The Rogue's Conquest
Chapter 11"After you've finished fixing the wardrobe Mistress Hawke, these plates need tending. Unless it's a custom of yours to leave filthy china lying about?" Marian grumbled, mimicking the uppity Lady de Launcet's nasally, high-pitched voice with disgust.
Stopping at the top of the back stairs, she set the heavy steel tray, full of dirty dishes and half-eaten breakfast on the floor. Being a personal maid and handyman, all rolled into one weren't tasks she particularly relished, but the de Launcets were two of her last paying guests. If they preferred to dine in their room because of Dulci's fragile disposition regarding soldiers, then Marian had to be more than willing to accommodate. Still she wouldn't be sad to see them go.
Quickly she looped the hem of her robe through the ties of her apron, until the long skirt was raised well past her knees, placing the hammer she'd used on the wardrobe through the ties as well. When she was satisfied she wouldn't be tripping over her skirt, Marian grabbed the steel tray once more, hoisting it back onto her shoulder to head down the narrow, winding stairs to the kitchen. Though it had been awhile since she regularly carried trays herself, she hadn't forgotten the tricks of parlor maids and serving girls. A good thing, too, since a good chunk of the tavern's staff fled when the Templar ships came into view of the Wounded Coast. And the few who'd been brave enough to stay? They disappeared into the night, when the vast amounts of Templar soldiers had begun filling the Rose's rooms. Leaving Orana, Jethann, Serendipity and herself, too, tend the tavern.
"There you are at last," barked Aveline, as Marian came into the kitchen. To her right Orana sat perched on the oak counter top, likely in an attempt to stay out from underfoot of the burly Guard-Captain's relentless pacing.
Halfway to noon! And some folk are still in bed with bacon and cocoa," Aveline groused. "Bloody Orleasians!"
"Well, Avie, the Rose doesn't have enough paying guests to turn people away because their habits don't suit you." Marian scolded irritably, setting the tray down to the left of Orana. Harder than she'd intended, if the great symphony of clattering china was any hint. Marian suspected her bad mood, was a side effect of the sleepless night she'd spent tossing and turning. Groaning into her plush, pillow at how freely she'd acted with Sebastian Vael. "Besides Guillaume de Launcet always settles his bill without grief, and pays cold, hard sovereign."
"Aye, but look at this Mari!" Orana cried with a wounded air, poking her wooden spoon through the dirty china beside her. "Just look, I beg you. I crisped the bacon perfectly, just as Dulci ordered and back it comes, as if I hadn't heeded her wishes at all!"
"They leave tomorrow, for Orlais Orana," said Marian, snatching the strip of bacon the elf waved around, and popping it into her mouth. "Mmmm delicious," She worshipped, around a mouthful of the salty, sweet meat. "I trust you can bear with them until then, dear friend and I will eat your perfectly cooked bacon myself."
"Hawke," Aveline interrupted sharply, catching both Marian's and Orana's attention. "You blanetly under minded my authority!"
"Well look at the time!" Orana chirped, popping off the counter like a shot. "I'm going to… Go away… Far… Far away." The little elf finished, fleeing past Marian, not meeting her eyes. Bloody turncoat! Marian thought, never taking her own eyes off of Kirkwall's livid Guard-Captain.
"I don't know what your talking about Ave-"
"Bullshit Hawke! You know exactly what I'm talking about. Those Templars deserve to be charged under our authority. Last I checked; this was still our goddamn city!" Aveline's voice boomed through the small kitchen. Her gauntleted fists crashed down hard where Orana had been, the force breaking some of the dirty china on impact. "And then you don't even have the BALLS," She bellowed rocking the rafters, a hand clenched as if she were trying to grasp at the balls she spoke of. "To tell me yourself. I had to learn your stupid, naïve decision from the Knight-Vigilant when I showed up to take his men into custody. Maker Mari! I had to watch the Ward sister's rapist, while they smiled and sneered at me and couldn't do a damn thing about it. That's the Divine's justice; you've decided to trust so wholly in? Who are you? Because you're certainly not the same woman who saved this city from Qunari indoctrination and Knight-Commander Meredith."
"Who am I?" Marian snapped, turning away from the shattered pieces of china she'd been cleaning, to face Aveline's blazing, emerald eyes. "I'm the woman who gets to make all the decisions. I also happen to be the one people either love, or hate because of those decisions and most importantly, Guard-Captain! I'm the only thing standing between this Gods forsaken city and a bloody massacre."
"Marian." She heard Orana beckon, from the kitchen door behind her, but didn't turn from Aveline, not quite finished with her tirade.
"If you want to extract, your coveted pound of flesh so badly, Aveline, then so be it. You have my leave to collect the pelts of those soulless bastards. Know this though-"
"Mari!" Orana tried again, a little more urgently. The desperation in the elf's voice catching the Guard-Captain's interest, her green, eyes widening at whatever she saw. But still Marian wasn't finished. She'd kept her temper too tightly locked, for too long to stop now.
"One moment Orana." She growled brokenly, never taking her eyes from Aveline.
