* Echoes of the Past *
The autumn sun was shining down brightly on the old manor house and the surrounding buildings. It was that quiet time just before noon when everyone was settling down for a nap, and the bustling life at the estate seemed to come to a brief standstill. Caitlin was out in the orchard near the gate to gather apples, clad in a simple tan linen dress, just like any farmer's wife. Of course she was anything but that. But she enjoyed the simple pleasures of their country life, the taste of fresh apples on her lips, the scent of the flowers, the warmth of the sun on her tanned skin.
Fenris had left early this morning with Rhianna and Kelys, Merrill's handsome Elven ranger. The little girl was five years old now, and her father had promised to teach her how to hunt. Caitlin smiled inwardly at the memory of her eager face and her excited chattering, as the three of them readied themselves for a morning in the woods.
Then she noticed the dust cloud moving up closer on the road. A lonely rider, cantering up at moderate speed. She cleaned off her hands on her full skirts and went up to the gate to meet him. When he reined in his horse and got off to greet her, it took her a moment to recognize him.
"Knight Captain Cullen?" she asked incredulously, her mind reeling with questions. How had the Templar known where to find them? And what in the Maker's name was he doing here? She thanked her lucky stars that Anders and Bethany had set off for the Deep Roads a week ago. It wouldn't have done at all for them to be seen here...
"Hawke?" he replied hesitantly, taking in her appearance with an uncertain look. Well, she couldn't blame him. The last time he'd seen her had been just before the battle against Meredith. She'd been in full armour then, her face set with determination, focussed on the imminent slaughter. It had to be hard to reconcile this memory with the woman he was facing now. After the battle, he had been carried off to the clinic, his life hanging by the thinnest of threads. Anders had saved him, but he had still been unconscious when they left.
"It's me alright," she replied with a smile, "but what brings you to this place, Knight Captain?"
"No longer, Knight Captain, Hawke," he answered with a wry smile, "and no longer a Knight Templar even. It's just Cullen now." Caitlin was intrigued. After Meredith's death he had taken over as Acting Knight Commander for a few chaotic and violent years. He hadn't done a bad job, judging by Varric's tales, but about four years ago, the Order had sent a new Knight Commander and he had been relegated to his former duties.
She took a closer look at him. The curly blond hair had turned grey at the temples, and there were quite a few creases around his green eyes, but the expression on his tanned patrician face was still much as she remembered it, a curious mixture of shrewdness, innocence and the firm determination to do the right thing. If anything, he had become more attractive.
"Well, you better come into the house and have something to drink," she said with a careful smile. "It seems that there is much you have to tell me."
She noticed him taking in the layout of the estate and the state of the buildings with an approving look. Once they were inside, he glanced up at the old wooden rafters. "The house is old but solidly built," he remarked. "A good place to settle down." When he saw the look of surprise on her face, he laughed. "I'm really just a country squire, you know. My parents live in a house much like this in Ferelden, and that's where I'm headed now."
"I'm sure they'll be glad to see you," she replied politely.
"They're overjoyed," he said soberly. "They gave me to the Chantry, because I was the younger son, but my brother and his family were killed by darkspawn. Now they're desperate for me to produce an heir. I believe they've already arranged a marriage for me." His open features clearly showed his mixed feelings.
They settled down at the table and he downed the jug of ale she offered him in one thirsty gulp. "So tell me more, Cullen," she prompted. "What happened?"
His handsome face darkened for a moment. "The Knight Commander... obviously he's not as bad as Meredith was, but he still toes the line as far as mages are concerned. I tried to convince him otherwise for years, but he wouldn't budge. Still, I stayed on, figuring that at least I'd be in a better position to protect them, but in the end, it became just too much to bear."
She nodded quietly, remembering he had always had a soft spot for mages. And he must have known it had been an apostate mage who had saved his life after the battle.
"She wasn't even eighteen years old, you know," he said abruptly. When she looked at him questioningly, he went on, his voice bitter. "Two weeks ago, they rounded up a young girl in the Alienage. Oh, she was a mage alright, but she had never done anything wrong, except for hiding, because she was afraid they'd take her away from Kirkwall into one of the Circles." He swallowed hard. "They hunted her down and cornered her, and in her desperation, she..."
