The Rogue's Conquest
Chapter Seven
"How the mighty have fallen!"Marian fussed to the walls of the Rose. "When the famed Champion of Kirkwall, must slither like a snake in the grass, to get some semblance of privacy." All day she'd felt that hair-raising feeling of being watched. That feeling that made a person so paranoid they began to believe everyone around them had an agenda against them. Marian knew it was a narcissistic paranoia of course. The people of Kirkwall, and even the Templar scum, had much more to be focused on than what type of bread she'd bake this morning. Still, Marian moved silently toward the rear doors of the Rose, toward the stable only a stretch away. At the door she scanned the cold streets, her eyes darting back and forth, then back again, as if awaiting an attack from the abominable snowman at any moment. Seeing nothing extraordinary she stepped out into the stable yard. The sun was beginning to set leaving odd, monstrous like shadows in its wake. Marian pulled her cloak tighter bout her shoulders, bracing herself against the wind as she walked the ten, long strides it took to reach the stable doors.
The stable was her favorite place in the whole world. She'd renovated it from a simple paddock with standing shelter, to an actual barn. A huge, red structure, with black shutters and high peaked ceilings, made of sturdy oak, exactly like the farm her parents had rented in Lothering. Only she'd made her version BIGGER! A two leveled beast. The second floor's three massive rooms was a definite upgrade. In one room she stored the bales of hay and grain, in another was an area to store saddles, bridles, halters, leads, grooming gear anything and everything one would need for riding. Her stable hand also kept a room on the second floor, though he seemed to prefer being on the first with the horses. The first floor was just as impressive, with gigantic, individual stalls, enough to house ten full time boarders and another fifteen for weary travelers. Attached behind the barn was an enclosed, sandy structure, built for indoor riding, competitions and her annual solstice rodeo. Though with the Divine's dogs in the city there'd be no rodeo this year. The barn, much like the rest of the town, had cleared out faster than Marian could blink, leaving only her personal horse and a slew of Templar beasts, gigantic animals, with heads the size of an ogre's thigh and hooves bigger than dinner plates. Never in her life had Marian seen horses so big, they made her accommodations look menial in comparison.
The iridium pulleys groaned over metal rails as Marian slid the heavy door to the left, opening it just enough for her to slip in. Taking one last look over her shoulder to be sure she hadn't been followed, she slid the big door shut behind her. Leaning her back on the wooden frame she inhaled deeply; relishing in the familiarity the musk of the hay brought her. Her ears twitched to the symphony of nickering, stomping, tails swishing, water buckets sloshing, crunching and munching. Horses called to her for extra grain, others let her have it for interrupting their sleep. Ordinary sounds that brought her a measure of calm, acting as a balm for her stressed nerves.
"M'lady?" Cricket, her trusted stable hand, appeared in front of her, eyes wide, pitchfork at the ready. His eagerness to defend her barn and the horses that resided within was her reason for adoring him so loyally.
"Aye, it's just me Cricket. No need to fear." She soothed, placing her hand on the younger man's shoulder, allowing warm, tranquillizing sparks to move from her body to his.
"S-Shall I… Umm, do you want Casey saddled, mum?" He floundered, melting into Marian's touch.
"No, not tonight Cricket, I-" BANG, the Nevarran mare in question interrupted, slamming her body into her stall door. It was a clear declaration of discontent against Marian's refusal of a nights ride. The alpha mare's outburst caused a chorus line of disgruntled nickering. "Calm yourself Casey." Marian chuckled, swaying away from Cricket, to the sleek, auburn mare. "It's far too dangerous with all these Templars about, my dear Casey. What if our allies mistake us for one of those black-hearted rakes? We'd be blasted on sight." Unleash hell first... Ask questions later, wasn't that the new motto?
"Nay, mum! Riding on Casey's back with you at the reins, not even the fastest bowmen, or arcane mage would catch the two of you." Cricket said dreamily, admiration for both her and Casey written all over his young features. "Perhaps, though you should relay how hazardous to one's health a Kirkwall night can be, to that gorilla of a Knight-Commander, you have housed."
"Knight-Commander Vael?" Marian asked, looking toward the stall beside Casey's, where Sebastian's stallion had been earlier, attempting to romance the mare with gifts of his hay over the side of her stall. Charming beast, just like his master.
"Aye, mum. And he looked madder than a wet hen sitting on a cold egg."
"Did he ride out alone?" She asked with feigned disinterest, stroking underneath Casey's thick, black mane, the mare nuzzling Marian's other hand.