"The war that the Knight-Vigilant, will undoubtedly unleash upon this city will be on your head Aveline. I'd get well prepared for the shit storm you'll be under once all is said and done."
"Marian, please!" Orana pleaded.
"What is it?!" Marian roared, pivoting on her heel to face her friend, fury threatening her twitchy, mental trigger. But instantly her anger was replaced with a chilled fear. Her own eyes widening into large saucers, like Aveline's had. Understanding now, Orana's desperation.
"Knight-Commander Vael!" Marian croaked, her fingers flying to her unruly curls, in attempt to smooth the static flyways.
"Aye, Mari, Knight-Commander Vael in the flesh," Orana mocked. A look of suspicion crossing her pretty, elven face, as she eyed Marian's freshly primped mane. "The TEMPLAR Vael! You know, the one staying in our finest suite, as fine as a lord. He's the kind that should be paying his way if you ask my thoughts on the matter." Orana continued, ignoring the fact that the man she spoke of stood only an arms length from her.
"Which I am not Orana," Marian retorted sharply, quieting the elf. Though she felt her face burn a guilty shade of red. Gods only knew, who had seen her return on Sebastian's horse last night. Or what Orana and Aveline had both already heard. Foolish! She thought dismally, foolish, foolish to have behaved like some doe eyed girl for all of Kirkwall to witness!
It hit Marian then, that she should be far more worried about what Sebastian had heard of her and Aveline's "talk". How long had he stood in the doorway for? - BALLS! This man, in all his perfection, would be the death of her. And though she'd spent a sleepless night because of him, he on the other hand, held no shadows beneath his glorious eyes, or ill humor in his expression, as he smiled at her now… Bastard.
With her cheeks firing hotter, Marian tore her gaze from his lush mouth, back to Orana. "All that you and I have to discuss, is what will be offered at the table for dinner tonight. Which we'll go over once I've seen to serha Vael."
"Actually Mistress Hawke," Sebastian cut in with an easy charm. "I believe both can be satisfied right now. I've come with welcome news, M'lady. The market square has once again been opened for business, the trading ships were allowed to dock early this morning."
"They never would have been stopped from docking in the first place, if your Knight-Vigilant hadn't ordered it," Marian scoffed, rebelliously tossing her chin high. At least he'd the sense not to call her by her given name, the way she'd practically begged him, too do last night. Gods, what had possessed her? "I still fail to see what danger he could possibly see in ships carrying turnips, eggs and silks. Or for that matter what danger the market itself could pose. What devious trickery, do you suppose housewives and farmers are getting up to these days Knight-Commander?"
7-7-7
"It was for the protection of those same housewives and farmers, that the Knight-Vigilant made his decision," he said. "Rebels have a way of turning even the most harmless gatherings into a dangerous place, for innocent people." Sebastian toyed with the helm in his hand, tracing a finger over its smooth surface. As he wondered how Marian managed to look so sinfully pretty in the harsh afternoon's light, when few women seldom did.
He hadn't meant to take her unaware, as he evidently had. Not that he regretted it. With an apron around her slim waist, a hammer in it's, white ties, along with the hem of her skirt tucked into the ties around her waist, she looked much more like a cheeky maidservant, than the stern landlady she was trying to be. Like this she looked like a Mari. Last night she'd told him to call her that, not Marian, nor Lady Hawke. Just Mari. Like this, the name suited her. Though Sebastian had decided never to use it. As tempting as it was, such familiarity was only certain to bring great sorrow with it.
Nay, he hadn't meant to sneak up on her, as he'd seemed to. In fact Sebastian had only followed the little elf that had greeted him in the foyer, when the sounds of angry yelling floated to his ears. He'd be lying, if he said that finding the Rose's scarlet mistress, standing toe to toe with Kirkwall's firm Guard-Captain, hadn't shocked him.
Now with her back ramrod straight, and her mouth gaped in a giant O, Sebastian got the distinct impression; their conversation had been filled with information, which would have answered a lot of his blasted questions.
7-7-7
Under Sebastian's scrutiny Marian raised her chin higher. How could the man stand there, smiling so beautifully, and spew such nonsense as if it were handed down from the Maker himself? "Oh Knight-Commander, such protection." Marian mused, "Was it protection, your men offered me last night, I wonder?" His dashing, lopsided smile, spurred her heart into another barge against her ribcage. She'd hoped her words would shake his calm demeanor. Instead she'd only seemed to amuse him and nearly give herself a heart attack for good measure.
"Perhaps my men were less than polite, Lady Hawke, but I had hoped I'd made up for their indiscretions, myself last night."
Marian stumbled back, sucking in a shocked breath. The implication they'd spent the night together horrified her. She knew he hadn't meant it as anything more sinister than him protecting her, the night prior. But both Aveline and Orana hadn't been there last night, and with her deviant history, they were sure to take his words at face value.
"We did not…" Marian bumbled, scanning her friend's faces. "I did not… With him." She tried, hiking a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of Sebastian, while shaking her head NO, vigorously.
"Excuse me Hawke," said Orana, rolling her eyes, not bothering to hide her impatience with the scene unfolding. "But if the markets open as he said, than there's plenty we need. I can't be expected to produce gourmet dishes, with only peanut butter and a pound of bacon you know."
