Standard Disclaimer: Bioware owns all Dragon Age characters and in game content. I own the bits that are left.
Author's Note: This is one of those chapters that earn this story its M rating. Consider yourself warned.
Chapter 12 – Memories of Orlais
9:17 Dragon Age, Circle Tower, Lake Calenhad, Ferelden – 7 years after Neria (now 7) was found
"When are you ever going to come clean about your time in Orlais?" Ines grumbled while sprawled on the chaise lounge that Wynne had shipped especially from Orlais. It was the only two ornate pieces of furniture in her room. The other was a dressing table with a gilded mirror that Wynne was currently sitting in front of going through her standard ritual of placing creams on her face, hands, elbows and legs in preparation for bed.
"You may not like the story, Ines." Wynne swirled on the little cushioned seat she was perching on. "It does not have a happy ending." Her eyes grew dark with tremulous emotions as she gazed unwaveringly at Ines. "There may also be some elements in there that you would not like given your current situation."
Ines' eyes grew round. "You are not getting away this time. Not after that cryptic statement. I have told you all about my promise with Greagoir. It's time for you to divulge yours." Ines tentatively asked, not wishing to probe in case it was still too painful for Wynne to speak of it. "Unless it's still too painful for you? If it still hurts, I can wait."
"Yes, it still hurts." Wynne swivelled back to the mirror, her eyes were cast downwards not meeting Ines' in it and fiddling with the signet ring she now wore on her ring finger. The mask that she had put on to face the world again was starting to crack at the love and concern in her friend's voice. Her voice was anguished as she asserted. "Maker knows it may always hurt Ines. It's like there's a hole in my heart where he used to be."
"He? I don't suppose you mean Irving?" Ines enquired, eyes widening. "There was another? I thought you loved Irving."
"Yes, I did. At that time I definitely did. But no, I am not talking about Irving." She rose from the lavish dressing table and went to incline on her bed. "It's a long story. I suggest you get comfortable."
Ines stared bemusedly at Wynne. Gesturing towards her current position on the chaise lounge, she drily remarked "If I get any more comfortable, I would be asleep."
-0-
9:10 Dragon Age, Circle Tower, Lake Calenhad, Ferelden
"First Enchanter Irving, I wish to accompany the Orlesian group back as Ser Marcel is still not ready for travel without a healer and Her Grace is anxious to return to Denerim. The Orlesian party does not have any mage with competent healing skills and have need of my skills." Wynne stated in a clear, even voice. She was very proud of herself in that moment. She would not give Irving the satisfaction of knowing that her heart was being torn into pieces inside.
One part of her wanted to rage at him, questioning how he could let her pursue him for eighteen years if he had no feelings for her. Another part just wanted to find a hole to crawl into and bury herself for all Ages. Yet another part that she totally did not recognise as herself just wanted to beg him to take her back, to hold on to their love. She clenched her fists behind her back and forced herself to calm down before she did something she would regret.
Irving looked up in astonishment from the book that he had not really been reading. His hands, which he had thankfully had the clarity of mind to hide under the table top, shook. "Is that really necessary? If it is, perhaps Beatrice could go instead. After all, you just came back. Why don't you take a rest and leave it to Beatrice?"
"No, it is my wish to accompany them. I would also like to see if Orlais would suit me. If I like it there, I would like to be transferred there permanently." Wynne continued in that level tone.
Irving clasped his hands tightly to still their shaking even as his mind raced for a reason to ask Wynne to stay. The only reason he could think of that would guarantee her agreement would undo the work he had committed to doing four nights ago. He cleared his throat before speaking but his voice still, uncharacteristically, came out in a squeak.
"Very well… If that is your inclination, let Beatrice know that she is to permanently take over your classes. Unfortunately, this would mean that she has to teach all classes for the schools of Creation and Spirit Healer. Assure her that I will see to it that she does not give more than two classes a day. We wouldn't want to overtax our sole remaining Expert Spirit Healer." He hoped against hope that this would be enough to give Wynne pause.
Unfortunately, it was not. "I will inform Beatrice then." Without another word, Wynne exited the First Enchanter's office.
Irving stood up to latch the door in a bid for privacy. He staggered back to his desk, placed his head in his hands and wept bitterly at the futility of his love and position.
Wynne looked back at the Circle Tower where she had lived most of her life. Twenty one years was a long time for a thirty year old. She did not know if she would ever see it again and she wanted to commit the image to her mind. All the memories, happy, sad and angry, flew through her mind like a play of someone else's life. She would not regret her life here. She would seek a new life in a different country and hopefully, find what she had been pursuing in Irving.
The moment that her treacherous mind formed Irving's name, her heart lurched in protest and tears started to fall unbidden from her eyes. She angled her face away from the others as if she was admiring the fluffy clouds, surreptitiously swiping her tears away. A plate armoured hand gently patted hers and she turned to see Marcel's concerned eyes on her. He looked torn and Wynne knew that he wanted to draw her close to give her comfort like he had in the infirmary. Unfortunately, they were not alone. Seven other templars and five other Orlesian mages made up their group. While Orlesians were more open with their affections, Wynne believed that they may still frown on a templar openly showing affection, however chaste, to a mage.
She made herself smile and turned back towards the fading landscape. She twisted her wrist so that their palms met and unconsciously sent a small pulse of magic to reassure him silently that she was fine. It was a trick within the Circle Tower that mages used to communicate silently due to the lack of privacy.
Marcel's loud hiss of breath and tightening grip startled Wynne out of her reverie. When she realised what she had unintentionally done, she risked a backwards glance at Marcel. His eyes were glazed and he seemed to be struggling with something.
"I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" Wynne whispered sheepishly.