"Aye, barely gave me time to ask what he wanted saddled for his men." Fool! What in the Black Divine was Sebastian thinking? "Lady Hawke? You alright, mum? You're white as a sheet. Looks like you've seen a ghost." Cricket asked his expression worried. Shaking herself, she pressed a smile on her face, masking her fears.
"It's just been a long day Cricket." She said chucking the young man under the chin, and giving him a wink. "Any ways, if that foolish Templar thinks it a good idea to ride around Kirkwall alone, at night, who are we to tell him otherwise?" She paused. "But Crikiebug, don't question him and keep his leaving between us. Okay?" Marian pushed, not entirely sure why she cared.
"Mhmm. Will do Mum." The boy answered, though Marian didn't miss the suspicion that lurked upon his face. Balls.
7-7-7
Sebastian came to in a rush. The world around him was a foggy haze, as if he'd smoked too much piped Spindleweed. The ground below him spun out of control, leaving his confused mind skittering around like a scared rabbit. Questions he couldn't answer fired, one after the other. Where was he? Where were the flashes of white, hot pain coming from? Who was this strange woman chattering to? For that matter who was the strange woman? Slowly, his vision began to clear, his surroundings coming into rapid focus. Before his eyes a grand chantry stood, gloriously lit by the full moon. So I'm dead then… How… Unexpected. Returning to the Maker was always an obvious plan, though Sebastian never assumed their meeting would be so soon. Still so much left undone. Sebastian's jaw clenched tight, a haunting image of fiery hair and supernatural eyes danced in front of him. He'd never learn the fine Lady Hawke's smile. Nor would he uncover her mysterious secrets. And he'd certainly never get to understand why not knowing those things, made his insides ache. Please not yet…Wait. Is the strange woman laughing at me? Had he been speaking out loud?
Sebastian blinked rapidly, squinting his eyes in an attempt to clear the haze so he could focus on the dark angel guiding his stud's reins. Her hair was the color of night and it drifted down her back like smoky tendrils, reaching just above a black corset, tightly cinching her slim waist. Her white tunic stood out brightly against her coffee coloured skin. Her neck and ears were adorned in elaborate gold jewels, a direct contrast to the simple red scurf wrapped around her battle toned bicep, the favour worn proudly, like a badge of honor. Sebastian's further scrutiny of the strange woman had him whistling in a sharp intake of breath, his eyes landing on the curvy sway of her pants less hips. No pants?! Being called to the Maker's side, was becoming more unexpected by the minute.
"What's your name?" Sebastian croaked his mouth too dry to ask anything more. She laughed merrily, a throaty, well-practiced sound, but didn't respond or acknowledge him further. Shifting his weight, he tried to swing from the saddle, only to be met with a screeching chorus of furious pain; it shot through him, dizzying his vision once more.
"I wouldn't suggest moving about so much, sweet thing." The dark angel finally spoke. Her exotic cinnamon and spice voice, reminding him of his time spent in Rivain. "You're not dead… Yet, But that arrow looks to be precariously close to the heart. I'd wager my precious gold collection that any sudden movements will end you."
"Where am I? Where are you taking me?" Sebastian asked, trying to fight back the black stars that flitted about his vision. "What's your name?" Silence. "Maker be damned woman, answer me!" Sebastian snapped, her silence unsettling him.
"By the Gods!" She snarled in return, "For a man so close to kissing the Reaper, you, Serha, ask a lot of bloody questions. I think I liked rescuing you better when you were unconscious." She finished, with a heated purr.
"Humph, rescuing me you say? How do I know, you're not the one who shot me in the first place?" Sebastian baited, hearing the metal, of what he assumed to be a tongue ring, click against her teeth. Shooting a look over her shoulder, she measured him thoughtfully.
"It's real simple Knight-Commander," she paused, her chocolate eyes deadly. "I wouldn't have missed your heart." She smirked then, his dusky savior, giving him a hint of pearl white teeth, but the menacing set in her eyes remained and Sebastian was completely convinced she'd have taken him in one shot. Had she been the archer he wouldn't have known he'd been hit.
With an annoyed sigh, the strange angel brought his great stallion to heel, whirling around to face him fully. "Since you've been such a good kitten, I'll answer your questions. I'm Isabela… Captain Isabela, actually." She stated proudly. Crossing her arms under her barely covered breasts, she silently challenged him to question her…
Another Kirkwall captain… Maker these women! Sebastian chose to stay quiet.
"We learn quickly I see, Good boy." She drawled, beaming a wide smile his way. "Let's see here, you, are in Kirkwall… I'm taking you back to the Rose and I assume you can see for yourself that you've been nailed with an arrow?"
"You should take me to the Knight-Vigilant. We've brought our own doctors." How would he explain to Cullen why he was out riding alone? "Foolish."
