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Chapter Seven

Hawke spotted the three men in the shadows near the steps to the Chantry. She walked directly to Cullen, watching him closely as he looked casually at Carver then went still when he saw Anders.

"Cullen, this is Anders. He's a Grey Warden and a healer. He's agreed to assist us with the Magister."

Cullen's eyes narrowed. "Anders? I remember you from the Ferelden circle." He frowned. "I see you managed to escape again. Are you really a Grey Warden?"

Anders crossed his arms, glaring. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I was conscripted by the Hero of Ferelden himself. Such a shame the darkspawn in Amaranthine managed to kill so many of your brethren."

Cullen took an angry step forward and Hawke slipped between the two men, placing a restraining hand against the Knight-Captain's chest, and shooting a warning look at Anders.

"I don't need a foul mage at my back. I would rather do without," Fenris snapped.

Hawke had heard enough. She walked up to Fenris, forcing him to retreat a step when she entered his personal space. She stared him down, anger radiating off her in waves.

"If you want help with your little problem, Fenris," she hissed, "then I suggest you tone down the hate speech. I don't hold with slavery, but nor do I appreciate snap judgments based on an ignorant prejudice." She pointed to the side where Anders was watching her with a small smile.

"Anders is a good man. He also happens to be a mage, and a very gifted healer. He offered to help for no other reason than concern for the well-being of his friends. If you have a problem with him, you have a problem with me. Are we clear?"

The elf shot an angry glare at Anders, nodding curtly. "Let us go. We dare not delay longer."

Hawke leaned back against the stone steps of the dilapidated mansion, looking at the high ceiling and back down to the dirty floor, trying to imagine what the formerly opulent house might look like if it were repaired and not splattered with demonic ichor. Reaching up, she wiped the sweat from her forehead tiredly.

"Let's not do that again, Hawke," Varric muttered. "I don't much care for the hospitality of demons and shades." He rolled his sore shoulder, drawing Anders gaze, and the mage walked over to heal him.

Hawke chuckled, scooting over to make space for Cullen to sit beside her. "It definitely doesn't make it to the top of my list for most enjoyable ways to spend an evening."

Cullen pulled off his gauntlets, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "I've never seen so many magical traps." His gaze darkened. "Although I've certainly seen my fair share of demons and abominations."

Carver smirked mockingly. "I think Mari managed to set off every one of those traps, as usual."

Marian grinned and cracked her knuckles. "It's a gift, brother. I like to think my special skills keep everyone on their toes."

Cursing under his breath, Fenris shoved a bronze statue angrily, making it tumble off its pedestal and crash to the floor, sending up a cloud of dust.

"I should have known Danarius was too much of a coward to face me himself." He looked at Hawke and Cullen, his shoulders hunched in frustration. "I won't run again. If he wants me, he will find me here, waiting."

"Know this," Cullen said in a firm voice, "if he comes to Kirkwall looking for trouble, he's going to find it. You may call on the aid of the Templars if you have need. I can muster a dozen of the Order's finest in no time."

Anders walked to Hawke and held out a hand. She looked at him in confusion. "I need to see your back, Hawke. I know you took a hit there, and it's difficult to heal blind."

She shrugged and stood, giving Anders her back, and he discreetly pushed up her top to scrutinize her injury. Cullen had gone tense at Anders' approach and Hawke caught his eye and gave him a reassuring look.

Frowning at his petty feelings of jealousy, Cullen worked at the closures of his steel vambraces, setting them aside to survey where the aching flare of a rage demon's fire had burned him.

Hawke sat back down after Anders' magic had done its work, and Anders hesitated, finally taking a tentative step toward the Knight-Captain.

"I can heal that for you, if you like."

Cullen gave him a long look before extending his burned arm, speaking quietly. "I would be grateful, thank you. I don't know whether to address you as Anders or Warden."

"Just Anders is fine." The healer took his arm in a careful grip to assess and repair the damage and Hawke looked at Cullen, smiling her approval.

"If we're done killing things, Mari, I think I'll head back to the Hanged Man."

She waved a hand. "Yes, yes, Carver, off you go."

"Wait up, Junior," Varric said, "I'll walk with you. I think there's still time for a few hands of Wicked Grace, if you're up to the challenge."

"I can take anything you can dish, dwarf," Carver scoffed.

"You coming, Blondie?"

Anders stepped away from the Templar, wiping sweaty palms on his coat from his exertions. "Yes, I think that's everyone healed now."