Marcel cleared his throat once, then twice. It was after the third time before he could speak. "Yes, I'm… fine. It did not hurt if that is what you are concerned about." He gazed at her meaningfully. "What was that?"
"I was just telling you that I'm fine without speaking the words. It was something we did at the Circle Tower when we needed to speak but there were others around." Wynne peered up at Marcel through her long, luxuriant lashes. "You won't inform the order of this would you?"
"I'll keep it a secret, ma cherie, if you promise me something." Marcel replied very seriously.
"What promise do you need?" Wynne questioned curiously.
"Never do that to me again unless I specifically ask for it." Marcel declared quietly.
"That's a very strange request but I promise." Wynne frowned, more than a little confused.
Good… Marcel thought silently. Maker, how you test me. If she ever does it again, I don't know if I can resist ravishing her right where she stands like I have been wanting to since seeing her when I first awoke in the infirmary. It's like I'm still a teenager the way I react to her. But she hardly needs a templar pawing at her when her heart has been broken.
"Thank you, ma petite. I am greatly in your debt." Wynne just looked even more perplexed when Marcel patted her hand in assurance once more before withdrawing it hastily.
In deference to Marcel's health and some of the more elderly mages, the Orlesians had deemed it easier and faster to travel mostly by boat. The vessel they were currently on would drop them at the inlet where Gherlen's Pass met Lake Calenhad. Thereafter, they would cut across Orzammar to Jader then take another ship directly to Val Royeaux. Wynne thanked the Maker that she had prepared some of Ines' potion for her sea sickness. She had already embarrassed herself enough in front of Marcel. It would be the last straw if he were to see her hurl her stomach contents in front of him due to sea sickness.
The journey was much less gruelling than the one Wynne had taken from Highever to the Circle Tower. Not that she was not a good rider but there was something to be said about being able to rest and relax on a vessel that did not bounce or jot one's bottom, especially when inoculated against sea sickness. The close confines of the vessel also aided Wynne in getting to know the members of Orlesian party. However, old Sophie was the only mage friendly enough to do more than properly greet her.
"So… Why are you really accompanying us, Wynne?" Sophie enquired with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Ser Marcel looks to be in the pink of health, especially when you are around. You literally bring colour to his cheeks and light in his eyes." She tittered before her eyes widened at the bewilderment in Wynne's expression. "Ah… Poor Ser Marcel… You had no idea of his affections? Either he is doing a really poor job of making his case or you are blind."
"What are you talking about?" Wynne protested in a fluster. "He is like a younger brother to me."
"Ouch! A younger brother? You mean you don't even think of him as a man?" Sophie chuckled. "Oh, how unfortunate for Ser Marcel. He certainly does not think of you as just an elder sister. Have you seen how he lights up when you enter the gallery or when he comes on deck and you're there?" She peered intently at Wynne's astounded face. "You really should open your eyes and look, Wynne. Whatever it is you are running from, leave it behind and learn to appreciate what is around you before it's gone. If you don't seize the opportunity when it presents itself, it may just slip away from you and not be there for you any longer when you most wish to have it." Sophie smiled bitterly. "Ah… To be so young and so confused again." She patted Wynne on the shoulder before tottering to speak with another mage.
As Wynne watched Sophie, she caught Marcel's gaze on her. Unwittingly, perhaps due to the subject of the previous conservation, she blushed and started to turn away. However, something in Marcel's eyes caught her and she was unable to look away. Even with the distance between them, she sensed the heat in his regard. Her face grew warmer and Marcel broke off his conversation with his fellow templar in mid-sentence and strode purposefully towards her.
"What was that old gossip Sophie talking so spiritedly to you about?" Marcel asked. She had deemed it impossible but Wynne flushed further.
Marcel watched the colour rise in her cheeks in rapt fascination. His groin tightened as he imagined Wynne naked and flush with passion for him. Sweet Andraste! Now I can't even see her blush without thinking lewd thoughts. I need to just keep away from her. "Don't answer if it is a private issue, I don't wish to probe." He quickly turned on his heel and marched away in a fast pace.
Wynne found herself perplexed by the templar's strange behaviour. She really did not know what to make of it. Surely Sophie was mistaken with her assumptions. Her heart skipped a little beat as she glazed after the young, handsome templar who had offered her such comfort in the past five days. And if she's not? Wynne shook her head, dismissing the disconcerting thoughts before they could take root in her mind.
So much for being interested. Wynne thought as she stared at the back of the templar occupying her thoughts as they rode through Gherlen's Pass. Inwardly, she grimaced and wondered if Sophie had gotten to him and discomfited the poor man with her misguided attempt at matchmaking. Marcel seemed to be avoiding her as much as he could even before they had gotten off the boat at the inlet.
She found that she missed his teasing and comfort much more than she should have given that they have only known each other for, Maker, was it only six days? Less than a week and I'm already obsessed with thoughts of another man. Perhaps Irving was right. What I had for him is just a stupid schoolgirl infatuation. She furiously blinked back tears. No! I will not cry for him anymore! In a fit of pique, she drove her ankles into the sides of her horse and raced ahead of the front of the group.
She could hear shouts from the startled templars and caught Marcel calling her but she did not stop. Tears were running down her cheeks in spite of the internal pep talk she had given herself. She suddenly did not even care if she tumbled down the ravine. She just wanted the pain to stop.
Hoof beats were thundering towards her. In desperation, for she could not allow anyone to see her weakness, Wynne clamped her legs into her mare's sides again. Her mount took off as bidden, lengthening her strides to match the urgency in Wynne's demands.
"Wynne! Stop! What the Void do you think you are doing?" Marcel hollered, desperation clear in his voice.
