It started with a Kiss part 21

I apologise beforehand for all the mistakes you will encounter in this chapter, but I wrote this almost in one breath and I didn't take much effort in repairing the text. So, sorry about that. Speaking about warnings, there will be sex... and no, it's not what you think.

Nevertheless, enjoy!

The never-ending story is nearing its end – I think. (But, of course, with me you never know.)

Sebastian pushed the chair under the opened window that was set high in the wall of his cell and cautiously tested its strength. When it looked like the rickety piece of furniture would hold his weight, he climbed on it and pulled himself up on the windowsill. From his crouching position he meticulously scanned the Chantry garden, that stretched out under him, for whatever unwanted presence. Which included any presence of any living creature. Especially under the age of twelve. As he had already suspected, and mostly had hoped for, the area was deserted since everyone, except for him, was gathered in the refectory for lunch. So he deemed it safe enough to enter the garden and he let himself drop on the balcony below him. This was the tricky part, for the adjacent room was the study of the Grand Cleric, but he was as good as certain neither she nor her personal secretary were present at the moment. As fast as was wise, he clambered over the parapet and jumped down; with a little grunt he landed in one of the many flowerbeds. Stealthily he tiptoed through the impatiens, oleanders, geraniums and fuchsias, staying as close to the wall as possible without crushing too many flowers. The gardener would undoubtedly curse like a heathen when he discovered the damage, but right now he couldn't care less. He just sought a way out.

So it has come to this, he thought gloomily, I have to skip lunch, and steal out off the Chantry through the garden like some kind of common thief to avoid Geofride the Horrible and to get some peace and quiet.

'Oh Sebastian! Have you come to visit the garden too? It's so beautiful here!'

He started so violently that he involuntarily launched himself. He sprained his ankle after a giant misstep and made a nosedive into a nearby lavender shrubbery. While he scrambled to his feet with the intention to make a beeline for the gate, limping if need be, he saw Merrill emerge from behind a cherry tree. 'What are you doing here?!' he wheezed breathlessly, despite everything thankful it was her and not one of the Ghastly Gang. I should stop thinking about them in this way, he chastised himself, but, Maker, it's easier to enter a battle against a horde of Qunari than to fight that lot.

'I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you!' the small elf squeaked while she hurried to his rescue. 'But Varric said I shouldn't visit the Viscount's gardens anymore, what with all the crossed guards glowering at me, and here are no guards and I really, really needed the comfort of some flowers after all that's happened,' she babbled nervously. 'Are you hurt? Perhaps we can find some arnica or comfrey, it helps to decrease the swelling. Do they grow herbs in this garden? They should, shouldn't they? There is an infirmary in the Chantry, isn't there? They need the healing herbs.'

Sebastian thought that the upcoming headache, caused by the avalanche of words, was worse than the pain in his ankle. 'Please stop rambling,' he begged, 'before my head explodes.' He rubbed his sore joint.

Merrill helped him up and assisted him to a nearby bench where they both sat down.

'At least I smell nice, after the collision with the lavender,' Sebastian remarked sarcastically.

'Oh yes, lavender smells very nice,' Merrill agreed in her own gibbering way, 'I should pick some twigs to put between my clothes. Or just in the cupboard; it can smell so mouldy in my place. I think it's the persistent damp. Perhaps it will even chase the rats away. The lavender, I mean, not the damp. I fear they get attracted by it. The damp, that is. Or maybe I should try rosemary or chives. Although I'd better put those in a stew...'

'Merrill...' Sebastian desperately groaned. Maker, deliver me from this ordeal, he prayed silently. His head spun and his ankle throbbed and the elf's high panicky voice penetrating his brain didn't do much to sooth his anxiety. Resigned he awaited the invasion of the orphans and the Righteous Cardigan because he knew the whole bunch would be let loose into the garden after lunch, to play tag or hide and seek or beat each other senseless, or any other old game to blow off steam before the lessons would recommence. 'What were you doing here, all alone?' he heard Merrill ask. It stopped his drifting thoughts and brought him back to the here and now. He looked a bit ashamed.

'Trying to avoid the attention of the children,' he confessed.

