Warning: Some M-rated content in this chapter.
Chapter Eight
Marian scanned the list of Deep Roads supplies she still needed, using her quill to check off an item here and there that she had already obtained. Varric's quarters were comfortable and quiet, the mid-afternoon sun streaming brightly from a small window, high up on the wall.
There was no one else about, all her other companions busy with their own pursuits, except for herself and Fenris, and for all his quiet, she might as well be alone. The ornate dwarven clock in the far corner of the room resolutely ticked away the passing minutes.
His deep voice finally broke the extended silence. "There is something I have been thinking on, Hawke, but do not fully understand. Perhaps you will satisfy my curiosity on a certain point." The elf's finger tapped restlessly against the side of his wine goblet.
Marian struck a line through an item she had inadvertently listed twice. "What's that, Fenris?" she asked absently, and looked up to find him regarding her intently.
He leaned forward and placed the very tip of his index finger lightly against the back of her hand, barely brushing her skin. His markings flared in a brilliant burst of light and she felt the block on her magic dissolve, called forth by the lyrium on his skin that made him such a formidable weapon. She gasped and pulled back, searching his face anxiously. His expression was blank, except for the wary watchfulness in his green gaze.
"That," he said, "is what I cannot fathom. That night you touched me in Danarius' mansion, I felt the power in you, although you somehow mute it. You are clearly a mage, and yet you do not use it when you fight. You seem to take great care to disguise what you really are. I would know why."
She blew the fringe off her forehead, relieved he didn't seem to be openly hostile despite discovering her secret, and pointed at him, indicating his brands. "Did you wish for those markings?"
He scoffed and gave a curt shake of the head. "You know I did not."
"I didn't ask for this either," she said, conjuring a small ball of magical energy that hovered over her palm, before she released the spell and it disappeared.
"Just because I can do something, doesn't mean I choose to. If I needed to use magic in order to save my family or friends, I wouldn't hesitate, but the possibility of being imprisoned for an accident of birth is not something I'm eager to bring about."
He stared at her for a long moment through the wispy strands of his white hair. "I understand now why you defended the other mage so strongly, since you are both alike," he mused. "But a warrior uses all his strengths to his advantage. Though I may not have wanted these cursed markings, it does not mean I won't use them against my enemies."
Marian snorted a laugh and shook her head in disbelief. "Sorry, but are you actually encouraging me to fight with magic?"
Fenris scowled. "No. I am merely trying to understand you, Hawke. You are different from other mages I have known, who were always quick to flaunt their power and grasp for more."
He hesitated for a beat, clearly struggling for the right words. He tilted his goblet, swallowing down the last of his wine, and then stared into the empty vessel.
"You have fought to keep me free, bloodying yourself on my behalf." He frowned, still looking down. "I suppose I can do no less for you."
She drew in a deep breath, surprise mingling with relief, even if there was still reluctance in his voice. "Thank you, Fenris. It's good to have you at my back."
"What of the Templar? I take it you are close, yet he seems…unaware. Or am I mistaken and you have reached an understanding with him?"
Her face fell, and she fought to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. "He isn't aware. Cullen has a strong sense of duty; I can't really say what he would do if he ever discovered my secret. I keep thinking I should just tell him and get it over with, but I dare not risk my family."
She fell silent, waiting for his condemnation, or any comment at all, but he made no response. She went back to her list, a quiet worry at the forefront of her mind, shattering her peace like so much glass.
Wilmod grinned as he surveyed the shadowed interior of the Hanged Man. Rough wooden benches and tables were scattered around the space, with those furthest from the fire nearly dark enough to encourage drunken trysting, should one find an obliging wench. With the pressure building in his trousers, he had every intention of finding an obliging wench.
He turned and laid a hand on Keran's shoulder, only to discover his friend's focus was trained on the bar. Wilmod glanced over and saw the same woman who had been at the Gallows with the Knight-Captain, leaning against the wooden counter, her tight leathers accentuating her curvaceous hips and backside. Ah, perfect, Wilmod thought, with a leer.
"I would say that looks like an alluring reason to go order a drink, wouldn't you?"