"Aye, you do, Orlesian doctors, sweet thing. They're pampered, prissy and have likely never tended such a wound. They'd never get that arrow out of you." She said inclining her head to his chest, then back to his face and shrugged. "At least not with you still breathing. Nope, there's only one person I know who can retrieve that arrow, while you still live." She stated matter-of-factly.
"I'm supposed to trust you then, Isabela? You and this mystery person?" Sebastian asked skeptically.
"From where I'm standing sweet thing, you don't have much of a choice. Do you want to live, or do you want to die?"She paused, only long enough to let her words wash over Sebastian. "You see, here in the dark, my presence is the only thing keeping angry Kirkwallers, from descending upon your wounded, Templar ass, like the vultures they are. This may come as a shock to you." She said, cupping her hand to the side of her mouth, as if to whisper a privileged secret to him. "But the people here aren't real big fans." Her hand drifted from her mouth to point towards his chest. Her head tilted slightly and she clucked her tongue. "Obviously." Turning on her heel, she jerked hard on the stallion's reins, lurching Sebastian forward. A string of profanities left his mouth in waves as the pain shot through him. And as she laughed jovially at the suffering she caused him, Sebastian again wondered what had happened to the infallible, armor of charm he had once had with the fairer sex. "I've also wagered good gold on you. If you were to die I'd lose. Varric would never let me live it down, that dwarf can be an incredibly sore winner." She spoke wistfully, more to herself than to him. "Hawke would also murder me if I let you die."
"Why would Lady Hawke care if I met my Maker?" He questioned, the curious way his heart leapt at the mention of Marian Hawke not lost on him. "She certainly doesn't seem to care for me much."
"Hmm?" Was all the Captain murmured, her hand slowly stroking up his stud's neck, tangling his thick, onyx mane in her hand. Recognition erupted through Sebastian, his blood shooting straight down to his cock. His body thrummed to life, as the diabolical images of Isabela, fisting scarlet locks, in place of onyx, cascaded in a fluid stream about his scrambled brain... "So you do remember!" Isabela laughed. How did she know where his thoughts had strayed? "You know, when a lady goes the full monty for a man and he doesn't recognize her once she's clothed, feelings tend to get hurt." Sebastian felt his jaw drop. She should be trying to pluck his eyes out with a rusty ice pick. What in the Maker's name was this breezy nonchalance?
She must be mad!
"What?" She asked, looking at him as if he was the one with a case of the crazy. "Do you honestly think that you're the first ever to catch me," she smiled, a sly, crooked half moon. "Arling my Eamon?"
-"Well no …But."
-"Praising Hawke's Maker?"
-"You… How?"
-"Groping her grinder?"
-"I didn't-"
-"Pampering her Paragon?" Isabela glanced over her shoulder "Shall I keep going? I have dozens of these." Meeting Sebastian's stone, shocked face, Isabela gave him a cocky smirk. "Better yet Knight-Commander." She whispered conspiratorially. "Do you believe that was the first time Marian has ever been caught satisfying a demand of her Qun?" Her dark orbs glittered with fiery mischief. This femme fatale had to be irrevocably mad.
Completely insane! And he was lucky enough to be left in her daggered clutches… Beauty.
7-7-7
MAARRIII!" The pirate queen's voice vibrated through the stable, jolting Marian from her peaceful sleep. Her furry, auburn pillow groaning in contempt at being woken from her slumber
"Shh, Casey girl, you know Bela can't control herself." Marian soothed, lightly petting the white, diamond shape between the mare's eyes. Gently she raised her faithful friend's soft, fleshy nose to plant a kiss.
"MARCO!" Bela howled.
"Polo," came a drunken man's voice in response.
"I'm not looking for you goose." Marian could hear Bela tease her drunken conquest. "Hawke seriously! I have a pressie, made especially for you! You're gonna LOVE it!"
"That's never a good thing." Marian grimaced, smoothing the tuft of mane between Casey's eyes, before getting up from her warmed spot in the straw. "Last time she gave me a present 'I would love,' I ended up in Tevinter's market square, wearing nothing but slave cuffs and a smile. Imagine, Case, trying to explain you're Kirkwall's Champion not a slave, to drooling magister's whom wish to purchase you." She rubbed her wrists at the memory, chattering to her sleepy, uninterested mare. "Goodnight my sweet." Marian murmured, and bent to stroke the horse's hoof, before turning from the mare and exiting the stall quickly, wanting to stop Bela's drunken shouting, before she woke all of Kirkwall for the thousandth time.
