The Rogue's Conquest
Chapter Thirteen
"I don't understand Mari!" She heard him call, his head raised to Kirkwall's smoky sky. She'd known he'd follow her; that it was as inevitable as the moons steady descent, from dusk, to dawn. But she'd hoped that he'd give her time - as opposed to mere minutes - to absorb the sudden unraveling of eleven years worth of the tightly wrapped twine that was her life. Leave it to Sebastian Vael, Marian thought miserably, perched atop her balcony, her white wings furling and unfurling in twilights winter wind, as she watched him spin furiously about, searching the stable yard for her. - To figure it all out at thee most inopportune time.
By the Gods, she'd nearly been set ablaze by his passion, only to have the inner flame, so rudely doused out via his sudden epiphany. Why couldn't the man be observant when it mattered? Or at least not when their mouths were locked in such a fierce, primitive passion. Gods! Why did he, Sebastian Vael, have to go and feed her foolishness, by giving her hope that he had thought of her, that he had pined for her, his little serving lass, as she had pined for him, her charming rogue? Because now with hope filling the voided holes in her forsaken heart, she knew when he left this time - and he would leave - she'd never be able to recover.
"Why couldn't you just let the dead lie, Vael?" Her angered screams echoed. In the form of the hawk her voice was replaced by a mirror-shattering screech, catching his attention in the calm of night. His turquoise gaze pinned her orange orbs with intensity so fierce, it nearly rocked her small frame clear off of her perch. Marian's heart strummed another blazing assault against her ribcage. In the frantic fury of his stormy, ocean eyes lay the same knowing look he'd given her just minutes prior. That look that said he'd unearthed another of her sacred puzzle pieces, and was quickly clicking it into place. Why couldn't you stay quiet Mari? Stupid…Stupid…Stupid!
"Come down Mari," he whispered, eyes never wavering from her. "We have much to talk about."
Sister? … Earth to Marian Hawke - come in Mari!" Carver's hand appeared in front of her eyes, while his other shook her shoulder, startling her, a gasp escaping her lips before she could rein in her roiling emotions. Last nights events dematerialized before her, as she came back to the safety of her kitchen, Carver in front of her, a worried look in his tired eyes. "Are you well, sister? Should I get Anders?" He asked. "It's not like you to be so edgy." Marian forced herself to smile, though her balled hand was still pressed tightly against her racing heart.
"It's the wind brother, nothing more," She said, not looking Carver in the eyes for fear he'd see through her lie. "You know how I am with these winter storms. Having the wind rattle and howl around the windows like a rabid beast unsettles me."
"Ah, well, if that's all it is," said Carver, nudging her shoulder playfully, a wicked grin curving his mouth. "Here I thought it was that Templar commander, that had you so spooked." Marian barely stopped herself from gasping again. Were her fears really so transparent, that everyone around her could read her as if she were an open book? From the moment she flew away from Sebastian last night, like the coward she undoubtedly was, while he pleaded for her retreating form to comeback, Marian knew he'd come for her again, she had no doubt. Apparently for the moment, he'd haunt her in the form of her overly nosy, newly perceptive brother at that.
With great amounts of effort, and well-practiced control she willed her voice to be steady. "You assume too brashly, brother. Why should I be frightened of the Templar commander, or at least more so today than yesterday?"
"Oh, aye, sister. Why should you be scared at all?" Carver glanced at her slyly and chuckled. "Wasn't enough that I heard it from François Xavier. No, no. The moment I stepped from the estate this morning, Mrs. Butler came running from her own door to ask if what she'd heard of my dear sister was true." Marian's mouth went dry. They couldn't know, not this fast. They just couldn't!
"I've asked you before Carver, not to gossip with that woman." Marian said as sternly as she could. "Repeating rumors and idle talk discredits us."
"But it's not gossip when it's true, sister," protested Carver. "From what I hear there were a dozen men minimum in the taproom last night, that heard you stand-up to that Knight-Commander. He's a fool indeed, coming into the Rose and trying to bully you like that. I had a mind to teach him a lesson in Kirkwall hospitality, until Mrs. Butler said you refused to back down. Takes guts to tell a Templar his coin isn't welcome, nor is he. But you did Mari. Clear enough that even a thick-witted, lap-dog of the Divine; couldn't help but understand." Carver said merrily, pulling her into a tight embrace. "And the whole cities proud of you." He whispered, his chin resting on top of her head. "As am I."
"Thank you," Marian whispered back, pulling away from him, torn between relief and guilt. The city and Carver, would be feeling far less kindly toward her if they knew what else she'd done with the 'thick-witted, lap-dog.' "Though I don't see how I could have done otherwise, brother."
