The Rogue's Conquest
Chapter Fourteen
Slinking back into the warm comfort of her quarters, Marian sat upon the white, satin seat cushion that adorned her cherry wood, desk chair. Marian closed her eyes tight, pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to relieve the tension that had begun to build in her temples.
"Andraste's flaming knickers!" she sighed gloomily, as the weight, and fates of the city, and her people descended down upon her shoulders with a harsh, merciless efficiency. She'd been tracing her index finger, with slow, lifeless strokes, over the Orleasian seal etched in the top, left hand corner of the paper before her, for what felt like hours. Trying – and failing - to give the ominous parchment her full attention.
Don't fret so, Mari, it's only the whole bloody city at stake! Her wicked mind goaded, as she leaned back further. Shifting her weight she lifted the sturdy chair's front legs off the ground and balanced on the back, a practice she employed to help force her mind to focus. And Gods did she need to focus, now, more than ever! It would seem Gabriel's daft actions had somehow already reached Orlais and straight to Justinia's ears. What had once only been an inquiry; was looking much more like the beginning of war.
Shocking? Nay, she'd expected it, eventually, but eventually was the key word. Eventually, was a distance in the future when the city had maybe had time to fully rebuild from it's initial severance from the Chantry. Now however, thanks in large part to the brash thinking Vael, eventually had become mere weeks.
If Marian couldn't, or wouldn't, hand over the people on the Divine's list, a list that sat before her on her desk, - amongst the fifty other papers that needed her, – then the Divine was calling for holy war. Holy war? Balls. She couldn't do, as the Divine demanded with such names as, Rana Arainai, Zevran Arainai, of course Gabriel Vael and Anders. Even Isabela had managed to make an appearance on the list. Gods only knew what the pirate queen had done to get under the Divine's skin, and it didn't matter; Marian couldn't commit the people that she cared for most to the hangman's noose.
However, even with her friend's lives hanging in front of her, she still couldn't focus. Instead preferring to shock her quill with tiny jolts of electricity, watching it dance in the air as it gracefully came back down, nearly touching her palm, before she'd shock it again. Up, twirl, down, it swayed over and over, like a childish game of keep away, and all the while she daydreamed about how tormented Sebastian looked the day before when he'd finally realized he was the wolf. How awful she'd felt for him, as he'd gone through four heartbreaking emotions - denial, resentment, acceptance and remorse, - all in the time span of minutes. And why? Why did she feel bad for him? He'd wronged her for Gods sake! But, here she sat, in her room, gazing dreamily out her balcony doors, still wishing times were different, that the problems between them didn't separate them, as a chain link fence, wrapped in barbed wire and soaked with Antivan poison would. Unfortunately now, with the Divine's demands looming over her, it would seem their problems were only going to get more complicated from here.
"Hawke?" The sound of her name and the light, insistent rapping on the door to her room was as insignificant as the sound of a pin dropping in a crowded ballroom, but still it startled her. The jolt of shock rocked her forward with so much force she was barely able to stop herself from smacking her nose on her desk, before she toppled to the floor hands flailing and legs caught in the train of her floor length, chiffon robe.
"Marian!" Isabela shouted, appearing in her doorway daggers unsheathed, a ferocious look creasing her pretty face.
"Relax Izzy," Marian huffed, blowing pieces of stray curls from her eyes, as she attempted to untangle her legs from the chair and her strapless gown, without exposing her breast to the chill of the morning.
"Are you shit faced?" Isabela asked, dark eyes sparkling with amusement. "It's not even past breakfast and your falling from chairs! Tsk, tsk, Sweets. This is becoming something of a regular occurrence!" Scolded Isabela jovially, swiftly recoiling her daggers back into their well worn sheathes.
"I'm not drunk B. You startled me that's all." Marian scoffed, her irritation with the pirate rising quicker than usual.
"I startled you? How do you think I felt, standing on the opposite side of this door?" Isabela questioned, hiking a thumb in the direction of the closed, door behind her as she made her way to Marian. "I thought an ogre was barreling through your room!"
"An ogre? Really B? I think you need to cut back on the coffee." Marian chided playfully, yanking Isabela's offered hand and pulling the pirate to the floor next to her.
"Alright maybe not an ogre, but that Knight-Commander I hear has taken some interest. What if he broke in here, and was trying to rekindle old flames, eh?" The pirate argued, settling on her side, head resting on her palm as she tossed Marian a devilish wink.
"Sebastian would never-" Marian paused, realizing she'd fallen into Isabela's trap. "You haven't been around for nearly two weeks, Bela, and your first order of business is to gossip!" Marian growled; her playful mood extinguished. Rising from the ground, she smoothed the ruffled pieces of her teal gown, being sure her romp with the chair hadn't put runs in the thin, billowy fabric, and then grabbed the Divine's letter. "This is what you should be worried about, B. Not my business with the Knight-Commander." She barked, tossing the paper on to Isabela's lap. "I'm almost afraid to ask how you made it on the Divine's radar."