It's Marcel! It's Marcel coming after her. Her heart lurched and her hands instinctively pulled up her mount. She slowed and swiped her hands furtively across her eyes, hoping that he was not close enough to see but had no way of knowing as she was blinded by her tears.
"Wynne." The plaintive tone in his voice told her that he had indeed seen her tears. He drew up beside her and gently turned her face to him. She blinked, hoping against hope to stay her traitorous tears. He dismounted and tugged her down into his arms. Her arms went around him intuitively and she laid her head on his cold breast plate.
"It hurts, Marcel. Maker, it hurts so much. Make it go away. Please make it go away before I drown in the darkness." She beseeched and wept distraughtly, her entire body quavering with sobs.
Marcel's arms came around her, tentatively at first and then tightened when her cries just worsened. "Don't cry, ma cherie. Please… Don't cry. I can't bear to see you like this." Frantically, he started making soothing motions on her back. When Wynne just kept on weeping, he desperately started to kiss the top of her head. "Mon amour, please you are tearing me up inside with your tears."
Wynne paused to gaze with incredulity up at him. "Why should it matter to you?"
"Why?" A harsh bark of laughter escaped from Marcel's lips. Pressing Wynne against him, he huffed out "This is why." and proceeded to crush Wynne's surprised lips against his.
Wynne was too shocked to react. She did not know if she should be pulling him closer, even though they were already in a very intimate embrace, or push him away. When she froze, Marcel's lips gentled on hers and he murmured. "Petite amie, let me in. Let my love take away your pain." Wynne gasped at his words and Marcel took the opportunity to slide his tongue in to tangle with hers, the world halted and all sound was silenced as he explored her mouth and she, hesitantly, his. There was only Marcel and her, their tangle of tongues, the kiss heating them up without any external aid. All else ceased to exist or mean anything. There was only bliss and Wynne's hands rose spontaneously to tangle in Marcel's light brown hair while Marcel moaned and hugged her even closer, disappointed when he could not feel her due to his plate armour.
It was never like this with Irving. As the thought broke through the haziness of her stunned mind, she gulped in shock and shoved him away as hard as she could.
They were both panting from lack of breath. Marcel watched her like she was some frightened animal that he was wary of startling. Unbidden, her trembling fingers touched her lips where his were so recently. She turned away from him not knowing what to say, wanting to calm her racing heart and failed to see the hurt expression that crossed Marcel's face.
Hands seized her shoulders and gently turned her around. He took in her heaving chest and dumbfounded appearance, hugged her close and murmured "Is he really so great a man that I cannot even replace him just for a second?"
Wynne shook her head in denial of him being a replacement or just an anything but Marcel mistook it for her answer to his question and let her go in resignation. "I apologise for imposing myself on you while you were so distressed." He intoned formally and refused to look at her. His hands caught her by the waist and lifted her as if she weighted nothing and settled her on her horse before mounting his. "Come, we should return before the others think to come and seek us."
Without a backward glance, Marcel wheeled his horse and galloped back in the direction of the pass and group. Wynne's mind was in too much of a turmoil to do more than follow him.
What in the Void have I done? Wynne's mind was overwhelmed with the thoughts of the kiss shared with Marcel and what it meant to her. Even though she had been sexually intimate with Irving, kissing him had always been a peaceful, gentle and sweet gesture of affection.
There had been nothing peaceful, gentle or sweet about Marcel's kiss. In fact, just thinking about it wreaked havoc on her senses. She remembered the feeling of wanting to melt into his arms and she had felt never, ever felt that way with Irving. Is Irving right? Was what I had for him just a crush gone too far?
She gazed wistfully at the subject of her swirling thoughts. Marcel had not spoken to her since the kiss and had avoided her as much as he could without it being too obvious to the others in the group. When he did speak to her, he was stiff and very formal, just like any other templar in the group. Her heart ached at his behaviour but she knew it would not be fair to him if she did not sort out her thoughts before she confronted him about the kiss.
She had left a letter for Irving just before she left. In it, she had thrown her pride to the winds and begged him to reconsider their love. In every village or hamlet they passed, she would press a silver into the courier's hand to deliver another letter with a similar plea to him. Now she did not know what to think. Have I wasted eighteen years on an infatuation? Yet on some level she could not deny that what she had felt for Irving had been as real to her as the kiss that she had shared with Marcel. So what is it? Is it possible to love two men at the same time? Am I a slut who loves any who kisses me? She snorted indelicately at that thought. She was starting to sound like Ines. How she missed her practical friend. She would have set her straight, mincing no words and sparing no feelings.
She looked around and found herself riding near the back of the group. Sophie had been observing her silently. Wynne shrugged inwardly and moved her horse nearer to Sophie's. Shyly, she asked "Senior Enchanter Sophie, I would like to seek your counsel on a matter."
Sophie raised a delicate brow. "Why the sudden formality, woman? Whatever you wish to ask, just ask. I believe I already have an inkling about what it is that is causing that perpetual frown on your face."
Taking a deep breath, Wynne's words came out in a rushed whisper. "Is it possible to love two men at once? If one makes you feel peace and sweetness while the other invokes fire and turbulence, is former better than the latter or is the former somehow lesser?"
Sophie raised both brows and cackled. When she finally caught her breath, she looked Wynne in the eyes and replied in a very serious tone. "We change, Wynne, we grow up. A baby only drinks milk, a toddler may take gruel but an adult needs a well-balanced meal of a variety of solid foods to live. They are all sustenance to us but at different stages of our lives. One is never lesser than the other at that period of our lives. However, I should think that an adult could not live just on milk alone and one definitely should not live on milk alone when there is other more delicious food around." She left Wynne to ponder on her words while she continued to chat with another elderly mage in the group.