"Ah, but how you would have pleased Lloyd, Gods rest his soul!" La sigh, there it was, salt in an already gaping wound, Carver's love for her dead husband. Though the man had been a terror to her, the Hawke twins had respected him. Loved him as the father figure they had been too young to remember in Malcolm. Though Lloyd had only been in their lives a short while, he'd made an impact on the impressionable youth. His one, brave – and forced – decision to help defend Redcliffe and dying while doing so, left Carver with a serious case of hero worship, that even as a man he couldn't be shaken from. "Poor Lloyd couldn't have done better himself. And that's the honest truth, sister." Carver snuffled, clearing his throat loudly, as he attempted to wipe his eyes discreetly of the moisture that accumulated around the edges, giving Marian far too much time to consider the awful irony in her brother's words. "Things have changed so much Mari, from our days in Redcliffe and not all for the best. It makes me sad to think of all we've lost to get here. But hearing how you cowed that Templar as you did, well nothings made me smile quite as wide. I was nervous when you agreed to this inquiry and stressed further when the Rose was over run by Templars. But I never should have doubted your capabilities sister. You are Marian Hawke, dragon slayer and Qunari tamer extraordinaire." Carver bellowed the last part, as a circus ringleader would to his adoring audience. Dropping his arms and pinning her with a look so full of admiration she feared he'd burst, Carver continued. "I heard about the whole ordeal and wanted to come tell you how proud I am to call you sister. I know we don't get to see much of each other these dark days, but I vow, once all this is over we'll be catching up. Until then though, I'm certain you have much to do, as do I." With a slight bow of his head and another bear hug, Carver turned to leave.
"No, wait, Carver, please!" Surprised, Carver paused his hand still in mid-air reaching for the brass doorknob, waiting for Marian to explain. To explain… Where did one begin? Her guilt and shame wanted her to admit to all her foul deeds, so that Carver would stop looking to her with admiration, because Gods knew, Marian Hawke was no idol! "Must you go right at this moment?" She asked anxiously. However guilt ridden she may be in front of her brother, his company was still more welcomed, than being left alone with her own conscience. "Surely you could have lunch with me, perhaps tea in the den afterwards?"
"Tea in the den?" Carver scoffed. "Mari this city is constantly on the brink of war, there's no time for such idle fancies. Once the Templars have left, we'll feast for days! I promise."
"But surely-"
"If you're scared of being alone here, Mari, then you only need to say so, and I'll stay," said Carver, an unreadable look gracing his chiseled face. "But I'd guess that a mage, who speaks up to Templar commanders won't be spooked by some wind and snow rattling the window pane.
"Of course I won't," Marian deplored, indignantly. She'd spent most of her life hiding her emotion, faking bravado and for the most part had done both exceptionally well. So why then now, when so much was at stake, had she suddenly become so appallingly honest with her feelings? "I was only worrying for you Carver you simply look so tired, and with the babe on the way… I figured some relaxation would be welcomed. Here, hand me my cloak, I'll see to the cities problems for the day myself, so you can have some time with Merrill. Gods know once the babe's here, time alone will be rare, precious moments indeed."
"You?" Carver scoffed, eyeing her suspiciously. "We agreed Mari, that when the Templars landed you wouldn't make appearances in court. If those brainwashed, packs of drooling zombies catch even a hint that you, a MAGE is the head of this city… I shutter to think what would happen."
Of course Carver was right. When the request for inquiry crossed her desk. Her and Carver had wondered if they should drop the façade, if she should get back into regular duties as the cities leader. After long, late night discussions however, they had agreed, that it was only logical to have a non-magic wielding, man, play the Viscount, as opposed to her, a petite mage and woman. Still it would have been nice to focus on simple land squabbles and not Sebastian Vael for a while.
"It wouldn't end well Mari, not well at all." Carver was saying, as he threw open the door. Before she could halt him, he marched steadfastly into the blowing snow, the wind whipping his shaggy brown hair about his face and his long cloak around his ankles. Shutting the door tightly behind Carver, Marian leaned her back on the sturdy frame, arching her head toward the ceiling, breathing deeply in an attempt to gain some semblance of her composure. She still had the young Lady Cousland, her last guest to see to, wallowing in her own self-pity wasn't helping anyone. With one last deep breath, Marian pushed away from the door, setting to work on the afternoon tray of chocolate and biscuits.
She sighed as she took the chocolate jar down from the pantry closet shelf. Next week would be the winter Solstice. Any other year, she would have already decorated the Rose with greenery, polished fruit and bows of colored ribbons to mark the holidays, but without Nova here to help her, she hadn't the heart even to begin. Besides, what was the point in spending the time and sovereign she no longer had? There wasn't a single private dinner or party scheduled between now and Solstice. Before the Templars came, her rooms would have been booked solid, with people from all over Thedas coming to participate in the grand festivities Kirkwall was known for.
