Chapter Twenty-three

~O~

Striding down the dark hall and into the wing of bedrooms, Marian struggled against the healer's hold on her.

"Anders, put me down, at once," she demanded in an annoyed voice, gasping in shock when he gave her a firm swat on her backside.

Quiet, you'll wake your mother. And you aren't getting down until I decide to put you down, so you may as well give up struggling.

Who are you, and where is Anders? She replied incredulously.

You challenged me and I have accepted. This is raw, unfiltered Anders, like raw lyrium. As raw as I'm about to fuck you. Do you think you can take it? He opened the door to their room, closed it and locked it. Then walked through their dressing room and toward the bath.

"I can certainly take anything you have to give. Do your worst." He pulled her off his shoulder and directly into the bathtub, peeling his coat off of her and pointing down, to the bottom of the tub.

"Sit," he ordered, turning on the taps and stopping the drain, crossing his arms when she did as he directed. "And I should think you would want my best, not my worst. Though, granted, my worst would still be better than most men's best."

Marian scoffed, lifting handfuls of warm water to pour over her shoulders and neck before reaching for her lavender soap to wash herself. "I've always found your modest humility, breathtaking." She turned a sarcastic smile to him, raising a brow at the sight of his confident arrogance. She didn't know how he could be so conceited and still be charming about it, but she found it rather maddening.

"It's not arrogance if it's true, sweetheart. It isn't conceit if it's been justifiably earned."

Setting the soap back in its dish, she shook her head, sliding down in the water and leaning her head against the back of the tub. "That's your opinion. It doesn't make it correct, and stop listening to my thoughts."

His expression remained the same, except for the slight curl to his lips. "If you don't want me to hear, then stop thinking so loudly. Do you know why you become antagonistic toward me, like you are now, Marian?"

She flicked water from her fingertips. "I haven't the faintest idea," she replied, sounding bored. "Do tell me if you figure it out, I'll be waiting with bated breath for your undoubtedly riveting explanation." Dipping her head and face under the water, she sat up again, wiping the dripping beads of liquid out of her eyes. Anders sat on the edge of the bath, running the fingers of one of his hands through her wet hair, before gripping it and yanking her head back suddenly, making her gasp, baring her pale throat and forcing her eyes up, to meet his. He studied her expression with interest, still wearing the same, small smile.

"That's why you do it," he declared in a low tone. "You push me, because it excites you in the extreme when I push right back. It turns you on that you can't fully predict what I might do in response. A strong woman like you could never respect a weak partner. You need a man with strength enough to rival yours, who won't flinch away from satisfying your needs...all your needs, even the darker, blood-driven ones. I am that man, Marian." He leaned down, his lips hovering just above hers, teasingly. His lips brushed the corner of her mouth, his tongue sliding across her parted lips, pulling away when her eyes half closed with desire.

"It's also why you called out for me in your mind, earlier, while Cullen was buried balls deep inside of you. Because he isn't the man you actually need, he never was and he never will be. You need me, so let our little game begin and we'll see which one of us comes out on top." Releasing his grip on her hair, he stood and started undressing. "Get out. Your time of reckoning has arrived, little girl. Obedience will be rewarded, defiance brings punishment."

Biting the inside of her cheek, she stood and reached for a towel, drying off while she watched him thoughtfully. Trying to gauge his sincerity by his expression, but unable to tell what he was thinking when his entire face was purposefully neutral, except for his eyes. The intensity there, in that warm, golden gaze, was that of a watchful predator. He was stalking her, patiently waiting for just the right moment. There was no question as to whether or not he intended to pounce, the only question was, how soon?

When he was as naked as she was, he strode out of the bathroom, leaving her staring in wide-eyed uncertainty. The look he turned toward her before he walked out, was as difficult to decipher as the melange of confused feelings she experienced after seeing it. It was fierce, implacable, anticipatory. With a faint shadow of cruelty, perhaps? She wasn't really afraid of Anders… Was she? She shook her head in denial of that thought. Fear of the unknown was likely what was producing the hesitant, nervous twisting in her gut, nothing more.