Their journey through the mountain pass to Jader was thankfully uneventful. Wynne would not have been able to properly concentrate on any defences with the way her thoughts were squabbling in her mind. Sophie's words had hit her with the impact of a sledge hammer and she needed to be sure that was what she wanted before she took action. She was terrified of risking her heart again.
As they camped in a face of the mountain naturally sheltered from the winds, she searched for Marcel and did not find him. He's very definitely avoiding me. Her exasperation at this was so keen that she walked up to one of the other Orlesian templars and enquired on his whereabouts.
"Oh… He went to hunt with Adelard, Clotaire, Edmond, Gervaise and Louis." The templar, Juste, replied.
"He is supposed to take it easy on this journey. How is hunting taking it easy? Why was I not informed to examine him before he did this? If his injury relapses in a place like this, where are we going to find supplies to help him?" Wynne raged in full Spirit Healer mode.
Juste backed away from her ire. "He assured us that he was feeling very much in health."
"So has Marcel taken up lessons in healing that I was unaware of?" Wynne questioned sarcastically.
"No, of course he has not." The hapless Juste responded.
"Why then was his word accepted? The patient should not be allowed to say if he or she is fine. Only the healer can do this!" Wynne thundered. "He is to see me immediately… And I mean immediately when he comes back! Is that understood?"
Juste nodded meekly before the raving Spirit Healer. Wynne was a sight to behold when she displayed her temper. Everyone still in camp kept their distance from her as she fumed, setting up her tent with unnecessary force and throwing her backpack into it with blatant disregard to its contents in her fury.
She was worried sick by the time darkness had descended. Even though Marcel was fine on the outside, it was his internal injuries that made him still delicate. That had been the reason she had told him to take it easy for the journey back to Orlais. She could not believe that he would risk his own health like this. Her anger built up so much that when she saw the triumphant hunters returning with their catch, she waylaid him.
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" She bawled at him before, to her shame, bursting into tears.
Marcel stared at her, flabbergasted before murmuring softly "What did I do?"
Juste inched forwarded and hesitantly uttered "Apparently, you were supposed to get her permission before you could strain yourself by going on the hunt."
Marcel scowled. "I am not a child to be coddled. I will hunt when I wish to. I feel perfectly fine."
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say as fire literally burst out of Wynne's hands. Marcel instinctively performed a Holy Smite that sent Wynne flying across the camp.
Juste stared at him in total astonishment "What did you do that for?" before moving off to check whether Wynne had been injured. Marcel watched in horror as Wynne struggled to stand before sprinting towards her.
"Wynne, I'm so sorry." Gingerly, he helped her up, bracing her against himself then hastily distancing himself from her. "How are you?"
"How am I? How am I? Why don't you smite yourself and find out? If you can't do that, get one of your templar friends to do it. Oh for Maker's sake, the one time, the only time, I managed to conjure a flame blast and I get smote. Damn, idiotic templar." Wynne glowered irately at him. "Come into my tent. I need to examine you." She snapped before entering her tent muttering indignantly. "Of all the stupid, annoying things the man could do."
"Uh… Can't we do it out here?" Marcel enquired hesitantly.
"No, and let me tell you the reason before you ask. Because you smote me, I cannot use my magic to examine you from a distance so I will just have to rely on more traditional methods." Wynne responded in a loud, no nonsense voice. "So unless you are comfortable getting nude in front of everyone, I suggest you get in here now."
Marcel flushed slightly as snickers and titters made its way around the camp. He crawled into Wynne's tent and sat sulkily in a corner.
"Well, aren't you going tie up the tent flaps? Or do you enjoy exposing your manly parts for other's viewing pleasure?" Wynne said derisively.
Marcel flushed even further and hurriedly tied up the tent flaps as directed.
"And are you waiting for me to undress you or you can do it yourself?" Wynne rolled her eyes as Marcel turned beet red and hastily removed his breastplate. "The tunic too, then lie here." Wynne patted her bedroll while she stared unabashedly at the muscles on Marcel's torso. Her breath hitched despite her anger and she hurriedly laid out supplies she may need if the irritating templar should have somehow injured himself.
Marcel laid down semi-nude on Wynne's bedroll and took a deep breath to calm himself down. The scent of roses and vanilla invaded his senses, reminding him of how she felt in his arms, tightening his loins and caused him to give a pained moan.
Immediately, Wynne's hands skimmed his chest, probing gently. "Where? Where does it hurt?"
Marcel hissed and grabbed her wrists to stop her ministrations. "Stop! Just stop! I'm… fine." He gritted out tersely.
Wynne's eyes narrowed. She placed her palm flat on his forehead and did the same with her other hand before switching around. "YOU FOOL!" She cried in a livid tone. "You're burning up!"
For you, Wynne. Only for you. By the time he pulled his mind out of the gutter long enough to understand that Wynne thought he had a fever, she had already taken his tunic and covered him with it. Unfolding a thin blanket, she covered and tucked him into it before looking at him sternly. "You stay here. If you move an inch, so help me, I'll… I'll…"
"I'll stay, don't get so agitated, ma cherie." Marcel sighed as if greatly put upon.
"Agitated? Agitated? I'll give you agitated your infuriating man!" Wynne rounded on him. "You are burning up, you just smote me so I have no mana and no lyrium potions to help you bring your temperature down. What's not to get agitated about?" She untied the tent flaps. "You will stay there or so help me, I swear I will get agitated enough to throw a fireball at you."
By the time Wynne returned after getting a soup for Marcel, a piece of roasted deer for her own dinner and enough snow to last through the night, Marcel was asleep and starting to shiver.
"Wake up, Marcel." Wynne gently shook him. "You need to get something hot inside you."