Hawke nodded, a pained look on her face. There was no need for him to go on. She'd seen it often enough back then. Once the mages lost all hope and invited the demon in, there was no saving them. The abomination had to be killed, there was no other way.
Cullen looked up. "Well, I quit. Varric told me where to find you. I felt I... had to say goodbye."
She walked over to the fireplace, frowning. "Why did you really come?" she asked him, turning around to face him. He got up and slowly came towards her.
"Hawke..." he answered, his voice halting and uncertain. "I know you have found peace here, but I felt I had to tell you..."
She looked up at him in confusion. "Tell me what?"
He flinched. "Hawke, Caitlin... Even when I first met you, I realized that I... but then they told me that your sister was an apostate, and I knew that it would be madness for me to... And then later, you took up with Anders, and..." his voice trailed off and he swallowed hard.
Then she could see him gathering his resolve, meeting her gaze, his tone suddenly fierce and passionate. "But all these years I've dreamt of you! There hasn't been a day when I haven't wondered what could have been if..." He was standing close to her now, his hands balled into fists, a tortured look on his face.
"Cullen, I had no idea," she answered with complete honesty, quite shaken by his confession. "I'm sorry, but..."
He stepped even closer, then, his eyes still burning with passion.
"Look, I know there's no room for me in your life, never has been, but let me at least have something to remember you by!" And before she could guess his intent, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hungrily, greedily.
She was so surprised that for a few brief seconds she actually kissed him back, feeling his muscular body pressed against her, breathing in his scent, shivering with unexpected pleasure. Then she realized what she was doing. Her eyes widened with shock and she quickly pushed him back. He stepped away immediately, but his eyes remained locked on her face, his breathing quick and laboured.
They both jumped when they heard a happy shriek from outside and the back door was thrown open. Little Rhianna bounded into the hall, flushed with excitement, chattering happily away. She skidded to a halt when she saw Cullen.
"Who is that man, mommy?" she asked.
Fenris followed close on her heels, an indulgent smile on his face, but he stopped dead in his tracks, his face frozen, when his eyes took in the scene in front of him. Caitlin was standing close to the fireplace, her face flushed, with Cullen practically pressing her to the wall.
"What's going on?" His voice could have cut steel.
Caitlin threw him a pleading look, firmly pushed Cullen aside, and took Rhi in her arms. "He was just leaving, my sweet," she gently told the little girl.
Cullen stared at her for a moment, taking it all in, the happy little face, Fenris' barely concealed fury, Caitlin's expression of confusion and anger, and he realized just how much he had overstepped the line.
"I'm... sorry," he muttered, shaking his head briefly, as if awakening from a trance.
"Please, leave now," she answered. "I wish you well, Cullen."
"Are you sure..." he asked with a brief look at Fenris' brooding face.
She nearly laughed, when she realized that he was worried Fenris might hurt her. "I'll be fine," she answered. "Maker watch over you!" He left quickly then, gathering his belongings, and she pulled Rhianna closer.
"Now, tell me about the hunt," she said.
"Oh mommy, we caught three hares, and Kelys shot a deer with his bow, and he says he'll teach me bowing," Rhi answered excitedly.
"You mean archery," she gently corrected, unable to resist smiling at Rhi's enthusiasm.
"Kelys says she has a good eye and should make a fine archer," Fenris remarked, the pride in his voice unmistakable.
For a moment she felt a familiar pang of regret that she hadn't been able to give him more children. They had wanted another, but she had miscarried twice in quick succession and they both hadn't had the stomach to keep trying afterwards.
"Tell you what," she interrupted the steady stream of words gushing from Rhi's lips, "why don't you take the hares to Orana and she'll show you how to skin and clean them."
Rhianna bounced off happily and Caitlin looked at Fenris. It was obvious that only the child's presence had kept him from losing control. "Let's go up to our room," she sighed.
When the door closed behind them, he immediately turned to her, a look of utter bewilderment and anger on his face. "What in Andraste's name... Caitlin, it looked as if he'd kissed you?"
"He did," she replied quietly.
Fenris' face distorted with fury and a faint blue glow along the lines of his tattoos showed the extent of his agitation as he grabbed hold of her arms with such force that she flinched.
"Cait, what is this?" he demanded.