Marian sighed, partly because she was glad Orana had stopped her from her frantic rambling, but also because she knew the chef was right. Though the Rose's guest list was dwindling, there were still things Orana couldn't be expected to do without.
"Aye, your right Oreo, I'll go right now," Marian agreed, realizing as she untied her apron, that she'd left both the hammer, and the hem of her skirt in its ties. Hastily she tossed the hammer down, than tugged her skirt well past her ankles, her cheeks flaring hot once more. How common she must of appeared to the Prince of Starkhaven. La sigh!
"I'll go fetch my cloak, then be off right away."
"Excellent, Lady Hawke," said Sebastian entusastically. "Then I'll have the joy of your company as we walk."
She froze mid-step, her spine snapping into harsh alignment. "That's certainly not necessary, Knight-Commander!" She bit out quickly. "I'm sure you've other duties that need your attention." Unless she'd become part of his duties? After all, she still wasn't sure how much of her and Aveline's conversation he'd heard.
"First is to see that all is proceeding peacefully with the reopening of the market, and that I can do as well with you, as alone." Sebastian said. He also should have added, that for him to be seen with her, one of the most respected women in the city. At the reopened market, could only help in convincing the rest of Kirkwall, that the Divine did wish them well. It would have at least been more honest of him.
Without waiting for a response, he took her emerald cloak, the one she had worn the previous night, from the peg near the doorway he stood in, holding it open for her. "Come Lady Hawke. If you wish, I'll even bring Corporal Keran to carry your purchases home for you."
"That," she murmured quickly "won't be necessary." Feeling thoroughly trapped, she let him settle the cloak over her shoulders. Better to take no greater notice of his attentions, and give both Orana and Aveline yet another thing to squint and scowl over. She'd walk the short distance at his side if she must, but once at the market, she had every intention of freeing herself from him, as soon as she could. The last thing she needed, or wanted was for people to begin linking them together, the next leap, connecting Nova as well, would then be all too easy, to make.
She purposefully ignored his offered arm as they stepped into the street, drawing her hood up instead; glad he let the slight pass without argument. "Snow again," Marian whined, wrinkling her nose as she peered up into the vast, blue-grey sky. Fat white flakes caressed her cheeks, landing lightly on her thick lashes, like glittering diamonds. Already enough lay on the ground, blanketing the cobblestone streets and grass patches, in shimmering white. Making Kirkwall, look more like a Solstice snow globe, as opposed to the frightened city that she was. "Pray it doesn't amount to much." Marian said, thinking out loud.
"Amen to that," Sebastian agreed. "At least now we've managed to find decent quarters for the men, and no one's left to sleep in tents. Those first two nights on the Coast, were enough for me. I can assure you Lady Hawke, that your hospitality and your bed are a good deal more comfortable than an open hillside in a Kirkwall winter.
Again she knew he meant, "bed" as in one belonging to her tavern, and not specifically her own bed. Yet still she stiffened defensively. The bed with the pristine white sheets and golden lace curtains; was her sanctuary, her private place to be shared with no one! For the second time today, his innocent, but careless words, had her banished to a provocative place, where sinful possibilities awakened shockingly vivid images, dancing them about her eyes. It rocked her core with electric bolts of longing and need, she'd thought long dead, and that infuriated her!
"Hospitality implies an invitation, that was willingly extended, Knight-Commander," she whispered, voice brittle. "I wouldn't consider being forced to shelter, intrusive Templar soldiers in my home, that way." Sebastian glanced at her; surprise laced in his poisonous eyes and seeped into his beautiful face.
"I meant no offence Marian," he said seriously. "I intended it as praise, nothing else and if I've made a mistake, please forgive me, I'm but a man."
Marian stopped abruptly, brought to a halt by the sound of her name from his lips. She'd berated herself all night long for being so foolish in giving him leave to use her given name. But now that she'd heard him use it, she began to think foolishness had nothing to do with it. Long ago, he'd never called her anything, but empty endearments. Hearing it now, she wondered if part of her had hoped to redeem that lost past, with something as simple and as complicated as this.
"Forgive me Mari," he said, more softly this time. His words coming out as little puffs of icy smoke, in the afternoon chill. "Please, I didn't mean to slight the good name of either you, or your tavern."
Overwhelmed by his kindness and her turmoil, Marian pressed a gloved hand to her mouth. She didn't want his concern, nor did she relish in his apologies. There wasn't nearly enough room for either in her life at the moment. But OH, how turquoise his eyes seemed, with snowflakes fluttering around his face. The turquoise she'd never forgotten... The turquoise she was always forced to remember, when she glimpsed upon their daughter's smiling face.
Marian lowered her head and turned away, securing her cloak more firmly around her body, as she hurried down the street and toward the market. Though she could hear his footsteps quicken to follow, she didn't look back.