Marcel opened his eyes and sat up dizzily before eying the bowl of soup. "If I'm sick, should you not feed me?" He teasingly enquired.
Wynne gawked at him before shrugging and ladling a spoonful of soup and bringing it to his lips. Marcel raised a brow, opened his lips and drank, all the while gazing intently at her.
She continued, nonplussed, until all the soup was gone before pushing him down to rest on her bedroll again.
"I can rest with the others." Marcel struggled to sit up against Wynne's insistent hands.
"I am not about to sleep with a group of templars. I will need to monitor your condition through the night so you just lie here and be a good patient before I lose my temper again." Wynne glared at him and Marcel gave in. "You may want to remove your templar skirt, gauntlets and boots to get comfortable." Wynne stated reasonably while taking out small linen cloths and placing them beside the pot of snow she had collected. Marcel dawdled a little before deciding that he did not wish to anger her again and removed all the pieces of his plate armour and templar skirt before lying back down drawing the blanket to cover himself.
Unfolding one of the linen cloths, Wynne placed some snow within it and folded the cloth around it. Gently, she placed it on Marcel's forehead. She found his eyes regarding her fixatedly. "Shh… Sleep… You need to rest to battle the fever. My mana should return in the morning so you just need to last till then before I will be able to fix you right up again." She tenderly closed his eyes and stroked his cheek. Marcel's breath caught and he covered her hand with his.
"Why are you so good to me?" Marcel asked in a small, quiet voice.
"I'm a Healer. It is my calling to care for my patients." Wynne answered automatically with the standard response they were taught to give before nearly wincing at the coldness of her tone.
Marcel dropped his hand and resentfully muttered without opening his eyes. "Yes, of course. What else could it be?"
Wynne sighed and continued patting his forehead without replying.
I must have fallen asleep. The ground that Wynne was lying on was shaking. She placed a hand on it to steady herself and nearly cried out from the unexpected heat searing her hands. She came fully awake and realised that she had been lying on top of Marcel. He had thrown off his blanket and was shivering violently even though he was burning up. Wynne anxiously covered him with the blanket and tucked him in but he still shuddered from the inner cold. She frantically sought to pull forces from the Fade to heal him but her mana was still drained and her powers were still unavailable to her.
What do I do? Wynne had never felt so helpless as a healer, having always relied mostly on her magic for healing. Thinking rapidly, she realised there was only one thing to do. She stripped him of his remaining clothes and her robes from her body. Plastering her naked body to his, she rearranged his limbs so that they were entwined with hers and she was securely in his arms before tucking the thin blanket around them. She caressed his cheek comfortingly and his tremors gradually gentled then ceased. Marcel heaved a great sigh, as if relieved, and tightened his arms around her. Wynne nestled comfortably in his arms and settled down to sleep.
The smell of roses and vanilla greeted his senses and he knew he was having one of those dreams again. He had been having them since that incredible kiss with Wynne. The warmth of her body almost seemed real this time. His hands relished the smoothness of her skin as he skimmed his hands up her side and along the contour of her breast. He tweaked her nipple and gave a low growl when it hardened. He lowered his head to take the tempting morsel into his mouth and murmured his approval at the gasp of pleasure his dream Wynne yielded. Fingers tugged at his hair as he continued his laving of one then the other breast, finally squeezing them together to lick in between the resultant valley.
The hitch in her breath urged him on and he moved one of his hands to the apex of her thighs and found her wet and ready for him. He groaned at the evidence of her desire for him and waited for his dream to end like it always did. He always woke up at this point, with an erection so painful that he had to guiltily take care of himself as if he was still a teenager. He had gone for the hunt hoping to work off some of his aggression but look where that had landed him.
He groaned out loud when a hand started to stroke his throbbing member. What in the Void? His eyes opened with a jolt. When he saw breasts in front of his face, he was so surprised that he pushed them away with both hands.
"Good morning." Wynne said in a sultry voice.
Marcel smacked himself to make sure he was not still dreaming and yelped in pain. Wynne raised an eyebrow while still stroking him deliberately. He grunted in protest and firmly drew her hand away. She pouted, licked her lips and Marcel lost all the breath he had in him. Waking up with a naked Wynne in my arms is literally a dream come true but what the Void is going on?
As he made to draw away from her, Wynne pressed up against him. He groaned in frustration as her hands again snaked down his stomach towards his erection.
"Wynne, I'm a man, ma cherie. If you don't want me, stop this torment. Please." He hated the sound of pleading in his voice but he would give anything to end this torture.
She just wiggled closed and started to fondle his sac. With a frustrated growl, he forcefully put her aside and searched wildly for his clothes.
Lips trailed kissed up the side of his neck and he moaned despite himself. She blew softly in his ear and he violently shuddered with the effort to keep his hands to himself. "Wynne, petite amie, please don't torture me like this. I can only be a gentleman to a certain extent. This would try the Maker himself."
"What if I don't want you to be a gentleman? What if I want you to be a lover? My lover?" Wynne asked with the calm of someone asking about the weather. She wanted Marcel. She knew what her mind, heart and body told her. Seeing his tousled hair, solid muscles, hard stomach and huge erection only made her desire him even more in a very physical sense.
"Well, I'm glad you understand… What?" Marcel turned to look at her fully and lost his breath again.
"Kiss me?" Wynne requested. She did not have to ask twice before Marcel pressed his lips on hers fervently. She parted her lips, invited him in and, as before, the world outside ceased to exist for them. There were only lips, hands, gasps, hisses, moans and groans. When Marcel finally sheathed himself in her, he knew bliss like never before. He caressed her nub, determined that she should achieve satisfaction before him and when she climaxed with a soft cry, contracting hard all around him, he could no longer control his feverish thrusts into her soft centre and exploded with a loud groan into sweet oblivion.
