Warning: mature content in this chapter.
Hawke rushed up the stairs leading to the brothel, tugging up the low bust line, and cursing under her breath each time she tripped on the long skirt of her borrowed dress. When she asked Athenril to get her something appropriate to wear to the Blooming Rose, she meant as a customer, not a flesh peddler.
She saw Cullen near the top of the stairs, and she stopped for a moment to stare. He was almost unrecognizable in tight leather breeches, and a billowy white shirt with the laces loosened at the collar bone. She could just make out the fine dusting of his chest hair from the illumination of the lantern he was standing under. He turned to find her watching him, and their eyes locked.
She looked down, picking up her skirt and mounting the last steps until they stood staring at each other. A distracting tension crackled between them, and Marian groped for a way to diffuse it.
"You look nice, Cullen. I think I might have come out better if I had picked my own clothes. I look quite the tart in this." She looked down at the revealing dress.
"You look lovely, Marian." His mouth lifted in a half-smile. "I think I'll have my job cut out for me tonight, just trying to keep other men at a distance."
"Before we go in, I need you to do something for me."
He nodded, eyes serious. "Of course."
She took a deep breath and released it. "Promise that whatever happens tonight, you won't hold it against me?"
He smiled gently and gave her a courtly bow. "I give you my word."
She grinned and he held out his arm for her. "Shall we go in, my Lady Hawke?"
"Ser Cullen, I thought you would never ask," she said, accepting his arm, and pressing close to him, like a lover.
"Just follow my lead," she whispered. He nodded and they stepped into the brothel, and were immediately hit by a wave of cheap perfume, wood smoke and ale. They walked through the foyer and into the main hall where drinks were served and male and female prostitutes awaited customers.
Feeling the weight of many eyes on her she slipped into her role, sending a silent apology to Cullen. She turned to him and slid an arm around his shoulder and laced her other hand into his hair, pulling his head down to her. She pressed her lips against his neck, just below his ear.
"Put your arms around me, Cullen, and look like you mean it. If we establish ownership now, we'll have less trouble. And remember you promised not to hold anything against me."
Hawke was impressed when he pulled her tight against him, and pressed his own lips against her neck, mirroring what she had done. Her traitorous pulse picked up when his breath fanned across her ear, and a shiver ran through her.
"Except myself, of course." She felt his smile against her skin, and a bubble of laughter spilled from her when she heard a voice behind her.
"MMMmmm, I think I might give a free one to get in the middle of that sandwich."
She pulled away from Cullen with a flirtatious smirk, linking her hand with his and pulling him toward the woman in charge.
"I'm Madame Lusine, welcome to the Blooming Rose. Nice to see fresh faces. What can I get you two lovelies tonight? I can accommodate you on all sorts, so long as you have the coin."
Hawke smiled appealingly and stepped forward, keeping a hold of the Templar's hand. She pulled a handful of gold coins from the pocket of her dress and leaned into the madam, lowering her voice.
"A friend told me about something really special, which he says we just must try." She whispered to the madam, who looked at her for a moment before nodding. Madame Lusine held out her hand, and Hawke dropped the coins in her palm.
"Lorraine, come and take these two to the sitting area until their room is ready."
A buxom blonde woman beckoned to them, and they meandered along behind her until they were shown to a small sitting room.
"I'll be back for you directly. Take your ease until then."
Lorraine left, closing the door behind her. Cullen glanced at Hawke, suddenly feeling very guilty over the liberties he had taken, but she gave him a face-splitting grin and came to touch his arm. She spoke in a whisper.
"You're a natural, Cullen. I almost believed we were together…"
Within minutes, the door opened again, and a different girl entered with a tray holding two small glasses.
"Here's a couple of drink with the compliments of Madame Lusine while you wait." She lowered the tray and they each took a glass. The girl pantomimed drinking. "It's better if you throw it all back at once, love."
She watched them expectantly, so Hawke shrugged and gulped the drink all in one go, and Cullen did the same. The girl took their empty glasses with a saucy smile and walked out. Within minutes, an older woman entered the room and beckoned to them. "Follow me, please."
She wound through the back hall until they came to a staircase. She led them upstairs and opened the second door with a flourish, revealing a plush bedroom decorated in deep green fabrics. "Here you are, then. Enjoy."