'Why?' asked Merrill with a little frown. 'Children are a bundle of joy. At least, that's what the Keeper used to say,' she added, conscientiously. 'I wouldn't know myself.' Just the mentioning of the word "Keeper" made her annoyance flare up again.

'Your Keeper sounds a lot like the Grand Cleric,' Sebastian grumbled sullenly. And precisely at that moment he felt Merrill's nose sniffing at his neck.

'Lavender,' she murmured and her breath tickled his skin. It shot a long ignored and almost forgotten flaming arrow of hot desire through his body. 'Nothing like the scent of lavender to let your anger melt away.' Accidently, or perhaps not, her lips softly grazed the spot behind his ear.

Without thinking, letting his primal instincts take over, he twisted his head and kissed her. She let out a little gasp of surprise and after just a splinter of hesitation kissed him back. Within mere moments they turned into a flurry of entwining tongues, grasping hands and interweaving limbs, panting and moaning at every heated contact. He felt his cock grow hard and his arousal build fast and when her fingers touched him through the fabric of his pants, he had to bite his lip forcefully to prevent he'd go off like a firecracker.

'Ooooo! Bror Sebas is snogging! With a girl!'

The excited howls were the equivalent of a bucket with ice water and at once he realized what he was doing. And where. And with whom. Abruptly, his face beet red, he jumped up, grabbed Merrill by the wrist and without further ado dragged the befuddled elf along the garden and through the gate. He came to a halt against a brick wall in the alley behind the Chantry and Merrill bumped into him. Automatically he closed her in his arms. 'I'm sorry,' he croaked, 'I don't know what came over me.'

She looked up with large glistening eyes. 'I do,' she merrily said. 'The snapping of years of suppressed sexual tension. And, believe me, I know what I'm talking about.' She smirked cheekily and went on, 'You know, I never understood why the Chantry insists on continence. I mean, Andraste herself wasn't exactly a virgin, was she? She was married and had children and some sources even claim she took Shartan as a lover.' She tilted her head and looked pensively. 'Mostly Elven sources, come to think about it.' The smile took over once more. 'So why is sex forbidden among your people?'

With a well meant groan Sebastian leant his head against the wall. 'Please, Merrill, don't make this any harder.' Her naughty giggle, splashing over him like the drops of a sweet waterfall, made him apprehend that this hadn't exactly been the right choice of words. Despite the awkward situation, he suddenly had to laugh himself. He embraced her firmer and rested his cheek on her hair. 'Oh Maker, I'll never hear the end of this. I don't even want to know what Elthina's reaction will be. Or worse, what Geofride will think up to make my life a living hell.'

Gently Merrill patted his back. 'Let's go to my place,' she suggested. 'I will make you a nice cup of tea. Or, if you like something stronger, I believe I have a bottle of elderberry wine somewhere lying about. No hanky-panky. I promise.'

Sebastian heaved his head and gave her wan smile. 'With your fingers crossed behind your back, I wager.' He planted a soft kiss on her brow. 'Alright, I accept your offer. I think it's better not to show my face in the Chantry for a while, anyhow.'

He took her hand and together they wandered off to the Alienage.

Somewhere else in Kirkwall, Varric was struggling with his own problems. After Bodahn had announced his arrival, he had valiantly stepped into the library and had said, 'There's no easy way to tell you this, so I won't beat about the bush.' Despite his worked-up courage, he had fallen silent under the twofold piercing glares that had come his way. It was obvious Hawke and Fenris had been in the middle of something important, whatever it might be, and weren't particularly overjoyed with the interruption.

'Well,' Hawke now said, more than a little irritated. 'Spit it out then. Has the Hanged Man burned down? Is Bianca terminally ill? Has Isabela decided to stay chaste for the rest of her life? Whatever it is, I can take it. I'm dying to hear your bad news.'

Varric took a breath and decided stalling was not an option. 'Marethari refuses to perform the ritual,' he thus blurted, taut as a lute string and prepared to receive a furious scolding, in the least.

A strained silence descended after his revelation. Hawke cleared her throat and to Varric it sounded like a peal of threatening thunder. But all she said was, 'Right. And what now?'