Behind her she heard the door open again, the wind rushing around her ankles and ruffling her skirt. "By the Gods, Carver," she scolded playfully, without turning. "What have you forgotten? I swear if your head wasn't attached to your shoulders-"
"Have Ah' changed that much, Mistress." Said Gabriel Vael his voice hoarse from the cold, "that ye'd' mistake me fer' yer' young brother?"
In a rush, Marian spun around to face him. "What are you doing here, Gabriel?" She demanded, as he closed the door. "It's not Nova, is it? She's well, isn't she?"
"She was when Ah' saw her yesterday. Pretty as a bloomin' rose, that one."
"Then why are you here, Gabe, and in the middle of the day, too! Isn't it enough to risk your own neck, without putting mine through the noose, as well?"
"Hush now, Mari, donnae' be ridiculous." Heavy globs of wet snow dropped from his hat and shoulders as he moved toward the hearth to warm himself. "Those thin-skinned Orleasians' are all shivering indoors today. Even the soldiers at yer' doorstep have crawled off somewhere, if ye'd bothered tae' notice. There's neary' a single one o' them bastards about tae' see me, let alone try tae' haul ye' and Ah' tae' the Gallows."
"I'm not the one being ridiculous Gabe. You are."
"What Ah' am, Hawke, is powerfully tired o' hearing ye' question mah' reason." He grimaced, as the heat seeped back into his chilled fingers. "Are ye' sayin' the same tae' Sebastian, too, ah' wonder?"
Marian winced guiltily at the intimacy Gabriel was implying. If only he knew how close to the mark he was.
"What I say to your brother is none of your affair," she growled, her voice edgy and defensive. He glanced sharply over his shoulder at her.
"Donnae' turn forgetful on me, Mari."
"How can I, Gabe, with you always in my kitchen to remind me?" Somehow she managed to return the gaze of those hard, turquoise eyes, as she frantically pieced together an explanation he'd accept. If Gabriel believed she had something to hide, he wouldn't be put off the scent as easily as her brother had been. For Nova's sake, she couldn't afford to falter now, before him. "I promised to repeat whatever Sebastian said that might be useful to our side," she said, trying to be more passive than defensive. "But that is all, Gabe. I cannot gossip otherwise. No respectable tavern keep will whisper a guest's conversations, even if the guest is an unwelcome Templar."
Slowly he relaxed, his grudging smile white against his dark beard. "Ye've' trained yerself' well, Marian, haven't ye'? A woman who refuses tae' gossip – Gods, lass, that alone is enough tae' make me ask fer' yer' hand once again. Ah' do believe ye've grown prettier, too, if that's even possible."
"Gabriel, be serious." Marian chided lightly, coming to stand beside him, her expression full of concern. "Sebastian came here last night asking questions about you. He's searched your home, questioned your neighbors-"
"He's found nothing." Gabriel stated, his face hardening.
"I don't know if he did or not. He thinks you've fled to Antiva with the children. I wish he'd been right."
"He was… Partly, anyways. Ah' sent Aria and Alexa upriver tae' stay with some friends, but kept Dallas with me. An' oh, sweet Cherry, ye' should have seen how the lad proved his worth with us last night!" Marian sucked in a shaky breath, cringing at the image of dread she'd seen in the boy's eyes.
"What did you do, Gabe?"
"Only what we Kirkwallers should have weeks ago," he declared his face animated with excitement. "A party o' us rowed intae' Sundermount's Cove, an' crept up the rocks tae' fire into a house where a pack o' the Templar bastards are quartered. Easiest game in the world, Mari, all o' those bastards sitting in their pristine dress coats, like candles in the windows. We must have hit a good dozen o' em, before the damned fools even realized what was happening. We got clear away, too, no casualties on our side. Though we did have tae' row like the river was catching fire tae' get away."
For one awful, heart stopping moment Marian wondered if Sebastian had been one of the men sitting, too close to the window. Gods, oh dear Gods! If Gabe were given a second chance, he would kill his brother without hesitation. But of course Sebastian had been here, with her. Of course he was safe. Hadn't kissing him been proof enough of how gloriously alive he was? And why, why, did she care so much? "This is only the beginning, little Hawke," promised Gabe, with a passion that sickened her. Marian had killed many a man, but never did she relish in the fact. "We'll strike them again, an' again, an' again. Ye' may have allowed the Templars tae' take the city without a fight, but by the Gods, they'll have tae' walk through the Black Void tae' keep her."
"I'd order you to back down Gabe, but I fear my Government over this city no longer applies. Your ten-year-old son might believe in your battle cry, but I cannot." Marian sighed unhappily, physically feeling the reins of control slip from her grasp. "Oh Gabe, don't you realize what you've done? Before this the Templars only suspected you, but now – now they'll have a reason for hunting you down." He looked at her incredulously.
