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peopleofthedas2011-09-21 11:57 pm
sagacious_rage) wrote in peopleofthedas2011-09-21 11:57 pm
So Blind in the Sun, Chapter 7: Haring
Title: Haring
Rating: This chapter: PG-13
Pairing F!Hawke/Sebastian
Warnings: none in this chapter
Word Count: 1890
Chapter Summary: An off-hand comment from Cullen leads to some very dire choices for Laica.
Story Summary: The Chantry is in ruins, the Gallows has been annulled, and Laica Hawke has been named Viscountess of Kirkwall and is betrothed to Prince Sebastian Vael. But happily-ever-after is for fairy tales.
Author's Note: This sequel to the Let Love Go series was written for the Bioware Bang on LiveJournal, and will be updated Tuesdays and Thursdays. The amazing cover art was provided by the incredibly talented Ashmouth. This fic also had a lot of very, very helpful betas. In no particular order:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
xogs, zuelie, jessicajones, and neaira
Haring
Laica
Laica fidgeted in front of the mirror in her office, picking invisible specks of lint from her gown. Frowning at her reflection, she adjusted her crown again. “Sodding ugly thing,” she muttered. “Should commission an new one made out of… silverite or something. Not iron.”
Seneschal Bran cleared his throat conspicuously. “Your grace, you have kept the Divine’s emissary waiting for over half an hour. Perhaps your appearance is now satisfactory?”
Fidgeting some more and smoothing her skirts, Laica tried to quell the rising tide of panic in her stomach. “It will have to do, I suppose.” She turned away and lifted her chin, sweeping out of her office and to into her reception room.
Knight-Commander Cullen rose to his feet immediately. “Your grace,” he nodded his head in greeting. “Allow me to introduce Grand Cleric Agathe.”
The stolid grand cleric inclined her head slightly in greeting.
“We are very fortunate to be so blessed with your visit,” Laica said smoothly as she took a seat opposite Agathe and Cullen returned to his. Seneschal Bran remained standing in the doorway, maintaining a respectful distance. “To what do we owe this honor?”
Grand Cleric Agathe fixed her with an icy gaze. Laica felt a chill steal up her spine, though she was careful not to betray her nerves on her face. “The White Divine has been in contact with your betrothed, my child. But the Knight-Commander has informed us of his long absence. Perhaps he has been remiss in his duties as your future husband and neglected to inform you that your presence is required at the White Spire.”
Laica’s blood froze. Carefully avoiding the Knight-Commander’s eye, she prepared to launch the defense they had devised. “My betrothed is currently in Wycome, your excellency, and there has been a great deal of bandit activity along the main road between there and here. It would appear any correspondence from my beloved has been lost to brigands.”
The grand cleric eyed her skeptically. “How unfortunate. It must make trade with the other cities in the Free Marches an exceptionally expensive process.”
Laica sighed and nodded. “That it does, Grand Cleric. And of course the merchants aren’t happy, expect me to do something about it, grumble when I raise taxes but don’t seem to understand that the money to pay guards needs to come from somewhere and simply minting more only devalues the currency further.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” the Grand Cleric replied, clearly disinterested. “You will, of course, need to appoint a regent for your time at the White Spire. Travel in the dead of winter is always slow. And you will be there for quite some time. We will leave on the morrow. Time is of the essence.”
Laica again carefully avoided looking at the Knight-Commander. “I apologize, Grand Cleric. But I’m afraid I simply cannot leave on such short notice.”
The grand cleric gazed at her, cooly arching an eyebrow. “Your seneschal is a capable sort. I’m sure if you stay in contact with him you’ll be able to manage until your regent is in place.”
“Under normal circumstances you would be quite correct, your excellency. Unfortunately, with bandits intercepting correspondence the way they are, I have no reliable way to stay in contact with him, regent or no.”
“Then the Knight-Commander can step in, in your place,” the grand cleric said with an edge of irritation in her voice. “Kirkwall certainly has precedent for such a course of action.”
Cullen finally spoke up. “With all due respect, Grand Cleric, I will not do such a thing.”
The silence stretched like a string on a lute, threatening to snap.
“I beg your pardon, Knight-Commander?” The grand cleric asked with icy calm. “Is there some reason for your reticence to step in when needed?”
Cullen’s armor clattered softly as he shifted in his seat. “The city still has not recovered from the former Knight-Commander’s… errors in judgment. I will not make the same errors. The Circle requires my undivided attention and the city must have a secular authority to bother with concerns like… minting coin.” He finished, sounding faintly disgusted at the prospect of being responsible for such decisions.
“So I see.” The grand cleric said in the same icy tone. “Perhaps the Knight-Vigilant can explain to you the necessity of stepping in to perform in such a capacity when the secular authority is incapacitated.”
“But I’m not incapacitated,” Laica protested. “I’m perfectly fine, and I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere so long as my city needs me. I will report to the White Spire, your excellency, as soon as my city is prepared for my extended absence.”