Glancing over the missive with infuriating calm, in her hazy eyes, Isabela began. "Ah, so the Divine wants to meet with old Izzy!"
"Sure, if you call hanging from a noose a proper meeting, then ya." Marian retorted rolling her eyes. The pirate's nonchalance had Marian grinding her teeth and unable to shield her frustration. "What did you do?"
"One, can never truly know what they've done, to piss in the Divine's-"
"Isabela," Marian interrupted, her quickly simmering temper on the verge of boiling over. "This isn't a joke. The Divine, has given me four weeks, to produce you and everyone else on that list," Marian roared, grabbing the list from the spot on the floor where Isabela had let it fall, shaking it in front of the pirates eyes. "Or Kirkwall will be under holy war! Now, WHAT… DID … YOU… DO?" Finally wiping the smirk from her face, and the glimmer from her coal dark eyes, Isabela stood crossing her arms over her chest, in what Marian feared was a stance of defiance. Just what she needed, first Gabriel refused to heed her and now Bela was about to as well. Bloody brilliant! How could she be expected to fight a war, when her allies seemed to no longer believe in her capabilities?
"I may have… You're going to laugh Hawke…. Really!" Isabela began instead, much to Marian's surprise and dismay. The nervous hitch in the pirate's voice, told her that she'd likely NOT be getting a laugh out of this confession. It was the Tome of Koslun, all over again. "Remember how when the Templar's arrived I was looking for young recruits that could be corrupted?" Isabela asked, but pressed on before Marian could answer. "Well… I may have corrupted a few… and sent their crests back to Orlais with a note that stated they'd partook in the sins of the flesh…" She paused, Marian's gaze following hers, as Bela sheepishly looked over her own body. "My flesh, to be precise… And that they had joined me on the dark side." Isabela finished, the last part coming out of her mouth so quickly, Marian almost wasn't sure what she had said…. ALMOST!
"What!" Marian bellowed. Red waves of fire sparked from her fingertips, as her anger rippled to insanity. "I don't care who you fuck Isabela, I don't even care if you corrupt every, bloody, Templar in this fucking city, but to rub it in the Divine's face when she has Kirkwall by the balls? That's fucking stupid even for you!" Marian slumped down on to her chair, her knees buckling as the tension in her head exploded behind her eyes in a painful chorus of black and silver stars, a dizzying effect that occurred only when both the hawk and the wolf felt the need to arise at the same time. Sorry guys, I can neither fight, nor flee this time. She whispered inwardly, in an attempt to sooth both, and convince herself as well. With another heavy sigh she closed her eyes and bowed her head, trying to balance her anger before she continued. Isabela was right, after all. Had this been any other time Marian would've likely helped the pirate, and then drunkenly giggled about the conquests later at the Hanged man, surrounded by the people she loved.
Hadn't it only been a few weeks since she; herself had been as nonchalant with Aveline about the whole invasion? How could she expect the pirate to take the Divine and her dogs seriously, when Marian, herself, hadn't until this morning?
"I swear B, between you and Gabriel-"
"Aye, I heard about his attack on the Templars. Bold."
"Reckless you mean?" The question Marian posed was rhetorical of course. She and Isabela were very different people. Where Bela thrived on brazen abandon, Marian preferred the certainty of success only a well-planned strategy could offer. "How many crests?" She asked, steering their conversation back to where it belonged.
"Two… Or twenty." Isabela murmured. But the slight pulse of the vein in her forehead, - the same tick that gave the pirate away when they played Wicked Grace,- told Marian she wasn't being completely forward.
"Isabela!"
"Alright, fifty… Ish." Isabela shrugged apologetically, as Marian's mouth dropped wide. Fifty…Ish, men and women of the Divine bailed from their vows for a single night with the Ravaini jezebel. Understandable? Yes, but it was no wonder now, why the Divine wanted penance paid.
"Fiftyish, really Isabela?" Marian questioned, too stunned to say anything else.
"Fifty-Nine actually." Isabela winced. "If were counting. Though I suspect the Divine won't know about the last nine until tomorrow, or the next day. I just sent them before I came here… It was a bet Mari, certainly you understand that!"
Placing her elbows on her desk, Marian roughly jammed her fingers into the silky, strands, of her unkempt hair. Every time Bela seemed to open her mouth this morning, her words made the thick sinking feeling in the pit of Marian's stomach worse, much, much worse. If the Divine had her way, she'd be hanging the pirate because of a bet?
"Bela." Marian muttered, too tired and broken for the fury she felt to raise.
"Yes, Mari."
"You need to leave."
"You want me to leave the city, Mari."
"If you knew what was good for you, you would. I won't force you from the city however, so no. But my presence at this time and for a little while? Yes, because right now I want to hand you over to the Templars, like I should have the Qunari."
