The Rogue's Conquest

Chapter Sixteen

This Chapter is Rated M kids, be warned.

It was nearly midnight by the time Sebastian returned to the Rose. Returning to the city, reporting to Knight-Vigilant Cullen, seeing the prisoners quartered in the gallows – all of this had taken time. But what had cost him most was the search for Gabriel's body. He'd watched in silent agony while his men scoured the field where Gabe should have fallen, and somehow managed to keep his expression emotionless when they returned empty-handed. Not that he believed Gabe had escaped – he knew his arrow had found its mark – but the image of his brother dying alone and untended like a wild animal beneath some bush or empty barn haunted him all through Cullen's congratulations and the rejoicing of his regiment. He'd saved both his career and his reputation as a brilliant officer, but the price had been higher than he could ever have guessed.

Now all he wanted was to be alone. Wearily he dragged himself up the stairs, tired in body but exhausted in his soul. He wondered if Keran could find him a bottle of ale somewhere in the house at this hour; he had vows, yes, but tonight the thought of drinking himself into a senseless stupor without guilt, or conscience, or grief seemed the best course before him.

His fingers still stiff from the cold, he fumbled with the key to his chamber. A pale light glowed from beneath the door and he frowned, thinking of the waste of wood to keep a fire blazing away while he was out. Sometimes Keran's concern for his welfare went beyond common reason, and with his mood even blacker, he threw open the door.

Immediately he halted his steps. His heart pounded hard in his chest, shock knocking the air from his lungs as he came face to face with the biggest wolf he'd ever seen in his life, sitting before the hearth it's sleek, black coat glimmering in the fire's light. It sat with the poised grace of a regal statue, its long tail wrapped neatly around its lithe legs. But by the way it's eyes moved over Sebastian in a hungry appraisal, it was completely clear the animal was no art piece he'd simply missed these last few weeks.

"Easy boy." Sebastian whispered, not wanting to agitate the beast as he slowly raised an arm toward his bow. He didn't have a clue how it got in here, and it seemed a shame to put such an extraordinary animal down, but a wild wolf was more dangerous than any man could ever wish to be. His choices in the matter were rather limited. But as he trained his bow on the midnight wolf, it stood with a calm grace, a sense of magic swirled the air. Sebastian's normally steady hands turned into over cooked spaghetti of their own accord. His bow clattered to the floor like a stone, as the great beast sauntered to him with a cocky hitch to its precise steps. It was then, as the animal circled him, that he truly noticed its eyes, not the hunger behind them, but the color, the eerie supernatural glow that radiated from them.

"Mari?" he questioned, and was greeted with a lopsided attempt, at what he thought was a grin, though it looked more like a snarl, as her lips parted to reveal rows of sharp, jagged teeth. "Mari, what in the Black Void are you doing here?" he asked wearily, not truly shocked by her form. Marian, he knew, was after all, a very special woman. "Where is Keran?"

She snorted at him, a sound so achingly close to a human's scoff, he could almost picture her in front of him folding her toned arms over her chest, as she rolled her eyes in disapproval of his easy dismissal of her. The trust she was putting into him by showing him yet another of her cards, wasn't lost on Sebastian and it was an honor. He'd tell her so, but he was tired, bitter and sore physically and mentally, and it fouled the moment for him.

In the blink of an eye, every trace of the sleek animal was gone, leaving her standing tall in front of him, and utterly naked. Maker! Sebastian's mouth went dry, like this she looked as he'd pictured her deity of sex would… Only far, far better! With a single glimpse of her pert breasts, and the pearls of her budding, pink nipples his woes droned into white noise.

"I sent him to his bed hours ago. There didn't seem any reason for both of us to wait for you." She said her voice husky, perhaps from the change? Answering a question he'd long since forgotten he'd even asked.

Clearing his throat, and forcing himself to lift his wandering gaze from her naked flesh he tried to steady his voice. If she wanted to pretend she wasn't stark nude before him, then he wasn't about to act like a horny school lad, with his first ever boner. He could act as if this was a normal, everyday occurrence, though there wasn't a single stitch of normal about any of this.

"Indeed." Was all he managed, but it was steady, which was what mattered. And strangely enough, he found himself wondering if she realized that Keran usually slept in here with him, rolled up in a blanket on the floor at the foot of his bed. Trust Keran not to tell her himself, fool boy always seemed twisted with the pretty Hawke around; Maker only knew where he'd gone instead for the night. "It must be long past time for you to be safe in your own bed, as well."