Hawke stood to her feet with a sigh, and walked across the room to where the elf stood brooding silently. "I'm sorry we weren't able to take care of your problem, Fenris. Maker knows, I hate leaving things half done."

"No, it's…fine." He seemed to struggle to find words, his forehead furrowed in thought. "I am grateful to you."

She rested a hand on her hip, staring at him, noting how hard it seemed to be for him to meet her eyes. Something about him screamed lost and alone, but with a feral edge, like a dog kicked too many times, ready to snarl and snap. Hawke laid a hand on his arm and he flinched.

"If you've need of me, I'm easily reached at the Hanged Man in Lowtown."

She turned to leave, stopping at the sound of his voice and looking back with brows raised inquiringly.

"Hawke…. My blade is at your disposal, should you wish it."

She grinned. "Excellent. I'm sure I can always make use of a skilled warrior such as yourself. You would be surprised by the number of people who seek my help." She winked and walked away, leaving the elf staring after her with a puzzled frown.

Cullen darted another glance at her as they walked the Hightown pavement and Hawke laughed. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?" She stopped and rubbed her face vigorously, then presented it to him. "There. Did I get any of the blood off?"

He stared at her silently, the tension in him communicating itself to her with a look. The leftover victory of battle, and the steady dose of adrenalin throughout the evening made Hawke suddenly crave wildness, in the form of his hands on her bare skin and a vigorous coupling. Her lips parted in silent yearning as the silence between them lengthened.

Cullen made a strangled sound and pulled her into a darkened alcove, pushing her against the cool stone wall and sliding his lips across hers in heated abandon. She moaned low in her throat and wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his fevered kiss with an enthusiastic tangling of tongues.

She let her head fall back against the wall, shuddering when his lips against her throat made her breasts ache and her core throb with emptiness. As though he felt her need, he pressed against the leathers covering her sex, grinding his hand against her.

She moaned so loudly, Cullen stopped and looked around, then bumped his forehead against the stone wall above her shoulder in frustration. "This is killing me, Marian. I feel as if I will die if I can't have you."

Heaving a breath, she opened her eyes, feeling an uncomfortable wetness between her legs. "The Rose is just around the corner. They have rooms, if you recall."

"Andraste's mercy, I can't take you there to…to…"

Marian nibbled at his ear, running her teeth against the lobe. "Make love to me? I don't see what difference location makes. We are far more likely to be caught in an embarrassing way against this wall."

He stepped back, shooting her a guilty glance. "I'm sorry, I suppose that wasn't very gentlemanly of me."

She stepped into him close enough to feel his body heat again, cupping him under the chain mail skirting of his armor. "Gentleman are overrated, dearest. I'm wet and aching for you."

He gave her a pained look. "No. As tempting as you are, we can't go there. It's too disrespectful. You're a proper lady, not some common tart."

Moonlight peeked between grey clouds, casting a sheen on Marian's dark hair and reflecting off the white walls. Cullen stroked the side of her head. "It's just been so long since we were together, and…" His gaze darkened. "I don't like the way that mage was looking at you and hovering around you."

He pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead. "This is the part where you tell me what a jealous fool I am, and how I have nothing to worry about."

She reached for his face, their kiss slow and thorough. "Cullen, you aren't a fool, but you really don't have anything to worry about. I am yours completely, my heart too. You're the only man I want."

He smiled, kissing her reverently, his green eyes shining. "I love you body and soul, Marian Hawke. I never thought I would know love, but then you came along and bewitched me."

She blushed. "You make me sound like some sort of temptress."

He raised a teasing brow. "Aren't you? You've certainly taken over my thoughts."

Marian scoffed, rapping her knuckles against his armored chest. "May I remind you, Ser Cullen, of my innocent state when we met? I'm no goddess of sensuality."

Cullen gripped her bottom with both hands, pulling her flush against him. "You are my goddess," he murmured, "and I eagerly anticipate when I can next worship at the shrine of your body."

Her mouth opened in shock at his outrageous declaration. "Cullen…have you been reading Orlesian novels, by any chance?"

Her only answer was a mysterious smile and a kiss that left her breathless.

A sharp snapping of fingers in front of her face pulled Hawke from her daydreams of Cullen. She frowned and shook her head, realizing she had no idea what they had been discussing.

"I'm sorry, Aveline, you were saying?"

The Guard Captain sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "If you aren't going to listen, Hawke, I wonder why I should bother?"

Hawke cleared her throat. "So, Bran is a condescending bastard and he makes your life more difficult."