"You can't mean that Hawke. I know your angry but-"
"I do mean it, - no I don't - every single word - is a lie. Now leave me - please don't go!" Marian's mind warred with her cruel words, and her heart cracked in her chest as Isabela turned silently without meeting Marian's grave, stern gaze. Not a single witty remark escaped the pirate's cherried lips.
The pirate paused, her ramrod, straight back still facing Marian. "This was left at your door." She whispered, her voice barely audible as she pressed a golden envelope upon Marian's desk. With that, she left quietly, the same way she'd came.
"Fuckkkkkkk!" Marian exploded, standing abruptly, pounding both fists into her desk. The black and silver stars returned in full force, as she raged, punching a solid hole through the wall in front of her with a strength not her own but that of the wolf.
Through her life the Templar's had taken so much, too much from her, now the Divine wanted her friends, and if the old, prude got her way, she'd take Marian's sanity with them. Letting herself fall hard to the floor as the abrupt surge of energy began to ebb leaving her limps boneless and flimsy, Marian spotted the gold envelope Bela had left laying unharmed, on the opposite side of the room. Perhaps Carver had important news that needed to be sealed in an envelope instead of their usual Origami animals? Shuddering to think of what more tragic news awaited her, Marian slithered her body across the floor like a snake, toward the package.
On closer inspection however, she didn't recognize the perfect flow of the handwriting, it certainly wasn't Carver's chicken scratch, or any of her staff for that matter. Sitting up she scowled at the offending envelope, She didn't like the thought that someone had managed to sneak up here, to her private chambers without her hearing. It unsettled her, like the Deep Roads had; she wasn't a woman particularly fond of the unknown.
Perplexed by its mystery, she flipped the feather light package over and was met with her full name –Mrs. Marian Annika Hawke – was written gracefully across the top and underlined with such a grand, swirling flourish that the quill had sputtered with a little spray of ink. Thin red ribbon criss-crossed the packet to bind it shut, and for good measure a thick dollop of red wax sealed the folded edges together.
Crawling on her hands and knees, with the curious envelope clutched in her hand, she moved toward her balcony. Situating herself so that her back rested against the cool glass, she stretched her legs out from beneath her and tipped the little package to the early morning light, trying to better make out the seal's impression. Pressed into the red wax was the sun of Andraste, sitting protectively in the haven of the Makers vines, diamond shaped arrowheads, made famous by Starkhaven's royal family, protruded from the vines, as thorns do a rose, in fierce defense of both the Maker and his beloved.
She'd seen the crest often enough, every time she stood outside Gabriel Vael's door, and her heart sank further with dread. What trouble had Gabe gotten himself into now? She wondered as she hurriedly cracked the seal and slipped the ribbons away. She knew from Orana that Gabriel had left her kitchen unharmed the day before, but since then he could have met with any number of misfortunes. Or Nova – Gods, what if some ill had came upon her daughter at her cousin's house?
But, instead of the dire news Marian expected as she unfolded the flaps of the stiff golden envelope, a glistening, cobalt blue teardrop pendent with a celestial glow slipped from the package, a long white gold chain trailing behind as it met the floor. Frowning, she picked it up. Immediately the glow intensified, imbuing waves of warm lyrium blood beneath her skin, identical to how Fenris' brands worked. The glow dimmed when her mana was reenergized, as if the little teardrop knew just what she needed.
She'd heard rumors of jewels craved out of lyrium veins, but thought them myths. Anything capable of making a mage unstoppable on the battlefield, had to have been created out of Tevinter, which made the swirling teardrop even dearer indeed for having been smuggled into the Free Marches. Even if she subtracted its lyrium essence, Marian had never witnessed jewelry so fine in Kirkwall, even before the city was hit with tragedy after tragedy. She, herself had certainly never owned a bauble so elegant, and as she rolled the feather-light stone in her fingers, she read the note that accompanied it.
For the fiercest Lady Paragon in all Thedas,
A small Remembrance of yesterday and a Pledge
Of my Regard & Devotion,
I am, Ma'am, Your most Humble and Obedient Servant.
Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven's Royal Line.
She couldn't accept such a gift from him; she couldn't accept anything. Hadn't he listened to a word that she told him yesterday in the Chantry? She would return the little teardrop as soon as she could, and make it clear to him that she wished no further gifts or letters from him. Yet even as she fumed over his blatant audacity, she let the unnaturally, warm jewel roll over her palm, as it's long, light chain tickled her thigh. Not even the lyrium stones she'd seen in the deep roads had been such a rich, elegant blue, and Fenris' lyrium kisses had never infused her with such power, that she became near high on the sweet, essence. Nor had any man given her such an extravagant gift. The trinkets that Lloyd would buy her had always been calculated more to impress others than to please her. But a jewel such as this one, was meant to be tucked in a sleeve, pocket or beneath a pillow, private places where only the owner could take secret pleasure in it's powers. The owner, and the giver, and in spite of herself Marian's cheeks flamed hot as she thought of Sebastian imagining the little pendent, with it's overly long chain resting beneath her robe and caressing the tender flesh between her breasts as it swayed with her steps.