She looked up at him calmly. "Will you calm down, Fenris? I thought you trusted me. Please, let me explain."
He swore violently, but he let go of her and walked over to the big armchair near the ancient wooden desk in the corner. With a weary sigh he dropped into the chair, buried his face in his hands for a moment, then ran his fingers through his silvery hair and looked up at her, his expression still full of misgivings.
"Explain, then," he said tersely.
Caitlin exhaled loudly, her annoyance at the absurdity of the situation growing by the minute.
"Cullen left the Order," she said. "He was on his way to his parents' estate, and apparently he felt the need to come here and tell me that he'd been carrying a torch for me all these years."
Fenris looked up with a sneer. "Yeah, well that was pretty obvious, wasn't it?"
"Not to me, no," she replied, a little taken aback.
"Well, to anyone with eyes it was," he snarled, but it was plainly visible that he was at least a little bit mollified.
"But what in the Maker's name possessed him to kiss you? And why did you let him?"
Caitlin sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the scene. "I don't think he planned it, you know," she said. "He just lost his head for a moment. And he completely took me by surprise."
Fenris snorted again, but she could see he'd more or less accepted her explanation. True, there was some residual anger glowing in his eyes, but she certainly knew how to deal with that.
Swiftly she walked over to him, climbed on his lap and straddled him, her dress riding up her thighs and exposing her long legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Fen, please, be reasonable," she pleaded, planting soft little kisses on his ears and jaw, "you know it's you I want, and no one else."
He lifted an eyebrow and looked at her with a sardonic smile. "Just for the record, can we make a note of the fact that I'm fully aware of what you're doing here?" he growled at her.
"Mmmmh," she purred, her lips teasing his mouth, her nimble fingers beginning to unlace his shirt. "Does that mean you want me to stop?"
His deep, hungry kiss was answer enough. His lips travelled down her neck, as he gently cupped her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress. As he felt her nipples harden under the soft linen, he moaned with pleasure and impatiently began to tear at her bodice. Quickly, she untied the laces for him, while he tore off his shirt. He sighed a long happy sigh, and buried his face between her breasts for a moment, before his lips and tongue began expertly caressing her nipples.
She leaned back into his strong arms then, savouring every moment, loving the feel of his soft warm mouth on her skin, grinding her hips against his growing hardness. His hands wandered deeper, caressing her legs and pushing up her dress even further, struggling with the resisting fabric. Swearing impatiently, he lifted her up and placed her on the desk in front of him, parting her legs. He bowed his head down to plant small, light kisses on the insides of her thighs, slowly travelling upwards towards her crotch, and she began to writhe in his grasp and to utter soft little moans. When he finally reached his aim, his talented tongue started caressing her warm centre and she uttered a small cry of pleasure. Maker, it felt so good!
He knew her body so well that he played her like an instrument, responding to the tiniest signal, taking her higher and higher as he found every sensitive spot. And he enjoyed it too, she could tell, as he tasted her like a special treat, breathed in her scent, teased her, played with her. She didn't want him to stop, ever, but at the same time she couldn't wait to feel him inside her.
"Fenris, please," she finally entreated him. "I need you. I ache for you." He swiftly rose to his feet between her legs then, kissing her breasts again with feverishly hot lips, as he quickly slid out of his breeches. With an assured movement, he parted her legs even further, gently teasing her with the tip of his hard member. She cried out again and pushed her hips toward him, forcing him to enter her.
He laughed quietly, obviously pleased by her eagerness and impatience. With tantalizing slowness he began to push further inside her. Her nails dug into his back, as she tried to take him in faster and deeper, pulling him towards her. When he was completely sheathed in her, he paused for a second, enjoying the feel of her, basking in her heat.
As he began to move inside her with powerful strokes, her body slid back on the polished surface of the desk, and he cursed softly again. Without hesitation, he gathered her up into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist, and carried her over to the bed, their bodies still joined firmly at the hips. She gasped as he sank down into the soft sheets with her, kissing her, stroking her soft skin, his anger all but forgotten.
They quickly found their rhythm again, building up toward the crest of their lust, reaching it within seconds of each other. She felt him relax against her with a violent shudder and pulled him into a deep tender embrace, as they both curled up on the bed, sighing deeply.
