floor. She had to do something, ANYTHING! "You mustn't do this Your Majesty!" Marian pleaded, raising herself on tiptoes in an attempt to appeal to Sebastian better. "The Knight-Commander is right, I'm just a serving lass, and I'm not worth this!"
"Hiding behind an abomination's, filthy robes now? YOUR MAJESTY." Harrith taunted, mimicking Marian. "Fraid' you'll soil yourself are you? YOUR MAJESTY." Sebastian's pleasant smile vanished as if it had never been. His dark brows came together in a single line.
"Mind yerself' pet." He said, gently grasping Marian's wrists from his chest and sweeping her to the side and out of the line of fire. "This will only take a minute, ah' promise." His smile returned, boyish almost, and for her alone.
"Sir Vael, please. Serah!" Marian pleaded for him to see sense.
"It's Sebastian lass, just Sebastian no formalities needed between us." He chided lightly.
"Nae' now, an' certainly nae' later."
"Sebastian is it?" Harrith interrupted, bouncing from one foot to the other, his anticipation palpable. "Aye, Sebastian. A right manly name your mum gave ya boy!"
This was definitely going from bad to worse. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lloyd get off his stool, his potbelly jiggling, his round, red face twisted in distress. The last time Harrith and his men had a full out brawl in the tavern, the cost to fix and replace everything almost shut him down. If Starkhaven's royalty were mangled in a bar brawl by Redcliffe's Templars, Lloyd would be shutdown, end of story. No amounts of coin would save the small tavern. Someone would have to pay for the travesty upon royalty; it wouldn't be Knight-Commander Harrith, or his Templars, the Chantry would denounce Andraste herself first before they allowed one of their own to face punishment for his crimes.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen please!" Lloyd pleaded his arms outstretched, the palms of his hands held open in both Harrith's and Sebastian's directions. "There must be a better way to solve this little disagreement, is there not?" Sebastian glanced in Lloyd's direction for a split second giving Harrith the perfect opening to strike, he moved so quick it was a blur to Marian, but Sebastian was quicker, with the grace of a Rivaini jungle cat, he dodged away from Harrith, nailing the Commander in the gut and doubling the big man over. Sebastian stood his ground. His legs spread apart, arms crossed over his broad chest, not a single lock of lush hair out of place. And that was the cue for all hell to break loose. With a roar of anger one of Harrith's men lashed out with a wooden chair aimed at Sebastian's head, Sebastian twisted out of the way. In the same moment one of the Vael's, Gabriel she thought his name was, lunged for the man with the chair. Amid the splintering wood the three men toppled, flailing arms and legs knocking over a table, sending tankards and bottles crashing to the floor along with their bodies. Angry curses could be keened from the piled mass of bodies.
"Hawke over here, quick now!" Edwina yelled over the noise. Shoving a stunned Marian over the bar, quickly following suit, grabbing a bottle of the taverns finest Dwarven ale and taking a deep swig as she planted herself beside Marian.
"They'll kill them Edwina! Harrith and his men will kill those gentlemen, I just know it." Marian cried. Fear for the Vaels lay heavy in her heart. This was her fault, all her fault.
"Nay they won't you silly priss not by half. Royalty or common-bred, most men are like wild dogs in the street when it comes to a good scrap." Edwina laughed merrily, as she swigged deeply from the bottle of commandeered ale.
"Edwina they're-" Marian started.
"NO! They ain't. I told you them Vael's came in here tonight for a bit of sport and by the Maker they found it in Harrith and his men."
Unconvinced. Hawke tried hard not to imagine what was happening to Sebastian's beautiful face, she'd seen too many bar brawls not to.
Edwina cackled loudly, poking Hawke in the ribs.
"By the Black Divine, what were you about setting that man off like that?"
"I did no such thing!" Marian said indignantly, shielding her face as a stray bottle hit the wall in front of them, showering splintered glass atop of their heads. "I only went over there because you dared me to! You saw how it was!" Marian defended.