"Honestly Isabela! I'm beginning to think you have no idea…" Marian's steps halted, her words dieing away. That's not a drunken conquest! She slid the stable door shut without blinking. The sight of Sebastian's broad chest draped over his stallion's powerful neck. "Oh Gods no!" Marian gasped, her eyes followed the dancing feathers of the arrows fletching as it blew gently in the wind. Her heart, had it stopped? Was that the frightful feeling that ripped through her chest? She felt lightheaded, panic for him constricting her throat as a boa would its prey. "W-W-What, the hell is going on B?" Marian asked, only able to push out a whisper around the tight fear that tried to strangle her. "Is he…" She stopped, licking her lips unable to say it. Dead. He can't be dead… Please don't let him be dead!
"Relax sweet thing," Bela soothed, as if she could read Marian's racing thoughts. "Captain Izzy doesn't give away dead things."
7-7-7
"You speak as if I am not here, Isabela." Sebastian said, keeping his tone conversational. He'd been watching Marian through slit eyelids, feigning unconsciousness, needing to know if Isabela spoke any truth about Lady Hawke's fear for him. Though now that he saw her beautiful face twisted in fear, guilt bowled him over. With great effort, he forced himself to raise high on his studs back, tossing her as charming of a smile as he could muster. Her face immediately turned to a cold mask, but the nervous fingers that plucked at a piece of straw in her hair betrayed her, and made his jaw clench, his fist tightening around bits of his stallions mane. Who had she lain with in that stable? Another lover perhaps? Jealousy toiled for reasons Sebastian didn't want to comprehend. What she did. Or who for that matter was none of his business. But still he couldn't keep the dark thoughts at bay, the things he'd do to the man if he ever met him. Wincing Sebastian swung his leg over his horse and slid to the ground, the impact jarring like a jolt straight to his arm and chest. Vile curses rapidly slipped from his mouth. The pain skyrocketed to a fever pitch, nearly knocking him out.
7-7-7
Pushing herself off the stable door, Marian gave her skirt a self-conscious pat down before moving toward the wounded Vael, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She'd been preparing for their next meeting all evening long, going over one scenario after another with Casey. Though she'd never expected this. Or that even wounded as he was, he'd still make her as nervous as a mouse trapped in a snake enclosure. She almost smiled when she heard the muttered oaths that slipped from him, for the very human pain behind it made him somehow seem less daunting
"Where's my man?" He asked, as Marian came to stand beside him. His helm was missing; his previously neat hair was now wind whipped and sat tussled around his face, dashing and dangerous. What Gabriel asked of her, she thought woefully, catching a glimpse of his dancing, turquoise lovers. Oh what you ask Gabe! "Your Knight-Corporal?" She asked, as aloof as she could. "I sent him to bed." Sebastian wheeled around to face her, his long, white cloak swirling around him.
"You'd no right to do that. Keran reports to me, not you." She felt his body heat when he moved closer to her, his breath caressing her cheek. Mostly though Marian felt the tension humming between them, its electric spark made the air around them sizzle and crack.
"I've every right, when he's cluttering up my kitchen, putting himself in the way of my chef. I sent him to bed a few hours ago, along with my own staff. We had few customers this eve thanks to you, and I saw no reason to make them all wait up."
7-7-7
Damn this Hawke woman and her blunt audacity, Sebastian's mind groused. They'd been playing cat and mouse all day, the problem was he was the poor mouse, she the overzealous cat. "That still doesn't give you the… Give you the…" Maker, help him, he couldn't remember. All Sebastian knew now was that Marian Hawke suddenly had a twin, the ground shook and if he didn't sit down soon, he was going to fall down, here at her feet. He groped blindly for his stallion's strong body, his uninjured right side tangling clumsily in his cloak.
"Let me help you." Her tone softened. In an instant she was there at his side, her arm around his waist, guiding him through the kitchen door, helping him settle down on one of the oak chairs. "Here you are, no harm done." She whispered lightly.
"I'll take Black Beauty here to Cricket." Isabela said, leaning on the doorframe, hiking her thumb over her shoulder.
"Thank you, Love." Was all Marian said, her eyes focused hard on Sebastian. Looking over Hawke's shoulder, Sebastian glimpsed a wicked smile on the dusky woman's face, than she turned away, disappearing in an instant. Before he could protest, Marian lifted his cloak away from the arrowhead, revealing the torn, bruised flesh underneath. He grimaced, but didn't flinch. At least for now, he was only seeing one Hawke.
"Not pretty, is it?" He asked.
"Not in the least." She agreed. To his surprise, she didn't flinch either. Deftly she unfastened the clasp at the neck of his cloak, pulling it off. "Is a jealous husband after you already Knight-Commander?"
