Warning: adult content.
Chapter Four
Cullen shifted the wrapped bundle over his shoulder, a thoughtful look on his face. He had been able to spend very little time with Marian over the past several weeks, which he found difficult. It was starting to wear on his concentration. This would be the first opportunity for them to be together for an entire day. He found anticipation quickened his steps.
It had been a trying week with the mysterious deaths of his brother templars in the chantry. He hadn't known any of them well, but he still mourned their loss. Most of them had been slain by magic, making the event even more ominous. He shook his head, determined not to dwell on it further, for the time being.
He had decided they would take a jaunt to his favored spot outside the city- a craggy bluff overlooking the sea. When the pressures of his duties or memories of the past weighed him down, walking in solitude and breathing in the crisp ocean air always revived him. It was a special place to him. He wanted to share it with her.
Having Marian Hawke come crashing into his life was a surprise he hadn't been expecting. Duty and obligation had shaped his existence. Hardship and difficulties had molded him further, but this- this feeling of happiness, stirred previously unknown parts of him. It awoke something that dared to entertain hope and wish for a life with her in it, and a future together.
He found himself wishing he could talk with her for hours on end. She was smart, funny, irreverent in an endearing way, with a straightforward way of looking at things. Marian tried to hide it with humor or sarcasm, but he saw she had a kind and tender heart, and she selflessly devoted herself to the well-being of her family. Likely even including her rather unfortunate uncle who he had caught a brief glimpse of when he spoke with her mother.
The night they spent together should have made him feel ashamed and wicked, remorseful and repentant…but it hadn't. She had absolved him before he ever touched her, and he privately reveled in the memories, turning them over in his mind in the long hours he stood watch. Recalled with perfect clarity the taste of her skin and the look on her face when she was transported by pleasure.
Dangerous thoughts. They made him long to do things with her and to her that he had only ever heard of. Things he had been too frenzied to attempt on that life-changing night. He had his discipline and training to fall back on now, but underneath it all, he was still a man, with a man's needs. He had wet his lips with a mere taste of her on a single night of passion. Now he wanted to drink the entire draught, and take the time to savor and appreciate her.
He squared his shoulders and knocked on the door of the dilapidated dwelling. Carver opened it, nearly jerking the door off its' hinges. He smirked, taking in Cullen's casual clothing and backed up a step, bellowing over his shoulder.
"Mari, your templar is here!"
She came out of the back of the house and walked through the doorway, smacking his head as she went past.
"Ow, you evil harpy," he muttered, rubbing his abused skull.
"Bye, brother!" She shut the door with a smile and Cullen shook his head, chuckling. They headed out of the city, chatting as they walked.
"You make it look like so much fun having a brother," he teased.
She wiggled her eyebrows. "You have no idea. Being an elder sister comes with a special skill set, like espionage and mild torture, not to mention the fine art of blackmail."
"Sounds like preparation for a life of crime, to me."
"I suppose it does, now that you mention it. Speaking of which, Carver and I have completed our indenture. I've started looking at other things." Her brow furrowed. "I don't want my mother living in that miserable slum any longer than necessary."
"What about the City Guard, or Templar training? We're always looking for promising new recruits."
She gave a choked laugh that turned into a coughing fit. "I don't think I'm quite right for either of those positions, but I'm flattered you think my small skills adequate for such consideration."
"You do well enough, and you have a great deal of potential. I can give you some pointers, if you like. I have a lot of experience training others."
She shifted her bag over her shoulder, repressing a grin. "I don't doubt it. I've learned wonderfully thrilling and interesting things since I met you. I would be delighted to learn your style intimately. Of course, we would have to practice a great deal if I'm to become really proficient."
He turned his head sharply, expecting to see mischief, but she was looking at him innocently, until she smiled and her eyes sparkled with repressed humor.
"You're- bad."
"Oh? That wasn't the impression I got, but if you want a do-over, I'm sure Madame Lusine will help us out."
He laughed in shock. "I don't even know what to say to that."
She winked. "Say the first thing that pops into your head. That's usually the true response."
He listened to the crunching of their boots on the dirt path they walked, Kirkwall now behind them.
"What would you say if I took you up on that offer?"
"You never would," she said, matter-of-factly.
Cullen smiled slightly, looking up at the gulls flying overhead. "You sound very certain."
Hawke shrugged. "I think you like to make your own choices free of coercion, and would resent anything that made the decision for you. Am I wrong in my assessment?"
He thought about it for a moment. "No, you aren't. There's nothing as terrifying as having someone force their will on you, while you are helpless to resist."