Keran shrugged a shoulder noncommittally, but his eyes gleamed with interest. "I suppose it couldn't hurt anything."
They walked to the bar, Wilmod sticking his boot subtly in front of his friend, causing him to trip and crash into the lounging woman. Keran's hands landed on either side of her, caging her against his body as he tried not to crush her.
She spun, grabbing him and slamming his back against the bar, a snarl on her face. He stared at her with wide eyes and her fierce expression slowly changed to one of puzzlement.
Keran's heart pounded, blood rushing through his veins and gathering lower down at having her pressed flush against him. He could almost taste the sweet scent of her on his tongue when he inhaled.
"You seem to draw templars like bees to flowers, Hawke," Isabela quipped, her eyes crinkled in mirth. "I think they want a taste of your…nectar."
She bit her lip to fight the slight smile that tried to emerge as a response to Isabela's innuendo. "I'm going to be charitable, just this once, and assume you weren't trying to assault me." She stepped back, releasing the hilt of the dagger she had taken hold of.
Keran cleared his throat, shooting an accusing look at his friend. "I apologize for that, miss. I tripped."
Marian turned her head, taking in the other templar and trying to remember why they looked so familiar. "Haven't I seen you boys before?"
Wilmod stepped close, entering her personal space and she took a step back, not liking the look in his eyes.
"You watched us train one day. I got the impression you were…close friends…with Knight-Captain Cullen." He put special emphasis on the word, friends, making it sound particularly sordid.
She chewed her lip, well aware of what he was implying, and opened her mouth to give a curt reply, but she was beat to it.
"Marian Hawke is not only a very dear friend, Wilmod, but also under my protection. What of it?"
They turned to see Cullen standing several feet away, his arms crossed and the closest thing to a glare Marian had ever seen on his face.
Wilmod's eyes went wide, while he tried to repair the damage. "Nothing, Knight-Captain, Ser, nothing at all! We just wanted to greet your lady, and- wish her a pleasant evening." He glanced at his friend who was looking worried. "In fact, we are on our way to visit Keran's sister, so we really must run now."
He and Keran sketched hasty bows and practically ran for the door. Cullen watched them go with a frown, then turned to see Marian grinning at him in amusement.
"Is that the nasty glare you reserve for recruits, Knight-Captain? I just might be afraid of you now."
He walked up to the bar, resting a hand lightly against the edge, winking so only she could see him. "Maybe. It's very important for discipline that I'm taken seriously, and those two already tend toward mischief." He leaned closer, pitching his voice to a low murmur. "I got your message to come right away. It sounds like you have a promising evening planned?"
Hawke looked at him in confusion. "I didn't send any message, Cullen."
Isabela sidled up between them. "Actually, I sent the message." Placing a hand on Hawke's shoulder and another on Cullen's, she leaned in between them with a smirk. "I have a little errand I need someone trustworthy to see to, and I thought the two of you would be best suited to the task. I already have urgent plans for the evening, or I'd go myself." She paused and licked her bottom lip suggestively. "I assure you the reward for your efforts will be satisfying for you both."
Cullen looked concerned, but Marian knew Isabela well enough to be immediately suspicious. Her curiosity however, was piqued, especially since Isabela went to the trouble to include Cullen in the scheme. She might regret it, but…
"Alright, Isabela, let's hear it. What is it you need us to do?"
Keran shook Wilmod's hand off his arm irritably, rounding on him when they were clear of the tavern.
"Why did you do that? She had blades, you know, and she looked rather willing to use them! Not to mention riling up the Knight-Captain by having me touching his woman. I'm sure we're in for a reprimand when he next sees us at the Gallows. "
Wilmod snorted. "Come off it, Keran. I did you a favor, and you know it. Now you have fodder for your wet dreams for the next week, at least."
"Shut up," Keran muttered, rubbing a hand against his eyes to shut out his friend's knowing smile.
Wilmod clapped his fellow recruit soundly on the back. "Come along with me for once. I told you there's a new girl at the Rose. She's more than just beautiful and talented, but also persuasive enough to even overcome your reluctance, I wager. You'll like her."