"Do ye' think Ah'd' want it any other way, Mari? This is a blasted war, nomatter what the Divine would like us tae' believe!"
"But think of your children!"
"Ah' am thinking of them, Mari, an' the kind of future Ah' want them tae' have. Why the Black Divine else would Ah'-"
"Shush, Gabe, listen! Someone's coming!" They both froze, listening to the man's footsteps in the hall. Without a word Gabriel grabbed his hat from the table and turned toward the back door, but Marian seized his arm.
"There isn't time," she whispered urgently, shoving him toward the pantry closet, still open from when she'd been searching for the chocolate jar. "Hurry, go in there now. Now!" She had barely managed to shut the closet's door when the one from the hallway swung open behind her. She took a split-second to compose herself before she turned, a pleasant smile on her face.
"Knight-Commander Vael!" The pleasant smile evaporated, as confusion stained her cheeks. "I didn't expect… That is to say…" She paused glancing toward the ceiling. Oh, you sirs and madames, have an evil sense of HAHA. She thought bitterly, inwardly shaking a fist to the heavens. Sebastian bowed stiffly. Today he was dressed not for fashion, or even for safety, but instead for the weather, with the reveres of a serviceable wool uniform coat buttoned across his chest, thick leather gloves on his hands, and in place of his usually horned helm he wore a simple, but thick, black, wool-lined beanie. Though he'd brushed the snow from his shoulders, his cheeks were still red from the wind and it was clear he'd come to find her here as soon as he returned to his quarters.
"It is I who must make apologies, ma'am," he said with a grim formality. "I intended to find you this morning, but an unfortunate matter has kept me away until now. My rebel brother, it seems, was most certainly not in Antiva last night." With her heart pounding painfully in her chest, Mari couldn't decide which sudden realization was worse – Gabriel's life depending upon her being able to make Sebastian leave, or knowing that her daughter's future could be destroyed by what Gabe might now overhear.
"An apology isn't necessary, Knight-Commander, and neither is your need to track me down," she said, choosing her words with infinite care. "There was nothing left unsaid in our conversation last night."
"Nothing?" Impatiently he stepped forward and leaned across the table that separated them, his gaze searching her face. "Nothing, Mari? When the truth is, that nothing was said, and everything was left unanswered."
"You are mistaken, sir." Marian said coolly. Hoping to discourage him by looking away, she began to set the little chocolate cups and saucers on the tray, her nervous fingers making the green and white porcelain rattle against the steel tray. Where was Orana? Her sleeve brushed over the edge of the tray, knocking a silver spoon to the floor. Swiftly she bent to pick it up, thankful for the excuse to duck out of the line of Sebastian's intense gaze, even if it was only for a moment. But as she knelt, to her horror she noticed the puddles of melting snow that Gabe had left, an incriminating path across the floorboards from the back door, to the hearth and finally to the closet. If Sebastian came around the table, he'd be sure to see the trail for himself, and no explanation or deflection in the world would stop him from opening the closet door.
Quickly she rose to her feet, wiping the spoon on the edge of her apron before she returned it to the tray. "I must excuse myself now Knight-Commander," she said, turning away from him to fetch the warmed milk from the hearth, "as you can see, I have other responsibilities that call for my attention."
"Damn yer' responsibilities, Mari, an' look at me!" He reached across the table and caught her wrist, his gloved fingers holding her tightly. "After what we have been tae' each other, do ye' nae' believe Ah' deserve more from ye'?"
She prayed he couldn't feel how she was shaking. "You are my enemy, Knight-Commander, nothing more," she growled. "Why can't you understand that?"
"Mari, listen tae' me! Ye' cannae' deny the past as if it never happened!"
"I can, Sebastian, because it didn't!" She cried, her desperation growing, as she dreaded what Gabriel must make of this conversation. "I am a decent woman, a respectable widow, and what you – what you suggest of me – shames both me and my husband's memory!"
"But Mari, Ah' never-"
"No!" She pulled herself free, furiously rubbing her wrist where he'd held her, trying to wipe away the memory of his touch. "Now good day, Knight-Commander. Good day!" She watched his gaze flick down to follow her gesture, then his face crease into a frown.
"Ah' willnae' be dismissed like this, Mari," he said, and began to come around the table to her and the guilty trail of melted snow. "Ah' am not some servant that ye' can send away on a whim."
"No, you must not!" She bellowed, panicking. She rushed ahead of him and pulled her cloak from the peg behind the door. "If you will not leave me here in peace, as I ask, why, then I shall be the one to leave you!" With that she threw open the door and raced into the swirling snow. The snow was deeper than she'd expected, slowing her footsteps and dragging at her skirt, but she didn't stop, walking so quickly that she was nearly running. Behind her she heard Sebastian shout her name to call her back, then a muffled growl that she was sure was an oath, and then… nothing. To her surprise - and dismay – he didn't seem to be following. But she didn't dare slow her pace to make certain, or look back over her shoulder in case he was there, ready to misinterpret such a glance as encouragement. Instead she plunged on through the snow, the wind driving the icy flakes against her face and tugging her cloak.