7-7-7

"Most likely it is. Or was, rather," she said, a little bitter that as she stood naked before him, all he seemed to want to do was get rid of her. Reaching for the emerald night robe she'd come here in, she wrapped it around her body to protect herself from the cold night's air and Sebastian's lazy frown and seemingly uninterested glances. "I overheard some of the other Templars saying you'd returned to Kirkwall, and I knew you wouldn't be long, so I decided I'd stay awake to welcome you home."

His frown deepened as he tossed his helm onto his luggage chest. "I've hardly earned a hero's welcome."

"That wasn't what I'd meant." She swallowed, tying the robe tight around her waist, realizing from his hostility that she'd have to tread most carefully. This wasn't going the way she'd planned, - go to Sebastian's room, check, get naked, check, yell SURPRISE, double check and jump his bones... Well, that one was a work in progress. – She had a plan B though, and had come too far to retreat now; nor did she wish to. "Though I overheard from the others that you were – were successful in your campaign."

"So I'm told, yes, I was." She watched as he tore at the leather trappings binding his armor. "Most successful indeed."

She nodded, striving to understand. "Then you did find Gabriel." She breathed, her heart breaking.

His expression grew darker still. "Damn it, Mari, I don't-"

"No, Sebastian, please, don't be cross with me, but don't coddle me, either!" she muttered unhappily. "I've tried to be truthful with you, and all I ask is the same in return. I know before you couldn't tell me about Gabe because of your orders, but now, surely there's no harm that can come of it."

He stood very still, the lines of weariness and sorrow etched deeper into his face by the shadows of the firelight. "Why should you care so much, Mari?" he demanded. "What are my brother, and his misfortune to you?"

Marian bulked, her chin raising a measure to meet his fiery gaze. This night was not going well at all. Gods she was a fool! "Gabriel Vael is my friend, a good friend, too, as are all the others of his family," she growled defensively. "That includes you, as well, if you can bear it, that is."

7-7-7

He turned away, to hang his chest plate on the coat hanger, but more to avoid letting her read the feelings he knew were written so large across his face. A friend – that was all his brother was to her. Only a friend. Maker, how desperately he wanted to believe it! "We captured six men – my brother's fellow rogues – at a cave near the water, and destroyed the boats that they had hidden there," he said. "But though all of them say that Gabriel was their leader, he was not among those taken." Still he kept his back to her. "It's only a matter of time, of course," he continued. "I mean to return at dawn and search every house and barn in the area until I find him."

"Of course," she mumbled, bitterness laced in her words. "Your duty and your orders demand that you do nothing less." He couldn't make himself meet her eyes. She had asked for the truth, and he had given it to her. But not all of it; miserably he knew he was too much the coward to confess everything that he had done, and he despised the weakness in himself.

"Were there – were any boys captured, as well?" she asked, her voice a worried whisper. "Was there any sign of Gabriel's son Dallas?"

"I'm not in the habit of bringing war down upon boys, or women," said Sebastian sharply as he turned to face her. "I thought, ma'am, you held a higher regard for me than that."

He watched her eyes narrow before she spoke, "and I, sir, thought the same of you for me," her retort was as clipped and icy as he'd expected. "All I asked was if you'd seenGabe's son, not if you've suddenly taken a liking to slaughtering innocents!"

Sebastian shook his head wearily and sighed, his anger spent as quickly as it had begun. "Mari, I'm sorry. I am very tired, too tired to be decent company."

"I don't expect you to be Sebastian," she said, lowering her voice to a husky whisper that soothed, and ignited every nerve in his body at the same time. "And you don't have to apologize, else I'll have to apologize for showing up uninvited… Naked for that matter! But, I thought that after all you must have been through these last days and nights, you might wish some company yourself."

"Then you were mistaken." But she hadn't been, and Sebastian knew it. To tell her what had happened, to be able to pour out his fears and his grief to her non-judgmental, sympathetic ears, was almost unbearably tempting, like a cupful of water to a man dieing of thirst. Unable to read his expression, Marian shrugged self-consciously beneath his scrutiny, and the silk night robe slipped to one side, falling from her shoulder.

Again Sebastian was reminded how informally she'd been dressed beneath the wolf's fur. And how now, as she stood before him, the robe she donned to cover herself had only accentuated the thin line of her waist, the flare of her generous hips and revealed the lithe, tanned, length of her legs were the emerald fabric opened ever so slightly. Her crimson hair was left free, the thick, wild mass drawn over her slim shoulder.

She stepped to one side, lightly rapping her knuckles on the little table set before the fire. "I thought you might want some more substantial comfort food, too." She smiled sheepishly. "It's the innkeeper in me, you see. I simply cannot handle seeing anyone hungry or thirsty, and I'll wager you can't remember the last time you ate."