Keran wavered, wondering if he should just go and visit his sister before heading back to the barracks for the night. "What's her name? I hope it's nothing as bad as 'Candy, the tasty tart'?"
Wilmod snickered. "I agree with you on that one. She was very poorly named, and not even the slightest bit tasty."
Shuddering, Keran shook his head. "There are places on a whore I would never put my mouth, unlike you. Why can't we find any nice girls? Hugh doesn't visit the Rose, and he has a respectable lover." He glanced back over his shoulder at the Hanged Man wistfully.
"Have you actually seen his mystery lover? I think he made her up, the wanker. His hand is his favorite toy, just like the rest of them." He bumped Keran's shoulder. "Come with me. 'Idunna, The Exotic Wonder', will put a smile on your face. I guarantee it."
Keran allowed himself to be steered toward Hightown, still reluctant, but letting Wilmod persuade him, as usual. He hoped he wouldn't regret it this time.
Marian snapped her wrist sharply to the side to flick the blood from the gleaming blade of her longsword, watching Cullen appreciatively from the corner of her eye. His movement in battle was not as quick as her own, but the strength with which he swung his sword and shield, and his absolute confidence in the face of his enemy was enough to make her weak in the knees. The longer she knew him, the greater her admiration grew for all of his fine qualities, his skill in battle among them.
"May the Maker have mercy on your soul," he murmured, looking down at the man he had just slain. "Why do we keep getting attacked without provocation, I wonder?"
Shrugging, Marian sheathed her sword and dagger, then knelt to rifle through the pockets of the man closest to her, stepping around his side to avoid the ever-widening pool of blood spreading from his sliced abdomen.
"Are you…taking their coin?" Cullen asked in surprise.
Blushing at how he must view her actions, she continued her methodical search. "It isn't as if they need it anymore. As to why they attack, there are many gangs that operate after dark, all over the city. Recall the night we met in Hightown."
Cullen walked closer, frowning down at her. "Marian, if you really have such a need for gold, I have some saved up, you need not stoop to…"
"Aha!" she shouted triumphantly, pulling a battered bit of parchment out and scrutinizing what was written there. "I know this code, it's old. These blighters are amateurs. Their base is in one of the tunnels in Darktown. Why does that not surprise me?" She stood and tucked the information safely away, beckoning Cullen to follow her. They left the carnage behind and continued on their way.
"There are those who pay me to rid the city of the criminal element, Cullen. They prey on the weak and unwary under the cover of dark, and deserve whatever justice chooses to visit on them. By rights, the city guard should be the ones to see to it, but, my friend, Guard-Captain Aveline, is stretched far too thin at the moment. I do what I can to help her out. We cleared Lowtown and Hightown recently, so I suppose it's time to tend to the docks. I couldn't stand by and have my mother threatened every time she tries to step out the door," she said grimly.
Cullen rolled one of his shoulders to loosen a knot in his muscles trying to form under his heavy armor. "I see. I had no idea you performed such services for the good of Kirkwall. That is indeed commendable. It's only right you be compensated for your efforts."
She winked. "Well, I won't say the coin I earn isn't a large part of why I and my companions fight the night gangs, but I do occasionally allow my heart a say in the kinds of jobs I take."
Cullen smiled and Marian pointed to a rickety set of stairs nestled between two large warehouses. "Is this where your friend said we would find the thieves that have her property?" Cullen whispered.
Nodding, Marian leaned closer. "It may be nothing, but she was afraid some magic would be involved, based on her information."
"Let me go in first, then. I don't want you to get caught by a caster, and I can disable them before they can begin."
Marian suppressed a smile, thinking of all the mages and blood mages she had killed since her arrival in Kirkwall, but found herself charmed by his desire to protect her from magic. If only it were so simple…
Nodding her agreement, she crept up the stairwell behind him, then knelt in front of the darkened second-story door to pick the lock. He gave her a long look and nodded with his weapons at the ready, then burst through the door, bristling with aggression. He froze in confusion when they discovered the place was entirely empty.
Close behind, Marian stood dumbfounded as she looked around the space. "What is this?" she asked in wonder.