"Aye I did see, I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it with my own eyes. Ms. Priss teasin' them Vael's into taking on Templars." Edwina shook her head taking another long swig of ale. Frowning, the old woman cocked her head to the door. "Here come the city guard, that'll put to end the sport for tonight, and leave us to tidy the mess." She scowled, taking one last gulp of the fine ale. As warning shouts and scurrying sounds mingled both parties making for the exits, Marian chanced a look, searching for Sebastian to see how he fared.
"That handsome Vael will be long gone Ms. Priss. No point in searching for a ghost." Edwina said softly, a hint of what seemed like sadness in her normally venomous tone. The older woman was right, the Tavern was empty, nothing but tipped tables, splintered chairs and broken bottles remained. Lloyd stood in the center of it all head bowed, but Sebastian Vael was gone. Marian felt her heart sink.
Marian leaned on the bar, far beyond tired. Cleaning the disaster hadn't been the most entertaining time of her life, but it kept her mind off the man that in mere hours left her head spinning.
"Here comes Ol'Lloyd and he sure don't look pleased." Said Edwina, stepping closer to Marian "I don't want tae' be fretting you priss, but I'm certain that scowl is aimed your way!" Edwina stepped back slightly, leaned against the bar and waited for Lloyd to make it to them. She was right once more, the old tavern keep looked like Marian had when Carver cut her waist length hair, while she slept. Closing her eyes and breathing deep Marian revisited that morning, trying to calm her wrecked nerves.
"Mari! Wake up! Mariiii! Wake up, wake up! Look what I've done!"
"Go away Carver." Marian mumbled sleepily, "Remember what I told you?"
"To never wake you up unless the house is on fire." Carver recited. Marian could almost feel him rolling his eyes at her.
"And is the house on fire, Carver?"
"No, but—"
"Are Templars attacking?"
"Father wouldn't allow—"
"Have demons swallowed the ground beneath us? Is the sky raining down iced cream and chocolate?
"Can that actually happen, Mari?!"
Carver's innocence and excitement at her words made Marian giggle, her ire at being woken nearly gone. "What is it you have to show me Carver?" Marian relented, knowing her dear brother would never go away until she did
"Your hair, sister." Carver giggled, devilishly. "I've got your hair!" Immediately Marian's hand shot up to where the beginning of a waist length braid once sat, only to be met with the jagged edges of a newly sheared bob.
"I'm going to kill you, you little shit!" Marian screeched, flying from her bed toppeling Carver to the ground, a fireball blazing in one hand, his throat clutched tight in the other.
"I'm gonna tell father!" Carver wheezed, his eyes wide. "You cursed, and magic isn't allowed, he's gonna whip you good!"
"You won't be able to tell father anything if you're dead!"
"Marian Renee Hawke." Malcolm Hawke chided from their doorway. His stern voice startled both Hawke children. The fireball in Marian's hand dissipated as she jumped from her brother to stand innocently before her father. "Threatening murder my dear is a serious business, you must first be absolutely certain you'd be capable of following through if the need to arose. Otherwise your word would mean nothing. Never threaten things child, instead promise them, and be sure you mean to follow through on that promise."
"But Papa! Look what Carver's done to my hair!"
"Marian cursed father! And you saw, she was using magic. I told her you'd whip her good."
"Children." Malcolm chastised, then fell into a silent contemplation.
Marian waited for her father to react, uncertain, what if he was disappointed with her? Malcolm Hawke had never laid hands on his children, his disappointment was always much worse than any beating. With minutes passing quicker than lightening strikes, she couldn't help but become anxious by her father's silence. "Papa, I'm sorry I wasn't thinking—"
"Carver your sister's hair is a masterpiece. A barber, instead of a warrior could very well be in your future. And Marian, that fire spell…" Malcolm paused his interruption of her apology, as he helped Carver up from where he still sat on the floor. "That fireball was perfect! Beautiful… Just try not to direct it at your brother, even if he deserves it." With a chuckle Malcolm scooped both his children up. "Now, I heard someone speaking of iced cream falling from the sky, did I not? Your mother has taken Bethany to the market, and though I can't make it fall from the sky I can certainly make it for breakfast, as long as you kids can keep it between us, eh?" In unison Marian and Carver squealed excitedly, wriggling from Malcolm and fleeing toward the kitchen hand in hand together.