She looked at him curiously. His eyes were haunted. "That sounds like the voice of experience," she said quietly. She reached out and laced her fingers with his, and he looked down at their conjoined hands, squeezing hers and rubbing a thumb across her knuckles.
"I'll tell you about it sometime. Look." He pointed with his free hand out to the sea as they arrived at the top of the lookout. It was like a secret haven. Shafts of sunlight peeked out from behind fluffy clouds, sparkling on the water, and the tall grasses surrounding them waved enthusiastically in the breeze.
Marian lifted her face to the warming rays and closed her eyes, breathing deeply and smiling her pleasure to the sky. "It's breathtaking," she sighed, opening her eyes to see him watching her.
"Very," he agreed, releasing her hand.
"What's that?" She pointed to what he had carried from Kirkwall.
He pulled the long bundle off his back and extended it to her. "This is for you."
She tilted her head curiously, then sat on the ground to lay it flat so she could unwrap the fabric. He sat next to her and pulled a strand of grass from the dirt and twirled it absently between his fingers. Marian made quick work of unwinding the fabric, revealing what lay beneath.
"Cullen," she breathed in awe, lifting the silver sheath to examine it. It flashed brightly with reflected light, a flaming sword emblazoned on the hilt, a single enchanted rune giving the symbol a red glow. She touched it reverently and looked up.
"You're giving me this beautiful sword? Why?"
He gestured casually with his hand, but he was pleased with her reaction. "I think it suits you, and I believe you prefer a blade to flowers."
She looked confused. "Did I tell you I didn't like flowers? I can't remember, but I must have."
He shook his head. "It was a guess based on observation, but it seems I was correct, considering your practical nature."
She smiled sheepishly. "I guess I must be pretty easy to figure out. Sorry I can't be more mysterious for you."
He pulled a handful of grass from the ground, watching it fall from his fingers. "I think it would take a lifetime to discover even half of your mysteries, Marian."
She smiled, an uneasy guilt pricking her conscience. Standing, she drew the sword out, admiring the fine craftsmanship, and stepping far enough away to give it a couple of experimental swings, testing the balance. Decorative scrollwork ran the length of the sharpened blade. Cullen stood and moved to one side.
"This doesn't look like an ordinary sword. You shouldn't have spent so much coin on me."
"I didn't," he said. "It was a gift from the Knight-Commander when I was assigned to the Ferelden Circle."
She sheathed the sword and held it out to him, her gaze skittering away from his. "It must have great meaning for you. I can't possibly accept this."
He closed his hands over hers, trapping the sword in her grip. "It's too light for me. I've never used it, and there's no one else I would rather see wield it. You would do me honor if you took this sword for your own."
"But you," she began, her voice uncertain. He smiled sincerely and she felt an answering grin tug at her lips. "Thank you, I will cherish it." She set the blade to one side and flopped back down into the cool grass watching him fold himself down beside her, admiring the easy grace of his movements.
"Be careful, Cullen," she said in a playful tone. "Giving me gifts and saying such kind things; people will think you're courting me."
Cullen tilted his head and looked at her from under his lashes. "I am," he said simply.
"What?" She heard the loud rush of blood in her ears and the color drained from her face. "But you're a Templar," she whispered helplessly, through numb lips.
"It's not common perhaps," he said, flicking a final piece of grass from his fingers. "but there are Templars who marry."
Her mind immediately went to Aveline and Ser Wesley, but she said nothing aloud, far too stunned by his calm declaration.
He looked at her in concern, noting her pallor. "I'm sorry, I thought you understood my intentions. I should have spoken more plainly as to why I wished to call on you. If your father were living, I would have asked his permission first. Would you have me speak to your uncle, or perhaps your brother?"
Emotions ran riot inside her: elation, excitement, joy, terror, guilt, fear, longing, denial. They clogged her throat with pain and happiness. How could fate be so cruel as to taunt her with such impossible glimpses of a life she would never have? How could she continue this charade? How could she not? It was madness.
"Kiss me, please." Her eyes were stormy and pleading. He slid his fingers across her shoulders and pulled her close, kissing her gently with chaste brushes of his lips until she wanted to scream.
"Cullen," she said, her voice nearly a whine when he pressed his lips against the side of her jaw, "kiss me, don't tease me."
He looked at her for a span of seconds, then kissed her again, this time sweeping past her parted lips and brushing his tongue against hers. She pressed into him eagerly, overbalancing him and making him fall on his back.
His breath whooshed out and she giggled against his cheek.