Confidence, that's what she needed to remember. She could meet any challenge that he might test her with, as long as she remained calm and confident. It was just a silly game, anyway. Why should she work herself into an angst-filled tizzy over a little sex game? It was ridiculous. She shook her head, annoyed at the realization that she had gotten so caught up in the cleverly spun web of his words, that she was allowing herself to act like a feather-brained ninny. He was just trying to mess with her mind to throw her off her game. Well, they would just see about that.

"Stop stalling and get out here, Marian. If you make me come back in there to haul you out, you won't like the consequences. At all."

Frowning while she wondered just what exactly he might want to do to her, she wavered in uncertainty for several seconds, before deciding to play along for the time being. Lifting her chin, she walked through the doorway and into the bedroom. He was sitting up in the middle of their bed, loose hair brushing his shoulders, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. Looking for all the world like a king of pleasure, surveying his bedroom domain, and his one subject, her. Was this to be a fair and just kingdom, or would she be a slave in this scenario? He was probably a spoiled shit too, most rulers were.

"Spoiled shit?" He asked in a mild tone. "Could you come up with any other description for me that was less accurate? I do quite like king of pleasure, however, so I'll let the other slide."

Her brows drew together while she looked away and rebuilt the mental wall that had been so effective at shutting him out before. If this was a game of reward and punishment, she would do herself no favors by tipping her hand.

"Come here."

He was still speaking in that same calm, neutral tone of voice. It should relax her and make her feel more at ease, but instead, it had the effect of setting her teeth on edge. Not a nice feeling. Concentrating on keeping her own expression as blank as possible, she walked to the bed and stopped beside it, meeting his eyes while she waited for whatever he decided was next. He patted the bed next to where he reclined, holding her gaze with his own.

"Sit here, I want you next to me. But don't touch me unless I give you permission, or that will be grounds for punishment, and don't speak unless I say you can. When I ask a question, nod or shake your head to reply. Do you understand these rules?"

She nodded and then climbed onto the bed, sitting exactly where he indicated. Deciding an eager slave persona might help her win the game, if it was even possible to win, she dropped her gaze to the red coverlet. Idly, she wondered if she could ask Fenris for pointers on how exactly a slave was taught to behave. The few Tevinters they had fought had been ugly, scabby looking boors. Maybe they had slaves because they couldn't get laid any other way.

"Trying to shut me out of your thoughts, Marian?" Who said I would let you?

Her eyes flew to his while she hurriedly threw up another wall, stronger, thicker, larger than before. Tense while she waited to see if it worked, relaxing minutely when she was sure it had. Fixing her eyes back down to the bed, she stifled a gasp when he cupped one of her breasts, pinching her nipple hard enough to feel really good. She ignored the immediate arousal that started pulsing through her body, her core wet and throbbing after no more than seconds of his touch.

She dug her nails into the flesh of her palms, pushing away the niggling worry as to whether or not she could endure his deliberate torture, while also being careful not to break the rules he had given her. Surely she was strong enough to withstand whatever her body was made to feel, she must be. Determined not to make a sound, she started reciting the twelve months in her head, that focus allowing her to distance herself from feeling his touch.

"It's a good skill to have, but mental recitations aren't going to save you from me," he murmured. Her stomach dropped at the realization that he could still listen to all her thoughts, none of her shielding effective at keeping him out. How was he doing it? He must have discovered some trick that allowed it. Her only other way to help herself was to blank her mind. Think nothing. Endless gray. Nothing.

"Open your thighs, wide." When she complied, he moved his touch down her belly and slid his fingers into her wet cleft, avoiding the places she most liked to be touched. Closing her eyes, she bit down hard on her bottom lip, latching onto the pain, letting it block out other sensations.

Stop it. You don't have permission to stimulate or touch yourself in any way, and that includes biting your lip. Do it again and you'll be punished.

