Knight's Bloom - 10 - Requited

Dinner that night at Hawke's estate was a merry affair, harkening back to her days as Champion. She had forgotten how much fun it was to have the group together, as everyone tried to catch up Sebastian on Kirkwall goings on. Varric told his usual tall tales. Merrill drank too much and giggled even more. Donnic and Sebastian discussed the Starkhaven campaign, strategic move by strategic move. Aveline watched over their folly with a maternal eye. A game of Wicked Grace eventually ensued, which meant that Varric would go home a little richer. It was almost like nothing had changed.

Hawke looked at the clock against the wall again and realized that it was now unlikely Cullen would show up. She knew she shouldn't be surprised, since he had sounded very reluctant about coming, but she had hoped he would change his mind.

I guess some things have changed, she thought in chagrin. There she was with some of her best friends in the world and yet wishing that Cullen was there.

Sebastian stayed behind when everyone else left, giving them a chance to talk alone.

"Hawke, are you all right?" he asked. "You seemed a little distant tonight." Apparently only Sebastian had noticed that virtually every tale told that night, for once, had not included her.

"Oh, no, everything's fine. I was just thinking that it had been too long since I'd seen everyone together like this. It was like old times again. I think you need to come back to Kirkwall more often!"

"Not that I don't appreciate the invitation to return more frequently, but why don't you see everyone else more often?" he asked curiously.

"It's complicated, Sebastian. My life is different now. We're not running through the streets of Kirkwall together anymore, righting wrongs and telling witty one-liners. I can't just . . . go down to the Hanged Man and spend time like we used to do."

"Hawke, your life is not so different. Look at tonight. Perhaps there are fewer barriers than you think. I . . . I was talking with Aveline, and she told me that she's a bit concerned about you. She says the only people you really see these days are her and the Knight-Commander."

It bothered Hawke that they had been talking about her. "That's not true. I spend day in and day out surrounded by people talking at me and needing things from me. If anything, I need more time to myself."

"That's not quite the same thing. And, you know that. I just wanted to remind you that despite all these new, possibly overwhelming responsibilities, you're not alone. There are many people who care about you. Many of them still here in Kirkwall. Don't shut them out."

She frowned at him, not really understanding his point. Of course, she wasn't alone. Involuntarily, she looked at the clock again. Most of the time.

She moved to change the subject. "So, tomorrow you will be on display for all to see as the true Prince of Starkhaven. Nervous at all?"

"Hardly," he scoffed. "I've been watching and listening to nobles like these my entire life, from when I was a boy in Starkhaven to when I was a Brother in the Chantry. Only this time, it's me they'll have to listen to. I suppose they're the ones who should probably be nervous." He laughed. "Out of curiosity, what is on the agenda for tomorrow?"

"Oh, you know, the usual stuff." She smiled and rolled her eyes as if such affairs were old hat for her. "Tantervale and a couple of the smaller cities have requested time for fancy speeches. We'll probably broach the subject of mage transfers from the circles in Ansburg and Ostwick, since our numbers are so low." Then she looked at him with a smirk. "I've been asked multiple times whether or not you would be attending, so expect a number of daughters to be thrown at you during your stay."

He snorted. "I've already been bombarded by that in Starkhaven. You'd think there were no other eligible matches in the whole of the Free Marches."

"Well, probably none quite so attractive, on so many levels." She gave him a saucy smile but then caught herself, realizing too late that she was falling back into her old habit of flirting with him—a habit that may no longer be so one-sided and . . . safe.

He looked at her from under hooded eyes. "I'm surprised that you are not fielding the same kinds of proposals. I'm sure Kirkwall is also a very . . . attractive alliance right now."

"Now that I think of it, no, I've not received a one." She  shrugged. "The Champion of Kirkwall, with her magic and her rough edges, probably doesn't seem like the marrying type. Certainly not the trophy alliance many would want from a woman."

"On the contrary, that's what makes you even more . . . attractive. How could someone want a mindless trophy when they could have you?" The look he gave her was suddenly smoldering with heat . . . and questions.

She smiled self-consciously, knowing he would never have encouraged her like this before. She was now in uncharted territory and wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"Hawke, I know it's getting late, but there is something I have wanted to say to you now that we're alone." He sounded serious, but also a little nervous. He stood up, as if considering where to start, and walked to the window looking out at the darkened city with his hands clasped behind his back.

"You know how important it was for me to finish what I had started with restoring my lands. Starkhaven was at the mercy of a simpleton, with scheming vultures trying to take advantage of him and everything the Prince's seat could offer. I owed it to my people to set things to rights. I owed it to my family and the six generations of Vaels that have nurtured and protected our lands."