Fingers lightly stroking through Marcel's light brown hair woke him. Wynne placed a soft kiss on his lips, glancing shyly up at him. His heart was filled with a joy that transcended anything he had ever experienced and he unconsciously tightened his arms around her, wanting to extend this moment of simple delight.
"Good morning, my… love." Wynne cooed, stroking his cheek and smiling hesitantly up into his eyes.
"Good morning, petite amie." Marcel drew her into a deeper kiss. He noticed her uncertainty. However, he understood it. After all, she had her heart broken just barely a week ago. He smiled when he felt her soft gasp as his fingers trailed down her back to caress the curve of her derriere. He drew his hand forward intent on pleasuring her when booted footsteps stopped in front of Wynne's tent.
"Senior Enchanter Wynne, is Ser Marcel in good enough health to leave? We could camp here but we fear we may get snowed in." Edmond's came through the tied tent flaps.
Wynne heaved a sigh and gazed longingly at Marcel before she uttered exasperatedly. "Yes, yes, his fever has broken. Give us…" She broke off on a soft moan as Marcel drew one of her peaks into his mouth and suckled. She glared at him but he only released it to twirl his tongue around it with a merry twinkle in his eyes. "Give me some time to pack up. You'll see us when you see us."
It was nearly noon before Marcel and Wynne exited from Wynne's tent. Sophie raised a brow and ogled suggestively at Wynne. She blushed and the elder mage chuckled delightedly.
The rest of the journey passed in an exultant blur for Wynne. Throughout the journey, Marcel surprised her with gifts of mountain blossoms, wild berries and even, one time, a bottle of Orlesian wine. "Where did you get this?" Wynne enquired with avid curiosity.
"Adelard has quite a number in his pack. I bought this off him." Marcel answered with a cheerful grin. "Shall we share it this evening?"
Wynne nodded, all smiles. Marcel was openly affectionate and it seems that Orlesians were very much romantics at heart. They only faced knowing smiles and light teasing from the mages and templars but no censure.
His love for her was a balm to her soul and Wynne thanked the Maker each day that they had found each other. Days were light, sweet and joyous. Nights were loving bliss and ecstasy. With no trouble at all, they reached Jader and stayed at the largest inn there while waiting for a vessel spacious enough to comfortably accommodate all of them for a voyage to Val Royeaux.
Marcel excitedly pulled her to a room and threw open the door. Wynne could not help the gasp of disbelief when she took in the roses placed decoratively around the room. There were even rose petals on the large four poster bed situated in the middle of it. In front of the fireplace was an intimate dinner set just for two with fragrant warm bread, cheese, sweet meats, strawberries and melted chocolate.
"When did you have time to plan this?" Marcel privately felt that the pleasure in Wynne's eyes was well worth the ludicrous amount the inn keeper charged him to get it all setup in time.
"Ah… That is my little secret, ma cherie. It is impolite to ask how the gift came about. It should just be enjoyed." Marcel's eyes twinkled with his signature mischievous twinkle that Wynne had come to love.
"Oh, Marcel… This is perfect!" Wynne exclaimed as she walked into the attached bathing chamber and found hot water waiting with sweet smelling bath oils and salts.
"Don't I get any thanks for this?" Marcel teased as he kissed the back of Wynne's neck and drew her close.
Turning in his arms, Wynne smiled lasciviously up at him and murmured. "I will just have to spend all night thanking you for this wondrous gift won't I? Have I told you how much I love you?"
"Well, you may have neglected to say it the requisite ten times a day today." Marcel joked.
"Oh, I did, did I?" Wynne grinned. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you." Each statement was punctuated with a kiss to various parts of his body that she could reach.
Marcel's eyes darkened with desire. He picked Wynne up physically, placed her on the bed and growled. "Let's have dessert first."
At first when she spent the journey from Jader to Val Royeaux sick in her cabin even though she had consumed the Ines' sea sickness potion, she thought that she had somehow botched the recipe for the potion or the ingredients she had used were no longer potent enough for it to work effectively.
However, when they arrived at Val Royeaux and she still suffered from the bouts of heaving and could not keep food down, Marcel insisted that she examine herself with magic and she discovered she was with child.
She was deeply apprehensive about telling Marcel about it. By Chantry law, mages were not allowed to have children and most especially not with a templar. The templar in question would most certainly be stripped of his position, if not executed, while the mage would be forced to abort the child from her womb.
Marcel sat beside Wynne on her bed, took in the myriad of emotions flickering across her exquisite face and frowned in concern. "What is it, petite amie? You are not dying from some rare disease are you?" He joked teasingly and paled when Wynne raised her eyes to meet his. The torture, uncertainty and helplessness in her eyes froze his blood. He could not imagine what would cause such bleakness in his fierce, free-spirited love. "Please, it's not fatal is it? We just found each other. I can no longer live without you, ma cherie." He ardently grasped her in his arms. "How bad is it?"
"Marcel, I'm… I'm pregnant." Wynne whispered brokenly.
"Oh is that all… Wait… What?" Marcel shot up from the bed, his face blanched in shock. Wynne closed her eyes in despair.
"I could get rid of it…" Wynne muttered even as her heart tore at the words.
"I'm going to be a father?" The joy in Marcel's voice was so clearly evident that Wynne opened her eyes in astonishment. As he noticed her previous words, his face grew dark with fury. "You don't want my child?"
"No! Of course I want our child. It's just if we are found out, Marcel. At best, they will throw you out of the order, at worst, you could be killed. I can't do that to you." Wynne stood and hugged her beloved fervently. "I will do anything to protect you."