Releasing her lip from her teeth and frustrated by how he kept blocking all her coping methods, her annoyance rose. If punishment was the deterrent, and likely to be miserable, but misery was necessary to stand his pleasure torture, then failing and provoking punishment was actually winning. Therefore, failure was desirable to reach her ultimate goal. Time to fail to win.

He laughed quietly and completely withdrew his touch. "The way your mind works is nothing short of a wonder, and it turns me on like you wouldn't believe, Marian. I'd fuck your mind with mine, if I could. Open your eyes and look at me."

When she opened her eyes and met his gaze, she was disappointed to see he still had that same annoyingly calm, unaffected expression. Probably the same as the Maker would wear, if he ever bothered to look down on all of them and give a shit. She was coming to hate that look, she wanted to stab it with a fork. Or maybe a spoon. A spoon would be dull, so it would probably hurt more, and she was feeling a little vengeful.

She looked away and closed her eyes again. Where had his desire gone? What happened to all the times he was so desperate for her he couldn't stop himself? The first time he used his tongue on her and made her think she was going to die from the pleasure? And then he immediately did it again. Gods! She would live in the dark forever if it meant getting to experience the first time he entered her again, stretching her, remaking her to fit him. Ruining her for anyone but him, and she was ruined, because no one else could ever hope to compare. No other man had ever made a woman feel all the things he made her feel.

He probably just didn't want her as much anymore. Maybe he was bored with her now. She wouldn't blame him, really. She was deadly dull, provincial and inexperienced, not worldly or exciting. What could she possibly offer him? Likely, she had compelled him to think highly of her, from the beginning. Didn't blood mages mind control people? Maybe he was finally starting to come to his senses and break through her compulsion, and his indifference was the first sign, if so, she should be glad for him.

She was cruel to him, and selfish, thoughtlessly enslaving a fellow mage when all he had ever wanted was his freedom. What kind of selfish bitch did that to someone that trusted them fully? She should find a way to release him from his bond and let him go, set him free. There likely was a way if she cared about him enough to try, instead of always thinking of herself first. Even if it killed her, she should try. Evil people didn't commit selfless acts, so if she did something selfless, she could at least prove to herself that she wasn't evil at her core…

The world tilted around her when Anders yanked her against him and started kissing her like he was a man possessed. She felt dark amusement to recall he actually was possessed, and probably mind controlled by her too! Poor man, she and Justice had both victimized Anders. Blood mages and evil, corrupted spirits deserved death. She should execute the spirit and herself, but how to go about it? Draw the spirit into herself, somehow. The templars would help her, maybe Cullen would even slide the sword of mercy into her heart, personally. Better to die at the hand of a friend, wasn't it?

"Fucking stop it, Marian! All of that is utter bullshit, and you know it," Anders growled, holding her head between his hands and glaring down into her eyes. She stared back at him dully.

"Is the game over?" she whispered, her lip quivering before she bit down on it to still it.

"Yes! It's over. Who cares about a game when you're eviscerating yourself?" He shook his head.

"Did I win, at least?" She asked, still in a small voice.

"Sure. Yes! You won. Happy? Do you really believe all those things you were thinking?"

A triumphant, facetious smile curved her lips. "No, of course not. That would be ridiculous," she laughed. All signs of any sorrow were gone when she raised a taunting brow and sat up.

He stared at her for a handful of seconds, before falling back onto the bed, groaning, with a hand over his eyes. "Oh, you wicked little vixen! You practically sounded suicidal, even the spirit was worried. You really had me, there."

"I haven't had you yet, but I'd certainly like to," Marian purred seductively, stroking her fingers up his abdomen and across the compact, defined muscles of his chest. "And what other tactics remained for me, after you barged into my thoughts uninvited and refused to leave? Emotional manipulation and deceit was all I had left. Varric did tell me I should work on my bluffing skills. I thought you knew me better than to fall for all that melodramatic rubbish, but I suppose I'm just that good, hmm? I think your arrogance is rubbing off on me."