They stepped through and she shut the door, snickering. They heard a key turn in the lock. Hawke looked startled and ran to the door, twisting the knob. She stood looking at it silently, in dismay.
"Well. That was not at all what I was told to expect. Someone was supposed to take us to a room where they give you the potion from a big goblet. That's where I intended to question…whoever. I wonder why they locked the door…" Her voice trailed off.
She sighed and looked apologetically at Cullen. He was gripping the back of a chair, and there was sweat beaded on his forehead. Concerned, she went over and touched his arm, but he jerked away.
"Cullen, what is it? Are you ill?"
"Marian," he gasped, "I think…I think we drank the potion already. After I swallowed I thought I tasted lyrium, and I- you need to stay away from me." He walked to the far side of the room and leaned against the wall, hunching in on himself.
"Oh," she breathed, now understanding the reason for the waves of heat that were rapidly spreading through her limbs. She shifted, suppressing a moan when the friction between her legs set off a miserable ache inside her.
"What," she said in a quavering voice, "does it do, exactly?"
He laughed bitterly and smashed a fist against the stone wall in frustration. "It turns you into a lust-crazed beast." He rested his forehead against the cool stone and closed his eyes. "I would guess that's why they bolt the door. I always thought the stories the men told were exaggerated, but now- Maker, why would anyone do this on purpose?" He moaned; a low sound of agony.
Hawke watched him fighting against the potion, and her pragmatic side forced her to assess the situation honestly. They weren't in any condition to escape the trap they were caught in, and even if they could, their judgment was compromised.
They had to stay put and ride out the effects, probably literally. The other thing she was certain of, even from so brief an acquaintance- Cullen was not the kind of man who would ever forgive himself unless it was all her idea and doing. He was far too honorable, and would see it akin to rape, especially considering her special circumstances. She saw only two choices: break the Templar completely, or take the burden of dishonor upon herself. The entire night was her doing, and so must the remedy be. Except the kindhearted Templar had to be convinced his actions were helping her, and sparing her from suffering.
I can do this.
Her eyes fluttered closed, resolve stiffening her spine. She disallowed further thought and concentrated on feeling. The mad rush of blood through her body, the gathering slickness between her thighs soaking into her small clothes. She lifted a hand and ran the sensitive tips of her fingers across the bare skin of her décolletage, opening her eyes and meeting the heavy gaze of the Knight-Captain, still facing the wall but watching her over his shoulder.
She gave him the full force of her desperation, fisting her hands at her sides, her whispered, "Please" drifting across the room. She took one step and then another, stopping before she reached him.
"Cullen, I can't stand this. Won't you have mercy on me and touch me? I swear I'll ask your forgiveness later, but right now I need you." She searched his eyes. "Help me."
The haggard expression he wore changed when a flash of uncertainty passed over his face, but was soon replaced by a look of hungry determination. With his jaw firmly clenched, his feet ate up the distance between them. He fell upon her like a starving man, feeding from her lips, the wet heat of his mouth dominating hers. His hands stroked and touched, inflaming her already raging inferno of heat and need.
She melted into the solid strength of his arms, her wandering hands indulging their own goal of pushing up his shirt and tracing the firm expanse of his chest and the contrasting textures of hair and skin. It was overwhelmingly real. Never in all her fantasies had she imagined what touching a man would really be like. How his sharp angles and planes would complement her rounded curves and hollows.
Clothes fell away to puddle around them, unnoticed. The sensation of skin to naked skin pulling loud moans from Marian, while Cullen chanted her name in a worshipful litany. He cupped her breast in his hand, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure; her knees buckled and he swept her into his arms, pausing to kiss her again before moving to lay her on the bed.
He rolled next to her, his body a wall of heat and firm muscle against her, and touching turned to frenzy. His hands shook from the violence of his need. Lips and fingers and teeth were no longer enough. He plunged inside her, sheathing himself deep, and she cried out from the fleeting pain of his invasion. His look of dawning horror was more than she could bear, so she pulled him down to kiss her, rolling her hips to encourage him to heed the urgings of their joined bodies.
He whispered apologies against her throat, even while he plumbed the tight depths of her slick sex, losing himself to the pleasures of her body. Wet, rhythmic sounds of skin striking skin filled the room, combined with their moans and sighs, creating a passionate and primitive symphony. Release came frequently and explosively, but there was no time to linger in afterglow. The respite was brief before the potion drove them to seek relief again in each other. Exhaustion trumped at last, and Cullen fell asleep between her legs, his head nestled against the softness of her breasts.