She had no gloves, or boots, and the cloak she kept by the door was an old rag she used to rush to the well, or stable. It certainly wasn't suited for traipsing about the city streets in a snowstorm. Her thin-soled slippers, quickly soaked through, and her feet were numb in her wet stockings. She knew she should find shelter soon, but had no notion where she was going, beyond leaving the Vael brothers behind. Turning down an alley to avoid the wind, she saw the tall pointed peak of the Chantry looming before her, like a grand beacon in the swirling snow. Though she'd never stepped foot inside the newly built, holy walls she didn't see any other choice, but to now.
Much to her relief, the Chantry was empty as she hoped it would be on a Friday afternoon, and though the candles on the altar and in the chandelier remained unlit, the pale, gray light from the storm, filtered through the double rows of arched stained glass windows, casting eerie multi-colored shadows through the pews. From long ingrained habit she headed for the pew farthest back, closest to the door and behind a pillar, to guard her from suspicious eyes. She'd always liked the beautiful songs the Chantry sisters would sing, but as a mage never felt thoroughly safe enough to sit upfront or partake, preferring to watch, listen and pray that no one figured her out.
Shivering, Marian opened the little door to the pew and slid down onto the polished bench. The unheated Chantry wasn't much warmer than the street had been, but at least it was dry and quiet. She slipped her feet from her wet shoes and tucked them beneath her skirt, wrapping her hands tightly around her knees. She didn't try to pray; her conscience wouldn't let her. By now Sebastian must have discovered Gabriel and had him arrested. It was her doing – her failure, really – that one brother must take the other prisoner. That two men, bound so close by blood would now see that same blood spilled. If only she hadn't kissed Sebastian last night, then he wouldn't have come looking for her this afternoon. Oh, dear Gods, if only she'd truly been strong like she pretended, instead of weak as she was.
And though she would not be tried and hanged like Gabriel would for being a traitor, she would still be punished. Once the story spread, as it now inevitably would, she would forever lose her good name, her home and her livelihood. She would be ruined, shamed and her poor innocent daughter along with her. And all of it, all of it, had come from that single night, so long ago, when she had dared to dream of love with a dark-haired stranger. With her head bowed beneath her despair, she curled her frozen fingers around the locket with Nova and Bethany's portraits, and tried not to consider the bitter price that the lost dream had cost.
7-7-7
It was in the Chantry Sebastian found her, curled into the corner of the pew. Her hood had fallen back from her damp, tangled hair, and her wind burned cheek lay against the rough wool of her cloak. At first, because her eyes were shut, he thought she'd fallen asleep. But the anguish in her face, held none of the peace of sleep; nor did the way she clutched the little locket so tightly in her hand.
"Mari," he whispered, not wishing to startle her. "Mari, lass." Her eyes flew open and she lifted her head, tossing her hair back from her forehead as she stared at him in unwelcoming silence, her silver, blue, orange eyes as wary as a hunted animal's. But he'd come this far. Too late to retreat. "I was stopped by one of my soldiers," he explained. "A question regarding orders that I couldn't ignore. Even officers must stop for soldiers, you know." He began to smile, hoping she would, too. When she didn't, he self-consciously studied the hat in his hands, frowning a bit as he brushed melting snow from the heavy wool beanie. "I wouldn't have let you go otherwise," he said gruffly. "You know, running off into the snow like that wasn't wise. I meant to stop you."
"And so you'll always follow me, even here?" She asked, her voice no more than a ragged whisper. "Am I to have no sanctuary from you at all?"
Sebastian sighed, still concentrating on the beanie in his hands. Damnation, he'd known this wasn't going to be easy, but he hadn't counted on her making it so much harder. Without waiting for the invitation that would never come from her, he swung open the little door and joined her in the pew, being sure to leave a decent length of polished wood between them.
"If I believed half the talk in this town about you, Marian Hawke," he began softly, "then I'd swear you could walk straight down to the docks, and directly across the water itself. Tavern keep and hostess, wife and widow, mother and aye, a great rebel queen, too, yet all of it done well, with rare grace and honor. If you've any faults, I've yet to hear of them."
He saw the fear flicker in her eyes, and nearly as quickly witnessed her snuff it out. But still her fingers returned to the locket, and again he wondered enviously whose picture it contained.
7-7-7
How thorough you have been, Knight-Commander," she said, so swiftly that the words nearly left her breathless. Of course someone would have told him she had a daughter, but to hear it from him, her daughter's true father, was still enough to shock her with the haunting peril of her situation. "And how flattering, too. But am I to be allowed no secrets of my own?"
