The Rogue's Conquest
Chapter Eight
Ahhh, yes, The Hanged Man. Where poor men came to swill rat piss and fuck easy women, Sebastian thought grimly. The place hadn't changed a bit. The old wooden bar to his left still had a gouge of splintered wood out of it where Sebastian's head had clashed with it in his youth. The tables and chairs had been refinished so many times they were three different shades of orange, the floor was so caked in dirt and booze you couldn't see the hardwood underneath. Breathing in deep Sebastian mused over how the place even smelled the same, though he'd never been quite able to put a finger on whatever THAT smell was.
Worst idea ever, Vael… Maker that was understatement! Even in his youth he never fit in, it was part of the charm back then. Back then, he had his brothers and he'd show up looking for a fight. Now however, alone and with every Lowtown dwellers eyes glaring daggers through him, he didn't feel nearly as confident of himself as he did as a lad.
Sebastian dressed in normal street clothes, a black tunic, black-leather riding pants, plain, scuffed boots, with the hopes, that without his armour he'd be able to blend in. From the icy snarls and foul curses he was receiving, Sebastian realized he'd only managed to make himself look like a Templar here to score a hit of lyrium. A regular genius you are Vael! Forcing himself to stand tall under their scrutiny, he scanned the tavern, squinting through the smoky haze of piped tobacco and dim lighting. He'd come here to find someone, and though his shoulder ached and his head told him he was an idiot, he was a determined man tonight. His gut told him this would be where she dwelled and like clockwork there she sat, in the very back of the tavern, in the company of a bevy of different people, each more different looking from the next.
A blond Dwarven man sat across from her, staring intently at the cards in his hands. To his left, a petite elven woman squinted; through slit lids at her own cards, her short brown hair-do and the tattoos marking her face, clear evidence, she was Dalish made. Beside the little elf, a burly man sat, arm protectively wrapped over her abdomen, a scowl lined his chiseled features, while his familiar blue eyes, were leveled hard on his lady's cards. If Sebastian were a betting man, he'd wager all his coin on their hand being a dud.
There was a second elf in the group of misfit toys, but he was completely unlike anything most would ever see. He'd taken Sebastian by surprise, had made the hairs on the back of his neck pulse. This elf's tattoos were also exotic like the Dalish, but much more malicious. Sebastian had seen ones like them in Tevinter; the men who bore them were always collared slaves, but ferocious fighters. Their eerie blue glow was an unsettling sight to behold when they came at you on the battlefield. Going toe to toe alone, with the white, haired elf would be a fool's goal. In Tevinter it had taken a dozen Templar soldiers, to take down just one lyrium slave. Curious to find one in Kirkwall. Aye, it was indeed. Lyrium slaves weren't easily given away and no Magister would have ever graced him with his freedom. Not without dying first.
"Rest in peace then, you soulless prick." Sebastian growled triumphantly, feeling an affinity for the lyrium elf already. He would have had to kill the Magister that owned him. Which meant the elf had a giant set of brass balls, because no one, but Templars ever attempted such a dire fete.
Glancing over the elf once more, Sebastian noticed the same, simple red scurf as Isabela wore. His was wrapped securely around his wrist and worn with the same kind of pride as Isabela. Lovers too than? Did everyone in Kirkwall take joy in each other? Had the city truly slipped so far from the Maker's grasp?
Sighing, his gaze finally landed on his target. Isabela sat watching her companions intently, a wicked smile on her dusky face. She's winning. Of course she was, cheating often did that for a person. Sebastian could just see, the brim of an ace, sticking out of the top of her gauntlet. Tsk tsk, clever lass.
She looked exactly as she had the previous night, except her hair was loosely braided over her right shoulder. The child like braid gave her a look of innocence, a sense of naivety even, "but you're not fooling anyone Goddess,"he whispered. With a lopsided grin on his face, Sebastian approached their table, with only the dagger in his left boot for protection if this went array.
Though everyone in the tavern gawked openly at him, not a single person at Isabela's table bothered to acknowledge his presence. Shifting uncomfortably, Sebastian cleared his throat. He wasn't a man, used to being ignored. At six-foot-five, he was an imposing figure, always carrying a built-in air of authority. He wasn't sure, how to go about getting attention that should have already be his. "Ahem!" He cleared his throat, emphasized the sound so hard his shoulder screeched.
"Oh Knight-Commander, I didn't see you there." Isabela purred. Her greeting made Sebastian's hackles stand on end. Hearing his title, all her companions dropped their cards, each tensing in different measures. The dwarve brought a massive crossbow from his back, resting it on his lap. The Dalish lass hopped from the table, a hand pressed to her swollen abdomen, her eyes, filled with curiosity, never leaving Sebastian. She moved to stand behind the intense, blue eyed, man, who was now primed to attack, his knees bouncing under the table, fists clenched with anticipation. The lyrium elf and Isabela were the only two members, of this mismatched band, kicked back, calmly watching him, both with unreadable expressions. Nuff attention for ye' Vael?
"You're just in time, we need a fifth for Wicked Grace." Isabela's cinnamon voice, cut through the inescapable tension, but didn't mask it.
"You have a fifth Isabela, and I don't gamble." Sebastian said his words clipped, body strung tighter than a bowstring.