"Oh, Marian," he whispered, but still couldn't help smiling in return. Somehow, caught in his own whirlwind of misery, shock and lust he hadn't noticed the feast spread on the table. Sliced ham, a round of cheese, pickled eggs, a plump loaf of bread, Maker even a fish and egg pie with a glistening glazed crust sat before him! And to wash it all down sat a pitcher of Antivan brandy. How did she know exactly what he needed? One look at it all, and already his mouth was beginning to water.

"Ha, there!" She cooed softly," I can recognize that look on any man's face! Now sit here, Sebastian, in this chair near the fire, and let me get whatever you wish. I promise you'll feel infinitely more agreeable once your belly is full." He looked from the table to Marian eagerly holding the winged back of the armchair with both hands to offer it to him. Her night coat had slipped farther down her arm, the thin fabric baring more of her sun-kissed skin. Without the stiff boning of the corsets she seemed to adore, her breasts were round and full, and their weight pressed gently against the emerald silk. As she leaned forward across the chair, his eyes were drawn to the shadowy valley of the deep V her robe created, and it was only with great difficulty that he forced himself to look away. But as he did, with shock he noticed something else. The golden, heart-shaped locket she'd always worn without fail before, was gone. Because Mari had made no secret of not loving her husband, Sebastian had come to suspect that Gabe's picture was tucked within the heart, and to find the locket missing now, for the first time, on this night of all others, made joy leap almost painfully within his chest. She'd said that Gabriel was just a friend, and at last Sebastian began to believe it.

She tapped her fingertips on the back of the chair, unaware of his thoughts. "Don't look so suspicious, Sebastian," she said. "You can trust me, you know. Food is far too precious these days for me to lace all this with poison merely for the sake of doing away with one brilliantly, haughty Templar. Watch, serha, and I'll prove it." She reached across the table and plucked one of the pickled eggs from the bowl. With the sweeping motions of a conjurer she held the egg in the air between her thumb and index finger for him to see, placing the other hand at her waist in a gesture that screamed 'I'm about to say I told you so.' Then with great exaggeration, she bit into the egg, her lips cherry red against the white of it. "There," she said when she'd swallowed. He could tell she felt on safer ground here; hungry men were her specialty, after all. "You can see I haven't perished. Now, if you do not sit down right now, I vow I will most certainly see myself a perfect failure as a hostess."

"No wonder you've prospered, Lady Hawke," he grumbled, but nonetheless he sat in the chair, perhaps a little tentatively, and let her push the table closer to him. He could tell how hard she was trying to lighten the mood between them – the sheepish little smiles, the coaxing, even the bit with the egg that doubtless was so popular with her regular guests – and he didn't wish to disappoint her, not over something as foolish as this. Besides he was hungry, he couldn't deny that, especially not as she placed a plate of food before him.

"You're not having anything yourself?" he asked as he began to cut into the pie. "Surely it's been a while since you last ate, too."

"If I ate with every guest, Sebastian, I'd be as burly as a dwarve and twice as round," she said as she poured the brandy into his tankard. "I'd devour all my profits, too. I know you prefer rougher brandy, but at this hour you'll do better with something smoother."

"My, my, how you see to my welfare," he teased, both amused and touched by her compassion. He couldn't remember the last time a woman fussed over him like this, and he'd forgotten how pleasant it could be. Even if he didn't deserve it. Maker, help him, what would she do if she knew about Gabriel? No, it wasn't an if. When she learned about Gabe. At the thought, the succulent fish and egg pie turned tasteless in his mouth, and he reached for his tankard to wash it down. She had turned to urge more life from the fire, bending down with her hands sparking. The emerald night coat draped across her hips and bottom, and he liked the way her little feet and ankles arched up as she bent down closer to the hearth. He noticed then, the glow of the cobalt teardrop shimmering in the fire's light; she had wrapped its long chain around her delicate ankle numerous times so that only the jewel dangled when she moved. When he'd purchased it he'd pictured it between her breasts, tickling the tender flesh every time she moved, causing her to think of him. However seeing it placed with great care around her ankle, he wondered if she knew what such simple things did to him?

He shifted uneasily in his chair. If he had any conscience left at all, he'd send her away now, the way he should have done in the first place. But instead he merely waited in silence as she dusted her hands together and perched on the edge of the other chair. The silence stretched longer as he turned back to the food on his plate, and Mari sighed, her hands folded in her lap as she watched him eat.

"You've never gone hungry, have you?" she asked softly. "Not just tonight, I mean, but ever in your life."