"Something like that." Sebastian flexed his fingers, noting how the blood still oozed fresh from the wound around the arrowhead. "Send for Knight-Corporal Keran, Lady Hawke, so I can stop cluttering up your kitchen, as well." She pinned him with a disapproving look.
"Don't you wish me to summon a surgeon, or a mage to heal you?"
"What, and have the news run rampant on every street corner, that the hypercritical Knight-Commander needed a mage to save him, while every rebel in town claims credit for having done this?" He shook his head with disgust at his own foolishness. "No thank you, m'lady. For now, I'd rather stake my luck on Keran."
"Humph!" She scoffed at him. "I'd wager Keran's own shadow makes him nervous Commander. He shakes like a leaf in the wind around me. How steady do you think his hands will be, pulling an arrow from his commanding officer's chest?" Leaning in closer to inspect his wounds, her heady scent of vanilla musk and burnt caramel invaded his senses. Sebastian's eyes drifted closed breathing in deeply, letting her mystery wash over him.
Maker! Even half dead his body responded to her, the beast inside demanding he pin the fine Lady Hawke against a wall and mount her till she cried his name.
"Nay, he'd hit the heart fore sure." She was saying, oblivious, for the second time in one day, to Sebastian's dark fantasy with which she starred in. "I can tend this myself. First I'll pull the arrow out, than heal it with my curse." She laughed mockingly, lowering her voice to a sultry whisper. Sebastian's heart began to pound; more blood spurting from around the arrow.
I'll be bled dry if she continues to purr like this.
"You can't use your magic on me Lady Ha-"
"Don't you Lady Hawke me!" She interrupted furiously, her arms crossing over her chest. "Do you honestly believe that magic is so filthy that you're better off bleeding out, right here on my kitchen floor?"
"N-no that's not how I meant it." Sebastian stumbled. The blood loss and her magic fused body clouded his ability to think clearly. "Listen, one of your own shot me, Lady Hawke. You're clever lass, if I leave the Rose one hundred and ten percent, it would surely raise suspicion." He paused, watching her process the logic in his words.
"You have your own circle mages don't you Knight-Commander? Whoever took a shot at you would assume they took care of you, no?"
"Aye, you'd be right, if the Divine had allowed us to bring our own mages. A circle free city is too strong of a temptation for even the most loyal circle mage. Whoever did this," he motioned his good arm over his chest. "Would look to you as a traitor, you must realize this?"
Her taut posture relaxed, her supernatural eyes swirling back to their dull grey. She obviously agreed with him, though her pride would likely never allow her to admit he was right. "Well, I'm not completely without skill." She said, allowing blue waves to spark in her palms, the air around them growing dense with more power than he'd ever felt. "When my magic is nullified," she continued, the blue glow in her palms dissipating to punctuate her point. "You don't need Corporal Keran just yet. I can tend this au naturel."
He watched her skeptically, tugging at the leather straps that held his plated dragon bone in place. "How do I know you won't lace the dressing with crow poison? Freeing the world of one more Templar scum."
"You don't. You'll simply have to trust me." Without waiting for him to answer, Marian glided to one of the wall cabinets, taking down a wooden box filled with neatly rolled bandages and lint, scissors, needles and waxed thread. Next she laid an open palm on a kettle filled with fresh water, until the copper pot began to steam, and then whistle its readiness. The ease with which she displayed her magic boggled Sebastian's Templar senses, putting him on red alert. Gracefully she moved toward him, laying a clean towel and a dish of soap on the table beside him. Watching her work, his doubts grew. The only other woman to nurse him had been his own grandmother when he was still a lad. And considering how the prickly mistress had practically spat venom barbs at him this afternoon, trusting her seemed more foolish than riding out alone at night did.
Sebastian thought back to his first battle as Knight-Commander. The Royal Elite had been dispatched to again, attempt to take back Tevinter, in the hopes they'd at least free the innocence in such a corrupt place. He'd been thrown for a loop when they'd arrived only to discover the people they were sent to retrieve, to protect, didn't want protecting. The rebel bowmen had stayed hidden in houses and behind walls, like the one who'd fired at him tonight, and unlike that unseen man, the Tevinter rebels always found their mark.
His regiment had taken the rear guard when the Knight-Vigilant called a retreat. Over the whistling bows and screams of the wounded and dying he had shouted at his men until he couldn't speak, to hold their lines steady, to nock their bows, to fire, to be brave. But by the time they'd made it to their ships, more than two hundred Templar soldiers had been wounded or killed out right, and those marked as missing, those left behind, had found no mercy at all at the hands of the mages. Hands just as gentle as Marian Hawke's. Better to leave now to find Keran. Aye Keran he could trust.