The grand cleric looked from Cullen, impeccably impassive as always, to Laica, still wearing her very best princess face. “See that you do,” she said with calm menace before rising and leaving without giving them a chance to respond.
All the breath left Laica’s body in one long sigh as she covered her face with her hands. “Well,” Cullen said, “that part was easier than we expected.”
“Which only means it will be harder later,” Laica moaned, flopping back in her chair. “Maker, they’re going to send a platoon of Hunters after me.”
Cullen snorted. “If you’re lucky. Keep playing this game and you’ll end up with an Exalted March.” He sighed and shook his head. “I have work to do.” He got to his feet and strode out of the keep.
Laica sat in the reception room a long time, considering those words.
***
The two letters sat on her desk, carefully folded and addressed neatly. One to Sebastian, and one to Carver. She straightened them one more time and looked around the room. She felt a sudden swell of pride at the fact that she was able to call it her desk. Her office. Her title and crown.
Not bad for a hedge witch, no matter how short-lived it was. She felt a pang as she looked at her father’s portrait on the wall. “Sorry I couldn’t do any better,” she whispered. “They just… outmaneuvered me.” Sweeping her cloak over her shoulders and allowing herself one last glance around the room, she slipped out.
Carefully, she made her way to the docks, making sure to avoid the guard patrol routes, heading for a ship bound for Orlais.
***
She huddled in the corner of the cell, wrists bound, shoulders aching from where Donnic had wrenched them, pulling her to follow him.
There was the sound of footsteps in the hall outside. She heard Donnic’s voice, muffled through the door, “Right in here, Knight-Commander.”
“Thank you, Guardsman Donnic.” Cullen’s voice was calm, but something in his tone sent a chill down Laica’s spine. She pressed her back against the wall and took a deep breath, bracing herself.
Cullen opened the door deliberately, holding a lantern over her head. She blinked as the light stung her eyes.
“Viscountess,” he said in that same deceptively calm tone. “I understand you were attempting to flee to Val Royeaux.”
“More or less,” she replied, trying to work her wrists out of the restraints again. “Donnic stopped me. Which he had no right to do, might I add.”
Cullen hung the lantern from a hook on the ceiling, and in the swaying light she could make out more of his stony features. “Earlier today we were in agreement that you were not to go to Orlais. What changed?”
“My mind,” she flared. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. I don’t answer to you—“
Quick as a snake, he lashed out and grabbed her wrists, pulling her to her feet. “I thought you were safe from the demon’s snares. Perhaps that was overly confident of me.”
“What are you talking about?” She struggled harder. “This is no demon. This is my choice.”
“Silence. I will not listen to your lies!” He snarled and shoved her against the wall.
The air was knocked out of her lungs as he pinned her. “I’m not lying—“
He grabbed her head with his free hand. “I will examine you,” he said, voice strained.
She tried to fight him off but he was too strong, and with her wrists bound she could not cast. His will slipped into her mind, searching her thoughts for signs of the demon. She felt his mind in a turmoil, thoughts of another woman, with dark hair and grey eyes who left and never came back. An apprentice? No. An enchanter. An explosion of blood magic. Several older men with beards and grim looks.
“Who is she?” Laica gasped as Cullen let go of her face and pressed his palm to her heart. She felt his will pulse into her, again searching for signs.
“You come up with plots and schemes and leave and then the rest of us have to deal with the aftermath,” he growled under his breath.
Again her head spun with visions of the woman, viewing her through some sort of… purple haze. Her sorrowful look, a feeling of overwhelming anger. “Cullen, please,” she begged, fighting in earnest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Blood mages and demons and abominations,” he continued, gripping her hip tightly as his will surged into her, igniting the same tug of desire she felt the last time he examined her. Along with feeling of anger, guilt, and regret.
“Cullen, listen to yourself!” She pushed at him desperately, feeling lightheaded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no demon!
His hand returned to her face, touching her gently this time. Rough fingers cupped her cheek as his thumb stroked her cheekbone. “I know,” he whispered raggedly. “And I will not lose you.”
The door opened. “Hawke?” Aveline said sharply. “Knight-Commander? Is there a problem?”
Cullen straightened to his full height, his hand dropping away from her face, though he kept his grip on her wrists. “The viscountess was apprehended attempting to board a ship to Orlais. I was examining her for signs of demonic possession.”
“I see,” Aveline crossed her arms. “And you are finished?”
“He is,” Laica shoved at his hold on her wrists again, feeling guilty, though she couldn’t quite place why.
“Guard Captain,” Cullen said to Aveline, finally releasing Laica. “If you could stay here with the viscountess while I summon some of my men to guard her, that would be helpful. You should, ah, keep her wrists bound. So she can’t cast.” He nodded and quickly left.
Aveline turned to Laica with a skeptical look on her face. “Demon examination, eh?”
Laica huddled in the corner again. “Yes. And if you could keep the lectures to yourself I would appreciate it.”