Anders pursed his lips and looked at her with narrowed eyes. "You're...something. Not sure you would appreciate me calling you what I'm thinking."

She shrugged. "Go on, if it will make you feel better. I'd certainly call me a bitch if I were on the receiving end. Do I get something for winning?"

He sighed. "What do you want?"

"I want to make you come, while you lie there and enjoy it." She tilted her head. "If that isn't asking too much, for my sins."

"I suppose if that's what you really want, I'll agree." He smiled in amusement. "But only because I love you and I'm such a giver."

Marian scooted closer to him. "You really are the most generous of men. Can I ask for something else after?"

"Such a greedy wench. I suppose you still want that raw fuck I promised you?" He slid a hand up and down her bare thigh.

Her expression changed to longing before she shook her head. "I forgot about that. Of course, I would like that, but that wasn't what I was going to ask for. I want you to punish me. I more than earned it for deceiving you."

Pushing partially upright, his brows climbed. "You...want me to punish you? More than you want me to fuck you? I didn't even tell you how I planned to punish you. How do you know it's something you'll like?"

"But…" She ran a hand through her hair, looking confused. "I thought the whole point of punishment is that I wouldn't like it? Otherwise, wouldn't it be a reward?" She frowned. "Sex games are confusing. At least the lyrium aphrodisiac madness at the Blooming Rose was mostly enjoyable, I see why people would want to do that. Well, wait, no, I guess it was only enjoyable after the whole virginity thing was done. Does it hurt the first time for every virgin, or just some? Oh, and it's really unfair that a woman gets pain the first time, and the man is guaranteed to come, first time, every time. The Maker is a fucking misogynist! Andraste should have kicked him in the balls."

Anders laid back again, laughing, pulling her down to lay on his chest. "Where do I even start with all that? So, let me try to get this straight… You lost your virginity at the whorehouse, with Cullen, while you were under the influence of a powerful aphrodisiac, and…" He stopped, his face turning to sudden anger. "Marian, did you consent to sex or did he force you?"

She was already shaking her head before he finished his question. "He didn't force me, I asked him to. I had to, there was no other choice. We were locked in together, and they didn't unlock the door until hours later."

He searched her eyes, seeing the truth, his smile sad but understanding. "You took the burden of responsibility on yourself, to save and protect him from it, and he may not even fully realize the kindness you did him. Do you think you would have ever had sex with Cullen, at all, if it weren't for both of you being drugged?"

She shrugged, a wry twist to her lips. "Maybe, but I don't really think so, with him being a templar. It wasn't my usual practice to tempt fate or take those kinds of chances. It was the whole reason I had never been intimate with anyone before, it felt like too much risk with my magic. Cullen and I were just sort of thrown together, and despite everything, we somehow fell for each other. But that first night at the Rose...it did nothing for my self-esteem or ego, that the man I gave my virginity to...well, I'm not so sure he actually wanted it. The absolutely horrified look on his face when he realized..." She sighed, gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "That memory stings just a little, honestly. I suppose it always will."

"Oh, love," he sighed, lifting her hand to brush his lips against her fingers. "That's a shitty first time, you deserved so much better. A man not drugged into sex, but fully aware of the gift you offered, eager to worship you, bring you pleasure and cherish your innocence. Since it wasn't really a choice for you or Cullen, I don't think you should even consider that your true first time. I think our first time together deserves that honor."

Her rueful smile slowly changed to a genuine one, her blue eyes regaining their bright sparkle. "That's quite a sweet suggestion, thank you, love." Her smile grew wider. "I have several favorite images of you in my mind from that day." She drew a shaky breath. "I can't even recall it without trembling. You gave me the most erotic experience I could have ever imagined." She scratched lightly against the stubble on his cheek, looking thoughtful. "You were my very own demon of desire, ensnaring me with pleasure, binding me to you forever by claiming my heart."