"You mean Carver, or Merrill?" Isabela scoffed, pointing to the burly man and Dalish elf. "They count as one, they're a bit handicapped you see." She laughed, at her jest, while Carver growled and Merrill hobbled on one bare foot, inspecting the pad of the other. "As for you not gambling Knight-Commander," she continued, her eyes nailing him hard, with mischievous intent. "I helped save your life, you owe me something. Trust me when I say a game of Wicked Grace is thee most innocent of all my personal payment options." Another melody of reaction swept through her companions. Carver scoffed, rolling his eyes in disgust, Merrill bit her lip, humming in confusion, the lyrium elf and dwarve simply laughed deep, knowing rumbles. "Sit." She said sharply, narrowing her chocolate orbs at him.
"No." He returned stubbornly, shaking his head, spreading his legs apart in a fighter's stance. He'd come to The Hanged Man for a reason, and he wasn't going to be distracted from it. "I've come here to speak about Marian Hawke."
Without warning, a meaty hand circled Sebastian's throat in a vice grip. To his left he heard the dwarf's crossbow crank, then a broad sword being unsheathed and the impact of earth magic crackled, shaking the taverns foundations. At the mention of Marian Hawke, the whole tavern seemed to come too life. Beer bottles broke around him; turned into sharp, face shredders. Chairs were thrown against walls, their legs heavy enough to beat a man within an inch of his life. Even the wooden coat stand to his right was snatched up. The makeshift weapons were held at the ready, all pointed directly at him.
"My sister is a good woman Knight-Commander." Carver snarled, his blue eyes as electric as his sisters. "A beautiful, kind-hearted woman, who's done nothing wrong. I'd suggest you turn your misguided attentions elsewhere." The young man continued, his hand tightening around Sebastian's neck, pressing so hard Sebastian feared his head might pop off his shoulders; black dots flitted in and out of his vision.
"Are you threatening me serha?" Sebastian managed to wheeze through his collapsing windpipe. He was positive he could put the young Viscount down; it would only take a single quick palm thrust to the younger man's prominent nose. However with being so woefully outnumbered, showing aggression seemed foolhardy. Marian would also despise you more Vael.
"No, Knight-Commander, I'm promising you. If you intend to hurt my sister in anyway, you'll end up floating face down in the Minanter River."
"Oh, Carver." Isabela cackled from somewhere behind Sebastian. Or maybe she was beside him, with the pressure building in his head, thought was becoming a challenge, his usually keen senses were dulled, the black void beginning to take him in it's sweet embrace. Saved by an angel, only to be killed by her brother!
"Let him go." A small, but assertive voice boomed. And as though his hand caught fire, Carver jerked it away. Leaving Sebastian barely able to stand upright, his knees dangerously close to meeting the floor. With her single command, he heard weapons being sheathed, the crossbow uncocking and the earthen magic wither, then die.
The angry mob that had formed parted like an ocean's wave against a rocky reef. Revealing, in their wake, the little mage in question. Clad in a silky golden robe that wrapped snuggly around her lithe frame, it's plunging neckline revealing the sun-kissed bits of her perfectly shaped breasts. Her floor length emerald cloak, hung from her slender shoulders, igniting her fiery hair with its rich color. She looked as beautiful and powerful, as Sebastian pictured Andraste had on the battlefields of Tevinter
Striding through the crowd, she placed her palms on every person she could. They'd cuddle into her little hands willingly, their taut bodies immediately relaxing. She was healing these people! These Lowtown dwellers, people that were below her, completely unworthy of walking the same ground as she did and yet she laid her hands on faces, shoulders, arms and chests. None of them had likely bathed in months, but she didn't cringe once or refuse a single person. Not even when the healing waves seemed to tire her, her pretty tanned face rapidly draining to a paper white and the skin around her eye's seeming too hollow and darken, did she stop. Sebastian watched on amazed by her; it was no wonder these people loved her as they did. Their angel of mercy.
Coming to stand beside her brother, she placed her small hand on his massive bicep, looking to him with unmistakable love shining in her pretty eyes. His scowl changed to a look of utter joy. Scooping her up into his arms, he twirled her around, both siblings laughing merrily.
Without another look towards Sebastian, everyone turned to circle around Marian, completely forgetting he was ever there… Another first for him.
"Finally come to give me a shot at winning my coin back, eh Hawke?" Varric asked nudging his shoulder into her hip.
"Ha." She scoffed. "As if you could ever beat me at Wicked Grace Varric." She said, placing her hands on her hips. Arrogant little lass! Sebastian mused inwardly, watching these people interact. "You do remember what happened last time, don't you?" She giggled, wagging her shapely eyebrows at the dwarve.
"Mhmm, who could forget that?" Varric murmured, scratching the tawny golden hairs on his chest, settling himself back down, tankard of ale in hand.
Nervously, the little Dalish stood off to Marian's left. Catching the older woman's eye, Marian swiftly wrapped the young elf in a tight embrace.
"So sister in-law." She started her hands going to the Dalish woman's swollen belly, letting loose another round of healing waves. "Is my brother taking care of you as he should? Or do I need to turn him into a toad to teach him a lesson?" The Dalish elf's eyes lit up
"A toad! Oh Hawke, I had no idea you could do that! Could you teach me?"
"Nah, she can only turn Templar's into toads dearest." Carver said moving to the elf's side, shooting Sebastian a look of disgust.
"Oh! Carver! The city is filled with Templar's." The little elf chirped, squirming to get free of her lover's embrace. "Meet me at the manor in a few hours Hawke." She said, turning toward Lady Hawke, clapping her hands excitedly, before bounding through the crowd and out the tavern door.