"Only one. How is it that such a lady, a paragon of every virtue, a warrior woman known to stand in proud rebellion where others of her sex would cower – how is it that she can still harbor, also, such remarkable cowardice in her own heart?" She frowned, his words making the hairs on the back of her neck raise to attention.
"Perhaps such pretty talk shows well in Orlais, Knight-Commander, but it doesn't with me."
"Pretty talk, is it?" Sebastian replied rapping his fingers on the pew in front of them. "But perhaps you are right. Kirkwall isn't Orlais, and you aren't simply a helpless tavern keep like you try to play. So why then, Marian Hawke, must you always turn tail and run from me?"
"Because you are a man of the Divine," she answered quickly, that much was easy, and true. "Because you wear the face of Andraste on your belt, and are my enemy."
"Damnation, Mari, we both know there's more to it than that!"
She glared daggers at him. "Hush, sir, and remember where you are!"
With obvious effort, he lowered his voice, continuing. "Then you remember it, too, Mari and tell me the truth. I would never wish to bring you harm or suffering. Surely by now you can believe that much of me. So what could I have done, to make you avoid me like the taint?"
"You still don't know?" She whispered, hugging her knees more tightly to her chest. "Even – even after last night, you don't know?" She screeched erratically, no longer sure how to get him to follow the breadcrumb path she'd been feverishly making for him.
"Especially after last night." He sighed heavily, reaching out to trail a finger across the back of her hand. "I had thought that discovering we shared a past might bring you closer to me, not force you to fly off in the body of a hawk!" She shivered at the light touch, yet didn't pull away. How could she? In the harsh multi-colored lights, without the soft magic of evening's candlelight, he seemed as world-weary and care-worn as she, herself felt. The seductive officer of the night before reduced to the tired, lonely man who now turned to her. Even his bronzed mane somehow seemed dulled, and the lines that fanned from his turquoise eyes now seemed almost brutally, etched there. Was it really regret that had done this to him, she wondered skeptically, or merely a man's unhappiness at being rejected by a woman?
With a little sigh, she closed her eyes, forcing herself to once more and for the last time focus on the past – that "shared past," he'd called it. Really shows how much attention he's been paying Mari. Her mind prodded crudely. "You ask why I run from you," she began slowly. Making certain this time he'd get it! "And why I should fear you. Perhaps it's because you're a man that you yourself cannot understand, and-"
"Mari, I-"
"No, listen! For once just listen Sebastian. I beg you hear me first." Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Mari wandered her eyes over him to be sure she had him at attention before she continued. "When I first saw you, I thought you were the most perfect gentlemen that the Gods had ever made." Ringing any bells Vael? She wondered bitterly, while he sat, as stone like as a statue, his face too stoic to betray him. "When you noticed me, when you spoke to me and smiled, I couldn't believe my good luck. Oh, I'd been warned about the traps that men could lay for naïve country girls - how could I serve ale in a tavern, so near the docks and not see and hear otherwise? – but you were different. You weren't a rough, wild militiaman, or a Templar soldier." Irony much? "You were a gentlemen, and Gods help me, I trusted you."
"You were different, too, Mari," began Sebastian. "There among the smoke and filth of that horrid place, you stood out like the fairest, freshest little country peach."
"I wasn't a flower, Sebastian!" Marian growled, how dense could a man be? He still didn't understand he was the wolf that haunted her every hour of the day. "I was a seventeen-year-old girl, near dieing for kind words of love, without a mother or father to watch over her, and far too much responsibility weighing on her shoulders. And I was a virgin, Sebastian. Did you even notice that? Fool that I was, I would have given you my heart, but all you took was my innocence. 'A wolf will betray a lamb', I believe you said."
7-7-7
Appalled, Sebastian shook his head furiously, not wanting to believe her though he knew he should. The wolf?! Maker no! "How could I have known? I'd been drinking cheap ale all night with my brothers. You were a pretty little wench in a low alehouse, that served pirates, and when you lead me to the loft-"
"You tried to pay me," she interrupted, her voice breaking. "Do you remember that? Once you'd taken your own pleasure, you couldn't button your breeches fast enough to be rid of me. A handful of silvers that was what I'd been worth to you. I couldn't take it though, and Gods know I could have used it. You treated me as your whore, but as long as I didn't take your coin, I wouldn't be one." She was crying now. Her tears nearly killing him, for he was the cause of all her sorrow. The selfish youth he had been, single-handedly turned Marian Hawke, Kirkwall's rebel queen, and a proud, strong woman, into a miserable pile of despair and hopelessness. A porcelain doll, Sebastian feared, that he had inadvertently broken. "You took so much from me, Sebastian." She said, hot tears streaking her face in waves. "My hopes, my dreams of love and a handsome young sweetheart. A wedding with springs first bloomed flowers and dancing. A little house near the water with roses in the garden and – and, oh, everything that foolish young girls pray for and desire!"