He frowned, not quite sure what she was asking. "I've been hungry, yes, just as I've been sated once I've eaten. It's generally the way of men."

7-7-7

She shook her head with a little shrug of her shoulders. "For those like you, who've always had money, I suppose it is. It's another of the things I've come to recognize in my trade," she said lightly, choosing not to confess how often as a child she herself had gone to sleep hungry on the straw-filled mattress under the eaves. "The way you hold your fork and knife, how you lift your food to your mouth and not the other way around, small things like that. You've always known there will be another meal coming after this one, and the next will be every bit as fine as the last. And though you may have grown up in the wilderness, still your mum took care with your manners."

"Not my mother, no." By the way he suddenly set his knife and fork down, Marian knew she'd made him uncomfortable. It hadn't been her intention and she inwardly kicked herself for it.

"My parents are – were." He paused obvious pain brushing over his tired face, and she reached across the table to touch his sleeve in unspoken sympathy. "They had their heir and their spare, I was a mere inconvenience. They loved me of course, or at least I believe they did, but to kill any chance of a rivalry for Starkhaven's throne, I was raised by my grandparents, in their house, so you can lay all of the credit for my manners and none of the blame to my grandmum."

"It's all credit, that I can see, Sebastian."

"Ah, well, she was a true Nevarran lady," his said, gaze growing distant at the memory. "She always expected people to call her that, too, 'my Lady Leela,' on account of her being an earl's granddaughter. Everyone in Val Royeaux did, even though by rights she should have put aside the title when she wed my granddae,' an Orleasian at that!"

"Lady Leela," repeated Marian quietly. "How very… Grand."

"That she was," he admitted. " Her own Nevarran warriors lurking in the woods and Qunari juggernauts not far behind, yet she always saw to it that there was fine cloth and silver on the table, and wine to drink the health of the Divine." Wistfully Marian tried to imagine growing up in such a household, so very different from the bleak poverty of her own childhood, and failed.

"The Divine's blood to drink, and silver on the table," she said, slipping her hand away from his arm. "No wonder you chose to stand by the Divine as her right hand. How could you do otherwise?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Serving as a Templar in the Divine's holy army was my idea, not my grandmum's," he said. "She and my granddae' had wanted me to serve as a simple brother here in the Kirkwall Chantry. Joining the Templar ranks was my way to seek all the things a restless young lad wants, glory, adventure and a chance to leave my youth behind. Dreams, that was all it was, Mari, the same kind of dreams you must have had yourself."

Oh, she'd had dreams, all right; she thought sadly, dreams enough for any young, foolish lass. Without thinking, she touched the place where her locket usually hung, remembering too late that when she'd decided to seduce Sebastian tonight, that she didn't want reminders of herself as Nova's mother, for fear she'd back out. But Nova and Sebastian were too tangled together to be so easily put aside, and sorrowfully she looked down at the empty place on her chest where the locket with her – no, their daughter's picture should have been.

7-7-7

Sebastian saw where her fingers rested on the bared skin at the apex of her collarbone, and his heart sank as he guessed the rest. Damnation, what else could he expect, blabbering on about himself like some thick-witted fool! But she'd taken the first step by removing the locket. It was up to him, now, to take the next one. He reached across the table to take her hand. "I didn't mean to make you sad, sweet," he said gruffly. "The dreams I had then are long gone and cast away. But I've found new ones to take their place, Mari, new ones that are much more dear to me because they include you."

Troubled, she looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her chin still low against her chest. What was she thinking he wondered, as both the burnt-orange and the supernatural blue swirled in her fear filled eyes? If she dared to dream with him, could she dare to hope and to trust with him, as well?

"There is nothing sure between us, is there, Sebastian?" she said, divulging her inner turmoil as if she'd heard his plea. "Nothing will last, nothing is certain. When you said goodbye two nights ago, I was sick from fearing you would not return."

"Mari, love, you-"

"No please, Sebastian, listen!" She had risen to her feet, her fingers twisting hard into his. "You swore you'd try to court me the way I hadn't been before. I scoffed, believing I was beyond such fancies, but I'm not. Sebastian, I'm not, not in the least! The lyrium kiss, the gloves, the little paper heart, each one is so dear to me, now more than ever because they came from you."

7-7-7

His lopsided smile was almost boyish, at odds with his stubbled jaw and the weary lines around his eyes. "That's as I meant it to be, sweet lass."

"Well, yes, else you wouldn't have done it, would you?" She smiled uncertainly, her cheeks growing hot. "And because all we may have is tonight, this night, I wanted to show you how I care, too."