"You best go after her sweet brother, before she attempts to take Templar's for our 'lesson'" Marian chuckled, making air quotations with her fingers.
"Hmm sister, I fear you may be right." Kissing Marian's forehead, Carver looked back to Sebastian. "Remember what we spoke of serha, and never forget it. I never break a promise." Nodding to his sister and companions, Carver swivlled, ramming his broad shoulder into Sebastian's injured one, as he passed. Sebastian barely halted the pained cry that leapt into his throat, his injuy shrieking it's discontent.
"I see your making friends again Knight-Commander." She chided, his body going ridged with her sudden attentions.
"As you can see ma'am, I'm not that good at it." He smiled sheepishly.
"Really? I never would have guessed." She laughed, bringing a small hand to her mouth in mock surprise. "Is Fenris here?" She asked, scanning her friend's faces; as if Sebastian should know the person she sought.
"I'm here Hawke." A deep voice resonated from a forgotten corner of the tavern. The lyrium elf exited the shadows arms crossed over his chest.
"Excellent! If your not busy, I need to talk to you." Marian whispered, her hands nervously pushing scarlet curls behind the shell of each ear. Sebastian watched the little mage curiously, as Marian Hawke went from Lady Hawke, to a docile doppelganger, when the elf approached. With her reversion from tough as nails tavern keep, to shy virgin bride, Sebastian realized two things. The first being that the red favors Fenris and Isabela wore, were worn for the petite mage, not each other and the second, that he suddenly wanted to rend the elf in two.
"I've always time for you Hawke." Kill him! Sebastian's mind roared, his body tensing in agreement, as the elf moved to Marian, looping her arm into his own. When Fenris proceeded to kiss her cheek, his lips glowing blue, the animal caged in Sebastian's head howled, its fangs dripping saliva, it's daggered claws, ripping flesh and bone. The only thing that stopped him from giving the Vael beast his reins; was the fact that the lyrium kiss seemed to rejuvenate Marian. Her pasty skin became sun-kissed once more; her eyes rose from their hollowed set, and the slight tremors that had shaken her small form were subsiding.
With a small incline of her head to Sebastian and a blown kiss to Isabela and Varric, Marian and the lyrium elf were gone, leaving he and his beast frightfully close to the edge.
"So you want information?" Isabela asked, bringing his attention off of Lady Hawke's shapely, retreating curves.
"Your trading information?" Scoffed Varric "That's dirty play, even for you Ravaini."
"I assume dwarve, you're the other half of this bet Isabela spoke about last night?" Varric shot him an intrigued glare. "Ravaini… Ravaini." The dwarve tsked, not taking his eyes off of Sebastian. "Marian would not be pleased if she found out you're meddling in her business."
"Oh don't be so abrasive Varric. Besides you're just salty because you didn't think of it first."
"Indeed." Varric said thoughtfully, leaning against the wall his hands tenting over his stomach.
"Come on Knight-Commander, let's talk somewhere more private." Isabela purred, grabbing his left arm roughly, laughing again, at his pained groan.
"It wouldn't be appropriate M'lady, these people would talk." Sebastian growled, through clenched teeth. Scanning the silent tavern, every person's eyes were locked on him. Just waiting to spread the news that the famed Knight-Commander, parked betwixt this dusky wench's thighs. Aye they'd slander me. Maker the scandal!
"M'lady," Varric laughed, slapping his knee with mirth. "Did you hear that Ravaini? He thinks you're a lady. Last night obviously didn't end with nudity."
"It was certainly tragic Varric, seeing the Knight-Commander in nothing but a smile, would be a blessed event. Alas he was in no shape for me, mon cheri." With a heavy sigh and a shrug of her shoulders, Isabela peered out to the gawking crowd.
"I'm going to take the Knight-Commander to my quarters." She called out loudly to the whole tavern. Everyone cheered, raising their tankards to the dusky woman in a toast, while she unsheathed sharp silverite daggers from her back. "Quiet you drunken fools, I wasn't finished. All you people here." She paused, sweeping one of her daggers over the crowd, their full attention riveted on the deadly picture she cut. "Will act as if you've seen nothing. The Knight-Commander hasn't even been here, Understood?"
"Ahoy, now Isabela! This Templar getting his rocks off isn't our secret to keep." Shouted the drunken bar keep, the alcohol he swilled, liquid courage in his veins, his brave words igniting the rest into agreement.
"I know Corff… That you tragically cannot help being so bloody stupid… Must I remind you of what happened to Lucky, when he chose not to heed my warnings? And serha, I liked him." She twirled her daggers with fluid grace, the silverite hissing with every smooth turn. "You however," she smiled licking the sharp tip of one. "Why… I can't stand you." In a flash she launched both daggers at the wide-eyed barkeep, the sharp blades embedding into the wall, on either side of his head. Her skilled display, promptly influenced every man and woman to stand down, each giving Isabela his or hers vow of secrecy. "Hmm, wise choice. It would seem, you all are quite smart when you think collectively." She turned towards Sebastian, while the shaken crowd attempted to look busy. Games of Wicked grace were quickly under way, so quick in fact, that most the men found themselves staring blindly at upside down cards. Corff set to work, pulling her daggers from the wall with shaky hands. He looked as if his knees would buckle any moment and likely he needed a new pair of trousers.
"Now, Knight-Commander. Do you want your curiosity sated or not?" Isabela grabbed his chin, pulling his face from the crowd.