"By the Gods NO!" she cried, shaking her head in denial and disbelief. "Oh what have they done? What have they done?!" On the corner she stood upon, there sat a mansion, so old that it had been through the first Qunari invasion in 7:56 Storm, than housed Sir Lumile de Marais. The Orleasian chevalier, that had liberated the city from the horned ox men in 7:60 Storm, to become Viscount of Kirkwall, and in the lot next to the aged mansion, was an orchard of gnarled fruit trees, cherry – apple – pear, that had all borne fruit nearly as long… But no longer, for every one of the trees had been cut to the ground, their twisted, old limbs butchered crudely, into rough chunks and stacked along the trampled snow. Gone too, was the neat white washed fence, which once surrounded the fruitful trees. It as well had been torn down, and stacked into a tremendous pile. And as she looked on in horror, two Templar soldiers, in leather aprons, began to chop into the first of the great pine trees that lined the scenic Hightown streets.
7-7-7
"It's a shame to lose the trees, I know," said Sebastian at her shoulder, returning the salute of each of his men, "but it's worse still, to have a solider freeze to death, for want of a decent fire. You said yourself, one cord of wood a week wouldn't be enough for me, and most of my men will be fortunate to have a quarter of that for comfort."
"But those fruit trees, had been there since before we were born - before our parents were born!" She cried. "How in the Gods name, can you destroy them with so little thought?"
"There's much thought behind it ma'am and as much grieving and sorrow." The harsh edge to his voice was unintentional, as he spoke to her, but was there just the same. "If the mages of this city had given equal thought to their actions, before they rebelled against their Chantry, then these trees – and many a life – would have been spared from destruction."
"You are wrong serha," said the little mage furiously, her right hand held over her seemingly broken heart. "Most appallingly, most diabolically wrong! To say that my people would wantonly choose destruction and death on a whim, on an impulse, proves just how little you know of our reasons for this rebellion. And even more, how little you understand, of the abuses we were subjected to at the hands of your Templar brethren."
"Everyone of us have our own reasons ma'am, for whatever choices we make in our lives," sighed Sebastian grimly. Mage deceit was always the same, even when it came from the tempting mouth of Marian Hawke. "But now my choice is to see you safely to the market, and do that I shall." He said
She looked at him impassively, a look that unsettled Sebastian. For it held none of the fire he was so accustom to seeing, instead it was completely blank. Her eyes were so cold he wanted to shake her in the hopes, the blue bulbs behind her dull grey orbs would flicker their supernatural glow.
"Your choice, Knight-Commander, and the Divine take mine," she said, words as icy as the mask she donned. "Is that how it shall be? For a few moments you will have your way – your 'choice', as you call it and then when you are done, satisfied, will I be left with the consequences?"
"Consequences?" Sebastian asked, feeling like he'd walked into a conversation, he hadn't realized they'd been in the process of having. "You speak in riddles, Mari. What kind of consequence would come of you and I walking to the market together?"
"None in the least." She said wistfully, moving from his side. "You've no fear of that… At least not this day Knight-Commander." She paused at one of the doomed pine trees, removing a glove to lightly trace her small fingers over the whorls in the bark, as a silent farewell. She looked to him once more, letting the hood of her cloak slip back from her hair, while she kept her hand on the tree. Her expression struck him as a curious mixture of sadness and defiance, and her eyes ignited a brilliant burnt-orange he'd never witnessed before, unshed tears illuminating them, like a clear blue sky, would the sun.
She must have a lover serving with the rebels, decided Sebastian with a sudden pang of certainty. Perhaps that's who she'd been in the barn with, the night he'd been impaled by the rebel arrow. Some man fortunate enough to inspire both her tears and her anger. An absent lover would explain so much. But damnation! Why were her lips, her tears and even the eerie, burnt-orange glow of her eyes, so maddeningly familiar?
With obvious effort, she twisted her mouth into something close to a smile, stuffing her hand back into her glove. "We mustn't waste any more time Knight-Commander." With a swift blink, her eyes went back to dull grey. The tears that had nearly fallen moments ago, vanished willed away with sheer force. "Unless you want to be the one who answers to Orana, when I don't return with a turkey and a ham hock at the very least."
Oddly enough, Sebastian felt as if he should apologize once more, though he hadn't the slightest notion why. Instead he offered his arm to her again, and this time she took it. Her gloved hand upon his sleeve wasn't warm as he suspected it might be, but was as light and insubstantial as the snowflakes that gathered there, too.
They walked in uneasy silence for what seemed a lifetime, neither sure what to say. "In Venus there's truth?" Sebastian finally found the courage to ask, certain he couldn't possibly anger her more than he already had. She looked up into his face through her thick lashes, her eyes softening, and a sigh lightly escaping her plump, pink lips.
"I see serha, you've been talking to Isabela." She sighed sheepishly, leading him by his arm toward a stone bench just outside of the markets square, pulling him down to sit next to her. "Did she tell you about Venus?"
"Aye, though I fear she wasn't telling me the truth. So if it's all the same, I'd like to hear about the goddess from you, and what you meant. Maker, knows it's a riddle I've been madly trying to decode… It's not working out so well however." Sebastian sighed, pulling his helm from his head, letting his brown hair wave in the chilly breeze.