"Sorry, I guess I'm a little enthusiastic."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," he murmured, grazing his lips down her jaw.
She moved back to look at him. "Isn't it? You've been reserved with me the few times we've met since that night at the Rose. I didn't think you were comfortable pursuing further intimacies." She sat up again, turning to face the sea. "I've tried to respect your boundaries. Even if," she paused with a wistful smile. "I would rather tear all of them down."
A small, surprised sound caught in her throat when Cullen pulled her back into the tall grasses, sweeping kisses of wet heat into her mouth that burned with intensity.
"Then let's have no boundaries between us."
His hands parted and tugged aside her clothing, relearning the curves he dreamed about at night. He touched her now of his own free will, and it was all the sweeter for it.
An alluring ache grew deep inside her core, her body eager, remembering his possession. The blessed feel of his tongue dancing against her skin, and making her quiver in anticipation when he parted her thighs and found slick welcome.
"Marian," he groaned, his hardness twitching inside his trousers, but he ignored it in favor of indulging his other, more pressing desire. He worked his way down her nude body, learning all the places he had been too frenzied to appreciate before. Listening for what made her breath catch in her throat, what made her sigh and shiver. The way her skin rippled when he delved his tongue into her naval, then moved lower. He paused long enough to breath in her dewy scent, licking tentatively at her mysterious feminine folds, then growing bolder when she wailed and thrust her hips against him.
"Maker, Marian," he breathed against her sex. The taste of her flowed across his tongue, ensnaring him in the awe and wonder of it. He pushed against her triangle of dark curls, baring all of her to his gaze. Learning exactly where she most wanted his ardent caresses, and focusing there until she tensed up, releasing a low moan, then shaking and shuddering to completion.
He rested his forehead against her inner thigh, trying to master his lust before he took her like an animal.
"Cullen."
She looked down at him, her smile soft and eyes gentled with sated desire. He climbed back up her body, stopping briefly to nuzzle against her breasts and lick a slow circle around her nipple before suckling eagerly. Her hands held him to her, relishing the scrape of his teeth and the abrasive stubble on his jaw. He returned to her lips, branding her with open-mouthed kisses. She ran her hands down his back, dismayed to realize he was still fully dressed.
"How is it that I'm lying here as bare as my name day, while you still have on all your clothes?"
He kissed her again, leaving her breathless, then sliding down her neck, inhaling the scent of the grass and sea against her skin.
"When I focus on something, I'm not easily distracted," he said, with a chuckle.
Marian pushed him down, looming over him.
"That's an admirable quality. One I think I should emulate." She grinned, tugging his tunic. He sat up enough to remove it and she ran her hands across the muscled expanse of his broad chest. Bending over, she flicked her tongue across his nipple, drawing a surprised gasp. She teased with the tip of her tongue until he pebbled against her, then she followed the trail of soft hair down his body, mapping him with tongue and lips.
"Take these off," she said, giving his trousers a tug, and he helped her remove the last of his clothing, watching her explore him. It took all of his considerable control to lay still under her, but the first touch of her tongue against his throbbing length had him bucking against her mouth, twisting his fingers in her hair when her lips closed around him. The sharp edge of her tooth scraped against his sensitive head, spearing him with pain.
"Ahhh!" He shouted, and she pulled off him, wide-eyed.
"Sorry! What did I do wrong?"
He gestured in embarrassment. "Teeth," he mumbled, starting to move away.
"Wait!" She placed a hand against his hip to stop him. "Let me just try one more time. I'll be very careful."
He tensed warily when her lips closed around him again, but he felt nothing beyond the pull of her tongue and the glide of her lips. She looked up at him as she took him deeper, and that image nearly pushed him over the edge.
"S-stop p-please." She ignored his begging, matching the determination he had shown earlier, sucking him strongly. "Marian, I don't think I…Oh, blessed Andraste!"
His climax tore through him, prolonged by the continued movement of her lips and tongue. His couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of her. He was equal parts embarrassed, fascinated and aroused, when he saw her throat working, swallowing again and again and taking all of his essence into her.
Releasing him finally, she swiped a finger against the corner of her mouth, giving him a cheeky grin before seeking his embrace. He wrapped her in his arms, still stunned by what had just happened.
"You didn't have to do that," he said, when he had recovered his voice.
She kissed his chest and squinted up at him against the bright sunlight. "I wanted to. I liked it."
He thought about it, readjusting his assumptions but still somewhat incredulous.