A small pledge of my regard and devotion…
Nay, there was no question that the pendent must be given back. Tonight, when he returned to the Rose. Swiftly, before she could change her mind, she folded the jewel back into the letter, being certain not to knot the chain, then stuffed both in the pocket of her white cloak slinging the thick, wool lined cape over her shoulders, and with her gloves in her hands she hurried down the back stairs, through the kitchen.
She'd have to find Isabela, she couldn't keep things the way they were, but time for both of them to calm was best. Besides her errand now was of greater importance. Two days ago she had seen the perfect Solstice present for Nova in the Black Emporium. A miniature blue and white porcelain tea set, the tiny pot complete down to a spout that poured and a lid that would lift, all arranged on a polished sterling silver tray with a piecrust edge. But it's most attractive feature that would appeal to Nova's inquisitive eye, was that the little pot was magic. It could produce the users drink of choice, all one had to do was think of what they wanted and poof there it would be, perfect temperature every time, whether the drink was cold or hot. Marian had tested it herself asking for a coffee-coco infusion and had been greeted with the best-flavored mocha blend she'd ever encountered.
Because of it's magic qualities it was appallingly expensive. Marian had nearly fainted dead away when Xenon, with his creepy laugh, bellowed the price. Explaining unapologetically that the piece was rare in the sense that it was the only one ever produced and no one, not even the Antiquarian himself knew who created it. And that the ladies of Nevarra and Orlais had all been trying to track it down for their own personal parlors, as opposed to buying it for a child's tea party. Marian had soon retreated from the Emporium then, yet the more she thought of the little tea set, the less the cost had seemed to matter. She wasn't a titled lady, at least not by choice, and she didn't give a damn about snobby, parlor parties, but she did know that Nova had suffered much grief by being sent away from home, and if a magic blue-and-white porcelain tea set would help make up for that, why then, she would see that her daughter had it, even if it meant Marian would have to take up a few Merc contracts once more. No matter how the Templars had ruined her Inn, Solstice was still Solstice.
Lost in imagining Nova's excitement over the gift, she didn't hear the soldier's call until he repeated it.
"Halt, ma'am!" he called sharply as he stepped forward to block her path with the sharp point of an arrowhead. "You must stop, I say, ma'am, and heed me when I ask your business!"
Marian folded her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes, as she contemplated the sharp spear aimed directly at her heart. Though she had almost become accustomed to the Templar sentries posted outside her front door, this was the first time she'd been accosted herself, and she didn't like it one bit. "My business is exactly that," she hissed, "My own affair, and none of yours. Now, you sir, will be letting me pass."
"No, ma'am, I will not." He spoke sternly, hard eyes never wavering from hers, and Marian swore she could see the beginning sparks of malicious pleasure in their icy depths at her predicament. "My orders say you're not to leave this tavern alone."
"Whose orders?" she demanded. Like so many of the Templar sentries she'd seen, this one had the wolfish, hardened look of a man who'd seen his share of harsh battles, and she knew better then to try to sway him with soft smiles and fluttering lashes. "Why should it matter to the Divine where I walk in my own city?
"The Divine doesn't care a fig where you wander, ma'am. It was Knight-Commander Vael's orders, that you don't leave this place unattended."
"Is that so?" Marian spat, eyes narrowing further to little slits, as the wolf began to stir with her anger. What right did Sebastian think he had to restrict her like this? Bitterly Marian thought of his note with the lyrium kissed jewel in her pocket. Did he think her subdued compliance could be so easily bought? "So, what if I wish to leave this place?"
"Then I'm to come with you, ma'am." He looked over his shoulder and nodded crisply to the other guard, still at his post beside the Rose's door. He strapped his bow to his back, ready to follow her. "As you wish, ma'am."
Marian frowned for what seemed the hundredth time today, her frustration with the morning only growing worse. She wasn't sure if Sebastian meant the sentry as her escort, or her guard, but either way she would feel like the biggest fool in all of Kirkwall, parading around with a Templar soldier on her heels, like a lost pup. She certainly couldn't go to the Emporium; Xenon would have Thaddeus, the Antiquarians giant golem guard, pulverize them both.
"Very well," She said, with a crisp nod to mimic his. "If those are the Knight-Commander's orders, then you'd best lead me to him, so he can see how wonderful of a boy you've been, obeying him so well. Maybe he'll give you cookie, eh?" For an instant she saw surprise, annoyance and doubt flicker across the sentry's worn face, and she realized he hadn't really expected to go anywhere. Well, good, she decided. If this man hadn't expected it, then neither would Sebastian.