"Ah, ma petite, you always do things the wrong way around. It is I who will protect you and our enfant bien-aimé." A ferocious look came into Marcel's eyes. "Nothing can keep me away from you and ours, mon amour."
"But how?" Wynne asked despondently. "I'm still small now but in one or two more weeks, my condition will be very apparent and the questioning will start."
"One or two weeks, huh? Well, ma cherie, you always did challenge me like no other woman did." Wynne could see Marcel's mind working feverishly. "We, of course, cannot be here when that happens." He grinned brilliantly at her. "We will have to elope."
In the end, it had been unexpectedly easy to leave the White Spire and head towards Ghyslain where Marcel's eldest brother was lord. Wynne had been astounded when Marcel quietly informed her that his eldest brother was the Marquis of Ghyslain and loyal only to family. When Marcel had offhandedly remarked that he was a noble she had imagined him the son of a minor noble, perhaps a baron or a viscount. However, she realised that it all fit into how he behaved. His gentlemanly ways and noble bearing should have clued her in to his aristocratic ancestry. He assured Wynne that his brother would protect them from the Chantry when he learned that she was carrying his child.
He had lied outright to the Knight-Commander and claimed that his brother was ill and needed an Expert Spirit Healer with utmost urgency. Thus, it was that Wynne and Marcel were provided with horses and supplies for the journey to Ghyslain with the Divine's blessings.
While Wynne was not showing, they would stop at each Chantry along the way to rest and resupply. When her condition became apparent, Marcel presented her with a silk dress with a scooped neckline, empire waistline and shirred detailing along the sides from his saddlebag to change into. He similarly changed out of his templar armour into an embroidered silk shirt, tight leather breeches and waistcoat. It was all Wynne could do to keep her hands off him. Their progress from that point onwards was slow as Marcel sold their horses and hired a carriage for the remainder of their journey.
It was also at this point that Marcel gave her a simple gold signet ring. Marcel proudly informed her that the symbol was the heraldry of de Luciens. He slid it onto her ring finger and was delighted when it fit exactly. He grasped her hands in his and declared. "We will probably never be able to wed in a Chantry, Wynne. However, with this ring, I pledge my life to you. I will always be yours and I hope that you will always be mine too. In our life together I may anger you but know that I would not mean to. I may burden you but it would not be intentional. I may cause you pain but it will surely be unpremeditated. I wish to share in your joys, your tears and your burdens. I will love and honor you always. Will you do the same for me?"
Wynne was too overwhelmed to speak so she nodded exuberantly and kissed him passionately. When she finally found her voice, she affirmed. "I will, Marcel. I will." Throwing her arms around him, she laughed as she had never done before.
It was at Montfort when Wynne started to notice the quaver in Marcel's hands. She wanted to examine him but he laughingly assured her that he was fine. When he woke one morning blinking owlishly at her, fear blossomed and she grasped his face in her palms. "Marcel, what's wrong?"
"Ah, belle demoiselle, I must have drunk too much wine to forget your name." Wynne took a shuddering breath, shaking her head in denial while Marcel continued in obvious embarrassment. "Yes, it is the gravest crime to forget the name of such beauty especially when it is obvious that we have…"
Wynne shook like a leaf while she took his hand and placed it over the small bump on her belly. "Marcel, you are scaring me. What is wrong with you? We having a baby, remember? We are going to flee the Chantry and the Circle to live with your brother." Showing him the ring he had given her, "You gave me this, remember? Just a month ago."
Marcel's eyes flickered uncertainly and glazed over. Slowly, he shook his head and when he finally met Wynne's uneasy eyes, he cursed softly. "Ah, mon amour, I had not wanted to worry you." Marcel murmured as he drew her into a kiss. "It is the lyrium. I am having withdrawal symptoms. They are more serious than I thought they would be if I could not remember you." He sighed and rose to dress. "I have to have some soon. Perhaps in the next town I will ride in and ask for some at the local Chantry by myself."
"Lyrium? I don't understand Marcel. Why would you need lyrium? You are not a mage." Wynne blinked in utter confusion.
"Ma cherie, how do you think the Chantry controls the Order of Templars. Them a bunch of soft women and us all hard muscles and steel? It is through lyrium. We are fed this mineral at the beginning of our templar training to give us abilities to control mages. It is ironic that we in turn are controlled through our need to consume this poison. The longer we are in the order, the more of this drug we need to sustain our sanity." He sighed resignedly. "I have been taking it since I was sixteen. My daily fix is now almost as much as a lesser lyrium potion. I had run out a few days after we started travelling by carriage."
Wynne trembled in shock. "Is there any way to quit?" She asked in a small voice.
"Unfortunately, petite amie, most of those who tried ended up insane. My brother will know how to get his hands on some lyrium. Perhaps if I took lesser each day, I would be able to kick this addiction?" Marcel smiled encouragingly at her. "Don't frown. You need to be happy so that our enfant bien-aimé would be a happy baby."
Moving to her backpack set on the only table in the room, she drew out two potent lyrium potions and saw Marcel's eyes glaze over with need. "Take this. I took this from the store at White Spire. I still have some lyrium dust left and can make more."
In the end, they were three days away from Ghyslain when Marcel had consumed all the lyrium they had between them. He changed into his templar armour and kissed Wynne before going to the local Chantry to request for more with the official notice in his hands.
He hoped that the Sister in this Chantry would be kind enough to provide enough lyrium so that they did not need to make any more stops. So far, they have had no trouble in their journey and Marcel was thankful given Wynne's condition. He wanted to avoid anyone noticing he, while dressed as a templar, was in the company of a pregnant woman. Templars do not protect anyone other than mages or Chantry clerics. Wynne was very evidently neither.