"Really?" He questioned dubiously. He still remembered as a young lad in templar training, hearing the other boys talk about whores who would take a man in their mouth, but only if they were paid a great deal of coin. He had concluded it must be repulsive to most women.
She looked amused. "Let me put it this way- did you like what you did to me?"
His eyes darkened, still affected by how she had come apart from his ministrations. "Very much."
"You see," she nodded, "I want to please you just as much, and I love how you taste and feel, and how I can make you lose your iron control."
One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile, and he experienced a surge of affection, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. "How is it that an innocent young lady such as yourself would know how to do that?"
She laughed. "Well, I clearly didn't know what I was doing, or I wouldn't have hurt you, but I've read a few Orlesian novels. I'm a curious creature by nature. When someone tells me something is forbidden, it just convinces me they're hiding something good."
"If I didn't know you were jesting, I might worry."
Marian propped up on her elbow to look at him. "Are you telling me you never longed for something forbidden to you?"
He shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sure everyone has, but that does not mean we should give in to temptation. There are some things that are denied us for a reason. Usually, for our own protection."
She pursed her lips, her expression inscrutable. "I prefer to judge for myself. Not blindly accept what I'm told. It would be better if more people used their powers of reason than falling back on old prejudice and ignorance."
"That's a pretty strong opinion you have about dirty books."
"I have an opinion on everything, Cullen, some of them more interesting than others."
He pulled her back against him, resting his cheek against her dark hair. "I like hearing them. It's very different than what I was taught as a boy. Was your father a scholar?"
"We had a small farm in Lothering, but my father certainly loved books. He taught me everything I know," she said wistfully.
"I'm sure he was quite a man. I wish I could have known him."
"He would certainly have been amazed if I brought you home."
Cullen's lips twisted ruefully. "I suppose he would have wanted to sic the dog on me for despoiling his daughter."
She poked a finger against his ribs. "I don't know. Father was quite a rebel. He swept my noble mother away from the Amells and ran off to Ferelden to marry her."
"Your mother is an Amell?" He asked in surprise.
"Yes." She stroked her fingers across his chin, enjoying the sharp rasp of his stubble. "From right here in Kirkwall. My uncle lost the estate through his own folly, but my mother hopes to recover it, in time."
"I knew an Amell in the Ferelden Circle. She was a mage."
Marian laughed to cover her sudden fear. "Truly? You know, I have heard one branch of the Amell family has quite a bit of magic in their line." She shrugged.
"She was a fine woman," he said quietly.
She lifted a brow. "That's good to know, but why do I have the sudden feeling I should be jealous?"
"What? No! Nothing like that." He hesitated several seconds. "Well…I suppose I might have had a small crush. I was rather naïve at the time. Templars and mages can't be friends. There's too much at stake. "
The smile faded from her lips. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I can't help thinking it would be better if more people sought the way of friendship rather than conflict." She let her hand fall away from his face to lie passively against his chest.
"You're wrong, Marian, mages aren't people. Not like you and me. They're dangerous weapons, able to light a city on fire in a fit of pique.
She pulled free from his arms and turned her back to him. "Not people?" She glanced over her shoulder at him incredulously. "How can you say something like that? Having magic doesn't turn a person into a monster!"
He sat up, running his hands up and down her arms soothingly. "No, I don't mean it makes them monsters, but the possibility of it is always there. You haven't witnessed the things I have. Constant vigilance is necessary for the safety of all."
She laughed bitterly. "I wonder if you would feel the same if you were the one cursed with magic…or someone you loved was."
"I don't know," he shrugged, a small pucker between his brows. "but I saw terrible things when Uldred summoned demons in the tower. Merciless slaughter and blood magic sacrifices. I was imprisoned and tortured for what felt like ages. It very nearly drove me mad the way those mages pushed at my mind and tried to control me."
He kissed her shoulder. "You have great compassion, but mercy must be tempered by justice. Surely you can see that."
Her shoulders sagged at his words. She reached for one of his hands and pressed it to her lips. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, Cullen. I daresay whoever did that to you was a sick bastard. You don't need magic to be a menace to others."
"No, you don't, but those with magic are far more dangerous. I can't understand why you defend them so strongly."
Marian pulled her clothes back on with jerky movements and Cullen silently followed her example, hoping the argument was over. He tried to take her in his arms when they were both standing and clothed, but she shook him off, obviously still upset. She paced back and forth, and he stood watching with his arms crossed.
She finally stopped and looked at him, sucking air between her teeth. "Look, I had a friend that was…" She shook her head and paced back and forth again. "No, I won't lie about it. My sister was a mage. An apostate. We hid her for her entire eighteen years of life, and I'm not sorry."