Anders' eyes turned warm. "I think it was the other way around," he said with a tender smile. "You were the one who had already captured me, body and soul. I've never wanted to touch anyone as much as I wanted to touch you, I was desperate from it. When I finally got you naked, had you coming on my tongue...fuck, I was instantly hooked, a Marian addict for life." He framed her face in his hands, giving her the same look of longing as the night he revealed to her how much more he wanted from her than friendship, and how deep his feelings for her really went.

"I need you so badly, my precious Marian," he murmured. "Forget everything else, I want to make love to you, right fucking now."

"Then do it."

She was trapped in his loving, desire-filled eyes, looking up at him when he rose above her, settling between her legs in the cradle of her body to kiss her lips, until she was panting with need, aching for him everywhere, all at once. Her eyes closed when he moved down her body to suckle at her nipples and leave love bites on her breasts, mark her possessively with his teeth. She touched him anywhere she could reach, trailing her fingers across his skin, sliding them into the loosened strands of his blonde hair.

All of her was trembling with anticipation when his hot breath puffed against her sex, her back arching involuntarily when he drug his tongue slowly up her center, again and again, before settling over her clitoris, sucking and licking her until the wave building inside her broke, at last, dragging her under. She writhed in the grip of so much pleasure, a slave to it, to him. But he didn't stop, just like their first time together, he was relentless, focused, drinking her down like he would die without her taste. Just like she would die without his touch.

Opening her eyes, she looked down, wanting to watch him, just as she had in the beginning. He was a god of desire in human form, unbearably sexual and sensual. She loved the masculine eroticism of the beautiful groaning sounds he made while he savored her under his tongue, and he did savor her, like she was his only drop of water in an endless desert. She craved that need he had for her, ached for his possession, wanted to be his everything.

She needed to scream her love for him to the whole world. Was this madness? Could love push you to the very edge of sanity? It didn't matter if she went mad, she would give up everything to be his. Let him own her, she was already his in every way. Gods! She needed him to fuck her so hard she would ache for a month. She was coming again...she was always coming with him. Her hands clawed the bedding, her eyes closed and refused to open. What was happening to her?

"Please, please…" she whispered, offering an elated moan into his kiss when he slammed his cock deep inside of her, devouring her mouth with his tongue and lips that tasted of her.

"Marian, open your eyes," he commanded in a rough voice.

Somehow, she obeyed, her hands flying to his shoulders, lacing together behind his neck while he drove into her with so much force that every thrust brought a cry spilling out of her. His eyes shone with gold light, she watched him watch her, while he fucked her harder than he ever had before. It was so good. It was too much, he was killing her, he was going to fuck her to death, and it was glorious, she never wanted him to stop. His hungry, smoldering eyes would be the last thing she saw, and it was completely worth it. She couldn't come anymore, not again, but she was, he was, the whole world was. Why was someone screaming?

~O~

Marian regained consciousness to Anders kissing her face, her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks. Her entire body was buzzing with strong, potent magic, every cell humming with energy. She could actually feel her blood flowing in her veins, could feel Anders' blood in exactly the same way. When she curiously skimmed the coursing blood with her magic, she tingled from the contact. It was such a strange feeling, but she liked it. She felt amazing, power thrummed in her and around her, and they were still glowing brightly. Anders smiled when she looked up at him, his expression a strange mix of smug and loving and exhilarated. She smiled back, running her fingertips up his arms, mapping the familiar shape of his muscles there.

"What happened?"

He raised a brow, his eyes alight with amusement. "You told everyone in Hightown, possibly the entire Free Marches, that I'm your god. Then you came so hard you passed out, and you nearly took me with you."

"I did what?"

She let out a giggle that turned into full laughter when he started laughing with her. He slid off her, onto his side facing her, his hand coming to rest at the curve of her waist when she turned toward him. When their laughter quieted, she shook her head in wonder.

"What was that, Anders? It was incredible. What did you do to me?"