"Yes," he paused, attempting to scan the tavern once more; to be sure none of his men were here. "I'd like your help."
"Follow me then." She crooned, index finger crooked at him in a come hither motion. Turning on her booted heel she sauntered away from him, down a dirty back hallway. The very same hallway he'd taken many a prostitute down as a lad. Sometimes he wouldn't even make it to a room, he'd simply toss up their skirts and take them right there, in the filthy, rat-infested hall. Sebastian shook his head hard, trying to will away the memories as he came to stand in the dusky woman's doorway. The younger him was a rogue, a disgusting rake. The way he'd treated those woman was shameful, what a stupid lad he'd been.
"Come sit." Isabela patted the spot next to her.
"If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to stand." He said moving into the tiny room, only big enough to fit the bed she sat upon, a small table and an old wooden dresser. Maker he felt like an ogre in such a small space.
"I won't bite Knight-Commander, I swear it…. Unless you beg that is." He was positive the sinful wink and smile she flashed him had trapped men, like spider webs trapped unsuspecting bugs. Though he suspected the bugs were put down much more mercifully than this woman's conquests.
"Those people would've killed me!" He stated, an attempt to change the subject, from seating arrangement, to the mysterious Lady Hawke.
"You came to that conclusion all by yourself did you?" She teased.
"Aye! Lots of things become impossibly clear, when a man's hand comes around your throat with every intention of crushing your windpipe, ma'am." Gently he rubbed his still throbbing throat at the memory of Carver's hand. "What's strange to me though, is that the diplomatic, merciful and all around benevolent Viscount, is Carver Hawke." Raising a brow at Isabela's suddenly ridged posture, he pushed further. "There's nothing diplomatic about him. He's far too brash and impulsive to think rationally on his own. He wouldn't have accepted Templar's into his city. I've met many a men like serha Hawke, he would have chosen full out war… So then who pulls his strings I wonder?"
Isabela watched him closely her face shifting between respect for him and for once, a shaky uncertainty.
"Knight-Commander, when you were so up close and personal with Carver, did you get the feeling that he was a man who'd take orders from anyone?" She was circling around his question with one of her own. Redirection won't be working Goddess. Carver was undoubtedly stubborn as an ox, that Sebastian had been witness too. And Isabela was likely right that the man would bristle at orders from Sebastian or anyone for that matter… Except his sister. He'd taken two direct orders from Marian, in quick succession without batting an eye. So she's his puppet master. If she were, it wouldn't shock Sebastian in the least. Marian Hawke was a perfect blend of stormy power and quiet calm, strong of will; yet, she was perfectly capable of seeing sensible reason. An enigma, shaped as the perfect leader. "You've come to talk about Marian, did you not?" Isabela interrupted, impatiently tapping her blunt nails upon her bent knee. By the sudden show of her temper Sebastian knew he'd hit close to his mark.
"In Venere Veritas." He said, letting the subject of Carver drop. He didn't need Isabela to help him piece the puzzle of the Hawke siblings together; he was quite capable of that himself. He did however need her to translate.
Isabela's Pov
Isabela squinted her eyes, trying to make sense of the ever changing Knight-Commander and his uncanny ability to shock her, this being yet another display, of that formidable gift. Words spoken in her native tongue, not simply words, but a provocative truthful quote from a Ravaini artist and poet that had once painted her. A quote she'd once spoken to a very naïve, redheaded serving girl, she had met in a Redcliffe tavern ages ago. Tsk, tsk Mari.
"Come again?" She asked snapping her head up to look at him, keeping her expression blank.
"In Venere Veritas. I know the words are Ravaini and that you hail from Ravain. So what do they mean?" He was desperate; she could see that from a mile away. The smooth silk of his brogue was choppy, his hand shaking so slightly; she'd have missed it if she hadn't been looking for it. She guessed if she could look into his clever mind, she'd see it twisted up harshly like a pretzel. Oh Hawke, what kind of demon have you awoken this time?
"I don't know what they mean. Who spoke em to you Knight-Commander?" She stalled, wanting to push him into showing the frightening beast the Vael's were said to court, just below their handsome veneer.
"Don't test me Isabela, I'm in no mood! I know, you know it and demand you tell me now!"
"Oh, dear, stupid Sebastian," she intoned, more to warn the man than to seduce him. "Do you truly believe, when you walked through my door, you held any authority over me? Bark your demands, all you want, bare your blood soaked fangs," Moving from the bed, she stood directly in front of him. "I enjoy it when uptight, Maker fearing men stumble from grace. The darkness they try so desperately to hide from, always lingering just below the surface." Placing her hand on his abdomen, she rested her left cheek on the stubble of his right, "What does he look like Knight-Commander?" She whispered in his ear, licking the shell, feeling sweat bead his temple. "I bet he's pure evil, all sorts of depraved. Divine Justinia would be ashamed, wouldn't she serha?" Poke at the wounded mabari Izzy; nothing bad ever happens when you do that.
He moved so quickly, her cat like instincts failed. Her body moved in slow motion while his moved at light speed, throttling her down on top of her bed, her back meeting the mattress so hard the springs squealed then broke. He straddled her hips, sitting back far enough, that he immobilized her legs, his right hand wrapped tight around her neck, the left pinning both her wrists to the pine headboard above them. For the first time in Isabela's life she was completely subdued, no hand to play, not a single out to take. She hadn't covered all her bases and now, was at the mercy of this man.