She glared at him. "She was a kind, gentle soul and no danger to anyone, she-" Her voice broke and Cullen took an involuntary step toward her but she held up a hand to stop him. "Bethany was a gift to all that were fortunate enough to know her." She knuckled a tear away angrily. "If she hadn't died, I would still be hiding her and protecting her with my life rather than see her condemned to the mage prison you advocate."
Turning her back to him she looked out across the sea, seeing it through the fine sheen of tears. "You're a good man, Cullen, decent and honorable. We have very different feelings about mages, and that's not going to change. You deserve to know."
She snatched her bag and strode briskly back toward the city, her footfalls fading away. Cullen stood for a long while gazing at nothing, his brow crinkled in thought. Marian had given him a lot to think about. He retrieved the sword from where it had been left and retraced his steps with a heavy heart.
Marian thanked the trinket seller and walked off, smiling at the purchases she had made for her friends.
"Hawke, wait up!" Aveline walked up, her armor clanking.
"Aveline, I haven't seen you in a while. How's the life of a guard?" She smiled and they fell into step together, walking out of the Lowtown market.
"It's a living, Hawke. I'm more concerned about how you're getting on, now that you and Carver are free."
"Well enough," she said, smiling. "We have a plan and we're working toward a goal, otherwise, life goes on. You should go and see Mother, she misses you."
Aveline smiled fondly. "I was planning to later, when my shift ends. Say, would you be interested if I threw a bit of work your way?"
"You know I'm always ready to make some coin. What's the job?"
She stopped walking, resting a gauntleted hand on her waist. "Come by the barracks tomorrow and I'll give you the details." She leaned closer, speaking in a whisper. "What's this I hear about you and some templar?"
Hawke rolled her eyes and walked off. "Goodbye, Aveline."
The guardswoman frowned. "Tomorrow, Hawke."
Hawke walked in to Gamlen's house, wincing at how loudly he was yelling at her mother.
"That big mutt just sits there breathing all day. There's never any peace! And you!" He pointed an accusing finger at Marian. "There's a letter and a sword on the desk. I'm not your bloody manservant, you know, waiting to receive your deliveries."
"Of course not, Uncle." She pulled two silvers from her pocket. "Please go and have a drink on me, in thanks."
He eyed the coins before snatching them greedily. "It's the least you can do," he grumbled, then slammed the door on his way out.
Leandra sighed. "You needn't feel you have to give him coin, love. He's always like that."
Marian smirked. "Don't be silly, Mother. I just bought peace for only two silver. That will keep him busy for some time. I consider it a bargain. Where's Carver?"
Leandra went to sit by the fire, taking up the mending. "Only the Maker knows. That boy can't sit still."
Walking to the desk, Hawke was bemused to see the sword she had left behind with Cullen on their excursion days before, with a letter beside it. Her name was scrawled across the parchment in a masculine hand. She glanced at her mother, then took the sword and letter and retreated to the relative privacy of their shared sleeping chamber. She sat on her lumpy cot and broke the wax seal.
Dearest Marian,
We parted hastily the other day before I had a chance to apologize. When I thought carefully over what I said, I understand why you took offense, especially considering your sister. I have no doubt she was as kind and lovely as you say, and I am sorry for your loss.
While I cannot pretend to fully fathom the reasons for the choices your family made, I do know they were made out of love. I would never fault you for that. But that's all behind you now, and if there is one thing I have learned, it is not to dwell overmuch on the past.
None of what you told me changes the way I feel about you, or my desire for us to be together. I know you have a caring heart, and devote yourself completely to those you love. Should I ever be so fortunate as to secure your affections in such a way, I would count myself a very blessed man.
Please don't let this misunderstanding drive a wedge between us. I will call on you again soon, and pray to the Maker and his beloved bride, that you will welcome me with open arms and assure me that you are mine. As I am…
Ever yours,
Cullen
PS I have returned your sword, as you left it behind.
Marian laid down on the little bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to calm the joyful singing of her pounding heart. She read the letter twice more, running her fingers across the paper.
She had thought when she told him about Bethany, that would be the end of it, and her bruised heart could forget him. It seemed she had underestimated Cullen and his unswerving devotion. She was happy and frightened, which seemed to be her usual cocktail of emotions where the Knight-Captain was concerned.
She turned onto her side, brooding and stuffing the letter under her pillow. Instead of coming up with an effective solution to her perplexing difficulty, she fell asleep and dreamed of green eyes and a warm embrace.
~o~