"Venus was… is depending on who you talk to, the goddess of love, beauty and sex." Marian whispered barely loud enough for him to hear. Her gloved fingers twisting and untwisting her crimson curls nervously. "Being's, she's the goddess of sex, the saying actually translates to in sex there's truth."
"And you said that's what you believe?" Sebastian asked shocked at her interpretation. Though it was logical, he never expected it to come from the stern Lady Hawke.
"I do. Perhaps it's different for men, and you probably won't agree. But in all my years I've learnt more about a person once I've bedded them, than I ever would have keeping my clothes on." He pinned her with a skeptical look, not sure what to say next. What did one ask that wouldn't offend her? Before he could say anything, she grabbed one of his hands with both of hers, willing him to understand.
"I'm going to give you an example serha, and then we'll never speak of this again." She said simply and he nodded in agreement. "When I was a girl… Seventeen actually, I met a man in a dingy tavern. One so handsome, so sweet, with a smile that could melt ice, or intoxicate a naïve girl, who'd never met such a man in her life… Namely myself." She giggled nervously, licking her lips. "This man spoke such pretty words to me about how beautiful I was, that I was like an un-bloomed flower. And though I know how foolish it is now, I thought him a gentleman, one who I trusted immediately." She paused squeezing his hand tightly; her little gloved nails dug hard into his palm, though Sebastian doubted she noticed and the chink in her normally cool confidence humbled him. Even though she called him 'enemy' she was still willing to confide in him, something that clearly pained her.
"Please," Sebastian reassured, gently placing his free hand over hers. "Don't stop." With a slight bob of her head and a fleeting smile, she met his gaze and obliged him.
"When he got into some trouble that night, I snuck him into a barn to protect him from the guards, and up in the musty loft, he proved to be quite the opposite of what I believed him. He was nothing more than a snake in the grass, and once he'd taken his pleasure he left. But, not before he offered me coins."
"Dressed as one, the wolf will betray the lamb." Sebastian whispered bitterly. "That man, Mari, is not a man, Maker, a rabid dog sounds like better company." Sebastian raged, angry for the young woman she'd been, wanting to kill the man she spoke of.
"Aye, he was a wolf indeed." She responded wisely. "But the point to the story is, that I learnt who he was by the way he treated me." Pulling her hands from his, she leaned close to him. "And if that's not enough to make u a believer of In Venere Veritas, then here's another small example. You've met Isabela. And you likely believe her to be thoroughly selfish and overly confident, with an iced heart, but serha, I can tell you from experience, she's actually very self-conscious, uncertain, and she'd give you her heart, if it weren't for her fear of it being crushed."
"And you learnt this-"
7-7-7
"By making love to her of course, discovering the woman under all that gold, and paint she covers herself with. Aye." Marian nodded, forcing a smile. She should be happy he hadn't connected the dots and figured out he was the wolf. But it burned her to know she'd truly been so insignificant to him. By the Gods! She'd given him a cart full of breadcrumbs, and he still wasn't able to follow the path they lead down. Standing abruptly, she brushed her hands over the skirt of her robe fearing if she didn't keep them busy she'd punch him square in the nose.
Coming to stand next to her, Sebastian offered her his arm once more, and still without thought she took it, allowing him to lead her through the arches that marked the start of the Hightown market. One of Kirkwall's most elegant landmarks, the newly built market house was a three-story building, with open arches on the ground level for the stalls.
Though farmers, fishermen and other merchants had returned at Marian's orders, to sell their wares, their numbers on this grey, snowy morning were far fewer than she was use to. There was none of the usual laughter and good-natured bantering, no loitering to gossip or exchange news. The citizens who came to the stalls and carts today, all finished their business as quickly as possible before they scurried back to their homes.
Knight-Vigilant Cullen; could make all the pronouncements he wished, about life in the city returning to normal; but the Templar soldiers who stood guarding the market place against any sign of rebellious behavior, made normal life as Kirkwall's people knew it impossible.
Self-consciously Marian let her gloved hand slip from Sebastian's arm, aware of the curious looks the simple gesture was drawing from her people. For a few brief moments, she had allowed herself the comfort that little touch had brought. It was dangerous though, that little touch, that public display of intimacy. She let herself believe, that even in his silence he somehow understood her reasoning. Be it imagined or real, she sensed a bond to him and she thought wistfully of all that could never be, could never even begin, between them.
Deliberately, Marian bent to study a beautiful, deep sapphire dress Jean-Luc had on display, in an attempt to forget Sebastian entirely. "By the Gods Jean, you've out done yourself with this stunning gown," she admired the tailor's finely crafted piece, his thin face shading red, with her compliment.
"Oui, mum. I made it with you in mind. Are you interested in buying?" He asked, with a hopeful air. It would be good business for him if the cities Viscountess, were to be seen in one of his custom pieces. And Marian had to admit; the dress was exquisite. Made of a pure, sapphire jacquard silk. The skirt was ruched up in beautiful waves, to reveal a layered black tulle underskirt, the ruched points trimmed with tiny black bows. The bodice was a tight fitted corset, accented on the top with black lacey trim. A row of tiny, vertical golden pearls, rested down the front. The entire ensemble laced up in the back, with a thick, black silk ribbon. Was she interested? The answer to that question was as certain as both death and taxes. The dress held her as it's captive and she hadn't even tried it on yet!