Hawke woke first from his weight on her chest, but chose not to disturb him when she saw how peacefully he slept. It took years from his face, making him appear much younger. She wondered fleetingly just how old he was, and what he had suffered to etch such deep lines around his eyes and between his brows. She stroked his ginger colored curls gently and his eyes opened drowsily.
She stilled, watching his pupils contract- the exact second he remembered where he was and the realization that he was master of his body once more. A part of her was curious as to how he would react, and whether or not she had been successful in making the best of a difficult situation for him. While another, more foolish part hoped he wouldn't pull away just yet. Despite her pleasant soreness, she enjoyed how it felt with him laying in the cradle of her body, their limbs comfortably twined. Stroking a final path through his hair, she let her hand fall away.
He reached for it and pressed his lips to her knuckles, his lids lowering over his eyes and hiding his thoughts. She curled her fingers around his, waiting. When he lifted himself off her, moving to one side, she turned her face away, telling herself sternly that she really did not feel rejected. But although she might lie well when the need arose, she was never any good at lying to herself.
When she remembered the glib promise she had made to him at the Gallows that his virtue was safe with her, she wanted to laugh at her own stupidity. But, contrary as ever, her body offered only tears. She blinked quickly, trying to dispel them, certain that feminine flailings were the last thing the situation needed, but the rebellious wetness insisted on streaking down her cheek. Cullen gripped her chin and turned her to face him, pulling her against his chest when he saw the tell-tale tears. He pressed gentle kisses to her forehead. His voice was quiet and earnest.
"I know I have no right to ask, but can you ever forgive me?"
Naturally, the laughter chose that moment to spill from her mouth. Bastard body, she thought, with a final chuckle.
She turned in Cullen's arms to look into his concerned eyes, and felt something melt inside her in the vicinity of her heart. She touched his cheek, feeling the sharpness of his stubble against her palm.
"There is nothing to forgive you for. You did no wrong. I was just feeling disappointment in myself that I broke my word to you. I swore I wouldn't ravish you, and that is exactly what I did."
His laughter broke out, and she watched in fascination as his entire face was transformed by it. She smiled, unable to stop herself, and he lifted her chin again, pressing his lips against hers in a kiss so sweet, it set her insides aflutter.
"Perhaps we might agree the ravishment was mutual, although not of our free will." His eyes turned sad. "I took something precious from you, and for that I am eternally sorry. Had I known-"
Hawke pressed a finger to his lips, her gaze tender. "You took nothing. I gave to you willingly. It might make me wicked, but I'm not sorry, and I don't regret it." She lifted her chin defiantly, and he kissed her nose.
"May the Maker forgive us both, then. I can't find it in me to regret it either."
They lay in companionable silence for a while, his fingers tracing idle circles on her arm.
"How do you feel?"
She smiled against his chest. "I'm starving. I think I'd kill for a sandwich."
"Did I hurt you, Marian?" He asked seriously. She looked up at him, the worried pucker between his brows evident again.
"Only for an instant, and I don't think there is a way to avoid that the first time, is there?"
"I really wouldn't know. My experience is…limited, and I have never before been with an innocent."
She lifted a brow mischievously. "I'm not sure I can be called innocent. Sexually inexperienced would be a more accurate description, I think."
A key turned in the lock and Cullen tensed. When nothing further happened, they looked at each other.
"That must mean it's safe to turn us loose." She scooted to the edge of the bed and slipped from beneath the covers to retrieve their clothing, ignoring her awkward feelings of self-consciousness as much as she could. "I wonder what time it is?"
Cullen looked away from her swaying backside guiltily, glancing at the darkness of the window. "I would say somewhere around the fourth hour. Still another couple of hours until first light."
Marian came back to the bed and dumped the pile of clothing on top. She was back in her small clothes, busy shaking out the dress to put it back on. He rose quickly and stuffed himself into his smalls and trousers. She turned her back to him.
"Can you tighten my laces, please?" Cullen turned toward her, startled, then began to pull and tighten the bindings, finishing it with a neat bow. He spanned her waist with his hands, struck by just how much smaller she was than him. She looked over her shoulder with a smile.