He turned back to look at her, continuing in an earnest voice. "But now, by the Maker's grace and your generous assistance, I have done that. Remarkably, my debt is fulfilled and Starkhaven is again at peace." He walked over to where she still sat, took her hands and drew her to her feet. "I can now offer you the Prince that I had promised you. Marian Hawke, I would offer you everything I have, everything I am."

She had imagined this conversation so many times that she half-expected to see herself bound across the room into his arms. Why aren't I doing that now? Yet, she remained rooted to the spot.

She had been in love with Sebastian Vael for years now. She had patiently waited for him to come to terms with his broken vows and realize that he was no longer bound to the chastity expected of a Chantry brother. She had carefully maintained their boundaries as they worked so closely together during her first weeks as Viscountess. Then she had settled herself in again to wait for him to finish retaking Starkhaven and finally admit his love for her. She had been waiting for this very moment for so long now. In her imagination, the scenery was always a bit more romantic, involving a field of daisies or Sebastian astride a horse, instead of her dining room. But, nothing could be more romantic than his simple declaration.

What is my problem?

After several frantic heartbeats, she flushed and couldn't meet his eyes. "Sebastian, you know I care about you . . ."

Silence filled the room. Then his face clouded and he asked in a low voice, "Or, have I missed my chance, being gone so long? The way you talk about the Knight-Commander, I've wondered . . ."

"No, no, it's nothing like that. Cullen and I are just—" Her voice broke. "Just friends," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"Ah, Hawke," he said sympathetically, eyebrows arching in concern. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She laughed, hearing a slightly hysterical edge to the sound. "No, Sebastian, I couldn't possibly impose on your sterling nature and actually let you counsel me on my complicated relationship with Cullen. Even I am not horrible enough for that." She walked away and wrapped her arms around herself while she faced the window.

"Hawke, you are not horrible. And, having such feelings certainly does not make it so." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I should never have presumed that you would just wait for me, without any kind of expectation or promise of my troth."

She felt a pang of guilt at this. True, they'd made no real promises, but she had thought they'd developed a sort of understanding. Or so she had convinced herself amid all the innuendo, deflected advances, and carefully inexplicit discussions over the years. She always had consoled herself that she could wait and find out how he really felt once he'd finished retaking Starkhaven and could offer her no less than a prince, as per his words.

And, now I'm blowing it.

When she remained silent, he asked, "Are you in love with this Templar?"

She closed her eyes again. "Honestly, I don't know. But, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm a mage."

"Stranger things have happened," he replied in a quiet voice. "I . . . I would imagine that for two such powerful people there are additional . . . obstacles. Obstacles that I suppose might also be raised for a mage becoming the Princess of Starkhaven, if I were to let that be an issue. But I would not. Hawke, anyone who truly loves you would not be held back by that fact. You deserve someone who can love all of you."

He walked up behind her and carefully put his hands on her shoulders. "I didn't mean to upset you," he said quietly.

She turned around to face him within the circle of his hands. "Oh, no, Sebastian, you haven't. I'm sorry, I . . ." Her eyes softened as she looked at his beloved face, and she placed her hand gently against his cheek. "I've made no secret of the fact that I've been in love with you since almost the moment we met. Pathetically so. I just didn't expect this kind of a . . . complication. To be honest, I'm not sure what I'm feeling right now. I . . . I don't know what to say."

He placed his own hand over hers against his face for a moment and then took it in both of his. "Hawke, you don't need to say anything yet. Take your time. We have the rest of our lives to figure this out. But this conversation is not finished between us." He gave her a slow smile that made her bones turn to water and then followed with a gentle, tingling kiss in the palm of the hand he held. "I promise you that. Good night, Marian."

She stayed where she was in the dining room after he left, thinking about how she had just been offered everything she thought she had ever wanted and wondering idly when those dreams had changed.

The next morning Cullen found Hawke pacing in her office. She was again wearing the midnight blue dress from their first dinner, but her hair was up in a twist on her head. She seemed deep in thought, with a worried wrinkle between her brows, and didn't seem to notice him come in.

He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms. "It seems I am not early enough to prevent your attack of nerves this time. You look like you're going to pace a hole in the carpet."

She stopped in her tracks, looking at him blankly for a moment, and then smiled sheepishly. "I guess I am a bit . . . anxious today. I'm glad you're here." She added casually, "We, um, missed you last night."