"Mari." He shoved his chair back from the table and reached for her other hand, drawing her closer to stand directly in front of him. Gently he held her hands in his, stroking his thumbs across her upturned wrists. He wouldn't promise her things that couldn't be, or insult her by telling her they'd have a long, happy life together. She knew better than that, and so did he, and the knowledge gave her offer an almost unbearable sadness. "You've already given me a great deal more than such a shoddy rogue deserves."

"But not the way I wished to." She felt oddly captive, not from the way he was holding her hands, but by the deceptively simple touch of his thumbs moving over the blue veins of her wrists. She shook her head, trying to think straight while the wisps of her hair drifted back and forth on either side of her face. "I wanted this – this supper… Everything to be special, a surprise," she continued wistfully. "After what I heard from your men, I'd hoped you'd be happy, and wishing to celebrate. I didn't know that your attack or ambush or whatever it was hadn't gone as you'd wished."

"But that's changed, hasn't it?" he teased softly; as she tried to stave off the tears she could feel rising. She was right when she'd told him this night could be their last and Marian would be damned if she'd be remembering it through a haze of tears. "I'd say that this attack or ambush or whatever it is you've planned for me is proceeding exactly as you wished. And I'm not about to challenge a word of your orders."

In one easy motion, Sebastian pulled her onto his lap and into his arms, and before she could think to protest, his lips had found hers, warm and demanding and certain of her welcome.

She told herself she should get free of him. She told herself that this may have been exactly what she had wanted, what she'd needed, but she'd been foolish. She told herself to choose such a passing pleasure knowing the pain it would undoubtedly cause, was nothing more then masochistic and destructive. She told herself she had enough sorrow in her life without adding such wayward vices. She told herself all these things, sternly in fact, as only her conscience could. Then she told herself to stop lying, and shuttered her torturous thoughts, letting her heart, overrule her mind with infinite ease. She told herself, she simply refused to miss this. With a little sigh of surrender, she straddled him, slipping her legs through the open arms of the chair, curling closer into his embrace. Her lips parted eagerly, allowing her tongue to tangle with his. She felt his hands on her hips, pulling her closer, and with only her thin, night robe between them, she was achingly aware both of his touch and of the corded muscles of his thighs beneath her. He was so intriguingly male, she thought as he deepened the kiss, strong and hard where she was soft and yielding in ways she'd never realized. In alternating motions between hard and soft, she rocked her bare sex over the coarse fabric of his trews.

"Oh yes, Mari!" Sebastian moaned, his hands tightening into a bruising grip on her hips and his head lolling back against the winged chair, as he tried to both stop and urge her motions. His tortured reaction to her rocketed a delicious, heated injection of feminine pride through her taut body. She twisted toward him, instinctively seeking more of his heady moans and the wonderful differences between them. From the first time she had slipped against him, that night on horseback, she'd pictured this moment, the moment when haunting dreams turned to sensual reality. Swiveling her hips with sure strokes, she let her hands creep across his chest to his shoulders, over the wool of his tunic. Beneath her palm she felt the beat of his heart, a steady echo to her own racing pulse, and she slid her hands around the back of his neck, his shaggy hair curling over her wrists.

"Oh!" Marian gasped, jumping back with surprise when she felt his hand on the front of her night robe, grazing the curve of her breast through its silken cover. She hated how her cheeks flamed from his intimate caress. She'd been with numerous men and women, even a Kossith that one time… So why, now, in Sebastian's arms did she blush like a maiden? Gods, he'd think her a fool! Yet the gentleness of his touch reassured her even as it warmed her blood, and she slipped back further, giving him better access.

With lazy, tantalizing strokes his hands skimmed up the fabric of her robe, delving beneath to slowly ease the soft fabric back, his mouth following the fiery trail they left behind, placing heated love bites to her neck then shoulders. By the time his hands reached the fastening of her robe, she was trembling with anticipation. He tugged loose the tie, letting the robe slip the rest of the way, baring her completely to the chilled air, and when he trailed a hand back up to cup her breast, she gasped with the sheer pleasure of it. She rocked against his palm, seeking more, even though she couldn't have begun to explain what more might be. It was a mystery she'd carried with her for eleven years, and now, at last, the secret was nearly within reach, if she dared to seize it.

She gasped again, beginning to pant, as his lips moved to where his hands had been, drawing her nipple into the wet heat of his wicked mouth. She threaded her fingers through his hair to hold him there, crying out breathy sighs of wild pleasure, mewling into him and rocking her hips, her erratic movements making Sebastian groan and nip harder, only to ease the sting with soft swirls of his tongue. Her whole body was taut and heavy with longing, the restless fire centering low in her belly.