Except to look at Sebastian Vael now, he didn't look much like a man at all. His eyes were hard set, the whites bloodshot. His turquoise orbs, that usually held gentle understanding, were feral and unseeing. His face was pulled into harsh lines, marred with wicked desire and his lips were drawn back from perfect teeth, twisted into a snarl. Why, hello demon prince!
"Thes' whit ye' wanted tae' see lass?" He growled low at her ear, his brogue breaking rough in the rush of madness. "Am Ah everythin' ye' imagined?" He baited, cruelly jolting the hand around her throat, so that her head bounced with the motion. Isabela gazed up into his wild face, her senses slightly rocked. She felt his hand clenching, than unclenching as if the two Vael's that resided within were each warring for rights to the controls of their handsome host. He'd soon be snapping her in two, or Sebastian Vael would get control of himself and the madness would simply recede.
Isabela had seen the Vael darkness only once before, in Gabriel Vael. After Maria's death, the man had come to the Hanged Man itching for a fight. A fight that a young Templar, deep in his cups, had been more than happy to oblige. In one quick, breathtaking instant the young man stood tall, in the next Gabriel snapped his neck, nearly rending the man's head from his shoulders with the force.
And now I've goaded an altogether different demon Vael from the shadows. And this one was indeed infinitely different, far more repressed, hidden longer and deeper in caged solitude. Would he follow in his brother's brutal footsteps? Could this man be so close to that edge? Isabela couldn't help but feel electric. Sebastian Vael held her life over a high cliff, with massive, jagged rocks waiting to greet her at the bottom. If he chose to let go, she would be but a memory and the knowledge of that injected a nearly lethal dose of red, hot adrenaline straight to her heart. Have I ever sat so prettily on such an edge before? She wondered licking her lips, as nerves twitched and frayed beneath her faked, calm exterior.
7-7-7
"In Venus there's truth!" Sebastian heard Isabela rasp over the pounding in his head, only than did he realize what he was doing, Layin' hans' on woman now Knight-Commander? His mind mocked, brogue so thick Sebastian wasn't sure he even understood what he was saying. Immediately he jumped from her, his eyes wide and mouth gaped in a giant O, shakily he ran a hand through his hair. "Maker, Isabela, I'm- I shouldnae' have- Ah am so sorry." He stumbled over himself, looking for something, anything worthy to say. But sorry just wasn't enough, it couldn't be. Maker I've had Templars lashed mercilessly for less than this. What kind of man was he?
Sebastian watched her slowly roll to her side, her right hand gently propping up her head. Here come the tears. Sebastian cringed; he was never good with tears. Except she wasn't crying, nor did she seem on the verge of spilling the crystal jewels. Instead she smiled at him, a smile that reached all the way to her chocolate orbs, glittering brightly behind her thick sweep of coal darkened lashes. Falling to her back Isabela laughed loudly, clutching her stomach as the rumbling laughter rocked her lush frame, reaffirming his earlier certainty that she was utterly mad. This wasn't the reaction he'd anticipated she should be screaming bloody murder, not laughing merrily like a giddy school lass. Blast these Kirkwall lambs; they'll be the death of ye' Vael!
"That was the Vael demon people speak of?" She asked skeptically. "The holy grail of frightening, really that was it? You were as cute as a puppy Sebastian." She chortled.
"Ah am nae' cute like a puppy woman." Sebastian huffed defensively, his man pride taking yet another blow at this dusky woman's hands.
"You're right!" She said. Rolling so that she sat with her legs hanging over the bed. "In fact I've witnessed Mabari pups more threatening than you."
She's baiting ye'. Of course she was. A blind man would be able to see through her smoke screen. Her hands shook ever so slightly, as she brought them together to rest in her lap. Her eyes nervously flicked, to where another set of daggers sat on the opposite side of the room. And with a disgusted hatred for himself, Sebastian watched one of her shaky hands, rub at the other ones wrist, where he had held her. Is the tender flesh already bruisin'? He wondered shame riding him hard.
Maker why couldn't she throw a fit like a normal lass? At least then he'd get what he deserved, but she wasn't a normal lass. If Sebastian had learnt anything from the mere days he'd spent in Kirkwall, it was that the ladies of the city were abnormal in everyway, ruthlessly strong and sinfully sexy. And he still had questions for her to answer.
"In Venus there's truth? What's a Venus?" He asked with more calm than he felt. But at least his inaudible brogue was smoothing.
"Venus isn't a what fool man, she's a who." Blowing on her nails Isabela leveled him with an annoyed glance, her voice an unusually rough tone. Another hint his outburst had affected her. "If you must ask so many questions, could you at the very least be sure to ask the correct ones, would that be so hard?"
Sebastian rubbed his temples his own annoyed, frustration starting to break the surface once more. "Okay Isabela, I'll bite. Who is Venus?"
"See not so hard at all eh? Venus is the goddess of sex. That's not all she is of course, but I must admit it is her most important job."
More talk about false Gods? Sebastian sneered, but waited for her to continue. Minutes passed over them in silence, before he realized that she wasn't going to say more, forcing him to come to his own conclusions.
"I'm not going to have sex with you, for the "truths" I seek Isabela, if that's what you're playing at."
"Ha!" She scoffed polishing her nails over her tunic "You're truly thee most arrogant man I've ever met Sebastian Vael. I have no intention of having you bend me over this bed and sink my battleship. If you weren't so bloody thick you'd realize you have your answers."