Though the soldier slowed his steps for her sake, his long legs and his naturally brisk stride had Marian at a disadvantage, and by the time they reached the main docking square, she was breathless from trying to keep up. Each day different regiments used the docking square for exercises, and this morning the trampled snow was occupied by the brightly, shining white and gold uniforms of the twenty-fifth regiment, performing their drills before a small, silent group of brave spectators, who were mainly boys and old men. Ordinarily it would be near impossible to tell one Templar regiment from the next, but this was Sebastian's regiment. Somehow their armor glimmered brighter, the men and women, of the twenty-fifth, stood taller.
Instinctively, her eyes found and locked on Sebastian atop his great black stallion, between two other officers at the far side of the square. The sight he posed, - so proud and tall on the beasts back - should've been illegal, she thought miserably, no man should ever be aloud to look so bloody edible!
She followed her newly appointed lapdog to them, telling herself that the reason her heart was racing at such a ridiculous rate was that she'd been forced to walk so quickly. It had nothing at all to do with seeing Sebastian again, smiling and talking with the other officers. But when he turned and saw her standing below him, the brilliance of his smile, an open, uncalculated smile just for her, made her racing heart lurch to a dead halt.
"You and I need to have a few words, Knight-Commander," She shouted sternly over the rolling trumpets and drums. She pointed at the sentry now standing at attention beside her. "This man says that under your orders I am a prisoner in my own home, is everyone in Kirkwall under such orders, or am I alone-" Abruptly the drums ceased, and too late Marian realized she was still shouting. Her cheeks hot, she self-consciously lowered her voice. "So am I the only person in this city to have a guard tailing me, Knight-Commander? I can assure you it's not a pressie I wish for, and I've done nothing to deserve it. You know that Seb-" Catching herself, she licked her lips nervously, wishing she'd never came at all. "Knight-Commander- that is…. Now I insist that you change your orders immediately."
7-7-7
Sebastian had decided, with her cheeks bright pink and her silver eyes beginning to take on their orange eerie glow as she tried to stay stern with him, that Marian Hawke had never looked more charming. Unlike most women, fierce indignation became her.
But as charming as she was, and as happy as he'd been to finally remember why he recognized her burnt-orange orbs, Sebastian knew he'd better put an end to her public tirade before one of his men noticed the supernatural color, or she blurted something he'd rather keep private. He swung down from Adonis' back and tossed his reins to the sentry. "And a fine day to you, too, Mistress Hawke," he said, lifting his helm as he bowed to her. "Your servant, ma'am."
Marian's nose crinkled and her eyes narrowed to little slits. "I'm not here to listen to your pretty talk, Knight-Commander."
"So I've committed that sin again, have I, ma'am?" He sighed dejectedly, and looked back to the two other officers grinning behind him. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I believe this lady wishes to speak with me alone."
"Oh, Knight-Commander, I most certainly do," she said as Sebastian took her lightly by the elbow. "What's the meaning of your ridiculous guard dog, anyway?"
"It's for your own good, Mari, though I doubt you'll believe me." He led her through the passage between two empty warehouses and to a small fenced garden beyond. In the summer the garden must have been a pleasant place, filled with flowers, but now only a few brown stalks poked through the snow, and the grand oak in the center was stripped of it's leafs. "I generally try to give orders for a good reason."
"Oh, is that right," she bristled. "You're using your position to bully me, and you know it as well as I do."
His jovial humor began to fade. Damn the sentry who'd been assigned to follow her during this watch! If the fool man had any sense at all, he should have shown better judgment in his duty; Marian hadn't noticed any of the others assigned to her these last few weeks, at least not to complain about. Besides, Sebastian had hoped she'd come to him on another account. "No, I'm not, Mari, and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop trying to treat me like some merchant who's cheated you."
"If you were, I'd be treating you far, far worse," she stated, pulling her elbow free of him to fold her arms over her chest. "I must stand my ground, you know. The whole world preys on widowed mages."
"Oh, aye, such a weak, pitiful little widowed mage you are, too," he responded sarcastically. "And that's exactly why I don't want you wandering around Kirkwall unattended."
7-7-7
Unconvinced, Marian looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her chin held stubbornly low. This would all be a great deal easier for her if the man weren't so dreadfully handsome. She'd thought that their conversation in the Chantry yesterday would put an end to her unstable feelings, but to have him standing here before her, his helm in his hand, his sorrel hair fluttering like butterfly wings in the cold winter breeze, and the most disgustingly, irresistible glint in his turquoise eyes, was more than a woman should be asked to bear. "I told you before, Sebastian," she said. "I don't want anything from you." He frowned, and the irresistible glint dissipated from his eyes.
"In this you don't have any choice, Mari. The military situation in this city, in the entire compass of the Free Marches in fact, has changed, and not for the best."
"Situation this, situation that," she grumbled rolling her eyes. "If I sound too like a tavern keep to suit you, then you sound like some blow horn, old Templar officer."