Sister Clarice looked up from the notice that Marcel had handed to her in lieu of explanations for his request of supplies. "You have a Spirit Healer with you? How fortuitous! Mother Victorine has been so ill for so long. Our regular healer is unable to help her. Perhaps you could get the mage you have with you to come take a look at her while we prepare your supplies?"
Marcel grunted in apparent agreement while his mind worked quickly and formed the only rational decision. They had to get out of here before they were discovered. "May I have my notice back then?" Marcel extended his hand for the manuscript.
Sister Clarice stared at him intently before handing over the document to him. Marcel smiled graciously, bowed and left as quickly as he could without arousing suspicions. He did not succeed. Sister Clarice had watched his behaviour with narrowing eyes before signalling the templar guarding the entrance of her office. "Ser Stuart, please follow Ser Marcel to escort the Spirit Healer here. Bring all your man, just in case."
Ser Stuart nodded and marched off to gather his men. There was only one inn that the visiting templar could put up in. They did not expect much trouble finding him and the mage.
"Wynne!" Marcel called as he hurried into the room they were sharing and started to shove their any of their belongings left outside into their backpacks.
"Marcel? What are you doing?" Wynne sat up from the bed where she had been resting.
"We need to leave now. The Sister wanted you to look at the Mother of the Chantry here. She is apparently sick and beyond the aid of their regular healer." Marcel tugged her off the bed and pulled Wynne hastily out the door. They were descending the staircase of the inn when Ser Stuart and his men entered the small village inn.
"Ser Marcel. Is this the Spirit Healer? I see Sister Clarice was overly suspicious in thinking that you would somehow not bring the mage to us." Ser Stuart stated bemusedly. Marcel was blocking their view of Wynne so the other templars were not able to see her pregnancy.
Whispering softly to Wynne, "Leave the fighting to me, petite amie." He focused his energy and released a Holy Smite on the group of templars gathered in front of the entrance and grasped Wynne's hand tightly before running towards the back one.
Groans could be heard from several of the templars. However, Marcel could also hear the sound of swords leaving their sheaths. He cursed softly and pushed Wynne in front of him. Kissing her quickly, he shoved her out of the back door with the hastily worded "We'll meet at Ghyslain" before drawing his own greatsword to defend his love from the encroaching templars.
He heard Wynne hammering at the door. "GO!" He roared as he rushed at the leader of the group. Through the clang of steel, he indistinctly heard the sound of the door opening and distractedly looked back to see Wynne re-entering the inn. He growled in frustration while instinctively parrying his opponent's strikes. He saw the horror in Wynne's eyes but could not turn around in time to defend himself before a dragonbone longsword skewered him from behind.
Wynne screamed in abject outrage and for the first and only time in her life threw a fireball at the hostile templars. She was immediately smote and she fell on her hands and knees for a moment before she desperately crawled towards Marcel who had crumpled to the ground and was lying in a growing pool of blood.
She pulled him into her arms and struggled to pull the Fade to her to heal the gaping wound in Marcel's torso but she had been thoroughly drained by the smite. "Lyrium! I need lyrium! Please! Give me lyrium! I have to heal him. He is dying!" The templars surrounding them looked uncertainly at Ser Stuart for direction.
"No, how do I know if you will use the lyrium to heal or to disable us mage?" Pointing to the templars who had been injured by her fireball, Ser Stuart furiously denied her plea. "We will not provide you any further means to harm others."
"PLEASE! He is a templar!" Wynne begged as she had never done before, tears flowing freely from her eyes. "Please…"
Marcel raised a hand to cup Wynne's cheek tenderly. "Mon amour, don't beg them. I will not have my proud Wynne begging anyone for my life." Blood started to flow out of his mouth.
"I regret that I can no longer be with you to protect and cherish you. I will miss the birth of our child too." He sighed and Wynne could hear how difficult it was for him to draw breath. "Take good care of yourself and our enfant bien-aimé. I love you, petite amie. I have loved you since I first woke to see you in tears over a man foolish enough to let you go. I'm glad that I, at least, gave it all I've got before I'm forced to leave you. Tell our enfant bien-aimé that I love him or her too."
He urged her closer and placed a light kiss on her lips, staining them with his blood. He smiled his last smile up at her with his signature twinkle in the eyes. "I'll wait for you in the Fade, ma cherie. Just don't come too soon? I'm sure you have other more important things to do with your life than meet up with an old lover in the Fade." He coughed, grimaced and gazed lingeringly at her. "Pourquoi pleurez-vous, mon amour? Déchirures ne sont pas pour l'un aussi belle que vous." His fingers gently wiped her tears away before falling into the scarlet pool.
"NO! Marcel! NO!" The ground started to shake with the magnitude of Wynne's anguish but abruptly stopped when she fell into oblivion after being smote again.
Translations
Ma cherie – My darling
Ma petite – My sweet
Mon amour – My love
Petite amie - Sweetheart
Enfant bien-aimé – Beloved child
Belle demoiselle – Beautiful young lady
Pourquoi pleurez-vous, mon amour? Déchirures ne sont pas pour l'un aussi belle que vous. – Why do you weep, my love? Tears are not for one as beautiful as you.
Author's Notes
As requested by Sandrial Tsubasa and Corea and because Wynne and Marcel insisted on having their story told, here it is.
I would like to thank Sandrial Tsubasa, Nocterayne and Corea for your continual support. Thank you. :) It really lights up my life to know that there are people out there like you who like what I write.
Livinginwonderland87, thanks for placing this story in your list of favourites.
It really gladdens my heart when I receive notifications of people reviewing, adding me to their list of favourites and/or putting me on their alert list. Thank you all so much for your support, it helps to keep me writing. :)
I would also like to thank all the silent readers of this story.