Candles burned on a low table in the center of the small apartment, a fragrant bouquet of honeysuckles and gardenia perfuming the air close by. A large bed nestled against the wall with brightly patterned blankets, and a small stove stood near an open fireplace, currently dark. Plush, red carpets covered much of the floor and matched the curtains hanging at the windows.
Cullen put away his weapons and closed the door. "This doesn't look like a thieves den to me. In fact, I would say it more closely resembles…" He broke off and blushed, looking away.
"The Blooming Rose?" Marian lifted her brows innocently. "Perhaps the same person decorated this place." She wandered to the table and touched the velvety white blossoms of the gardenia. She might not prefer flowers as a gift, but that didn't mean she didn't appreciate them.
A letter with her name on it was leaning against the vase and caught her eye. Picking it up, she broke the seal and began to read.
Hello Sweet,
As clever as you are, I'm sure you've discovered by now that there actually are no thieves with the relic for you to slaughter on my behalf.
I know how disappointed you must be, so please feel free to use the space to practice smiting technique with your delicious templar, which is actually the point of my little ruse.
The two of you have been throwing off enough sexual heat to scorch the whole city, and while I approve of that, I find myself curious to see a satisfied smile on your pretty face for once. I hope your man is at least capable of that much?
The loft belongs to a friend of mine, so don't worry about anyone disturbing you- I've arranged it so you have the entire night! Have fun, and if you want to invite me to join the two of you next time, I could show you both some wonderful little tricks. We might even
Marian folded the note without reading further. The unmistakable blush on her face attracted Cullen's attention, and curious, he drew closer.
"What's that?" He reached for the letter and she thrust it behind her back and out of his reach.
"Nothing! Just…this is Isabela's idea of a friendly joke. Getting us alone, I mean. She wants us to have privacy…together, and alone." She drew a hand across her eyes. "Maker, I sound like an idiot. You don't want to read this, trust me."
"Actually, I rather do. May I see it?" Marian shrugged and thrust the letter at Cullen, turning her back to walk across the room and inspect the bed. It looked clean and inviting.
A strangled noise came from Cullen a moment later. She turned to see him still staring down at the words on the parchment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He looked at her, his eyes wide with shock.
"She said her…and we…it!…"
He flung the letter down on the table in disgust and shook his head. "I think I need to go to the Chantry and pray, and perhaps do penance for the images in my mind. I wish I hadn't read that now, I feel tainted."
Marian sat on the edge of the bed after shrugging off her weapons harness and setting it aside, giving him a sympathetic look. "I did try to stop you, remember? I ceased reading after she offered to show us some tricks. I'm assuming you made it to the end? Isabela tends to get worse the longer she goes on about something, particularly sex."
Cullen shed his sword, shield and gauntlets, and came to sit next to her, running a hand across her back gently. "Yes, you did warn me, didn't you? I suppose you'll make some rash claim of always being right, or I should always heed your advice."
She laughed and leaned her shoulder against his. "I'm wrong far more often than right, love. Just ask Carver, I'm sure he'll be only too happy to tell you of all my shortcomings."
Reaching out, Cullen turned her face toward him, a soft smile on his lips. He stared at her until she felt self-conscious enough to fidget. "What?"
He grinned. "I can't just look at you because you're beautiful? Is that not reason enough?"
She scooted back and turned until she was reclining comfortably on her back. "If you say so. It just looked like you were really thinking about it, that's all."
He took one of her hands between both of his, admiring her long, slender fingers before glancing up. "I suppose I was. You called me love and I like it. I was trying to settle on what endearments I might use for you."
Marian brushed her hair out of her eyes, and pursed her lips in consideration. "Honey bunches, or maybe sugar lips? Oh! I know: 'my sassy little dumpling'."
Cullen laughed and shook his head. "Those are terrible. I don't think I've ever heard anyone actually use any of them, thank the Maker. I was thinking more along the lines of "beloved" or "my heart". They are both true, although if you really prefer I call you 'my sassy little dumpling'…" He grimaced as though he were in pain and she giggled uncontrollably.
"Just hearing those words out of your mouth was priceless, my proper darling. You may call me whatever you choose." Her fingers stole across the top of his leg teasingly, slowly working her way to his inner thigh.