"All done?"
"Yes." He stepped back and reached for his shirt, but she snatched it with a teasing smile. She walked a slow circle around him, making Cullen think of a stalking cat. He smiled, amused.
"Are you going to give that back?"
"Not yet. Will you grant me a boon first?"
His brows rose in surprise. "What would you have of me?"
She bit her lip, feeling just a little silly. "A kiss. But only if you want to..."
He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers, his eyes dancing. "My lady. May I have my shirt now?"
She threw it at him with a laughing roll of her eyes and turned to leave the room. He caught her hand and pulled her against him, stopping when their lips were almost touching.
"My lady," he breathed, and gave her a scorching kiss that stole her mind and stirred her body anew. Her eyes opened slowly to Cullen's half-smile, and she felt the same twisting in her chest as before. The green of his eyes had flecks of gold, that seemed to grow warmer the longer she stared into them. He raised his head, but still held her eyes.
"Marian. I know this is…well, I don't even know what to call it. Out of order, I suppose, but I would be honored if you allowed me to call on you."
Her mind flashed to the disgusting hovel she lived in and recoiled at the idea of inviting Cullen there. Part of her was screaming for her to distance herself from the Templar, but she silenced it impatiently.
"I stay with my Uncle, and he's…difficult, to put it mildly. But I would love to spend time getting to know you better, Cullen."
"And I, you." He stepped back with a smile. "Let us leave this place. I'll see you safely home, and we can figure out what to do about the lyrium problem another time."
She nodded her agreement while they finished dressing, and made their way out of the brothel without incident. They walked silently until they reached the slums where Gamlen lived and she turned to bid him farewell. His eyes were sad as he took in where she was forced to stay.
"Good night, Marian."
"Good night, Cullen. I'll send word if I find out anything new."
He turned to go, then looked back to find her watching him. He turned away, smiling to himself. Marian finally walked up the steps to her uncle's shack, feeling like she was floating.
She crossed her arms and glared at her brother. "Carver, for the thousandth time, I can't heal broken bones easily. You know that's not where my strengths lie."
"Just try, Mari," he whined.
She sighed, softening. "There might be another option, but you will owe me."
"Fine," he agreed immediately, not caring if he would be in debt to her so long as he was back in action.
"I've heard of a healer…in Darktown."
He scoffed and winced as pain shot through his arm. "What kind of healer would be down there?"
"The kind that cares more for people than coin, or so the rumors go. If you want, we can try. We might just end up chasing shadows, but at least you will get out of the house for a bit."
"Yippee, a trip to the filth hole of Kirkwall sounds lovely, sister."
She rolled her eyes, wondering if all males turned into such babies when they were unwell. "That's my best offer, Carver, take it or leave it."
"I'll take it."
"Great. Drink this, and let's go." She passed him a potion to help with the pain, and he grimaced at the bitter taste.
They made their way to Darktown with Carver complaining the entire way. She got them lost twice, blaming it on the fact that all the tunnels and open areas looked the same, repeating the exact same pattern. Whoever was responsible for the design was completely lacking in imagination.
She was following a path she was certain was the correct one when they came to a dead end. Carver was annoyed and in pain; a terrible combination.
"Well done, Mari, I think you've broken the record for how many times a person can get lost in a day."
"For Maker's sake, Carver, would you shut up before I break your other arm. I told you, I don't know exactly where the bloody healer is, or I would have taken you straight there. Do you think I enjoy wandering through the bowels of Darktown!"
A door opened, and a scruffy and bedraggled looking man leaned out, his eyes assessing them both. Marian reached for her dagger, but he held up a hand.
"Sorry, couldn't help but overhear with all the shouting. I'm the bloody healer, so if you want help, come inside quickly. I don't need anyone drawing attention."
He disappeared, but left the door open. The siblings looked at each other and Marian shrugged. Carver walked in and she followed, shutting the door behind her.
The healer pointed to a cot further into the room. "Have a seat there." His eyes flicked to Marian, and his lips quirked up in a smile before he walked over to Carver. "Did she do that to you?" He indicated his injured arm supported by a cloth sling.
She snorted. "Like I don't have better things to do than break my little brother's arm?"
Carver winced when the healer touched his throbbing limb. "Such as running errands to get in the Templars good graces, for instance?"