His brows rose with incredulity. "Me? What did I do? Apart from giving you the hard fuck you wanted, I did nothing. Nothing magical, at least."

She gnawed the inside of her cheek, trying to think of how to put what she experienced into words. "But, I thought you were using your magic on me. How else did I feel everything so strongly, like every sensation was magnified times a thousand?"

He chuckled. "No, you were the one using an absolutely enormous amount of magic. So much that I can't believe how much you still have, it's practically spilling from you. After that explosion, you should have been totally drained, at least for hours." Anders tilted his head curiously. "What was that you did just a moment ago? Something under my skin."

"Was it this?" She repeated the magical brush, this time only touching the blood in his veins, not hers.

His eyes closed briefly when he released a deep groan. "Fuck, Marian, what is that? It feels so good."

"I...don't know, exactly. But when I regained consciousness, I was aware of my blood flowing in my veins, and yours too. I've never had any type of awareness like that before. I reached out to touch it with my magic, and it felt...tingly. I liked how it felt too, almost like…"

"When we share our blood during sex." He finished, turning thoughtful when she nodded. "It seems these blood powers of yours, or the taint of yours, or whatever combination, is continuing to develop and reveal more to you. I feel like I'm reading a novel where the heroes go in one of two ways. Either they fall to the evil they unknowingly grapple with…"

"Or?" She prompted, frowning, not wanting to be likened to the heroes defeated by evil.

He smirked. "Or, they win over evil, become deity and ascend to godhood, which I have already done, according to you. So, I guess we know how our story goes."

Marian rolled her eyes. "If you think I'm going to make daily visits to the Chantry to light a candle and burn incense to the god, Anders, you're sadly mistaken."

He laughed, giving her his naughty, teasing look. "We aren't Chantry gods, Marian, we're obviously demigods of sex and fertility, which means we can only receive power through sex, our worshipers would have to give us their orgasms if they want our blessing."

She snorted. "Why does it sound like you've put a lot of thought into all this?" All signs of her humor vanished when she really considered what he said, her eyes widening. "Holy shit, we really could feed from other people's orgasms, or I can, at least. Maybe crazy Warden was onto something, calling me a goddess?"

"Exactly," he said with a smug smile. "Since you're the goddess of whatever this new religion is we're establishing, I don't know if I should be your husband god, like Andraste and the Maker, or if I should be your high priest. What do you think?"

"Hmm." She tilted her head in consideration. "Probably my husband. If we're fertility gods, we will definitely have babies, since that's what fertility is all about, and I don't want them to be illegitimate. We would probably have dozens of adorable, blonde, mini Anders." She grinned, picturing it. When she turned to look at him, she couldn't fully read the strange expression on his face, but she frowned in concern at the slight sheen of tears in his eyes. "Love, what's wrong?" she murmured softly.

He pulled her against him, his eyes searching hers. "Would you ever really want to have my babies, Marian? Or is it all just a joke?"

She looked down, blushing. "If I did have babies, they would be yours, I wouldn't want to have children with anyone else. Do...you want babies?" She looked up to see his reaction, smiling hesitantly at the tender look and smile on his face.

"From you? Yes, absolutely, I would be deliriously happy. I want everything from you, sweetheart; your heart, your soul, your hand in marriage, and your magical offspring." She chuckled, making him grin. "Plus, there would be no bigger fuck you to the way things are, than for two mages to marry each other, and fill Thedas with magical babies. Perhaps it can be a new tactic, mages can out-breed those without magic, until everyone has magic, and then it will be a non-issue."

She groaned. "Trust you to find a political angle for my giving you a child."

Stroking a hand against her cheek, he stared into her eyes for a silent moment. "You said you didn't want children before, more than once. You seemed pretty adamantly against it. What changed?"

Marian shrugged, a vulnerable look in her blue eyes. "Me. You changed me, Anders. Made me want things I never thought possible. If you're brave enough as a mage to want to marry and have a family, then I can be too, just like my father was. You've given me so much confidence in my magic, and courage, that there's a world of possibilities with you that I never would have considered before we met. You make me dream. Maybe even of a tiny Anders someday."