Marian hadn't realized it then, but her father had been a clever man, teaching his children and bonding them closer together at the same time. They had left their room happily together that morning, when just minutes prior they couldn't stand each other. "I see what you did there old man." Marian murmured. The memory easing her tension slightly, her mouth turning up into a smile on it's own accord.
"I'm glad you find this amusing." Lloyd's furious face appeared in front of her. His cheeks cherry red and lips thinned into non-existence, making the man more unattractive.
"I wasn't. It's not funny. I was -."
"Just stop!" Lloyd barked. "Everyone go home. I don't want to see any of your wretched faces till tomorrow eve." The staff headed for the doors in a rush, before he changed his mind. Marian turned on her heel taking the opportunity to leave as well. "Oh no Marian Hawke, you stay, I've words to say to you."
"It was never my intention to cause trouble sir." She stopped, not having anything more to say, it wouldn't matter anyways.
"For Maker sake girl, have you no wits?" Lloyd breathed slamming his hand on the bar. "These shambles are the least of my troubles this night, I thought you and I had an understanding." She looked at him confused, she couldn't recall reaching a mutual understanding with the old tavern keep.
"An understanding, sir?" she asked cocking her head to the side, as if it would shed light on the nonsense the old man spoke.
"Don't play like we didn't! Before this, I believed with your interest in this trade and your willingness to work. You'd be equally willing to share the profits and bask in the toil."
"I don't follow you sir." But she did, all to well. Edwina was right the only role for plain Marian Hawke was apparently underneath wrinkly, old Lloyd's potbelly.
"I can't make it any clearer to you Marian. I have big plans for this place, but a great tavern needs a woman's touch, to help it grow, to make it great. I believed your hands capable of that. The wife of a tavern owner needs to be sober and strong. Not floated around like a whore looking for her next meal ticket. I thought that was you. After tonight I'm not so sure."
She'd known it, but the blow he dealt her was a hard one to take.
"Sir, I don't recall you ever asking for me, anymore than I've agreed to accept you."
"I did not believe such idle words were needed between us." Lloyd said impatiently drumming his fingers on the bar. "Be honest with yourself Marian what better offer are you going to get."
Tears of frustration stung her eyes, if she were honest with herself, like Lloyd asked; his offer was quite a good one. A chance to improve her station far beyond an orphaned mage, with siblings to take care of could have imagined. Had Lloyd come to her with this "understanding" yesterday, or even this afternoon she would have accepted, it would have been enough. But that was before she met Sebastian Vael, before he whispered his sweet praise. Empty or not, she wanted to hear those sultry words whispered to her in his deep brogue again.
With nothing to say, no answer she was willing to speak, she fled through the taproom, into the kitchen and out to the yard. She didn't stop running until she reached the cold bricks of the well that supplied the tavern. She breathed deep trying to compose herself unwilling to shed a single tear, this night was bad, no mistake, but crying wouldn't help that.
"Did they blame ye' fer' that brawl pet?" asked Sebastian softly. "Twas hardly yer' fault, we Vael men view such scraps as entertainment."
Startled by his sudden manifestation, Marian let loose a crackle of lightening, much to her dismay. Though Sebastian simply weaved out of the way, holding up his hands in surrender. She couldn't see his face; he stood in the shadows his fine shirt ripped on one side, from shoulder to sleeve.
"Your Majesty?" She self-consciously patted down her clothing, wiping her eyes to be sure no stray tears had disobeyed her. "Dear Maker, look at you! Are you hurt? I could take you into the kitchen-."
"Nay' lass, with mah' hands raised tae' the heavens, Ah' vow I am none the worse fer' wear." He stepped into the moonlight to show he had no hideous abrasions or blackened eyes. " An' fer' the last time lass, it's Sebastian."
"Aye then, Sebastian." She smiled. Completely taking in his ripped clothing she frowned and clucked her tongue. "Look what's become of your beautiful clothes!"
"Ha! Old rags, nae' tae' be missed." He stared at her thoughtfully "Ah' was afraid ye' wouldnae' come pet."
She felt herself flush, thankful for the shadows she hoped hid her pleasure. He had comeback, Edwina had been wrong. "Why did you take my side against the Knight-Commander?" She asked quietly.