"Right now that's exactly what I am. Marian, listen to me. The night before last, a pack of rebels attacked one of the outer houses quartering our men, out near Sundermount Cove. Fired in on them without any warning at all, then ran away into the night like the cowardly miscreants they are. Eight men killed outright, Mari, and as many wounded. Is that something you can understand? She didn't answer. How could she? It was something she could understand all to clearly. She remembered Gabriel's version of the same night, how proud he'd been to be a part of the warfare, and she remembered, also, how he'd promised there'd be more blood lost, from the Divine's Elite in the weeks to come.
7-7-7
She was good at masking her feelings, thought Sebastian as he watched her face, very good indeed. But still he'd caught the little hitch in her breathing and the way her lips parted, and it was more than enough to betray her.
"You're not surprised," he said. "Perhaps I've told you nothing that you haven't heard before?"
She lifted her chin a notch, obviously determined to meet his suspicion head on. "It's common knowledge in the city, and such huge news is discussed quite openly in my taproom. I'd have to be deaf not to hear it. Besides, you mentioned it yourself yesterday."
"Then you'll recall I mentioned my brother, too." Sebastian sighed heavily. "Gabriel's one of the leaders. He and his friends had the audacity to send the Knight-Vigilant a letter this morning, signing their names. Balls', made of brass my brother seems to have. Though perhaps you knew that already, as well?"
"I didn't," she said, with a quick sharp shake of her head. "I wish Gabe hadn't – Oh, how sorry, and saddened I am to hear this!"
Tapping the hilt of his dress sword, he pinned Marian with equally saddened eyes. "You know I can't protect him," he whispered, finding it hard to find his voice, with such sorrowful words rolling from his lips. "And if I have the chance, I'll capture him myself. Just as I'm quite sure that if I'd been among the men on the Cove, he would have shot at me first. The damned fortunes of war, eh?"
She reached her gloved hand out to rest it on his frozen cheek. Instantly he could feel the warming sensations of her magic crawling through his body. A gesture he now recognized - cuddling his cheek into her palm - as her way to comfort, and Maker was it better than any words could have been. "I can't help Gabe, Mari," he said softly, "but perhaps I can do as much for you. That's the reason for the guard that you find so irritating. Oh, I know, you're a poor widow working night and day to keep a roof over her head. But the truth is, you run an Inn that encourages the worst sort of rebels and the treasonous whispers they spout."
"No, Sebastian, it's not-"
"It is," he said sternly. "You keep rough company, sweet lass, my brother Gabriel included. This way I won't have to worry about you coming to grief when this erupts, and mark my words, it will erupt." Against his wishes she pulled her hand away from his cheek.
"But I'm not your responsibility!" Said Marian softly, curling her hands together.
"I rather hoped you were." He smiled crookedly; he was, after all only half lying about the guard. "Fortunately, the Divine agrees. What better way for me to protect her strayed flock and put down the rebellion?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Sebastian!"
"I've never been more serious, Mari. This way you can go wherever you please – to the market, to visit your brother, his pretty wife, ripe with your niece, or nephew; even your daughter in the countryside. He saw how the next protest died, forgotten on her tongue, how the emotions she'd kept so tightly reined before now seemed to run wild across her pretty face as she pressed a hand to her mouth. Puzzled, he tried to think of what he'd said that would upset her this way – the market, her brother, the babe? Her daughter – but none of them would frighten her like this. It must have been the threat of being captured, and now he wished he'd been more considerate. Of course Marian Hawke, a woman who literally had wings to soar upon would be terrified of being caged, of course-
"That's not possible," she blurted out. "To visit my daughter, I mean. It's – that's not possible."
Sebastian's puzzlement deepened. "I can understand why you sent her from Kirkwall," he said lightly, trying to tread more carefully. "You're hardly the first mother to send her child to a safer place during this rebellion. But if you miss her, then by all means visit her. Just take the sentry with you."
But Marian only shook her head, her eyes wide with wild panic.
Suddenly the answer hit him as if she'd leveled him with a Stonefist to the chest. "You sent her with Gabe's children, didn't you?" He asked gently. "She's gone with the others to Antiva?"
The relief that flooded Marian's face was answer enough, an answer that left Sebastian feeling that all too familiar ache of envy. Why would she trust his rogue brother with her only child, and yet refuse even the simplest kindness from him? With a drawn out sigh, Sebastian settled his helm on his head and offered her his arm. Nothing had gone the way he'd hoped when he'd brought her to this chilly little garden, but then, where he and Marian Hawke were concerned, nothing ever did. "Come, you must be freezing. I'll take you back to the others."
"Wait, Sebastian, please." She nearly pleaded, catching his attention as she tugged off her glove to reach into the pocket of her cloak, and drew out his slightly wrinkled note with the cobalt jewel. "Here, you have to take this back. It's very sweet of you to give me such a lovely and mystical gem, but I can't accept such a gift from you. Surely, after our… Our conversation yesterday, you'll understand why not."