Standing abruptly she grabbed his hand placing a tiny metal trinket in his palm, wrapping his fingers into a fist with her own. "If you want to know about Marian Hawke, Knight-Commander." She whispered. "Then you must get past her false faces. But prepare yourself serha, because with Hawke nothing is ever as it seems. Once you open Pandora's box, you can never un-know its contents." With that, she left him standing dumbly, to register her cryptic words. Slowly he unfolded his hand to reveal a tiny, gold pendent of a proud hawk. Sebastian's hand ghosted to the chain around his neck. Unclasping it he let it settle next to the pendent Isabela gave him. This time his knees did buckle to the floor. Marian Hawke! Could it be? Was she his temptress and his merciful angel, a desire demon and a spirit of justice? Was that what Isabela was trying to show him? You have secrets little mage.
Lady Hawke was quickly becoming the most complicated puzzle he'd ever encountered; her pieces colored in platinum hues and cut into jagged pieces. Lucky for me then, that puzzles are exactly my expertise. Squeezing his palm closed Sebastian sat back on the heels of his boots, smiling to the ceiling. Aye, the Maker blessed him with keen eyes for a reason. Her mysterious world of secrets was his to infiltrate and by the time he finished, Sebastian would know her better than she did herself. Bet on that lass.
7-7-7
"The Knight-Commander was asking Isabela about you." Fenris said a hint of curiosity in his otherwise calm words.
"Was he?" Marian murmured softy, mesmerized by how the Roses wall candles highlighted his beautiful elven profile. She'd been surprised to find Sebastian at the Hanged Man, even more surprised to see Carver choking him… Hardly the diplomatic Viscount brother.
"I fear I've been teasing him, Fenris." She felt her cheeks burn, when he glanced at her with a slight upturned twitch of his lips.
"Not wise Hawke, baiting a Templar so high up in command. Isabela has been a corrupting influence on you." If only you knew dear wolf, the truths you speak, Marian thought, picking at strands of her unruly hair.
"Actually, it's Gabriel who's pushed me into the Knight-Commander. He wants information and has fingered me as the perfect secret weapon. Being the haughty mage hostess, he assumes I'm exactly his brothers type."
"Reckless." Was Fenris's only reply, a dark shadow crossing over his handsome face.
"Perhaps so. But you know Gabe he gets what he wants, no matter who he has to throw to the wolves too do so." She shrugged her shoulders with more nonchalance than she felt in a weak attempt to mask her own nervous doubts.
"Indeed, he's intense, I'll give him that. Just be careful Marian you have much more to lose in this than Gabriel Vael." Again Fenris spoke truths he didn't know he spoke, but that wasn't what had Marian taking her arm from his and walking steps ahead of him. No, in fact it was his easy use of her name that had her flustered. Since their night together, had he ever used her name? No… It was always Hawke or Champion never Marian. But now he did, and the sound of her given name on his lips, made wounds she'd thought were long closed and well-healed now ache. As if foreign floodgates inside were being cranked open, a single tear slipped down her cheek. This is nuts! Fenris wasn't hers, nor would she ever dream of interfering between he and Orana, the elves were good for each other, better than she ever could have been for him. But the question of why he ran out on her was always there, lingering just below the feigned smiles and playful jests. Why did you leave me, elf? What was it about her that made everyone turn tail and run?
Entering the kitchen, she hastily set to work scrubbing the already pristine wooden counter top, her roughness pushing splinters into the cloth she used. She could feel his eyes watching her, curious, uncomfortable eyes digging deep holes into her back. He was trying to decide if he should question her and walk himself right into the dragon's den, or leave and save himself the hassle. Though she didn't know what had started this sudden flood, if he left, Marian was positive she'd never seek him out again. Now that the gates opened, she wasn't sure she could play pretend and skirt around their issues any longer.
Her neatly stacked house of cards was crumbling. All around her, broken aces and accusing queens began to fall away. How long until the sacred king, at the very top, fell too? She wondered miserably. These outbursts were so unlike her.
"Marian?" So he's staying then, his clawed hand settled gently on her shoulder, in an uncertain, attempt to comfort her.
"Why?" She blurted turning to face him, the single question forcing Fenris backwards a few steps, his mouth open with surprise.
"I don't understand Hawke." Hawke… he's separating himself again, making her a novelty, instead of the woman she wanted him to see.
"Hawke!" She screeched, furiously pounding his chest with balled fists, pent up anger and frustration for him and for her roiling hard over her. She wanted to hurt him like he had her and was livid with herself because of it. To want him to feel pain seemed like she was betraying him. She was no better than Danarius in her moment of cruelty, no better than the man who had branded lyrium into her wolf's skin and scarred his soul.
"Hawke stop this." She heard him say. A piece of her heart begged her to comply, but she couldn't halt her fists. Couldn't shut the inner gates on her fury. "I didn't know how to be loved!" Fenris growled, grabbing her wrists tightly.
"What?" She sobbed, her tear blurred eyes made him look like a runny water painting.
"I felt things Mari." He hesitated, raking a clawed hand through his winter, white hair. "I spent my entire existence as cold as ice, a flesh and blood golem. Then you happened, you bounded into my world with this energy, this zest for life I'd never encountered before. And as broken and ravished as I am, you wanted me!" He paused breathing deep, then focused hard on her again, gently swiping a fresh tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Even after all my misguided cruelty towards you and mages, you refused to turn your back on me. And even more shocking Mari, you saw me as more than just an ally or friend. You looked at me like a woman does a man she deems worthy of her bed. I've never met anyone like you. You see good in even the most evil of men." His shoulders slumped his chin touching his chest, "like me." He breathed thumb still on her cheek.