She looked at his pensive face and gently stroked his cheek.
"A copper for your thoughts," she whispered.
He turned towards her with a faint smile. "Probably not worth that much," he answered. "You know, I used to wonder about you and Cullen."
"Me and Cullen?" she replied, a puzzled look on her face.
"Well, as I said, it was obvious he desired you, and I've always been surprised that you knew so much about Templars. A few weeks ago you gave Anders quite the lecture on the effects of lyrium withdrawal. So I thought, maybe you and Cullen once..." he trailed off.
She firmly cut him off. "Fen, I swear to you that I never so much as touched the Knight Captain." She had thought he was rather cute, true, but the way things were...
"Even if I had noticed his... infatuation, I can assure you that I had quite enough problems back then without adding a love affair with a Templar to the mix. No, Fenris, what I know about Templars is what my father taught me many years ago."
Fenris looked at her intrigued. She rarely mentioned her father, the mage, and she almost never talked about her youth. "Will you tell me?" he inquired gently.
She smiled wistfully then, recollecting a time before Kirkwall, before Ostagar, a time that seemed impossibly far away.
"When I was seventeen, Carver came back from the woods one day, screaming at the top of his lungs that he'd found a dead knight in the forest clearing. My father immediately rushed out so see if it was true. It was, or very nearly so. He was a young Templar, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five, who had foolishly gone out on a bear hunt all by himself. The bear had badly mauled him, but he was alive, just about. Father took him in and began healing him, though for a long time it seemed he wouldn't make it."
"But there's a Chantry in Lothering, isn't there?" Fenris interrupted. "Wouldn't it have been wiser just to take him there?"
Caitlin shook her head. "He was in no state to be moved, you see, and we lived quite a way from the village, at the edge of the Wilds. It had always seemed safer, what with the need to keep Father and Bethany away from the eyes of strangers. Anyway, Father tended to Darryn's wounds, but soon realized he was suffering more from the lyrium withdrawal than from his injuries. He found ways to help him, though, and taught me what to do."
"Why you?" Fenris asked.
"Mother wouldn't go near him, at first, she was so scared about having a Templar in the house. Carver soon lost interest, and of course Bethany couldn't be allowed to see him. She was only fourteen then, and couldn't control her magic very well. When he started to regain consciousness, things became even more difficult. Father decided to leave the house for a few weeks, together with Bethany, to better keep our secret. So I was left with the task of looking after him."
She smiled at the recollection of Darryn's young face, his bright blue eyes and his thatch of black hair, his curiously courtly manners. And the look on his face when he realized that the pretty young redhead by his bedside had been the one to bathe him and feed him for the past few weeks. "We got on well, you know. We'd talk and laugh for hours. It was such a joy to have someone young to talk to, someone who'd seen a bit more of the world. And he was pleasant and friendly and handsome and..."
"And of course you fell in love," Fenris finished the sentence for her.
Caitlin smiled. "Yes, I guess it was inevitable, wasn't it? When he got better, Mother said he needed fresh air, and I went out with him into the woods almost every day. And then, one day-"
"You mean he took advantage of you! A fine knight indeed!" Fenris cut in angrily.
Caitlin laughed softly. "No, that's not the way I would put it."
Fenris shook his head in disbelief. "Caitlin, you were all of seventeen. And he was a grown man, and a Templar to boot. I can't believe he would-"
"It was not like that," she interrupted him. "I may have been a virgin, but believe me, I was far from innocent. I'd read my mother's old novels, and some of them were quite racy. And I was a country girl. Trust me, Fenris, I knew what I wanted and what it meant. Whereas he had practically grown up in the Chantry. If anything, he was probably more innocent than I was."
"But your mother!" Fenris protested. "How could she have been too blind to see what was happening under her very nose!"
Caitlin looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, I used to wonder about that too. But later on I realized she probably knew exactly what was going on." She ignored Fenris' gasp of surprise and went on.
"You see, Fen, my mother was a remarkable woman in many ways, but she was also very proud, and her noble Amell lineage meant a great deal to her. She also knew me well enough to realize that I was... ripe for the plucking at that time. And she knew that she would never be able to stop me from doing what I wanted."
Fenris chuckled. "So you were as obstinate then as you are now, my love?"