He captured her wandering hand and pinned both of her wrists to the bed, looming over her. "Perhaps 'beloved minx' would be the most accurate pet name, now that I think of it." He kissed a path along her jaw line and she gasped in mock offense.
"Ser, I will have you know that I give my favors and affections to only one man, and only when he enthusiastically persuades me."
Pulling back, Cullen lifted a brow. "Enthusiastically, is it?"
She grinned, then gasped for an entirely different reason when his hands wandered freely across her body. "Oh yes," she purred against his ear. "I greatly admire enthusiasm, if you recall."
He rose from the bed, a slight smile on his face, and made quick work of removing his armor and clothing before returning to take her in his strong arms again. While he was occupied, she had seized the opportunity to strip off her leathers and underthings.
"I've missed touching you, my beloved Marian" he whispered against her collarbone, kissing his way down her body. "Let me show you how much."
Marian made a mental note to buy Isabela a bottle of the best aged whisky coin could buy, before calloused fingers stroked her in such a way to scatter all her thoughts.
She opened her legs, eager, trying to entice him to take her with the same desperate fierceness of their first time together, but he was not to be rushed. Not this time. His lips explored her breasts meticulously, no inch was left untouched. Even as her blood sang from his attentions, she wanted more, much more.
Cullen tried to make up for all the time he had suffered without her, savoring her slowly, like a fine wine too precious to be gulped in a greedy hurry. Her pleasure was his greatest desire, and he focused on it to the exclusion of all else. He knew words would never be enough to convey the depth of his feelings, and he hoped his devotion was evident in his touch.
Wishing to hurry him along, she shifted restlessly and felt his smile against the skin of her belly before he dipped his tongue into her naval, sending a jolt of sensation along her spine. He was patience personified, calmly pursuing his goal as though he were the very master of time, and the slow simmer of arousal coursing through her veins approved his actions.
Closing her eyes, the world around her faded away like a half-remembered dream. Cullen was the only reality, weaving gossamer threads of sensation along her skin almost effortlessly, it seemed.
She sighed deeply, echoing the way his own breath caught in his throat when he finally joined their bodies, having forgotten the overwhelming fullness of complete possession. His touch seemed confident and right, and she reveled in it.
Cullen was drowning in her, surrounded by her taste, scent, and the gripping tightness when her body accepted him and drew him deeper. It was almost too much. A wild hurricane of ecstasy beating against his control. It was an epiphany that was as simple as it was profound: this is what love feels like, in all of its facets; untamed, an unstoppable force that swept you up and devoured your will to resist until love was all you knew.
His deep caresses inside of her brought her to the brink and guided her over with him. Caught up in a powerful peak, Marian felt her shield waver alarmingly and realized she was leaking magic into the air around them. In an instant, fear gripped her, replacing all thoughts of pleasure. It was like being pulled in two directions at once. She slammed the invisible door on her magic with all the force she could muster.
How had it happened? Had he noticed? She watched him carefully from under her lashes and wrapped her limbs around his when he curled into her contentedly. He smiled lazily, his eyes soft with many things unspoken. He kissed her a final time before laying his head back and drifting off into a deep slumber.
She couldn't sleep. Worry gnawed at her. Her control around him seemed to be eroding, and she was so tired of all the endless deception. He was the one person she wished she didn't have to hide from. Cullen loved her, she was secure in that. She had seen a change in him since they had first met. Might he not love her enough now to go on as before and keep her secret?
She owed him her trust. When the opportunity presented itself, she decided she would reveal everything to him. He was loyal and devoted and would surely stand beside her, despite what he had been taught.
Soon, very soon. Content in her new resolve, she smiled and snuggled deeper into Cullen's arms, finally joining him in sleep.
With lips pressed in a thin line, she sat at her dressing table and examined herself critically in the looking glass. Her new tattoo was pale and complimented her eyes, she thought. The braids she wore her hair in now were not only practical but pretty. He would probably have liked them. The natural, deep red of her lips always garnered her the most attention, and his greatest admiration.