"Fenris, your not evil-"
"Shut up and listen Hawke." He snarled placing a hand over her mouth, and then growled at himself for his harsh treatment of her, punching the cabinet beside her head. Still so feral was her little wolf. "We spent the night together and it was as if my heart beat for the first time, the feelings that flooded… the emotion, all of it was foreign and frightening… So I ran because that's all I knew to do."
"Why didn't you talk to me? Anything would have been better than the silence. We are adults Fenris, we could have figured it out together," She hissed at him, her inner rubber band finally snapping.
"When, Hawke?" Fenris asked his left eye twitching, emerald orbs boring into her. "When did you give me a chance to talk to you? Should I have sat in the stables and chatted my feelings in your ear while you and Isabela had a go round in the hay?" He asked, the tip of his clawed thumb tapping her cheek. "Or what of Anders? I mean honestly Mari, did my come even have a chance to dry before you started fucking that abomination?" His beautiful face twisted menacingly, the sharp point of his gauntlet gouging the sensitive flesh of her cheek. Marian knew she should be afraid, but she felt nothing except rage. How dare he!
"Don't you dare try to turn this on me Fenris, you left, not me." Marian spat her fists meeting his chest again, this time in attempt to push him away from her. Instead he swayed closer blocking her in.
"I would have given you everything Mari, bonded my life to yours, and you couldn't even give me time to sort myself out, before you ran into another's arms?" The tension between them made the small kitchen rock. Fenris' skin glowed that eerie pale blue that marked his anger, in turn her magic quickly raced to the surface, responding to the surge of lyrium and passion that surrounded them.
"So we're to fight? Is this how it ends elf? You know what just finish it; take my heart! I won't even scream." She growled, holding her chest out to him, her face held stubbornly away from his.
"Oh would you two stop it." Orana scolded from behind them. Her slim frame puffed out, her face unimpressed. "Haven't you both been witness to enough tragedy, enough pain and desperation? This city is filled to the brim with starving children, sick folk and Templars that want nothing more than to burn her straight to ash. And you two have the audacity to stand in my kitchen, bitching about who's got it bad? Hawke go out there and be the Champion you're supposed to be, stop hiding behind all you petty faces." At Orana's words Fenris shook his head in agreement letting go of Marian.
"She's right Mari-"
"Don't start Fenris. I mean to rip a strip from you too, if you'd just be patient!" The little elf snarled. "You, my love, need to let go of this cancerous anger you've let burrow in your veins. You had it bad absolutely, but so did I. Do you see me whining about my lot in life? Stop playing the godforsaken victim." She pinned them both with a scorching gaze, her tipped ears twitching. "From where I stand you both have it pretty good. Your hardships have shaped you into the respected legends you are. You both have a roof over your pretty, thick heads, and people like me, who love you unconditionally. Be happy with that because Maker knows it's far more than what most of Kirkwall has. Little Nova would be deeply ashamed of both of you! Now get out of my kitchen. Supper is on the horizon and some of us have real problem's to contend with. Like how I am to feed Templar's, that weren't supposed to be my charges to see to in the first place." With that she swatted both of them with her heavy rolling pin, slamming the oak door in their stunned faces.
"Listen Mari, I'm sorry for everything. For the pain I caused in the past and the things I've said today." Fenris whispered, his eyes never leaving the door.
"Don't be." Marian sighed, a smile parting her lips. "I'm not." She continued, laughing at the way he measured her skeptically, before his eyes went back to the door, magnetized by the oak. Or the hot-tempered chef… "I'm not Fenris. It's the truth! This outburst from me was simply a long simmering pot and it boiled over. Yes it hurt that you left, but in the end, had you stayed, where would we be, unhappily together, or worse enemies? Both are horrifying options, aren't they?"
"You're so certain we'd be unhappy together Hawke?" He questioned curiously, eyes still focused on the door.
"I've seen the way you look at her elf." Both she and Fenris chuckled, when what sounded like a cast iron pan crashed with the door they still stood in front of, a string of curses following. "If we would have stayed together, you never would have allowed yourself to mingle with the spit fire behind door numero uno." Marian rapped the solid oak lightly; Fenris's head bobbing with the motion. "And that would be a travesty, I'm not willing to take part in, she is after all your better half." Marian smiled, while another tear slipped down her cheek, the salt burning the small gouge Fenris' gauntlet made.
"I've marred your flesh." Fenris growled at himself, removing one of his gauntlets to prod at the little wound. "I'm no better than a wild mutt."
"Because of this little scrape." She scoffed lightly, brushing a hand over his, bringing it to rest upon the tiny wound. Healing waves weaved from her hand to his, mending the flesh beneath with a gentle warmth. "Nothing that can't be healed with a little magic, dearest wolf." She purred, slowly pulling their hands from her face, to reveal perfectly unmarked skin. They stood like that for what seemed like decades, her hand on top of his. Their eyes peering into each other's souls.
"Will we ever be okay Mari?" He finally whispered, cutting the hazy silence.
"We've always been okay Fenris…. But now I believe with our wounds finally well stitched, and on the path to proper healing, we're far better than simply okay. Gods be damned we may actually have a shot at being real friends. Just one thing left to do."
"And that would be?" He asked curiously.
"I don't think you need this anymore." She answered pulling on the little, red scurf around his wrist. "You have a woman who treats you like the king you deserve to be. Why hold on to a banner like this one, of a woman who couldn't do the same?"