And then, abruptly, he stopped.

"Enough, Mari." He growled, the words hot against her skin. "I can't bear this any longer."

"NOOOO!" She bellowed angrily, her hands still twisted in his sorrel mane attempting to coax him unsuccessfully back to her aching nipples. "Please don't stop, Sebastian." She cried shamelessly "The Gods as my witness, I'll light you on fire if you do!"

"Maker, sweet lass, dae' ye think Ah'd want tae'. It's nae' ye. It's this cursed chair!

"Oops." She giggled sheepishly; putting out the fireball she'd begun to conjure, as relief washed through her like a wave from the waking sea. Slipping her legs from the chair, she slid off his lap and crawled on top of the plush feather bed. "Well, serha, you're in luck," she whispered. She could feel his eyes riveted to her naked form, singeing her skin with their turquoise flame. "The beds here in the Rose are exceptional for just these types of situations!" Getting to her hands and knees, she lowered her chest to the mattress stretching her arms out in front of her. Pushing her rump high in the air, she swayed her hips, her inner harlot attempting to lure him to her as she parted her thighs, baring her slick sex to the cool air. "Sebastian, I ache," She purred, her body pulsing with need.

"Were, dae' ye ache sweet lass?" He was against her so fast it winded and startled her, his bared chest flush with the curve of her back, his scorching tongue running the length of her spine. When had he lost his clothing? Oh, God's it didn't matter she needed more of him, all of him! "Show me wee Hawke." He murmured, roughly fisting his left hand in her hair, forcing her to rise on her knees till her back rested against the firm, corded muscles of his broad chest.

Mewling into his domination, Marian grabbed his right hand running it over her body and down to her core, guiding a single digit into the wet heat he'd lit. "Here… Gods here!" She panted harder, pushing his finger till it reached the knuckle. "Deep. In here."

He groaned against the junction between her neck and shoulder. The hand in her hair tightened, sending shocks of pained pleasure from her roots, all the way to her toes.

"Ye're certain of this, Mari?" he asked, stilling their hands. "Ye' know ah cannae' undo the past, but Maker help me. I've no wish tae' hurt ye again!"

Wriggling from his grasp, Marian flipped herself so that she could face him. What more could she do to convince him, that this – them was exactly what she wanted?!

He was seated back on his heels, gloriously nude, every ounce of his chiseled, cinnamon flesh spread out for her inspection, his cock standing hard, long and broad at attention. Yet it was the serious edge in his turquoise eyes that left her gasping for breath. What she was about to say would only magnify the complications between them by a hundredfold, but to get what she needed, she had to tell him.

"That was long ago, Sebastian," she said softly. "I'm not some starry-eyed maid any longer, and now I can see you for the man you truly are."

His smile was heartbreakingly unsure. "O' what a sorry bargain, that, sweet lass."

"Oh, no. It's the very best bargain there is," she cooed as she pulled him down on top of her, brushing her lips over his. "Because you, Sebastian Vael, are the man I love."

7-7-7

No woman had ever said that to him and meant it, not the way that Mari did, and for the first time he realized the power such little words could hold. In spite of the unspeakable way he'd treated her before, in spite of the white armor he wore, in spite of whatever he'd thought she felt for his brother, in spite of it all, she had chosen to love him.

Not that it was any choice for him. He had been a soldier too long not to believe in fate, and fate, he was quite certain, had spared him through battle after battle to bring him back across the Waking Sea from Orlais, to Kirkwall, and to her. How else but through fate could they have managed to find each other again?

"And I love you, Marian Hawke," he said slowly, slipping kisses across her skin basking in the heady mixture of vanilla musk, jasmine and that tinge of burnt caramel. A scent all her own feminine, strong, and he helplessly thrust himself into the mattress betwixt her thighs. He needed to take her rough and fast. It had been so long, he wouldn't last this first round, and the beast within demanded he stake his claim, that he take her neck between his teeth as he defiled her sweet, velvet heat.

"Mari!" he moaned unable to say more, desperately begging her to understand the need that pulsed through his veins.

"You think too much Sebastian," She growled, as the scent of lyrium swirled the room, in an instant she had him on his back, straddling his hips, his arms pinned to the mattress with her magic. She rocked against him, rolling her generous hips. At the same time his cock slipped against her damp folds, making him shudder with need and for one perfect moment the crown nudged her slick opening.