I've never met anyone like you, so perfectly suited to my secret wishes and desires. It's like the Maker created us for each other.
She sneered at the remembered voice that lingered insistently in her mind and opened her jars of cosmetics, starting with shadowing her eyes first. If only there were a way to purge those two years from her life.
I don't care what I have to do or who I have to defy, I will find a way for us to be together, I swear it! You're the only woman I'll ever love, I must have you. Give yourself to me and you will never have cause to regret it.
Frowning, her hand stole hesitantly to a small drawer on her vanity. Pulling it open, she slipped the faded note out and allowed her eyes to skim the messy scrawl of words, though she had long since memorized it. A seething mix of emotions burned in her chest while she read.
Tarohne,
I don't know how she found out, but she's sending me away immediately. I haven't been told where. I'm not strong enough to fight her decision, dearest, I wish I was. My severed head displayed for all to see would hardly help either of us, and I want to live! I dare not defy her when I am clearly in the wrong and have broken faith with my entire Order. I can only hope you find it in your heart to forgive me for being weak.
I offer one final proof of how genuine my love is for you: she intends to make you tranquil. Run now! Run far! Your phylactery is no more, I have seen to it. My last hope is that if I do not see you again in this life, that we will at least be reunited at the Maker's side if He sees fit to grant us mercy.
Markus
Her expression darkened until the yellowed letter caught alight with a small lick of magical fire and turned to ash in her hand. She didn't need it or him holding her back any longer, binding her to the past and the stupid girl she had been before. Blowing away the dust she reached for her kohl pencil to outline her eyes.
I love your mouth best. Your lips are the color of the tender, sweet flesh of a cherry. I can so easily lose myself in your kiss.
With determined hands, she unscrewed the top off a small container of lip paint when a knock sounded at her door.
"Come," she called, daubing over her naturally vibrant red lips with the stark white she wore exclusively since she had begun to pursue her new goals.
Ira walked in and sat nearby, watching silently while she finished up with a light dusting of powder.
"What news do you have for me," she slanted her eyes to the side with a sly smile. "Idunna?"
Ira looked down and sighed. "I wish you wouldn't always call me that name you picked. At least not when we're alone. I hear it too much as it is." When she received no response, she hurried on. "There are two more since we last spoke. They are eager to come to me again at week's end. Shall I bring them to you then?"
Standing, she looked down at the younger mage thoughtfully and walked across the room and picked up her grimoire.
"Yes. I'll perform the ritual as soon as you arrive. That will make an even half dozen. Well done, Ira. We will reach our goal soon." Her white lips twisted in a cruel smirk. "That bitch, Meredith, will run mad before the year is out, mark my words."
Ira stood, her fingers twisting anxiously. "I hope so, Tarohne. Not that I mind doing my bit for the cause, but I am getting a little tired of being constantly pawed by sweaty old men, which seems to be the majority of my clientele of late. You did say I wouldn't have to stay at the Rose forever."
Tarohne waved a hand dismissively. "When our scheme is finished and not before. Do not lose sight of our ultimate plan, Ira, for your sake as well as mine. I don't think it will be much longer now."
She squeezed Ira's hand firmly in farewell and watched her walk out. Turning back to her grimoire, she flipped through several pages, proud of all the news spells she had added by diligent research. No spell was beyond consideration. It was only the previous Chantry indoctrination of approved and forbidden magic that had held her back. There was no such thing.
But you're good, Tarohne. I trust you completely, my love. I know you would never turn to blood magic or betray my trust. If only more mages were like you, there would never be any trouble between mage and templar. Maybe someday we could even be free to love each other openly. Wouldn't that be a day worth celebrating?
She slammed the book shut violently. "Damn you, Markus," she hissed. "I will find a way to silence you. I will not be defeated by your imaginary voice in my head!" She spun in a complete circle, half expecting him to answer, although she knew it wasn't really possible. She wasn't losing her mind. She wasn't!
"One way or another, you and your kind will pay for how you used me. No one makes a fool of Tarohne." Turning to the looking glass, she stared at her own wild-eyed reflection and whispered in a trembling voice, "I swear it by my own blood, every templar in Kirkwall will pay."
~o~