"I don't wear it in memory of you as a lover."
"No?" She needled, her inquisitiveness taking hold.
"No. I wear it to honor the warrior queen, who toppled my world head over arse and fought tooth and nail at my side. I wear it for Hawke, not Marian." He laughed lowly, chucking her under the chin.
"Aren't we both one in the same though little wolf?" She pondered, confused by the separation.
"Not even close." He returned, that and no more. "You wanted to speak with me?"
She blinked at him the sudden change in tide leaving her dazed and even more confused
"Wha… We are talking elf." Marian turned her head to the door when another crash came from within, more curses erupting with it.
"At the Hanged Man you sought me out. I assume this… Our meltdown wasn't what you had in mind." Fenris grated, his eyes locked on the door.
"Oh, Aye! About that… You've been watching Templar activity like I asked, yes?" She began, welcoming the distraction. Marian didn't cry, she hadn't in years, had even thought that she no longer could, but now that the waves had began to flow, Marian feared she'd wilt from dehydration if they didn't stop raining down her face.
"Of course I have." Fenris snorted indignantly.
"Good, cause I want maps. I need to know where all the Templar posts are, as well as where their patrols are heaviest." Marian paused noting in her head everything she needed the maps to say, then decided it would be easier just to tell Fenris where she wanted to go. "Okay to make it simple, I need to know how to get to Nova, on the Arainai farm, without spiking Templar curiosity."
"That's a long trek and foolish at best, down right dangerous at it's worst. Even for you Hawke. I can't, with good conscience give you what you seek." He said giving her the raised eyebrow of seriousness that he gave only when he was firm in a decision. Be as firm as you want elf, I'm going to get those maps. And she would get the maps, as stubborn as most every person in her life was, she could be, too, only a hundred times more so.
"Listen I know it's dangerous, but I need to see Nova. And I'm going to do it elf whether or not you help me. I suspect however if you give me the maps I seek the journey would be no more dangerous than a one on one fight with a drake. Without them however, I might as well be walking straight into the black void itself." She gazed up into his eyes, hoping to find her speech swaying his firm resolve, and was met only with stony resistance. Bah, stubborn elf! She groused inwardly, it was time to kick up the pressure a notch… or two. "Well the black void it is. Bah-bye cruel world, you have been a wicked mistress." Marian whined dramatically her left forearm crossing over her eyes, her body swooning.
"Oh by the Gods Mari, I'll give you anything you want, if you promise I will never have to watch you swoon, ever again. You're acting very Orleasian, it's distressing to me that you look like Dulci de Launcet right now." With a soft sigh and slump of his shoulders Fenris relented. "I'll draw them up for you tonight and send them with Orana early tomorrow, as well as Carver's regular missive. Hawke if you get killed out there I refuse to stand at your funeral pyre. A man has to have limits on what he can take!"
Marian was no longer listening to his words. Instead she was in his arms kissing every inch of his face in merry thanks. She'd be seeing Nova tomorrow, what greater feeling could there be? Absolutely none! Collecting herself she stepped away from Fenris, the elf was as still as a statue, stunned by her outburst. Patting down her gold robes and scarlet locks she pinned him with a serious gaze.
"So what are you standing here for elf?" She rasped, almost laughing when he gasped out a breath, but couldn't speak. "Well?" She questioned raising an eyebrow and tapping a foot. "Listen little wolf, Orana won't be alone in that kitchen and completely on fire, as she is forever. If you plan to bend her over the sink and work out some stress with her, I fear you're quickly running out of time. So shake tail man! Get out of my face, I don't wanna see either of you till smiles twist your faces so deep, they get stuck like that." With that Marian twirled from him, only managing to count to three before the door to the kitchen opened than quickly shut, the lock clicking into place. She couldn't stop the laugh that bellowed from her. She threw her head high to the ceiling; hair dusting over her bottom and eyes squeezed shut. Tears began to roll down her cheeks once more, this time from the bubbles of laughter she emanated to the rafters. She felt as light as a feather. The buzz of sheer happiness was intoxicating. Gods what it would be like to feel like this all the time!
"Mistress Hawke?" Keran interrupted her uncontrolled cackling; clearing his throat, face marred with worry no doubt for her sanity. The young Corporal was making it a habit to catch her at the most inopportune times.
"Aye, serha Keran. It is grand to see you!" She greeted wistfully
"It is mum?" He questioned, cocking his head to the side to study her. "Are you feeling well ma'am?"
"I am! In truth, I feel better than well… Glorious even." Unleashing a wicked smile, Marian brushed past him to the stairs leading to her quarters. "Oh and Knight-Corporal," she drawled turning once more to the young Templar rooted to her hardwood floor. "I'm feeling generous today, so you are most welcome to anything in the lounge your heart desires… But I would recommend you stay away from the kitchen! I hear sinful things are taking place within. I wouldn't want you to peek through the keyhole and get all educated on your dear Divine." Marian winked, giving him a low dipping curtsy, she knew would display her well endowed chest and left him staring in shock at her swaying hips, for the second time. Aye, B, you are corrupting!
A/N: So, I won't make it a habit to write these little blurbs, I promise, but I did want to say that yes, I know I'm using Gods from both Greek and Roman mythology, sorry in advanced, but I love mythology and wanted to mix it. Hopefully it doesn't offend anyone too badly.
Much love
Thanks for being awesome!
-Scar