"Lady Hawke." he protested, weakly trying to rise. "Please m'lady. I'd prefer-"
7-7-7
He pushed himself up from the chair, leaning heavily on the edge of the table. "A lady such as you needn't do such- such tasks."
"You won't escape that way serha." She said softly. How could a man as tall and strong as Sebastian Vael, be so clearly terrified of her? Gabriel had been right when he had called her kindhearted. She'd been something of a stray herself, once upon a time. No mongrel was ever turned from her door without a plate of Orana's finest. She'd always been soft of heart that way. She doubted she could ever bring herself to harm any innocent creature, beast or man, even if he was her enemy.
Still, the hazy reality of what he was to her dripped poison into her already uneasy conscience. Was she being kind to him only because he was a man in sore need of her help, or in spite of it?
He began to sway, his knees beginning to buckle, and barely in time had Marian grabbed his uninjured arm to guide him back down into the chair. "I've seen to far more worrisome wounds than your piddling little scrape, Knight-Commander Vael." Marian said with more gentleness than she'd intended. With his snowy white armor disheveled, stained with blood and his face taut with pain, he bore little resemblance to the proud, haughty Templar commander who'd belittled her hospitality earlier. "You serha, are not the first gentleman that's sat in that chair, begging to keep his sins secret. When a woman runs a tavern, there's nothing she won't see."
"Nothing?" Sebastian's upper lip beaded with sweat, as he attempted a smile then growled, his weakness seeming to mortify him. "I thought this was a respectable house?"
"It is." She said sharply, rolling up the sleeves of her robe. Though she knew he was only half listening, she continued talking, hoping that it would help keep his mind off the pain. "You won't find a more respectable tavern in all the Free Marches. But the better bred the cliental, the greater the mischief. Gentlemen are always getting into brawls of one sort or another beneath my roof, and then they beg me to keep the scandal down. And I do. Can you take off your chest plate and tunic, serha, or shall I help you?" She would have bet the Rose that he'd do it himself. Of course he did, with only the stress lines on his face betraying how much pain it caused him. By the time he'd managed to disrobe his upper half she was certain he was going to faint. Most men she'd known would have, but not Sebastian Vael. Grudgingly Marian gave him credit for being able to back up his bravado. Without realizing she was doing it, Marian took a step back from him, her eyes wondering along the expanse of his massive chest. She took mental tallies, of every corded muscle that rippled and flexed under his bronzed skin. Her eyes locked on the soft, sorrel thatch of hair, snaking from his belly button down into his trousers, like an arrow directing her to his most generous of treasures. She'd never seen him like this, had only felt his body with nervous fingers. Only imagined what he'd look like exposed. "Note to self - Hawke your imagination has nothing on the real deal!"
"Lady Hawke?" She heard him ask. Only then she realized how openly she was appraising him. With pink cheeks, she met his predatory orbs and a knowing smile, plastered on his full cherry lips. Clearing her throat, she set back to the task at hand.
"What can I get you from the bar? We have Dwarven ale, Antivan whiskey, wine-"
"Nothing." The single word came out as a harsh growl, and Marian realized that his fainting was still a definite possibility.
"Nothing?" She repeated. "Do you enjoy pain Knight-Commander?"
"Not as a rule. But I have vows that even when injured I keep to."
"Vows? I'm sure your "merciful" Maker, wouldn't want his most loyal suffering more than necessary. A swig of rum to ease your pain shouldn't bring on the apocalypse." She couldn't believe the pain this stubborn fool of a man was willing to endure, for vows. No one but she and he would know he broke them. By the Gods! The Knight-Vigilant had already been to her tavern, barking for ale. He certainly hadn't seemed worried about his vows. She'd even seen him take both Jethann and Serendipity, her most notorious prostitutes, to one of the empty suites for a go around. To pray, for their souls, I'm sure. Rolling her eyes, she moved to grab ale from the taproom, ignoring his foolishness.
"I won't be drinking whatever you bring back, Mistress Hawke." He rasped behind her.
"Are you insane? You won't let me heal you, nor will you take ale to dull the pain. You stubborn, stupid-" She whirled to face him instantly recognizing the harsh set of his jaw the muscle ticking in his left cheek. You have got to be kidding me… The stubborn set of his jaw, was an identical match to Nova's. The little girl would lock her jaw and Marian would know, right then, that not even the Gods could sway the little dove from whatever she'd set her mind to. Marian wouldn't win this battle. She'd lost enough to their daughter's bullheaded determination, to know that much. "Their daughter..." Gods she didn't have time to analyze when her daughter had become theirs
"Alright, okay." She sighed, throwing her hands in the air. "How bout a story then?" A story! Why did she feel such an intense need to take away this man's suffering? A bloody story! Really Marian? Next you'll being offering to tuck him into bed.