It seems she's not out for blood – yet. Count your blessings, Varric thought. He put up his brightest face. 'I hoped we could work this out together. As a team,' he said. And preferably without broken bones. Or shattered glassware.

Hawke gestured at the sofa. 'Let's take a seat. Bodahn, would you be so kind as to bring us a bottle of wine?'

With a huff the steward disappeared to turn back, not a minute later, with the asked for item. Plus three glasses.

'Perhaps it surprises you, but Fenris and I already have considered this outcome,' Hawke said, while she filled the glasses. 'Marethari never struck me as the accommodating type, no matter with how much respect she always treated us.'

'So,' Varric said tentatively, 'have you come up with a solution?'

Hawke shot him a radiant beam. 'As a matter of fact, we have.' She handed him a glass that he wordlessly accepted, eager to learn more. She sat down and continued, 'Fenris and I thought it a far-fetched idea anyway. I'm not elven and Fenris may be an elf from the top of his head all the way down to his little toe, but he feels no connection with the Dalish whatsoever.' She hastened to add, when she saw the dwarf's hurt expression, 'It was a good idea, let there be no doubt about that. And I specifically liked the image of the lovely dress and the blooming flowers in the picturesque environment of Sundermount. An image like a fairytale. But that's the problem: it would have been a fairytale. The ceremony wouldn't have had any link with everyday life. And, I hate to break the news to you, but that's just how it is. Real life. No fairytale. No Swords and Shields.' She smiled heartening.

Carefully Varric sipped from his wine. 'I take it you thought of something entirely different..?'

'The Keep,' Fenris made his modest but significant contribution.

Slowly Varric put the glass on the side table in an effort to buy some time to ingest the two impassively uttered words. It didn't help. 'Pardon me?'

'What my husband attempts to make clear,' said Hawke, straight-faced, 'is that we will have a simple ceremony in the office of the Viscount. Under the supervision of said Viscount himself and this time with his genuine signature, written with all of us present and for all of us to see, under the formal text. We've already spoken it through with him and he has agreed. The ceremony will take place the day after tomorrow. And we both would very much like it if you and Isabela would accept the honour of being the official witnesses.'

Varric stayed perfectly still for a few moments. A persistent voice at the background of his industriously working mind kept grinding that this was some kind of trap, but, with all the best of will, he couldn't think what kind of trap precisely. 'Why us?' was the best he could produce. Rather lamely.

Hawke's smile was sweeter than honey. 'Because you are our best friends.'

'Why not Aveline? She's practically your sister!' Varric recognized he sounded as if he was trying to find a way out, which was pretty much the truth, and the worst part was, he didn't have a clue out of what.

'That's true,' Hawke nodded gravely. 'But she will be too busy with overseeing the Guard of Honour.' At this, Fenris found himself having major troubles with smothering an upcoming hearty laugh. Only Marian's fingers pinching his knee withheld him from bursting out in loud and public amusement. 'Not that we want any of that kind of nonsense, of course, but she insists,' Hawke went on, always with that godsdamned calm, near serene, expression. 'And you know as well as we do, you better not thwart her.' She persisted in her honeyed smile.

Varric felt more uncomfortable with the minute. He didn't trust her smile, he didn't trust the elf's unperturbed face, he didn't trust any of the words that were spoken. But he couldn't put his finger on whatever sore spot there would be, even though all his senses screamed this was the final and utter payback. He came no further than a week, 'Does Rivaini know?'

'No,' Hawke said, 'but we intend to ask her tonight, and we won't take "no" for an answer. She won't object.'

'I already figured that,' Varric mumbled, defeated, although he didn't know what kind of battle he had been fighting. He drank the last of the excellent wine and rose from the sofa. 'I, er,' he stuttered, 'I have some business to tend to. See you tonight, I suppose.' And again he got enveloped in Hawke's far too sugary smile. He fervently wished he'd know what she was up to, but he couldn't think of anything disastrous. Perhaps I'm developing some kind of nasty paranoia, he thought reluctantly, and I'm just fooling myself. But he couldn't shake off the feeling he was walking into a trap with open eyes.