He glanced down at the letter in her fingers, the untied, red ribbon trailing in the breeze. Perhaps things between them weren't going so very badly after all. "And I say, after our conversation yesterday, I see no other course but to insist you keep my gift."
"But you must take it back!" Cried Marian, dismay clear in her voice. "Didn't you hear anything I told you yesterday?"
"I did lass, and better than you seem to have heard it yourself." Lazily he began to wrap the trailing ends of the scarlet ribbon around her hand, loosely binding the letter to her palm. "You said I'd robbed you of more than your maidenhead. You said you'd never had the chance to be wooed, or cherished in any way."
"Sebastian, please, I didn't mean-"
"Shush, and listen," he chided airily. "I can't make you seventeen again, any more than I can undo the past between us. But I am doing my best to make up the rest to you." Hooking his index finger underneath the ribbon around her hand, he gently pulled her closer to him. He finally had her full attention now, her wanton eyes, rapt on his, as he lowered his voice to a deep sultry, rumble so she'd have to listen even closer.
"Ah am tryin' tae' make ye' see what a rare an' fine lass ye' be, Marian Annika Hawke," he purred, reaching out to cradle her face as she had his, "an' how dear – how very dear – ye' be tae' me."
Lightly, ever so lightly he brushed his lips across her forehead, her fluttering eyelashes brushing his thumb on the hand that still held her cheek. With slow, deliberate finesse he moved lower, searching for her mouth, and as their lips met he caught her contented sigh, a sweet, small breath of anticipation, of pleasure, of surrender, that meant infinitely more to him than even her magic caress. He'd intended this kiss to be swift and chaste, a pledge of his honor to her, but when their lips had met Mari deepened it, and once he'd tasted her passion again he realized how impossible that would be. Her kiss was like no other woman's; warm and eager, and he found himself sinking deeper into the depths of her demands.
He slanted his mouth across hers, seeking more, wrestling her tongue for the lead, and he felt that magic jolt of hers again, a trembling, electric vibration between them that sang through his entire body, singeing his nerve endings with a most delicious heat. The intensity of his desire shocked him. There was nothing chaste, or honorable about how he felt now. Now all he wanted was to push her up against the bare oak, and lay his claim to her forever, here in the open garden, with the rolling thrum of the drums in the square behind them.
But now would be wrong. Irrevocably wrong. In his life he'd been a lot of things, but he wasn't a blind man. She romped with Isabela, yes, but she'd said it herself, sex was a tool she used to judge a persons character nothing more. The problem was Sebastian wanted more. When he took her it would be because she yearned for him body and soul, as much as he did for her. He also couldn't forget how badly he'd used her once before, and with a shuddering effort he broke away, his hand still cradling her cheek. In a moment, he would take her back to the square. In a moment, that other life, the one with Mistress Hawke, and not Mari, would begin again."
"Ah' willnae' give up, Mari," he said, his voice husky with longing. "No matter what happens, Ah' willnae' lose ye' again." Slowly she opened her eyes, dreamy and unfocused as if he'd just woken her from slumber.
"Then you are mad, Sebastian Vael, of Starkhaven's Royal Line," she teased. "And so, I fear, am I."
"Ah, here you are at last, Vael." Knight-Vigilant Cullen frowned as he shifted stiffly in the saddle. "Damned chilly place you picked to go for a tumble with your widow." Impatiently he waited while Sebastian remounted Adonis, and waited, too, for him to laugh, or at least smile.
"You see the jest, Vael, don't you? Cullen prodded.
"Yes, sir, clever indeed," agreed Sebastian, belatedly and without any of the enthusiasm that he knew Cullen expected. But he couldn't bring himself to laugh at Mari's expense, not even for a lame jest made by his commanding officer. Right now it was taking every shred of his self-control not to look back to where he'd left her, at the edge of the square with her guard.
Damnation, how he hated having to lie to her about that "escort," and the more he'd come to care for her, the worse the necessary deception seemed. Of course, the goal had always been to make her trust him, but he'd never dreamed how far awry that trust would go. Maker, she'd hate him when she found him out. Dear, sweet, trusting Mari, and inevitably he thought again of how her little sigh, mingled with the mystical jolts of electricity as he kissed her, had been the most memorable – and intoxicating – surrender of his entire life. But whose surrender, Vael, hmm?
"Answer me, Vael, or have you lost your hearing, as well as your humor?" Demanded Cullen irritably. "What in the black void, did the chit have to tell you?"
"Ah Knight-Vigilant, forgive my inattention," said Sebastian, scrambling to recover. "It was exactly that question that I was… Um… Considering."
The Knight-Vigilance scowl deepened. "I'm expecting an answer, serha, not an apology."
"Of course, sir," said Sebastian quickly. "My conversation with Mistress Hawke has confirmed that Gabriel Vael was the leader of the rebel party."
"Vael, that bastard brother of yours, signed his name to the letter. What more confirmation do we need?" Demanded Cullen angrily. "I've lost eight, good men I can't replace, Vael, and I need more than a confirmation from you." Sebastian stiffened in his saddle, the Knight-Vigilance sarcasm stinging like a lash to his pride.