"How much?" She asked, knowing full well the answer didn't much matter. Jean-Luc already, had her sold on her need for the sapphire gown in her life.
"Fifty sovereign, mum."
"Fifty?" Marian groaned knowing the dress was well worth its price tag, but it was still a steep price. "Why Jean-Luc that's highway robbery!"
"Ten sovereign less for you Madame." The tailor said, rubbing a hand across his chin. "And I'll throw in these black, lace gauntlets and a pair of golden stilettos for free. But I won't be going a penny less than that, I don't need to tell you how hard times are these days."
"You will excuse me Lady Hawke," Sebastian intervened, his silken voice raising just enough to draw her attention, and that of every other woman in the marketplace. "But I must speak with the Knight-Vigilant at once."
"Very well, Knight-Commander Vael, and a good day to you." Marian scarcely bothered to look toward him as she waved her hand in an airy dismissal, focusing all her attentions back on Jean-Luc and his elegant creation. "You have yourself a deal, serha," Marian chirped extending a hand to the tailor. "Now it must be wrapped and taken to the Rose directly. And mind you be sure to ask for Orana.
As Marian counted out the coins in her palm, her thoughts uneasily returned to Sebastian. She'd been on the fence whether she wanted him to leave, or stay. But she certainly hadn't wanted him to leave like this. What "words" was he having with the Knight-Vigilant? Had she inadvertently done, or said something he needed to report immediately? Better yet had he heard all of her and Aveline's conversation in the kitchen? Was he about to out her well thought through façade while she fawned over ball gowns? By the Gods I hope not!
Making her way around the market square, Marian tried hard to remember everything Orana needed. Eggs of course, a turkey, or two if they were to be had. And sticky, molasses sweets that were Nova's favorite. Even though Marian had no idea when she'd be able to see her precious girl again. And rice, and-
"Nah' greeting fer' me lass?" Asked Gabriel Vael. "Or do they all belong tae' mah' dear, beloved little brother these days? O' hush now, keep yer' wits about ye' woman!"
"Gabriel," Marian breathed trying to calm her racing heart. "You startled me that's all." She hadn't meant to jump, but she also hadn't expected to find the wanted Vael HERE! Standing near the back of one of the merchants stalls, covered in the shadows, his usual simple, but costly clothes replaced by raggedy farmers garb and a wide brimmed hat, cocked forward to cover his eyes. The dark stubble she'd seen on his chin only days ago, was now well on it's way to being a full-blown, bushy, brown beard. But the greatest change in his face came from within, a dark bitterness etched into every perfectly chiseled feature.
"Well Ah' cannae' come around the Rose any longer Mari. Ye' know that." He sighed, his gaze restlessly sweeping over her shoulder to the bustling market. "We'll have tae' meet however we can. Now what news do ye' have fer' me lass?"
Marian swallowed hard, wracking her brain for a memory, anything she could satisfy Gabriel with, that he may find useful. "Umm… Well." She stuttered nervously, never one for doing well when placed on the spot. "Ah yes!" She clapped happily." "There was a camp of Templars, thirty or forty at least, just on the outskirts of the Arainai's farm-"
"Common news lass." Gabriel growled cutting her off harshly. "Ah' want what ye've heard from Sebastian. Rumor says ye've been spendin' an awful lot O' time with him you must know something useful."
"He's hardly about to confide the Divine's darkest secrets in me Gabe." She scoffed, a tad miffed at the silent accusations, he was throwing at her. "Especially not with less than a weeks acquaintance!" Gabriel's expression darkened his eyes seeming to fire red.
"Tae' mah' eye mistress, yer' acquaintance with mah' brother seems quite cozy actually. At least it did last night, when the pair O' ye' rode into town on his dark stallion."
Marian flushed, reminded again how swiftly such provocative news traveled. "It had been late Gabe, Sebastian offered me his protection back to town. That was all I swear it."
"O' aye lass, but ye' call him by his blessed name. That's good, dear, sweet Cherry, verra' good indeed." Gabriel shifted closer leaning his hands on a pillar behind Marian; boxing her in and lowering his voice to a sultry, rough whisper. "Has Sebastian mentioned anything about any o' his fellows wounded? Have any o' the men in yer' house kept tae' their beds, or summoned a surgeon? Or has any o' yer' staff talked o' bloodstains on bed sheets set aside fer' laundry?"
Her heart pounded a steady drumbeat, all the way to her ears. She had a decision to make. She'd promised Sebastian, that she'd tell no one of his wound. But, she had also promised to report, whatever she saw, or heard to help the mage cause. "No nothing of the sort." She whispered, hating herself instantly for the choice she'd made.
"By the Gods, think lass," urged Gabriel. "Ye've' heard nothing o' a Templar soldier being hit by an arrow?"