"I'm sorry I couldn't come, Hawke," he said sincerely, today feeling a bit foolish at his immaturity. "But, I'm here now."

"A few of the nobles have already arrived. Bran is seeing to them. I wish I felt more . . . prepared for this." It was essentially her first public event as Viscountess, made even more daunting by the presence of nobility not just from Kirkwall but from across the Free Marches.

He walked closer and took her shoulders in his hands. "You are always prepared, even when you're not." He chuckled, thinking back to the lack of planning she had later admitted to him with their raid on the Righteous. "You will be fine. Let these nobles see what happens when someone as talented as the Champion of Kirkwall takes the reins. Just . . . make sure you don't . . . hurt anyone."

He had succeeded in making her laugh, which was usually the first step to making her relax. He then took the Viscount's circlet from its place as a paperweight on her desk and settled it gently on her temples. Offering her his arm, he said, "Shall we?"

She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, grasping it a bit more tightly than was warranted. Then, taking a deep breath, she let him lead her out.

As they approached the assembly room, Cullen saw that a large number of people had already arrived. It was so rare for the Free Marches' leaders to gather that many had never even met. Thus, it was with great curiosity that everyone watched the room and any new arrivals.

He could feel dozens of eyes drilling in to him, no doubt wondering at the unified front presented by the Viscountess of Kirkwall and the Knight-Commander. The whispering grew and it seemed that the crowd pulled back from them as they entered, like a wave receding from shore. Then, in the space between one breath and another, the wave inexorably broke in on them and they were flooded with introductions, banalities, snide remarks and above all, unseemly prying.

He kept a watchful eye on Hawke as he moved through the formalities. Despite her nerves, she was flawless as she worked the room, effortlessly disarming the nosy aristocrats with her usual earnestness and wit. Unsurprisingly, he saw a few nobles frown in disapproval of her informal style. He smiled, starting to enjoy himself.

Soon Cullen heard the whispering building again. Looking around for the cause, he saw Vael walk in with only two courtiers in attendance on him. He looked every bit the arrogant Prince, blue eyes snapping coldly as he looked over the gathering impassively. He then strode purposefully through the crowd without acknowledging any of the people trying to catch his attention until he found Hawke. She smiled in delight as he took her hands, kissing one of them lightly.

Cullen's smile faded, thinking of the picture they presented to the crowd of onlookers. Clearly Kirkwall was allied with Starkhaven. The extent of this alliance, however, remained to be seen. Even to himself, he realized with chagrin.

After a prearranged signal to Bran, the nobles were being ushered into the assembly room to settle around a large rectangular arrangement of tables. Hawke had purposely chosen a room that would not accommodate the large entourages escorting each attendee, nicely limiting the group to those who actually had business with the assembly.

She also had extended an offer to the new Grand Cleric to meet with the assembled leaders, which the clergywoman had declined leaving Cullen as the only Chantry representative. Since he was technically an onlooker at the secular gathering, he chose not to sit at the table but instead in a chair around the edge of the room. This served both political and practical reasons, since this vantage point gave him a better view of the proceedings and a direct line of sight to Hawke. He also had a clear view of Vael, who had made a point of sitting near the front of the room, where Hawke would be.

Bran was ringing a small bell which encouraged the murmurings to ease down to a dull roar. Then, Hawke stood up at the head of room. "Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated," she said in a no-nonsense tone.

Cullen loved how Hawke could easily switch between her easy-going banter and commanding professionalism in the blink of an eye. It always entertained him to watch certain bureaucrats and nobles underestimate her for this—to their detriment. Prince Sebastian Vael, however, knew Hawke very well and undoubtedly knew all her tricks. No, Vael would not underestimate Hawke. These proceedings should prove to be very interesting.

"I wanted to formally welcome all of you to Kirkwall," Hawke began in a strong and confident voice. "I'm pleased that so early in my tenure as Viscountess I have the opportunity to meet you all on this happy occasion of the new Grand Cleric's installment. While we have weathered some unusual storms of late, Kirkwall has emerged energized and stronger than ever. It is with this optimism and confidence for a peaceful future that I look forward to working with all of you.

"By prior agreement and tradition, we have solicited agenda items from you all, and this is the schedule that we shall follow. Upon concluding this part of the program, we shall open the floor for new business, time permitting. Now, Seneschal Bran—" She cut off suddenly due to a commotion at the door.

The doors swung open and through them swept the Grand Cleric. She stopped short of Hawke's position at the front of the room, eyes raking across the room. Everyone was so surprised at her appearance that it took several heartbeats before it occurred to anyone to get to their feet in respect.