He smiled softly. "You changed me too, at least as much or more than I might have changed you. Without you, I would have lived in fear of what I might have done under the control of Vengeance, and who knows where that might have ended? With your bond, I have recovered myself, and Justice is no more than an advisor and friend in my thoughts, as he was before our joining. I'm very grateful for that."

"I had no idea of that until the alley, but I can't tell you how relieved I am to know that you will never lose yourself to him again. It's not that I dislike Justice." She stroked a hand against his cheek. "But only that it's unjust for you, of all people, not to be free. Not only of Circles and templars, but also free of the control of any spirit that would use your body and force you to their will."

He kissed her and rested his forehead against hers before moving back. "Thank you, sweetheart."

"For what?" She whispered.

"For loving me, believing in me, dreaming with me. For offering me the world, with you at the center of it, a greater gift than I could have imagined. For giving me a beautiful life, right by your side." His eyes moved lovingly across her face. "Marian, will you marry me? I never want to pressure you, but someday, when you feel the time is right?"

Her eyes filled with tears and she smiled softly. "Yes, Anders, of course I will. We're already magically married. Maybe in a year or two, we can do it publicly, so everyone will know the truth of us. I know it would make Mother happy if we did. She's come to love you, you know?"

He grinned mischievously. "I know, all part of my master plan to secure you." Anders tilted his head, his eyes going soft. "But I love Leandra too. She's a wonderful, special person. There's a lot of her in you. I wish I could have known your father, he must have been a remarkable man."

Marian smiled wistfully. "He was wonderful. So kind, generous and compassionate, and he had a sharp and witty sense of humor. You're actually a lot like him."

Anders sat up some, arranging the pillows for how they usually liked to sit up and chat in bed. "Will you tell me something about him? Maybe a memory you cherish?"

Settling against the nest of pillows, she searched her memories, smiling when Anders pulled one of her feet up to him, starting to massage it.

"This took place a little while after we moved to Lothering. There was a sweet, elderly lady that Father took it upon himself to check in on whenever he went into the village. She was once from a grand, important family, but over time, things must have happened to reduce her circumstances. She was proud, and she would always serve her guests tea, as though she were a queen at court. Her eyesight was poor, so one day Father was there, trying to help with little tasks that were difficult for her to attend, and she insisted on serving him dinner, in thanks. He tried to decline, but he couldn't bear to hurt her feelings."

Marian laughed, shaking her head. "She served him a version of cottage pie, I think. The meat was burnt, the vegetables were so spicy, he claimed they scorched his tongue, and the tea she served him had salt in it, instead of sugar, and the milk had started to curdle. What do you think he did?"

Anders grimaced. "I don't know, cast sleep on her and ran away?"

She grinned. "No, he ate every bite of her terrible food, and drank the entire cup of her salty tea, and thanked her profusely for it." Her smile turned soft and her eyes wistful. "Father cared more about preserving the dignity of a person few bothered to even see, rather than his own comfort. I loved that about him."

Reaching for her hand, he gave her an adoring smile. "Now I know where you got that from, you're just like him, Marian. You always see parts of people that no one else does, and you make them feel admired and special for being who they are. It's a rare quality, and one of the many aspects of you I fell in love with."

"Thank you, love." She shrugged. "I like to think I take after my father, at least in some ways, but I'm not half the person he was." Marian smiled teasingly. "Which is fine, because being even half what he was is still pretty great."

Anders kissed her hand and got up. "Come on, you need to eat something, so off we go to the kitchen." He handed her one of her robes, then put on the one she had recently given him.

"Will you make me tea?" she asked, slipping her hand into his while they left their room.

He winked. "Of course, and I'll make sure no one puts salt in it."

"You're so good to me," she gushed, with a silly smile. "I wonder if Sandal left us any pie?"

Anders laughed. "You know better."

~O~