Marian stiffened, furious at her brother's loose tongue. "Shut. Up. Carver."
Her brother looked at her in confusion. "But he…"
"Shut UP, Carver."
He hunched down in the cot, looking sullen. "Fine, Mari, have it your way. As usual."
The healer listened silently, his sharp gaze flicking back and forth between them. He pushed Carver flat. "I'm going to put you to sleep for a bit. Your arm has started to heal wrong, and I'm going to have to re-break it before I can heal you properly. You won't feel anything, and by the time you wake up, it will be over."
Carver sighed and nodded. Blue light gathered in the healer's palms, and Carver's eyes closed. Marian watched in fascination. It had been years since she had witnessed her father healing others.
He pulled Carver's arm straight and jerked it suddenly, and she winced in sympathy.
"Don't worry, he can't feel anything in such a deep sleep." He gave her a hard look before laying her brother's arm down on the cot. "Do you work for the Templars?"
She sighed and rubbed her forehead, then chuckled. "I most certainly do not work for Templars. Far from it." She watched him, blue healing light spilling across her brother's arm. "It's complicated, healer, but believe me, I'm no Templar ally. My father was an apostate, as was my sister."
"My name is Anders," he said, without looking up.
"I'm Marian Hawke, and that's Carver."
He stood, looking tired. "He'll sleep for a bit. Excuse me for a moment." He walked through a door in the back. She walked over to Carver, but he was sleeping soundly. She noticed a familiar looking book on a desk further back, and strolled over to it and picked it up. She thumbed through it, stopping on a spell to call up a lightning storm. One of her favorites.
Pulling out a chair, she sat and became absorbed in reading, muttering a new spell under her breath to commit it to memory.
"You're a mage?" The surprised voice came from right behind her and she jumped to her feet, knocking the tome to the floor. She and Anders reached for it at the same time, their hands brushing together, a spark of magic jumping between them.
Marian pulled back in shock, looking around to ensure there wasn't anyone else to hear his startled declaration. She met his gaze and realized if you looked past the odd feathery garments and general scruffiness, he was very attractive. She blushed, caught off guard.
"I would appreciate it if you kept that to yourself."
"Why didn't you just tell me earlier?"
She raised a brow, wondering if he was really that stupid. "You do realize that if you tell enough people a secret, it will eventually get out, right? I have no desire to hang or go to mage prison, thank you very much."
He put the book back on the desk, and gave her an ironic smile. "It sounds like we think a lot alike, Marian Hawke." He tapped the book. "So. What spell were you trying to learn just now?"
She tilted her head, not sure what to think of this man. "A stronger ice spell. I only know one. It isn't important though. I rely on my blades as much as possible." She patted her daggers.
He looked at them with pursed lips. "You really know how to use those?"
"Oh yes," she said with a laugh. "I doubt I would still be alive if I didn't." She smiled fondly in memory. "A crusty old codger taught me, back in Ferelden."
He nodded sympathetically. "The blight made refugees out of many of us."
"Or corpses," she said quietly, then shook off the melancholy that tried to seize her. "It's time to look forward, not back."
She walked over to Carver's cot and sat beside him, gently brushing his hair off his forehead as she used to do when he was small.
"He's lucky to have you," Anders said with a sad smile.
"I'm lucky to have him too." She hesitated, "but don't ever tell him I said that."
He chuckled and walked to a cupboard, pulling out two small bottles, and holding them out to her. "This will help your brother while he continues to improve over the next few days. Have him drink half a bottle a day. He should come back next week for a final check, or sooner if he somehow injures it again."
She pulled out a coin purse and offered it with a grateful smile, but he waved her away. "Just make sure he doesn't undo all my work."
"That is very noble of you, Serrah, but even selfless healers must eat."
"I'm in no danger of starving, I assure you." Anders extended his hand over Carver and green light flowed over him. His eyes fluttered open and he looked into the smiling eyes of his sister.
"Ugh. I would have to wake up to your face, sister."
Marian looked at Anders. "Sounds like his usual self. Thank you, Anders. If you ever need anything, leave a message at the Hanged Man for Hawke."
She moved off a ways while Anders examined Carver again. Within minutes, they were on their way out.
Anders closed the door and locked it, shuffling tiredly to his desk. He straightened some papers, and picked up the tome Marian had been reading. A bag of coins lay underneath it.
~o~