"But you did marry," Sebastian protested. "You married a man, and bore his daughter." For a long unsettling moment her tears stopped flowing, and she looked at him, but not at him, instead it was as if she were looking through him, towards a ghost that lay far in the past.
"Yeah, I married Lloyd," she finally said, with a strange, icy calm. "I did. But not for love, Sebastian. Love wasn't what bound me to him. Necessity, perhaps."
Not for love. The words echoed loudly in Sebastian's conscience. A woman as fine as Mari deserved to be wed to a man who loved her, a man she in return would love with all the passion and tenderness she'd been gifted. He remembered the special kindnesses she'd shown him since he'd arrived in Kirkwall, how she'd tended his wound that first night without betraying him, every sudden, shy smile she'd granted him, and he remembered, too, the sultry promise of her kiss the night before. All this she'd given to a man who was her enemy, the same man who had so unwittingly destroyed her innocence. He longed to take her into his arms, to wipe away her tears and stroke her tangled hair away from her face, to tell her somehow how sorry he was for everything. But he didn't, instead choosing to stare down at his hat that rested on the bench beside him. How could he dare to offer her comfort, with such pitifully simple gestures?
"Will you believe me if I say that I never forgot you?" He whispered. "You were the last woman I…" Sebastian paused, clearing his throat awkwardly, not entirely sure what to call their night together. "Before I left Starkhaven, the last lady who smiled at me. I thought of you often on the long crossing to Kirkwall, then even more when I sailed for Orlais. You'd called me a gentleman, mistaking me – the rogue I was – for a Lord. And though my brothers laughed, I didn't. Do you remember that?" Still he didn't look at her, smiling instead to himself. "Until I proved myself to the Orleasian elite, I was scorned for being from Starkhaven, little better than a savage in Orlais. I can't begin to tell you how many times I remembered you then, the sweet-faced little lass with solemn gray-blue eyes."
7-7-7
Marian felt fat tears welling up once more, and the weakness they betrayed, her weakness, shamed her. She wasn't a woman who cried, hadn't since she'd been but a girl. Yet here she sat blubbering like a babe, wishing Sebastian would hold her, praying that for once she could be the one to lean on a firm shoulder, instead of being the steady shoulder. "You didn't even know my name," she hiccoughed, head bowed, as her fingers played with the hem of the apron, she still wore. "You never asked."
"Ah' was a fool youth, Mari, a rogue," he said, rich emotion breaking through in his brogue. "Ah' willnae' make any excuses, because there are nae' any worth making. If Ah'd' bothered tae' learn yer' name, then Ah' would have known who ye' were the moment Keran introduced us. Ye've' changed, no mistake. Ye're' a Lady o' standing in this city, a beauty, too, an' few would believe how far ye've' come from where ye' began. But when Ah' kissed ye', Ah' knew. Because no matter how desperately ye've' tried tae' bury yer' past, the shy, little serving lass ah' remember is still within ye'." Now he came to sit beside her, his thick plated thigh, settling against her thinly robed one on the bench. Slowly and with great care he reached to take her chilly hand into his and she let him carefully weave their fingers together. "Ye' can accuse me all ye' wish o' making pretty speeches, lass," he said, "but now Ah' find Ah' have nae' half the words Ah' need. Ye' and Redcliffe, an' a time before this infernal rebellion, who Ah' was and what Ah've' become – it's all just tumbled together, Mari, an' it would seem ye're' the one key Ah' have, the only one that matters, tae' help me sort it out. Will ye' give me that much, Mari? Together, could we begin again?"
Marian stared down at their hands twined together, trying to control the wild, desperate flurry of hope in her heart. Was it possible that he felt the regret – and the attraction – as keenly as she did? Once before, she had trusted him, and found nothing but heartache. But she had changed since then, and she wanted to believe that he had, too. Another time - this time, everything could be different between them. And yet beyond hope, and the foolishly quickened pace of her heart, she knew that the bitter certainties of their lives hadn't changed at all. As a woman, she was the one with so much more to lose, and always would be. With Nova, Gabriel and the shambles of a free city surrounding them, the risks were increased a hundred and ten percent.
But oh, how much, how very much, she wished she could trust her heart instead!
She eased her fingers free, instantly missing the warmth of his hand around hers. "I cannot do this, Sebastian," she said miserably. "What you ask of me now – I can't do it." He smiled, his brilliant smile and brushed away a loose lock of her hair with such tenderness she almost lost her resolve.
"I'm not asking ye' to do anything alone, sweet. I intend tae' be there, too, ye' know."