"I must admit Mistress Hawke; you seem to be a remarkable woman. Tavern keep, nurse and now bard."
"Aye, Knight-Commander, I happen to be all those things." Moving in closer to him, she let her lips brush his ear, his bronzed hair tickling the sensitive flesh of her cheek. "I'm also said to be a remarkably proficient lover." With his sharp intake of breath, she snapped the arrowhead in one clean break. Her bold words doing exactly as she had hoped they would. Distract him just long enough to keep him from squirming… "So what says you Knight-Commander, would you like to judge my skills as a bard for yourself?" She asked casually, squinting to inspect the purpling flesh around the broken arrow.
"More than you'll ever know." He bit out, eyes growing hazy and again she braced herself to catch him, just in case he fainted. Desperate to keep him awake and upright she mulled over what tale she could tell him. In truth, Marian wasn't a bard at all. She really only knew of one story. Bethany's favored skinned knee and broken heart balm. A story of soul mates…Fitting. Nervously Marian fiddled with her apron, hoping Sebastian wouldn't think her foolish or starry eyed for the words she would speak to him.
"Long before the Maker ruled the skies." She began; trying to beat back the wistful, lonely feeling that settled in the pit of her gut. "There were three parents: Sun, Moon, and Earth. Each produced an offspring, round and otherwise like itself. From Sun, was produced the man, from Earth, the woman and from Moon, the androgyny. Each of these three was a double, one head with two faces looking out in opposite directions, four arms and legs." She paused bracing her left hand on his shoulder to keep him steady, while her right extracted the arrow.
"Please Lady Hawke, don't stop." Sebastian said through clenched teeth, grazing his hand over hers, causing the familiar sparks against their skin.
"Um. Okay. Where was I? Oh right…." She cleared her throat, nerves jittering. "They moved about on the earth, with a great deal more freedom and powers than we humans do now, for they rolled-ran hand, over hand and foot, over foot at double speed. Though physically faster, stronger and by far superior to us, these old humans were just as flawed, the need for power ruling them. Foolishly, the old race decided to try and over throw their Gods. Scaling Mount Olympus, where their creators dwelled, they attempted to take the skies for themselves.
"I can't imagine these Gods were happy with their creations?" Sebastian interjected, his investment in her story caused her heart to flip flop.
"Nay, they weren't. Though Zeus, the king of Gods and mankind, stopped their attack with ease, he knew he'd have to punish his progeny for their brash attempts at power. But he couldn't kill them outright.
"Because he was merciful?" Sebastian asked.
"Mmm… No." Marian laughed. "Who would worship the Gods, if all the worshippers were dead? Instead he decided their fool; arrogance would easily be checked if they lost their speed, strength, and confidence. To do this, he split them in two, forcing them to be less than whole. With a thunderbolt Zeus cut the man-man, woman-woman, and man-woman creatures in half. After the bolt struck down, the half creatures ran around frantically, the separation leaving both sides with a desperate yearning to be reunited, because they each shared the same soul. Ever since then, all people spend their lives searching for they're other half. The creatures that had been double women before, naturally sought out women; those who had been androgynous, sought out members of the opposite gender; and those who had been double men, sought out the company of men."
Taking a step back, Marian surveyed her work. The arrow had luckily gone straight through his chest, missing both bone and heart. And though the swelling and bruising on both sides made for a hideous wound, it didn't take her long to clean and cover it with an oiled poultice to help drain away any poison the bowmen may have laced his arrows with. Though he'd listened intently to her story, she knew she had hurt him further. There hadn't been any way to avoid it. Yet not once had he cried out, or complained, his only sign of pain was in the way he balled his hands into whitened fists.
"You're a fortunate man serha," she said softly as she wrapped a linen bandage around his right shoulder, then under his left arm, repeating the process a few more times. "Another few inches to the left and the arrowhead would've struck bone."
He sighed, an exhausted, drawn out exhalation, now that the worst was past. "Another eight inches. And it would have found my heart. I'll warrant that's where the bastard was aiming. Lucky I was that my horse shied when he did."
Automatically, Marian's glance shifted to the broad expanse of his chest, trying to imagine the heart beneath it stilled forever. For the first time, she noticed the gold chain he wore around his neck and the little pendent that hung from it. My pendent! The one she had brought him along with the blood of Flint Company staining her white wings. He'd kept it? "What is that?" She asked, wanting to hear him explain her deeds in his own words. "I'd say eagle?