"What, because ye're a serving lass? Or because ye're a mage?" He sighed, coming around the well to join her. "That, ye' must blame on mah' grandpappy's teachin'. Ah' fear his chivalrous inclinations carried over tae' me.
"But why?" she asked again, hoping that another question wouldn't displease him. "Why me?"
"Because Ah' wished it pet, because yer' young an' fresh with marvelous solemn eyes, that shine like polished sapphire." He was watching her intently, studying her like an artist would his most prized painting. "Ye' colour most charmingly also, especially under moonlight." His words were intoxicating. If they were hollow it didn't matter they washed over her just the same.
"I'm not pretty, it's nice of you to say so of course and I'd be lying if I said I didn't like your flattery." She paused looking for what to say next "I have no foolish thoughts about myself. You say my eyes shine, but I know their only dull blue, my hair is treacherous and unruly on a good day, my face is too round, I know I'm plain everyone tells me so."
"Then everyone else can go tae' the Black Divine!" Gently, easily he drew her close, resting her arms around his waist. "Someday ye'll' be more beautiful then all o' them put together."
"But I-"
"Hush now, an' listen tae' me." He cradled her face in his hands, stroking his thumbs along her cheeks. "The loveliest flowers often take the longest tae' bloom, Ah' see great beauty in this charming little face, do nate' dare let anyone tell ye' otherwise.
For a moment she allowed them to stay that way her arms around his waist, his fingers gently exploring her face, softly sweeping across her lips basking in the words he spoke to her, before she forced herself to break away
"We can't stay here someone could see from the tavern, or the guards could comeback." She grabbed his hand shyly "Come this way to the stable. My family used to live in Lothering we owned a little farm, I've never found another place that felt more like home than that farm." She said smiling, pulling him along behind her. "Master Thomas, the stable hand, understands and allows me to come and go as I please."
Carefully she unfastened the latch not wanting to startle the horses, she slipped inside only pausing for Sebastian to follow her up the ladder to the loft. Her feet slipped into the mounded hay, it's musky fragrance reminding her of summer. She knelt beside the narrow window and looked out at the harbor and the ships at the moorings.
"When all the sails are furled like that, I think the masts look like a forest." She said wistfully "a whole magic, silvery forest on the water."
She heard the hay rustle as he came to sit next to her " How ole' are ye' pet?"
"Seventeen." She answered honestly hoping he wouldn't think her a child. "I've been on my own in Redcliffe for two summers now, taking care of my sister and brother.
"Hmm, that puts five years between us, Ah' wonder if Ah' was ever as young as ye'?"
"Of course you were." She turned smiling "five years ago."
"O' course." He trailed off lightly tugging at her cap releasing her unruly red curls to sweep around her face.
"In the morning I'll be sailin' back tae' Starkhaven on one o' those ships. After years o' living as Ah' wish, mah' grandpappy has decided it's time fer' me tae' stand fer' something. Ah' will be given over tae' the chantry, tae' become a soldier in the Divine's holy army."
"Starkhaven!" said Marian unhappily; he might as well of said the moon. "When will you come back?"
"That only the Maker an' his mercy can decide. A year maybe, or ten. Perhaps never. A soldiers life is never fer' sure."
He spoke with such brave sadness she instinctively put her arms around him. Offering him comfort and peace from the storm that seemed to brew in his turquoise eyes. "You'll comeback Sebastian I know it." She said fiercely, head pressed to his exposed torso, his skin so smooth she couldn't help but rub her cheek over it like a cat snuggling up to it's master's leg. He sighed letting his hands settle around her waist
"A good soldiers life is nae' his own pet, an' he never knows when it'll be forfeit."
"That's so sad." She cried pushing herself back so she could search his face. She had meant to comfort him with all the sadness he spoke, but instead she was the one who felt safe here, warm in the haven of his arms. "How can you bear the thought of sailing off into the unknown as you plan to?" With infinite care he slowly traced the bow of her upper lip.