Aveline crossed her arms and glared. "That was ten minutes ago. I was telling you I could use your help clearing the nighttime streets of all the gangs. What's gotten into you lately?"

Gangs, right. Way to make a fool of myself.

"Nothing really. Just, um, thinking about Fenris. I appreciate what you've done to keep anyone from sniffing around that old mansion where he's staying. I tried talking him into moving someplace less conspicuous, but he's terribly stubborn, I'm afraid."

Pursing her lips, Aveline leaned her hip against the edge of her desk. "I'm going to say it, and I don't care if it's what you want to hear or not. You obviously need to hear it."

Hawke sighed, her gaze suddenly wary. "What do I need to hear?"

"You're risking everything you've worked for by carrying on with that Templar."

Hawke stood slowly to her feet, turning to pace across the Guard Captain's office restlessly. "I suppose it's too much to hope for, that there might be anyone who doesn't know my business," she muttered."

"Not only that," Aveline continued, "but you might think of your family. You're a damn idiot if you don't think this will harm them. You have a duty…"

Spinning around, Hawke's face contorted with anger. "Duty," she snarled, "don't you think I know about duty? I was fed duty and responsibility since I was a babe at my mother's breast. I live and breathe for the welfare of my family!"

Aveline raised a censuring brow. "You might try acting like it. He's the bloody Knight-Captain, Hawke! I've never known you to take such a chance before this."

Hawke made a strangled sound in her throat, her hand coming up to rake fingers through her hair in frustration. "My mind knows what you're saying is true." She looked at Aveline and her blue-eyed gaze was as hard as flint. "But my heart won't let me give him up. Not yet. I have no hope of marriage or children, or any of the things normal people take for granted. I have to take this chance to know love; as idiotic as it seems."

She walked across the room and brushed her fingers against the shield of Ser Wesley that Aveline had mounted on the wall, the red and silver of the Templar order shining brightly with reflected light. "It's likely the only chance I'll ever have."

Aveline drew in a long breath. Despite being a warrior, she had loved her husband and knew what it was like to want to have love in return. "I should kick your ass across Hightown. I don't approve and I won't pretend to," she hesitated, "but I'm still here for you, Hawke. I just hope you know what you're doing."

Hawke smiled pensively. "So do I."

Cullen approached the group of Templars milling around the inner courtyard near the mages quarters. The atmosphere had the laughter and lightness that indicated an easy extraction.

He had seen it many times over the years, and had also experienced it himself. It was always a relief to bring a new mage to the tower without resistance, or anyone being harmed in the process.

Ser Thrask walked to meet Cullen, smiling his pleasant smile. A small, dark-haired girl walked next to him, long strands of hair hanging haphazardly around her face, and she clung to his hand in a tight grasp. She looked up at the Knight-Captain and her eyes and features were so similar to Marian's, he had to stifle a gasp. The child might easily be hers, or a close relation.

He glanced at Thrask. "You had no trouble, I take it?"

Thrask glanced down at the girl then back at Cullen, shaking his head. "No. She lived with a maiden aunt. Both of her parents passed when she was an infant. Her aunt was the one who contacted us after she walked into a blizzard in the child's room."

Cullen nodded, looking thoughtful. "She looks very young for such a level of talent."

The girl was staring at her feet with a frown on her face. "She's five, as of last winter."

Cullen squatted down so he could look the child in the eye. "Will you tell me your name?" He asked in a soft voice, not wanting to frighten her after the trauma she had already suffered.

She looked up, stunning him again with the similarity to his Marian. She examined his face carefully, taking his measure in the frank and open manner of children. "Coren," she said shyly.

"Coren is a very quiet young lady, but obedient and eager to please, as her aunt informed us. I'll leave her in your hands, Knight-Captain."

"Thank you, I'll take her to get settled in," Cullen said.

"I'll see you soon, Coren." Thrask patted her on the head and followed the cluster of Templars, heading back to their quarters.

The girl looked around her in sudden fright at being left alone with another strange man. Cullen remembered what Marian had said about imagining it was someone he loved or cared about, and his heart went out to the child, causing him to cast aside his usual reserve. He touched her hair gently in reassurance. "My name is Cullen. Would you like to be my friend, Coren?"

She calmed, the fear slowly draining from her face to be replaced by a look of shy longing. She nodded, inching closer to him. "I'll be your friend. Are you going to look after me?" Her hand reached out to trace the sword emblem on his breastplate with curious fingers.