With his sweet words lingering in the air around them, Marian shook her head hard, as much to deny herself as him.
"You are Templar, I, a mage, as well as a woman," she said sadly. "And we both know that to bring down a Templar, or a man one needs a sword, or a bow, and some luck. But to destroy a mage, or woman, it takes only words. Words, that's all, and our good names, our lives, are gone."
7-7-7
Impatiently he swept his hand through the air, dismissing her objections. "You, of all women, mustn't let gossip rule your life."
"Do you really believe I am so different?" she asked skeptically. "You said yourself that here in Kirkwall, I could walk across water. But how long would that last if my… My association with you, an enemy to the city, became known?"
"Do you think so little of me?" Sebastian demanded, more wounded than angry. "That I'm the sort of brute who boasts of conquests?"
"Oh, Sebastian, I don't know what to think anymore." Lightly she laid her fingertips across the bow of his mouth, in a gesture to silence him. "But to trust again, to risk everything I know, for you? I can't do it." He took her wrist to hold her hand steady as she moved to get up from the bench, brushing his lips across her fingers, turning her gesture into a kiss. He saw how her eyes widened, and with inward triumph he heard the little catch in her breath. She could deny her feelings all she wanted, but denying alone wasn't going to make them, or him go away.
"I won't abandon the field so easily, Mari," he said, his voice husky with deep-seated longing. "I won't be losing you a second time."
7-7-7
"I never thought I was yours to lose at all, Vael." With a show of more purpose than she felt, Mari pulled her hand free. But her gaze remained locked with his, a strange mixture of fierce determination and longing, swirled in his turquoise orbs. With determination of her own, Marian hardened her heart and attempted to squeeze around him in the small pew, only to be met with resistance in the form of his knees in front of her. "Move, out of my way Sebastian. We are done talking." She said, firmly though her heart rioted.
"I will Mari, once you answer me one last question."
Swallowing hard, she leveled him with as calm of a gaze, as she could, terrified of what next gut ripping question he had come up with. But seeing no other alternative, other then straddling his legs to get over him – an intimacy she didn't dare tempt, with her emotions so bitterly in turmoil - She simply nodded her agreement to hearing him out.
"You delivered Flint Company's Crests to me personally. I assume you also are the merc who killed them. Why? Why would you do me such a grand favor, without even taking payment for it when I failed you so horribly?" Marian tried desperately to hide her surprise, though her mouth gaped wide. She knew he'd caught her as the hawk. By the Gods, he'd tried talking to her while she flew from him. But with all the turmoil and revelations, she never expected him to put it all together so quick. A gesture at the time that she had been, too, sentimental to pass up. Balls!
"I didn't take your coin, Sebastian, because I didn't do it for you. I read your post, and was moved, but I didn't do it for you. And I only gave you the crests, because no one should have to stumble through such tragedy, and not know that their loved ones were avenged.
"If not for me, then who Mari."
Marian stood, as still as a statue. What was she to say now? She'd answered his question, only to be saddled with yet another hard one.
"Lady Hawke, ma'am!"
"Revered Mother Rosa!" Marian said merrily, swiftly scurrying by Sebastian as he slid back stunned in the bench.
"Revered Mother?" He questioned, shocked eyes on the young Ravaini woman before him.
"Yes, Knight-Commander." Marian said with a smile. "Mother Rosa is the most well-versed Andrastian I've ever met. When my brother and I revived the Chantry, it had been only natural to put her at the head of the flock."
"I- I… It's an honor" Sebastian said still too stunned to form proper words, as he went to his knees before Rosa, as was proper practice.
"Stand child," Rosa laughed softly, bringing her voice down to a conspiratorially whisper. "Your Templar brethren would hang you for treason if they witnessed you kneeling before a mage, me too, if they witnessed me wearing these blessed robes."
"I would like to receive your blessings Revered Mother," Sebastian said simply surprising Marian, but not seeming to phase Rosa. "Hard times, I fear are upon us, a blessing from a woman so dear to the Maker would help."
Marian watched the two go through the Chantry motions each one playing their role to a T, both certain in their places and she couldn't help but feel jealousy rise. What was her role? Who was she? She just didn't know, and the realization devastated her. In front of her kneeled the man that could change all that. Could once more re-ignite purpose, she'd lost too long ago. And yet even now, knowing he could be her souls salvation she was forced to once again deny herself. Gods!
"Lady Hawke," Rosa questioned, concern creasing her young face. "Is everything alright? You don't look well." Plastering a smile on her face she inclined her head first to Sebastian and then to Mother Rosa before she spoke. "I am fine, the day has just been cold, and I suppose it's affected my mood. Please don't concern yourself with me, Revered Mother. I'm leaving now." She said drawing her hood over her head, without looking again at Sebastian. "We are done, you see. Quite, quite done."