Fenris managed to hold back his mirth until the front door clicked shut. After that he burst out in a fit of laughter. 'And you thought you played your best role in the Hanged Man? I admit I wasn't able to admire that particular part, but nevertheless I deem this was you best performance ever!'

Hawke grinned gleefully. 'According to the dwarf's worried expression, I think he suspects something awful. And, oh, how he's right!'

'You should keep Aveline out off his path, before he starts to ask tricky questions.'

Marian's grin widened. 'I think that specific obstacle is efficiently tackled. The name's Donnic. The scene: a wrecked Captain's office, holding two people worked up like a couple of teenagers in heat. I reckon they won't be able to speak coherently for quite a while. Let alone allow Varric to interrogate them.'

Fenris stunned look was priceless. 'Meaning..?' he finally managed.

'Ah, yes, I haven't yet had the chance to tell you about that. Let me refill your glass. You're going to like this.'

Only much later Varric wondered why Hawke and Fenris had insisted on a ceremony in the Keep. It didn't make any sense at all. Why drag the Viscount into their affairs? He knew for certain Hawke despised the man as much as she did the Chantry. But by then it was already too late to turn the tables.

Merrill lifted her hips to drive his fiercely pounding cock deeper inside her. She made all kinds of keening sounds that aroused him even more. Not that he needed more encouragement. Maker, he had missed this! The smell of a female body connected with his, the feeling of hot passion, of the sweet wetness he now slid through, the slick sweat covering glowing skin, the fingers and nails that left stamps and scratches on his back, breasts moving with the rhythm of love-making, exposed erect pink nipples, just a nibble away, lips against his throat, teeth biting his shoulder... His breath went fast and intense; he tried to postpone the ultimate moment, to cling onto this perfection forever, or at least for a while more, but he knew he couldn't hold it off much longer. He groaned her name.

And she came in a glorious orgasm that turned her face into the most beautiful ecstasy he had ever witnessed and made her body twist and shiver. Her sheath contorted powerfully and milked him dry. In an immense outburst he emptied himself in her dripping heat. Their mutual strident cries of elation mingled and wrapped around them before the sounds rose to the ceiling. The muscles in his arms trembled and then failed him; he couldn't prevent collapsing on her small, slim body. He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. 'I think –' he began but she immediately cut him off.

'Don't speak,' she whispered.

And she was right, of course. He shouldn't spoil this with words.

He lay awake for hours, holding her in his arms, trying to make sense of what had happened. When, for Andraste's sake, had he fallen in love with her? How? Why? She was a blood mage! He was a Brother of the Faith! This couldn't last. He should climb out of this bed right now, perhaps leave a note to explain it had been wonderful but was never to be. Instead he fastened his grip. She let out a small contented sigh and sleepily kissed his chest. It brought him near to tears. No, she was no cheap fling, no means to satisfy his dormant desire. That would have been the case in his old days, the days of drinking and whoring and never remembering the name of the girl he woke up next to. The days he had mindlessly spent with only satisfying his contemptible cravings. The days before his father had got fed up with him and had grabbed him by the scruff and dumped him in Kirkwall's Chantry.

Not this time. It was, in fact, impossible, but he couldn't deny it. He loved her. He deeply and truly loved the small elf who was not only Dalish, and thus of a completely different faith, but a mage as well. A blood mage to boot. Although, and this was very clear to him, she was an elf, a mage, with a refreshing and original look upon the world. A look that made him reconsider so many seemingly indisputable facts. Like she had done this very day.

He was starting to think in circles, he knew it. He screwed his eyes shut and tried not to groan out loud. Tenderly his fingers wandered along the soft skin of her back. She responded with an almost purring sound and he had to smile. It was ridiculous, but he found comfort in her warm body, pressed flush to his.

Could it be he had fallen for her the moment he had met her, but hadn't recognized it? Hadn't want to recognize it because – yes, where to start?

In the end he fell asleep with the comforting thought the problem could wait. Come morning it would be as vast as it was right now. There must be a solution, however. Somewhere there must be a solution.

Believe me, this was as much a surprise to me as it must be to you. That's what you get when you let your mind go adrift... perhaps I should try it more often. I hope you liked it.

And, as always, thank you for reading!