"And more I have sir, if you'll but listen," he shot back childishly. "The rebels in this city still manage to travel freely between here and Antiva."
"That's impossible," growled Cullen. "We've ten ships bottling the neck of that river up tighter than a cork."
"Ships or not, Knight-Vigilant, the rebels still manage to slip past our guards with such ease that they think nothing of ferrying their own children back and forth." Their own children, and those of their lovers, as well. Even as Sebastian spoke, the fleeting memory of Mari's frightened face rose to his conscience. But by now her daughter was safe in Antiva. Neither Mari nor her offspring would be put at risk by what he divulged to the Knight-Vigilant, and maybe other lives would be saved. That was it. he wasn't betraying her confidence. He was simply helping keep her safe, and doing his duty at the same time. "Consider the facts, sir," he continued. "How else could the rebels make such a well-timed attack upon our forces at Sundermount's Cove unless they considered the water theirs?"
"I knew it!" Eagerly Cullen leaned across from his horse toward Sebastian. "The Orleasian guard is worthless – worthless! So tell me, Vael, where do the rebels gather? Where do they hide their boats, their weapons?"
"I haven't learned that yet, sir, but-"
"But you will learn it, Vael," said Cullen, not bothering to hide either his disappointment or his contempt, "and you will learn it soon."
"Yes, sir, although-"
"Nothing more, Knight-Commander. Only answers," said Cullen sharply. "The Hawke woman may be a useful source of information to us and an amusing diversion to you, but you would be well-advised not to confuse the two."
"No, sir, but I-"
"Don't discredit yourself by denying it," snapped the Knight-Vigilant, sweeping his hand dismissively through the air. "Do you think I haven't heard the tales?"
Suddenly Sebastian caught sight of Knight-Corporal Keran on the horse behind Cullen. Though the young man was concentrating hard on the drills before him, a guilty flush had flooded the skin above the collar of his armor, leaving Sebastian in no doubt as to where the Knight-Vigilant was hearing his "tales." Damn the young pup for gossiping like an old spinster, and double damn Cullen for believing such fairytales!
"I deny nothing, sir," he said heatedly, "because I've done nothing wrong."
"Nothing, eh? Then I don't need to remind you that you are a commanding officer in the Divine's most trusted army. Your loyalty to the Maker and your duty come first." The Knight-Vigilant drew back, his expression as cold as the winter day. "Do you understand, Knight-Commander Vael?"
For a moment longer then was wise, Sebastian met the older man's hard eyes, determined to prove to the Knight-Vigilant that he was neither traitor nor coward. He had chosen his allegiance long ago, and turned his back on his family to do it. How could Cullen question his loyalty now? He was the Divine's subject, and always would be. But what, then, could he ever be to Marian Hawke?
"Yes, sir," he said coldly, shoving his doubts aside. "I understand."
7-7-7
Marian was barely inside the door before Orana came rushing to her. "Oh, Hawke, thank the Gods you've returned!" she said, her pointed ears twitching signaling her distress. "While you were gone, a man came by asking for you."
"A man?" Repeated Marian, still too much under the blissful spell of Sebastian's kiss to think clearly. "What man?
"A rough man, Mari, a mercenary by the look of him," Orana said, crinkling her nose at the memory. "Not a gentlemen at all, and certainly not the kind of man that's come calling on you for some time now." The fuzzy, feverish feeling was beginning to wane, as insubstantial and fleeting as a cloud.
"Did this man leave his name?"
"Nay, Mari, he'd leave nothing but a message, saying that it came from Gabriel Vael himself."
That fuzzy, feverish feeling… What fuzzy, feverish feeling? Now only icy fear gripped her in its merciless talons. "Do you remember his message, Oreo?"
"Oh, aye, Mari. It's not one easily forgotten." Swallowing twice, Orana licked her lips to prepare herself. "He said to tell you Gabe knows everything that you've been doing. He was quite particular about that. 'Gabriel Vael knows everything that you've been doing,' he said, Mari. 'Remember your little daughter.'" Slowly Marian dropped onto the bench she kept nearest the kitchen's back door. As if she'd ever forget Nova, or Gabe's threats concerning her safety or the promises, foolish promises that she'd made to help him.
As if she'd ever forget Sebastian…
"He left after that, just walked out the door without so much as a good day. Mari, should I fetch Fenris… He could – he could protect you…. Do you need protecting?" Anxiously the little elf twisted her apron in her hands as she searched Marian's face for reassurance. "You're not in trouble, Mari, are you? With Gabriel, I mean. Cause the man's already on the edge, Mari!"
With a groan, Marian closed her eyes, feeling Sebastian's gift as it imbued her with a shock of its potent lyrium kiss. "Oh, Oreo," she said tiredly. "This time, I'm afraid I am."