"I prefer 'strong-willed', thank you very much," she pouted, but quickly grew serious again. "The way I see it, my mother had made up her mind that if I was to lose my precious virginity, she'd much prefer it to happen with Darryn than with one of the village boys. He came from a noble family, you see, and she probably expected he'd do the right thing and propose to me once we... " Fenris could hardly hide his disapproval, but he kept quiet and let her continue. "Anyway, it was all very sweet and romantic. Forest walks, flowers, shy kisses; he was so honourable that in the end I practically had to climb into his lap to seduce him."
Caitlin smiled at the memory of that afternoon. Darryn's clumsy hands unlacing her tunic, haltingly caressing her breasts, his whole body shaking with desire. And her own eagerness to please him, to make him forget his vows and finally touch her, kiss her, make love to her. He'd been sweet, so sweet, and afterwards he'd been so worried he'd hurt her.
"Of course, once the dam had broken, so to speak, we could hardly keep our hands off each other. It's a miracle I didn't get pregnant. But yes, I was in love with him, madly in love, and naturally we didn't waste a thought on the future," her voice trailed off again, her expression turning sad.
Fenris took her hand, letting his fingers trail over her palm before planting a tender kiss on it. "It didn't end well," he stated gently.
"No, it didn't," she shook her head. "When he found out about Beth and my father, he felt utterly let down by me. He didn't betray us, mind you, but he was so disappointed that I'd lied to him... He left almost immediately, and I never saw him again. I ran off to join the army soon afterwards."
Fenris raised an eyebrow. "But it wasn't your secret to keep. Surely he must have realized that."
Caitlin laughed a sad little laugh. "Oh, Fenris, we were both so very young. He was hurt and confused, and... well, that's all there is to it. I don't know what became of him. I doubt he survived Ostagar."
She turned to him. "But I vowed back then, that I would never lie to anyone I loved again. I've always been honest with you, and I always will."
He smiled at her solemnity, but then his face darkened and took on an expression she knew only too well.
"Fen?" she softly called him back from what she knew must be another dark memory. They'd still come to him occasionally, short violent flashes, when he recalled what had happened before Danarius, before the tattoos.
Sometimes, very rarely, he'd tell her, but for most of the time, he struggled with his past alone, only turning to her for comfort afterwards. He shook his head impatiently.
"Fen? Will you tell me?"
He turned to her, his face bearing a curious expression. "Oh Cait, your story... it's so sad, but it brought back..." He visibly fought the impulse to clam up again, to keep his suffering to himself.
"Please, tell me," she repeated softly.
"I didn't grow up in Danarius' house, you know," he began, a curiously faraway look on his face. "My mother was the property of his sister, Valeria. She wasn't an exceptionally bad mistress, just a typical Tevinter noblewoman, very proud, very arrogant, beautiful in a cold, aristocratic way. She was also in the habit of taking pretty young slave boys into her bed. When I was sixteen, she noticed me in the slave quarters, and she picked me as her new favourite."
Caitlin couldn't quite suppress a pained little gasp at his tale and the quiet, matter-of-fact way he told it.
Fenris turned to her, gently stroking her cheek. "It wasn't all that bad, really, my love, at least at first. Remember, I was a sixteen-year-old boy, curious and... excitable, and she was quite attractive, if you didn't mind the haughty air. The position brought a number of privileges, so I was better off than most slaves in the household. And she valued her pleasures, so she treated me well, and in fact taught me a good deal. Of course, I was never more than a pet for her, a tool for keeping her satisfied."
His face hardened. "It didn't last very long, anyway. When I turned eighteen, I became too grown-up for her taste and she quickly lost interest. They decided to train me as a house-guard instead." He looked at Caitlin and saw the heartbreak in her eyes, the single tear trailing down her cheek. "Don't cry, Cait," he said softly. "None of them will hurt me or mine any more." He embraced her, holding on to her tightly, burying his face in her long silky hair.
They were shaken out of their musings by the noise of little footsteps on the stairs and Rhi's insistent cries for mommy and daddy. Quickly they rose and slipped into their clothes, glad of the reminder of their domestic duties. As they left the room, they exchanged a quick glance. No words were necessary. They knew what mattered.
* The end *