When everyone was finally standing, the Grand Cleric took a deep breath and let it out in a dramatic sigh. "Viscountess Hawke, I was surprised to learn of this grand assembly and that I had not been invited to attend. What an important opportunity to meet our faithful vassals and friends, I thought."

Cullen was impressed that Hawke did not flinch or show any visible dismay at this absurd lie. He knew for a fact that the Grand Cleric had officially declined just such an invitation. Yet, no one else would know that, and so one by one, accusing sets of eyes turned on Hawke. He could only imagine how she must be seething inside. Instead, she gave Augusta a dazzling smile.

"Your Grace, what a pleasant surprise. I am so delighted you can join us after all. I was under the impression that you were in seclusion in preparation for your sacred investiture tomorrow. My mistake. Please, by all means, let us find you your place in our company." She nodded to Bran, who seemingly out of nowhere produced an ornate chair near the front of the room.

Augusta nodded her head sagely, but only said, "Yes." She then flounced over to the proffered chair.

From there on, the assembly was a nightmare for Hawke. No sooner would she say something, than the Grand Cleric would interrupt her or try to undermine her in some subtle way. While Hawke was not the only person treated in this manner, it seemed clear that most of these efforts were directed at her. Cullen could see her slowly giving up the battle, saying less and less, until finally the allotted time for the assembly had expired.

Upon the conclusion of the official proceedings, Hawke approached Augusta, under the scrutiny of the unabashedly eavesdropping assembled. She nodded her head deferentially at the Grand Cleric. "Thank you again, Your Grace, for so nimbly adjusting your schedule to attend. We are so pleased you were here," she lied.

"Why, of course you were. I am also pleased I could attend in time. I look forward to being better consulted in the future, Viscountess. Good day." Then Augusta swept back out of the room.

With the Grand Cleric gone, an invisible weight seemed to lift from the room and the sound of chattering increased again. Since so little business had been accomplished during the assembly due to the interruptions, the nobles started to peel off into small groups to try to finish things up. Hawke was soon surrounded again, so Cullen did not have an opportunity to speak with her until the crowd finally dispersed for the banquet Bran had prepared down the hall.

When Bran and his underlings had succeeded in chasing everyone out except for Cullen and Vael, Hawke assured Bran that she would be there shortly and then shut the door to the assembly room in his face. As soon as the door closed, she started pacing furiously, finally letting her ire show. Cullen and Vael watched impassively as she worked out her anger.

When it seemed that pacing was no longer sufficient, she stopped with fists clenched in front of her. Before Cullen knew it, she had conjured up a ball of electricity crackling between her hands, spinning increasingly faster and becoming more and more concentrated as she finally found an efficient outlet for her frustration.

"Hawke!" he cried out, but she ignored him, eyes focused on the boiling maelstrom between her hands.

Taking a breath, Cullen did the only thing he could think of and immediately dispelled her magic and drained her mana before she could lose control or raise an alarm. She stumbled back for a moment in shock, the swirling ball instantly disappearing, and then rounded on him with anger and hurt in her eyes.

"Cullen, how could you?" she gasped.

"Hawke, are you insane? Every Templar in the building felt your use of magic just now. Do you want to create an even bigger scene and make the Grand Cleric seem justified in her mistrust of you? Make the Free Marches nobles fear you?" he demanded. He knew they were cruel things to say, but he had to make her see reason and quickly.

She glared at him, and then, as if finally seeing his point, her shoulders slumped. She walked over to him and crumpled into a chair.

He sat down again facing her and took her hands. "How do you feel?" he asked softly.

"I'll live," she said grudgingly. Then her eyes flicked to his, and with an almost imperceptible smile, added, "But you may not for much longer if you do that again."

He smiled in relief that she seemed none the worse for wear. "So noted."

"The Grand Cleric might have won this round, but there will be other opportunities," Vael said, recalling Cullen to the fact that the Prince was there. Looking around, Cullen saw Vael watching them, eyes calculating.

Cullen nodded. "It's hard to say how much damage Augusta caused today. I think we need to be more vigilant during the investiture tomorrow. Who knows what other petty schemes that woman has planned."

"I don't know that I'm savvy enough for this kind of fight. Can't I just . . . zap her?" Hawke said disconsolately, catching Cullen's eye.

He laughed at her reference. "No, Hawke, no zapping. Or I will have to smite you again."