"Ye' can help mah' bear it, sweet." He rasped, his rough brogue thick. "Give me a memory tae' take with me'." He kissed her then, as lightly as his touch had been, a feather light brush of his lips to hers until she parted willingly. If he wished to take the memory of her kiss with him into battle, then she'd give it gladly. How could she deny him with his future so uncertain? She was disappointed to taste the strong ale he had been drinking on his lips. Surely with the liquor influencing him he wouldn't enjoy this moment as deeply as she would. He deepened the kiss, his mouth sure and warm. The ale was forgotten, the heady new sensations took over her ability to think, until just he and she remained. So enthralled by his passion, Marian barely perceived him lowering her back into the hay. Masterfully his lush lips slipped across the curve of her jaw and down to her neck, gently, nibbling an electrified path to the hollow juncture at the base of her throat. Carefully he loosened the buttons of her blouse, parting the fabric and pulling her breast band down, exposing sensitive pink peaks to the cool air, his tongue swirled hotly around one, then the other, sucking each nubby pearl into the cavernous depths of his skilled mouth, releasing them only to blow a cool breath, forcing them to stand mercilessly at attention. She moaned a breathy moan so foreign to her ears, hands instinctively going to his head, combing through his soft, sorrel locks, need and reality jockeying for position. She felt on fire under his attentions, not noticing her robes hiked up around her waist until his hand gently feathered across her core jolting her up and away from him.
Clumsily she tried to wrestle her robes down. "You-you must not!" she breathed out huskily " No, Sebastian please!"
"Yes sweet lass, yes." He breathed lightly grabbing her ankle sliding her toward him meeting her mouth with his "I told ye', I am a chivalrous man, an' I intend tae' prove it. Ye' will have yer' pleasure from me, be sure of that." His lips met hers once more, retracing the route he'd already mapped out. Marian gasped her protests forgotten. He suckled her breasts gently, moving his calloused hand back up the softness of her thighs to her apex, softly swirling his thumb over a most sensitive area she never knew existed.
"Yer' so wet lass." He purred into her ear. She hadn't a clue what he meant, nor did she have the experience to warn her what would come next. So lost in the most delicious feeling of heat flooding her body. He kissed and stroked her till she arched wantonly into his touch. Another moment her ravished senses pleaded with her conscience, just a few more precious moments. Then she'd ask him to stop. The pleasure spiraled dizzily upward her conscience fell silent. Lost in her own world she didn't try to stop him as he shifted on top of her. He was a gentlemen her Sebastian. She'd trust him not to hurt her.
She would trust him…
And then came the sharp-sudden hurt that ended the trust and the pleasure with it, and the helpless little cry that tore from her heart as she realized what he'd done, what she'd done and what could never be undone.
Afterward he smiled down upon her, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand calling her his sweetest pet, trying to coax a smile out of her. She didn't smile however nor did she weep. Not even when he heard the drunken bellow from the streets and with an oath rolled off of her to one side. All she did was close her eyes so she didn't have to see the shame of his nakedness.
"Damn Gabriel!" Sebastian cursed as he hurriedly laced his breeches and bent to peer out of the window to the street below. "He'll bring the whole bluidy guard back here again!" He turned back to her shaking his hair out of his face, pinning her with his brilliant eyes. He spoke quickly as he stuffed his shirttails back into his breeches.
"Ah' must go now pet, Ah' must finish packin' an' such for the trip back, besides, Ah' do believe it high time that Ah' stop my rake o' a brother from bayin' at the moon like a jackass!"
She'd sat up by then righting her robes, holding them tightly around her ankles. She couldn't understand why there wasn't any blood? Why there was no proof of her maidenhead being taken this night? Perhaps it was a sign of her wickedness and sin.
He fumbled around in his pocket, his fingers jingling sovereigns together; He held them out to her as he bent to kiss her farewell.
"Go." She said turning her head to the side to avoid his lips. Now she was only a fool but if she took his coin she'd be something far worse. "Just go."
Without another word he left.
She listened as the ladder creaked under his weight, to the latch of the door as he opened and closed it. One of the horses nickered sleepily at the interruption, and then all was silent. No matter how much she curled into herself she couldn't shake the empty, hollow feeling.
It was bad enough she'd lost her maidenhead, here, in the hay, like a common whore, to a man that hadn't even bothered to learn her name. Worse still, when Sebastian Vael took the innocence of her body he also took the innocence of her heart and her future with it.
That she would never be able to forgive, or forget.