"Hawk actually, not eagle…" he paused. "Actually, I must admit that I'm guessing when I say hawk. An angel of mercy had it delivered to me in a most beautiful, white hawk's talons." He caressed the pendent, his gaze growing distant as his thumb stroked over the golden metal "I've kept it since as sort of a lucky charm." On a sigh, he dropped the precious bauble, shaking his head miserably. "Not that it served me well this night."
"Oh, but it has," said Marian quickly, slightly breathless from the butterflies floating through her body. "Think how close that shot came to being mortal!"
"You believe in degrees of luck, then?" he asked wryly. "Too bad I was shot, but at least I wasn't killed?" He asked, looking at her through half lidded eyes. Now that the task of cleaning the wound was done, she was once again achingly aware of him, as the man who had haunted her thoughts and dreams for so many years. But reality was so different from dreams. Reality was the curling of sorrel hair, on his muscled forearm that rested so close to hers; reality was the stubble of a beard above full lips. Lips that had once kissed her own. Reality was the blood splattered, bone armor that made him her enemy.
"You were riding when you were hit?" She asked trying to turn the tide of her thoughts back to where they belonged. At least this might be something that would interest Gabe. He sighed ruefully, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.
"What an easy mark I must have been, too, there in the moonlight with the sea around me. I was west of the town, near a place called the Green Dales. Do you know it?" She nodded, while her throat constricted.
Gabriel's hunting lands, her eyes inspected the now broken arrow for the first time. Red and gold fletching; Gabriel's colors... Could Gabe have done this then, taken aim and shot to kill his own brother? Not his brother, but a Templar solider. Not another Vael, but the enemy. Remember that Mari, or else you'll be lost once more!
"You weren't lying." He said as she turned in her seat, to busy herself with washing her hands.
"About?" She asked.
"My brother. I didn't believe you, perhaps because I didn't want to. But you were right about his… His allegiances. I wonder Mistress Hawke, did you laugh when you turned from me at the Knight-Vigilance door."
"No." Was her simple response. In truth she remembered how she had glanced back to watch him enter his brother's stolen home, her locket held tightly in her gloved fingers.
"No?" He turned his head to look at her, his turquoise eyes searching and his expression questioning. Marian almost moaned out loud the expression he held, the angle of his jaw, as he leaned his head to one side to study her. Moonlight from the window, cascading over his perfect smile, immediately sent heat through her body, rocketing straight down to her core.
"No," Marian said, as firmly as a woman in heat could. She pushed her stool away from him and rose bundling the soiled linen in her hands. "You need your rest, Knight-Commander; shall I fetch Corporal Keran now, to help you up the stairs to your room?"
7-7-7
"Stay just a moment," said Sebastian softly, covering her hand with his own. "Do you believe your story?" He pressed, skimming the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. "Believe that you're made of the earth?"
The deep crimson flush that blazed across her high cheekbones, read like an open book, she caught his meaning. Tugging her hand away from his, she cradled it against herself as if to protect it from him.
"So you did see then?" She whispered, but pulled her chin high daring him to belittle her.
"Aye, and I apologize for spying on such an intimate moment, it hadn't been my intention. Though with how beautiful both you and Isabela looked, I will admit the moment should have been painted, so it could forever be frozen in time." Sebastian said sincerely. He waited for her to slap him or at the very least curse him to the Black Divine; instead, she chose to shock him. Moving to his good arm she helped him stand, bracing it over her shoulder, and then reached her small arm around his lower back. In silence, they moved through the dark halls and up the stairs. Making it to the door of his suite, she unlooped the master key from her belt, opening the door. Slowly she eased herself away from him.
"Thank you Mistress Hawke for everything you've done for me this night." Sebastian said. Their eyes locked, swirling grey to blue, on turquoise.
"I told you, serha, what I've done for you; I've done for many others, as well. I've looked to your wound the best you'll let me, but you must still protect against a fever and infection." He smiled, as much to himself, as he did to her, bowing politely turning from her. "Knight-Commander." She said, grabbing his good arm to halt him.
"Aye?" Sebastian asked, turning toward her once more.
"In Venere Veritas." The words she spoke confused him, they were foreign, and he guessed Antivan? Perhaps Rivaini? But that was about all he could guess about them.
"What?" he asked dumbly.
"Earlier, you asked, if I believe I'm bore from Earth, the answer is no." She stepped closer to him, standing on tiptoes, her lips just inches from his. "I simply believe In Venere Veritas." She whispered, their breaths mingling, making his body sway.
In the blink of an eye she pivoted, heels clicking with each retreating step away from him she took.
In Venere Veritas. What does that mean?
"Damnation woman! What does that mean?" He called out, only to be met with silence.