"Ah' donnae' want tae' hurt ye again, lass!" He groaned, his brogue so thick he doubted she understood him, as she blazed a trail of heated kisses down his chest, circling her tongue around his navel.

"But I hurt now, Sebastian." She hissed. Slapping her hands flat against his thighs, she took his shaft between her soft lips, working it into the sizzling heat of her mouth. All thought fled - as he watched her in awe- replaced with mixed sensations of icy cold, electric heat and white, hot passion.

"Mari, oh, that's it." He growled, bucking his hips. "Release mah' hands, lass! Ah' need tae' feel ye." As soon as the pressure pinning his arms fled, he pulled her away, tossing her to her knees. Clenching a hand at the nape of her neck he shoved her chest into the mattress. And was nearly engulfed by the beast when she swayed her hips again, to entice him. "Donnae' do that." He barked, wrapping his hands in a bruising grip on her hips to halt her. He'd spend right here, on the satin sheets, before he ever got a chance to lay his claim if she continued torturing him like this.

He needed something more from her. He didn't want to be another notch on Marian Hawke's bedpost. Nay, he wanted her as a lover and wife. He wanted her to forget every other, and surrender more than her body to him. He wanted her heart, her soul! But, then she mewled against him, his cock running the length of her dripping sex once more.

"Sebastian, I need you to make love to me," she begged. "I hurt so bad!" Mah' Mari, hurting? Never! He lost it. All coherent thought gone, the Vael beast rose, as all his noble fancies fled. In one swift motion he buried himself to the hilt. She yelped, a low guttural sound. Raising herself back against him, she encircled her arms around his neck to brace herself against the unrelenting pistoning of his hips. She took him fully, as if she was made just for him. And every time he quickened the pace she matched him, always clenching her wet, tight heat on the upstroke and unclenching on the down.

"Ah'll' nate' be letting' ye go, lass." His voice was low, foreign to his own ears.

"I never want you to," she panted. The sound a sweet melody to Sebastian's ears.

Drawing back, till only the crown of his pulsing cock was seated in her depths, he gripped her scarlet curls yanking her head to one side exposing the erratic pulse below the sweat, slicked skin of her neck. He brushed his lips over it, and reveled in the breathy sigh that escaped her lips.

"Do it, mark me, Sebastian. I'm yours. Oh gods." She blurted, the words tumbling from her mouth in quick succession. Her hands had worked down from his neck, to the muscles of his ass, her blunt nails digging into the skin as she tried to urge him to seat himself once more.

"Mine!" he snarled, violently sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, wrenching her down hard on his shaft. She screamed a chorus of pleasured oaths and he felt how her sex clenched around him, milking him greedily. Mindlessly snarling against her neck, he plunged into her velvet warmth over and over. He was crazed with the need to come, thrusting, grunting, driving. He released her neck throwing back his head, roaring to the ceiling as the first waves of orgasm rocked him. His back bowed from the force of it, waves and waves of pent up come jetting from him, in thick streams. She took everything he had to give, until they both collapsed in a tangled, sated pile.

"Ah' love ye, Mari," he murmured again, pulling her close with him as he rolled to his side. Tenderly he smoothed the damp, crimson curls away from the shell of her ear, watching her smile dreamily at him. He would never tire of saying the words, an incantation to keep the world away from their own paradise. "Ah' love ye", Mari."

7-7-7

I love Sebastian, and he loves me. It was the one thought Mari held on to as she stared drowsily into the dying embers of the fire in the hearth. His body still lay tangled intimately with hers, his arms thrown protectively around her even as he slept. She had never felt as content, or as happy, as she did at this moment.

She couldn't quite remember when she and Sebastian had shifted from lying on top of the blankets to beneath them. But she knew she'd never forget the passion they'd shared, the way the desire in her blood had built hotter and fiercer than anything she could have dreamed of. And when at last, after he'd teased her body into frenzied passion, he entered her, there had been none of the hollow, aching emptiness she'd found with every other before him. Instead, there had been only pleasure beyond imagining as the tension in her body coiled tighter and tighter and her heart raced so fast she was sure she'd explode, and then, in a marvelous, unexpected way, she had, crying out Sebastian's name.

She loved Sebastian, and he loved her. With a sigh, she burrowed closer to him, and let her own eyes drift shut.

She loved Sebastian, and… She heard the door open and close far away in the house. The kitchen door; that was the one that squeaked on its hinges that way. Who would come to the back door at this hour, and more importantly, who had unbarred the door to let them in? In an instant she was wide-awake, every nerve on edge.