Shaking her head no, guilt worked her over for the choice she'd not only made, but in that moment had also decided to stand firm on… Betrayer. Gabriel swore thumping his palms against the pillar in frustration. "Ah' was sure, I'd struck him! That bloody white uniform, that beast o' a horse – there'd never be a better target, or a more deserving one Mari, Ah' swear it."
"Then it was you," she breathed, forgetting herself in the shock of what he admitted. But before Gabriel could react, a smaller figure, with a half eaten double choco chip cookie, emerged from the shadows to stand at Gabriel's side. With thick brown hair and shoulders that were already broad for a ten year old, Dallas Vael was his father's boyish doppelganger.
Plastering a genuinely warm smile on her face, Marian crouched to be at eye level with the boy. Dallas was an exact year younger than Nova. The birth date they shared, brought them close together, and made them irrevocably, inseparable. Always going on "adventures" all around Kirkwall, together.
"Nova likes those cookies, too, Dallie," she said. "I bet she's wishing to be right here, next to you eating one too!" Marian cooed, but the boy didn't grin as she'd expected. His expression remained unsure, and without answering, he slid farther back beneath his father's protective arm.
"Ye' cannae' blame the lad Mari," Gabriel whispered. "He saw ye' stroll in here pretty as a queen, with a bone armored Templar officer, an' in our house, a white armored solider is next tae' the Black Divine herself."
Slowly Marian rose, trying to temper the anger she felt roiling beneath the surface. "Even if that white armor belongs to Dallas' only living uncle?"
"That armor Mari, belongs tae' the Divine an' if Sebastian chooses tae' wear it, then he's no longer kin o' ours." Gabriel patted his son on the shoulder. "Isn't that so Dallie?"
"Yes, sir," Dallas responded obediently like a well-trained mabari pup, still avoiding Marian's eyes. "No true Vael bows to any tyrant, be it King, or Divine." The boy relayed his trained speech proudly. "Not Pa, not me. Uncle Garrus, and Grandpappy wouldn't either if they were still alive. We are free men, and we'll fight tae' the death tae' keep our freedom."
"You're very brave, Dallas," Marian spoke sadly. Despite the boy's strong declaration, his anxious fingers had ground his cookie into crumbs. And she'd wager the Rose he suffered from nightmares, too. How could he not? "Your father must be proud of you." With far less sympathy, she rose swiftly once more, leveling her dark gaze to meet that of the father she spoke of. "You've trained him well Gabe. Not many children are such vehement soldiers."
"Na' many children, Mari, have their mother killed outright, fer' honing a Maker given gift. Nor, are their father's chased from town with a price on his head," Gabriel sneered. "An' how many other children have been torn from their sleep in the middle o' the night by Templar soldiers? Tae' be pulled from their family, an' locked away from the world!"
"Would Maria have wanted her son spewing war talk?"
"Maria is – is gone Mari," he said. His hesitation betraying the sorrow that lingered beneath his rough surface that time still hadn't eased. "It's up tae' me tae' decide what's best fer' our children now. Both girls will be staying in Antiva with a friend. An' in the spring I'll take Dallas with me tae' Tevinter as a young apprentice. There he'll see men wounded an' killed fighting fer' what they believe, an' their right tae' freedom. The sooner he understands why we fight, the better."
There was nothing Marian could say to that, beyond sending a silent prayer to the sky, for both Dallas' safety and Nova's, too. Tevinter was no place for a child. She had no doubt that Gabriel loved his son as much as she loved Nova; she only needed to see the two together, to know that. But while she had done her best to spare her daughter from war, Gabriel Vael was choosing the opposite course for his son. More foolish decisions made by men, she thought unhappily. More lives changed forever, by their whims.
Gabriel sighed, settling his hat further down his brow, as he took his son by the hand. "Come tae' me when ye' have something useful tae' tell, Mari." He said, as he carefully brushed the crumbed cookie from Dallas' shirt. "Ah' understand Sebastian is a clever man, but he's one that's swayed easily by a fair face, or at least he was once. Smile his way, an' Ah' guarantee ye'll have all his secrets in no time.
Reluctantly, Marian nodded, trying not to think of what would happen if Kirkwall's ragtag militia faced off against the Divine's elite. Nor did she want to think of what would happen to, the two Vael brothers in her life, who'd chosen such different sides. "How will I find you? Will you be here at the market again next week?"
"Nay lass, there's too many Templars here fer' my taste. Come next Tuesday night, tae' Rana's farmstead. Ye'll' find me, an' many o' the others who still believe in our cause."
"No, Gabriel. Please not there!" Marian gasped with dismay. Gabriel shrugged, turning to leave.
"Why nate'"? There's nae' one I'd trust more in all o' Thedas, than the Warden-Commander. Her blight ruse has made the Arainai house the safest in Kirkwall. There's nate' a Templar here that will dare tae' go near the place."
"But Nova's there!" She cried desperately, seizing his arm. "I took her to my cousin's for safekeeping when news came of the inquiry!"
"Then what better place fer' us to meet, eh lass?" Gabriel's sudden smile was unsettlingly white against his dark beard, as he gently eased her clutched hand from his arm. "Ye'll' know fer' certain that yer' pretty lass is snug an' safe with us. An' I'll know, sweet Cherry, that ye' willnae' consider putting mah' brother before me again."