He smiled. "Yes. That's what Templars are for, to look after special people like you."

She smiled back, her face relaxing with a high pitched giggle and she patted his cheek. "I like you."

Cullen winked. "I like you too, little one."

She looked down, hers brows scrunching up with a sudden change of mood. "Aunt Ro said I was evil. I don't want to be evil." Her lip quivered threateningly. "I'll try and be good and not make more snow. I didn't mean to, it was just so pretty."

He shushed her before the tears in her eyes could flow, patting her back soothingly. "You aren't evil, and making snow isn't always bad. You'll learn to control it here, and there are many others just like you. There are even other children you'll make friends with. And there will always be someone like me around to keep you from hurting yourself or anyone else. Does that sound alright to you?"

Coren scrubbed away the tears with a grubby fist, nodding. She still had the fat cheeks of infancy, and a fresh smear of dirt now adorned one side of her face.

He stood and took her hand. "How would you like to go and meet First Enchanter Orsino? I think you'll like him too. He's going to be in charge of you and see you have everything you need."

She bobbed her head again, and he led her off to the left, to the Gallows offices. Coren darted a glance up at him and tugged on his arm to get him to stop.

He looked down at her. "You want to ask me something, Coren?"

She swallowed and dug the toe of her worn leather shoe against the stone floor, her blue eyes wide and serious. "Can I marry you when I grow up to be a big lady, Cullen? Then you can take care of me all the time. I can make you cake. Aunt Ro was teaching me how."

His mouth opened in surprise. It brought back a distant recollection of when he was a toddling boy and had asked his mother to marry him. His parents had laughed and his brothers had teased him about it.

He knew this child also had no inkling of what marriage was, having only lived with a maiden aunt, and wasn't it every little girl's dream to have a knight to marry and protect her? It saddened him to think this sweet girl had no chance at any such thing; any possibility of it now forever beyond her reach.

It tugged at his heart. He wondered if it wasn't Marian's influence that he was now seeing things very differently than he ever had before. Questioning how mages had to live when he had always accepted it without further thought.

Privately, he sometimes wondered why the Maker had made things so difficult for some and not others, but that was the way of the world. It wasn't in him to wound this little girl's spirit by rejecting her need for love and affection.

What if he and Marian were to have a daughter? Might she not be like this innocent child? Marian's sister had been a mage, so it was always a possibility, as sad as it made him to think of it.

He found himself smiling and answering with what comfort he could offer her.

"Maybe some day, sweetheart. You must focus on growing up first."

The pleased brightness of her smile was almost worth the pang of guilt he felt over lying. She would find out all too soon, and in the years ahead, that the cost of magic was the loss of dreams, and for mages, there was no such thing as happily ever after.

Wilmod bumped Keran's shoulder and leaned over to show him the parchment he had been scribbling on, pretending to take notes. They were meant to be paying attention to the lecture, but neither one of them liked Ser Alrik, and his snakelike, oily voice was something most of the recruits liked to make fun of. Keran glanced down to see what his friend had written to amuse him this time.

I think the Knight-Captain has a lover. Do you remember the fetching, dark-haired woman who was watching our class? The one in the tight leather pants you were practically drooling over?

Glancing at Wilmod, he nodded slightly. Wilmod dipped his quill in the ink bottle resting on the table they sat at, and scratched out more words.

I saw them together after that, and he kept touching her VERY familiarly. The way they looked at each other made me want to run to the Rose!

Keran snickered then looked up guiltily, trying to school his features into polite interest when Ser Alrik glared at him, but the man kept droning on about the necessity of the Rite of Tranquility and how the ritual was performed.

Taking the quill from Wilmod, he scribbled a response.

Do you know her name? And how can you be so sure, did they kiss or anything else inappropriate? Are you basing it only on what you imagined you saw from that one day, or is there any other gossip to support it?

Hugh glanced briefly at what they were writing and rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the lecture. Keran smirked and passed the quill back to Wilmod under the table.

I haven't heard anything, but that doesn't mean I can't interpret the look of desire, considering my expertise on the subject. Speaking of which, do you want to come with me to the Hanged Man later? I hear their ale is reasonably priced and the serving wenches are easy on the eyes. Maybe we'll get lucky.

Keran frowned, thinking of his sister, Macha, and how he needed to save every copper for her. Wilmod cocked an eyebrow.

I'll buy, Keran. I know you never have any coin. So?

Keran gave another slight nod, and Wilmod put down the quill and sat back, crossing his arms and looking pleased.

~o~