Please, Gods, not Gabriel, not here, not tonight! Marian felt her heart pounding, sick with dread from that one very real possibility. Desperately she told herself it was only that, a possibility. There must be a hundred places on the outskirts of the city Gabriel could go to hide, and if he had any sense left at all, The Rose wouldn't be one of them.

Please, oh please, not tonight…

She closed her eyes again, forlornly wishing she could simply go to sleep in the warm shelter of Sebastian's body and forget the door until morning. Reality and responsibility would intrude on them soon enough. But now she could make out the murmur of voices, too, and she knew she couldn't afford to ignore them any longer. She slipped free of Sebastian's arm, pulling the blanket over his bare shoulder. He looked so much younger when he slept, his handsome face relaxed and at peace, and her heart swelled with how much she loved him.

She dressed quickly, the room chilly now, with the untended fire so low, her ears straining to make out the voices downstairs. She was sure that one of them belonged to Orana, but the other was too soft for her to distinguish, and again she prayed it wasn't Gabe.

With her slippers in her hand, she bent over Sebastian and feathered a kiss across his cheek. He stirred in his sleep, smiled, and murmured her name with a drowsy tenderness that almost broke her resolve. How she longed to climb back into bed beside him! But, with a sigh instead, she left, quietly closing the door after her, promising herself she'd return as soon as she could, and if she was lucky, she'd be back before he even realized she was gone.

On the back stairs, she paused to pull on her slippers and listen. Again all she could hear was the gruff rise and fall of Orana's voice, and Marian's fears began to ease. Gabriel couldn't possibly be here; he'd never be able to keep quiet this long. More likely it was only Cricket, or perhaps Fenris come to see Orana to apologize for a spat they'd had. Such things happened all the time. With a final twitch of her emerald robe, she pushed open the kitchen door.

"Ah, there you are, Hawke!" said Orana, her voice laced with accusation, her almond eyes narrowing on Marian's neck. From her dress, she, too, must have been roused from her chambers in the Rose; two long braids brushed both of her slim shoulders, and she wore a shawl thrown hastily over her thin nighty. "I went looking for you in your room, I knocked and knocked, but you never answered."

"I'm a deep sleeper, Orana, you know that," said Marian defensively, pulling her robe tighter so that it covered her marking. She owed no excuses to her friend, and she wasn't going to offer any, either. Besides, the kitchen appeared empty except for them, and wistfully she thought again of Sebastian waiting for her upstairs. "Why did you wish to wake me anyways? What couldn't wait until morning?"

"It's mah' fault, Lady Hawke." A small, bedraggled figure slipped from behind the side of the tall oak pantry. Clearly Dallas Vael was trying his best to be as brave as he could, but across the dirt on his cheeks were the pale trails left by tears, and self-consciously he swiped a sleeve across his nose. "Pa said Ah' could always come here tae' ye if Ah' was in trouble."

Righteously Orana clucked her tongue. "There now, Mari, what-"

"Hush, Orana!" Marian stepped closer to the boy. He was trembling, and from the haunted look in his eyes she knew it wasn't from the cold alone. No child should have that look, she thought sadly, and if his back wasn't so stiff from living up to his father's notions of manhood, she would have swept him into her arms at once. "Your father's right, Dallie," she coaxed gently. "You can always come here to me, whether you're in trouble or not."

"Aye, mum," he mumbled, and stared down at his feet. "It's just that – just that – oh, mum!" The boy's veneer crumbled, his shoulders shook as sobs the size of tidal waves tore through him, and with his head down he stumbled toward her, throwing his arms around her and burying his face against her robe. Swiftly Marian disentangled the boy from her robe and kneeled to his level, and now Dallas let her hold him tight, his cheek pressed into the hollow of her shoulder as she stroked his tangled brown hair, his salty tears stinging Sebastian's sensual bite. "Pa's – Pa's dead," he hiccoughed, choking himself on another fit of tears "an' it was mah' turncoat, coward uncle that shot him."

Hey all,

I just wanted to pop in, say "hey!" And mention how awesome the love from all you readers has been. When I decided to come back and finish this, I really didn't expect there to be any interest, but that hasn't been the case at all and the support is amazing. Soo… THANK YOU.

To the guest who stopped by and took the time to review, first off you're awesome. To answer your question though it was a mixture of things. Originally I had decided that it was crazy to assume the entire world of Thedas would agree on one form of religion. With that in mind and with a love for both Roman and Greek Mythology, I decided I'd add several deities to the pot. It also adds another layer to Sebastian and Marian's differences, with both being so deeply devout to their own Maker/Makers.

Hopefully that answers your question…

And hopefully everyone loves them up some sexxxyy times!

-Scar