7-7-7
"So that be the pretty widow of yours, I've been hearing about so much, eh, Vael?" Standing in the shelter of a shop window, Knight-Vigilant Cullen squinted through the swirling snow, to where Marian had just reappeared from behind one of the market's brick pillars. "Such a shame she's hidden away in that cloak. Can't take a proper look at the chit."
"Lady Hawke, is far from a chit, sir," Sebastian said his gaze following Marian with concern. She was moving slowly; clutching the cloak around her body as if she were frozen. And he couldn't seem to forget how upset she'd been earlier. "She's considered a woman of substance and position in this city. Her tavern is praised by many as the best in Thedas."
"Always the gentleman, aren't you Vael." Cullen remarked blowing his nose loudly. "So is the lady as eager to "repent" her sins, as the last pair in Tevinter?" Sebastian cleared his throat uncomfortably, wishing the Knight-Vigilant hadn't the memory of a bloody elephant.
"Mrs. Zinovia and her daughter were altogether different."
"Ha, willing enough to prove their loyalty to the Divine, with a certain Templar officer if I recall correctly." Cullen retorted, leering at Sebastian over his handkerchief. "You were up to your knees in velvety, pink kitty there, and don't try to tell me otherwise!" Sebastian didn't. Cullen wouldn't believe, that he'd turned away the advances of both, Mrs. Zinovia and her plump, pigeon toed daughter, the entire time he'd been housed in their tavern. Maker, only knew it hadn't been easy; Mrs. Zinovia had been most insistent, she had even kept an extra key to his bedchamber.
But while Sebastian had taken his vows very seriously, he also knew most of his regiment had not, and wondered wearily how many wagers had been placed already, among his men regarding him and Marian Hawke. "You know sir, that there are a score of other men housed under her roof as well." Said Sebastian. "Besides as charming as my landlady most certainly is, I rather thought I'd been placed under her roof for a reason other than to amuse myself."
The Knight-Vigilant snorted. "Dear Sebastian, with our lives so certain to be cut short, do you honestly believe the Divine expects us to ignore our pleasures when we have chances to indulge them? If I was in your boots serha, I'd have already flipped that fine woman, ass over tits." He sneezed loudly, wiping his noise once more. "Well then, Vael, if you haven't pricked the woman yet, I trust you've at least overheard something useful in her taproom."
"Something, yes, sir." Sebastian answered relieved to be talking about more then Marian's assets. "Yesterday, Lady Hawke was away from the tavern for most the day, and her staff knowingly evaded my questions as to her whereabouts. By accident, I stumbled upon her returning late that evening, and I'm convinced she lied about where she'd been. Quite cleverly, I must admit, but a lie just the same."
The Knight-Vigilance amber eyes narrowed harshly, his cold forgotten. "Protecting a rebel nest, eh? No doubt acting as some kind of go between or mule. You had her searched?"
Sebastian himself had seen the contents of her basket, but he well knew, there were dozens of other places on a woman's person, where a letter or map could be hidden. Inwardly he winced, as he realized how careless he'd been. "I was satisfied at the time sir," he said. "But I do believe that she might-"
"No 'might,' Vael," said Cullen, interrupting sharply. "I want her watched in her home. When she leaves the Rose I want her followed!"
"Yes, sir," Sebastian nodded. "I'll see to it myself." As he agreed, his eyes found her flaming red locks. She had paused at another stall, bending slightly to study a bundle of collard greens spread out for her inspection, when a dark-haired boy darted through the crowd to her. Whoever the boy was, she knew him. For when he slipped something into her hand – a note? – A coin, maybe – She took his hand, and drew him near enough to kiss him lightly on the cheek. The boy hovered close, arms wrapped around her neck, listening to whatever she said as she bent over him. Until a thickset man with a broad-brimmed hat shielding his face, came to rest his hand on the boy's shoulder and lead him away. Marian waved as they left her, a small, hesitant gesture that the man either didn't notice or chose to ignore.
Sebastian frowned, angered by the tall man's callous treatment of her. Marian knew him that was clear enough. But then, why had the man been in such haste to lead the boy from her, and why, too, did she linger to watch them retreat, her shoulders bent in a wistful, dejected manner?
The dark haired boy looked up to speak to the man, and the man glanced downward to listen. As he did, the same wind that had swirled the snowflakes; caught the broad brim of his hat lifting it back and away from his face. Swiftly he caught it with one hand and jammed it back down, but not before he'd given Sebastian a clear, open view of his face.
A familiar face, Sebastian thought as he struggled to keep his own expression impassive before Cullen, as familiar as the one he saw every morning in his shaving mirror. And why shouldn't it be? They were brothers after all. One who served the Maker, while the other served anarchy and treason.
And both knew the incomparable Mistress, Marian Hawke
"Aye, Vael, it's often the vixen, that leads the hunter to the den," the Knight-Vigilant was saying, with no small satisfaction. "Follow her, and I bet we'll have the whole pack of traitorous rogues, in the palm of our hands.