"Unfortunately," Vael began, again drawing their attention back to the matter hand, "I think Augusta could convince people that the sun is not hot, if she had the appropriate audience. Part of why she is dangerous is because people do not expect that they need to be wary around her. She is, after all, the Grand Cleric."

"Sebastian's right," Hawke said. "I have to be smarter about this. Which means I probably have to get in that stupid banquet room sooner than later."

She stood up, took a deep breath, and walked to the door. Vael was there a shade before Cullen, and so offered her his arm before Cullen could do the same. She glanced at Cullen apologetically as she took the Prince's arm and left the room. All Cullen could do was follow behind them, recalling again how much he disliked the man.

After the excitement of the assembly, the investiture ceremony seemed downright pedestrian. It was a pageant of fancy outfits and silly hats, supercilious expressions and counterfeit smiles, mind-numbing incense and droning intonations. Hawke remained apprehensive about the Grand Cleric's next move, but the boring ceremony proceeded without incident.

From where she was sitting in her usual box, she had a clear view of Cullen where he stood like a vigilant statue on the ceremonial dais just behind the Grand Cleric. Hawke marveled at his ability to stay alert throughout the lengthy proceedings.

Seeing him in attendance on the Grand Cleric made her consider for the first time his precarious position between herself and Augusta. The Grand Cleric was now his immediate superior, which meant that he technically should be aligned with her, not Hawke. She was embarrassed to realize that she had been so focused on her own problems with the woman that she hadn't stopped to consider how awkward—and perhaps even dangerous—this position could be for Cullen. She spent the remainder of the ceremony trying to think of ways to make sure he didn't get caught in the middle of what was sure to be a nasty conflict.

The celebrations resumed that evening with a gala ball. Most of the attending aristocrats had really come for this, and Bran had outdone himself with the preparations. Hawke had nearly forgotten about it with everything else going on, and so that afternoon she was foolishly scrambling to figure out what to wear. Luckily, a courier showed up amidst her panic, and Bodahn presented her with the unexpected gift of a resplendent satin gown in her favorite color, midnight blue. She was speechless and looked at Bodahn questioningly.

He shrugged uncomfortably and then haltingly admitted, "Well, messere, I . . . may have mentioned to Master Varric a slight concern about the ball, seeing as you had made no prior arrangements."

"Varric?" she said in surprise, holding the dress up before her in her mirror. It was perfect, if a bit more daring than was her habit. Simple and elegant, but still the height of fashion. Varric never ceased to amaze her, but she decided not to dwell on why he would know so much about women's fashion. "I'll have to remember to thank him." She looked at Bodahn again. "And you, Bodahn. Thank you. You always take care of me."

"Ahem, of course, messere," he said, with a pleased twinkle in his eye. He then left to let her try it on.

She had just scrambled into the dress and was putting the finishing touches on her hair when she heard someone arrive. She quickly threw on the uncomfortable circlet and then headed downstairs. She had planned to meet Cullen at the gala since they both had so much to do beforehand and Sebastian was staying at the Keep where the gala would take place, so she couldn't imagine who it might be.

Stopping at the top of the stairs, she was surprised to see that Sebastian had come after all and he looked so . . . magnificent. In place of his white armor he was clothed all in black which made his crystal blue eyes practically glow. He was immaculately tailored, resulting in a tightly fitting doublet that revealed his broad shoulders and lean frame with matching trousers that gripped his powerful legs before they tucked into perfectly shined black boots. Feeling his effect on her, she had no doubt he would be the cause of much swooning at the gala tonight.

Again on his head was the gold circlet, reminding her how different he was now after his months away. Whereas Brother Sebastian had always been conflicted about his own needs, Prince Sebastian seemed much more assertive and decisive. While the Brother was calming and supportive, the Prince was also magnetic and exciting. She couldn't help but consider how comforting it might be to just lose herself in his devotion and certainty. The thought made her whole body flush.

He watched her appreciatively as she joined him downstairs. "Hawke, you rival the stars in the heavens tonight. You're breathtaking," he murmured, dropping a light kiss on her hand.

"I imagine you will be the one breaking hearts tonight." Then, her brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "Sebastian, I thought you were already at the Keep . . . You came all the way here just to escort me to the gala?"

"What kind of gentleman would I be to let you go to the gala unescorted?" he countered.

A practical one, she mused silently, thinking of Cullen. But she also appreciated the chivalry of Sebastian's charming move. "Thank you very much, Prince Vael." She smiled. "Now I might even be on time."

He laughed. "Even I cannot work such miracles, Hawke. Shall we go?" With a flourish of his hand, he motioned for her to precede him.