Aveline sat on the cot with a sigh. “No, I won’t lecture you, Hawke. But I’m not going to let you go, either.”
“Fair enough,” Laica mumbled and leaned her head against the stone wall.
Rating: This chapter: PG-13
Pairing F!Hawke/Sebastian
Warnings: none in this chapter
Word Count: 1890
Chapter Summary: An off-hand comment from Cullen leads to some very dire choices for Laica.
Story Summary: The Chantry is in ruins, the Gallows has been annulled, and Laica Hawke has been named Viscountess of Kirkwall and is betrothed to Prince Sebastian Vael. But happily-ever-after is for fairy tales.
Author's Note: This sequel to the Let Love Go series was written for the Bioware Bang on LiveJournal, and will be updated Tuesdays and Thursdays. The amazing cover art was provided by the incredibly talented Ashmouth. This fic also had a lot of very, very helpful betas. In no particular order:
xogs, zuelie, jessicajones, and neairaLaica
Laica fidgeted in front of the mirror in her office, picking invisible specks of lint from her gown. Frowning at her reflection, she adjusted her crown again. “Sodding ugly thing,” she muttered. “Should commission an new one made out of… silverite or something. Not iron.”
Seneschal Bran cleared his throat conspicuously. “Your grace, you have kept the Divine’s emissary waiting for over half an hour. Perhaps your appearance is now satisfactory?”
Fidgeting some more and smoothing her skirts, Laica tried to quell the rising tide of panic in her stomach. “It will have to do, I suppose.” She turned away and lifted her chin, sweeping out of her office and to into her reception room.
Knight-Commander Cullen rose to his feet immediately. “Your grace,” he nodded his head in greeting. “Allow me to introduce Grand Cleric Agathe.”
The stolid grand cleric inclined her head slightly in greeting.
“We are very fortunate to be so blessed with your visit,” Laica said smoothly as she took a seat opposite Agathe and Cullen returned to his. Seneschal Bran remained standing in the doorway, maintaining a respectful distance. “To what do we owe this honor?”
Grand Cleric Agathe fixed her with an icy gaze. Laica felt a chill steal up her spine, though she was careful not to betray her nerves on her face. “The White Divine has been in contact with your betrothed, my child. But the Knight-Commander has informed us of his long absence. Perhaps he has been remiss in his duties as your future husband and neglected to inform you that your presence is required at the White Spire.”
Laica’s blood froze. Carefully avoiding the Knight-Commander’s eye, she prepared to launch the defense they had devised. “My betrothed is currently in Wycome, your excellency, and there has been a great deal of bandit activity along the main road between there and here. It would appear any correspondence from my beloved has been lost to brigands.”
The grand cleric eyed her skeptically. “How unfortunate. It must make trade with the other cities in the Free Marches an exceptionally expensive process.”
Laica sighed and nodded. “That it does, Grand Cleric. And of course the merchants aren’t happy, expect me to do something about it, grumble when I raise taxes but don’t seem to understand that the money to pay guards needs to come from somewhere and simply minting more only devalues the currency further.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” the Grand Cleric replied, clearly disinterested. “You will, of course, need to appoint a regent for your time at the White Spire. Travel in the dead of winter is always slow. And you will be there for quite some time. We will leave on the morrow. Time is of the essence.”
Laica again carefully avoided looking at the Knight-Commander. “I apologize, Grand Cleric. But I’m afraid I simply cannot leave on such short notice.”
The grand cleric gazed at her, cooly arching an eyebrow. “Your seneschal is a capable sort. I’m sure if you stay in contact with him you’ll be able to manage until your regent is in place.”
“Under normal circumstances you would be quite correct, your excellency. Unfortunately, with bandits intercepting correspondence the way they are, I have no reliable way to stay in contact with him, regent or no.”
“Then the Knight-Commander can step in, in your place,” the grand cleric said with an edge of irritation in her voice. “Kirkwall certainly has precedent for such a course of action.”
Cullen finally spoke up. “With all due respect, Grand Cleric, I will not do such a thing.”
The silence stretched like a string on a lute, threatening to snap.
“I beg your pardon, Knight-Commander?” The grand cleric asked with icy calm. “Is there some reason for your reticence to step in when needed?”
Cullen’s armor clattered softly as he shifted in his seat. “The city still has not recovered from the former Knight-Commander’s… errors in judgment. I will not make the same errors. The Circle requires my undivided attention and the city must have a secular authority to bother with concerns like… minting coin.” He finished, sounding faintly disgusted at the prospect of being responsible for such decisions.
“So I see.” The grand cleric said in the same icy tone. “Perhaps the Knight-Vigilant can explain to you the necessity of stepping in to perform in such a capacity when the secular authority is incapacitated.”
“But I’m not incapacitated,” Laica protested. “I’m perfectly fine, and I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere so long as my city needs me. I will report to the White Spire, your excellency, as soon as my city is prepared for my extended absence.”
The grand cleric looked from Cullen, impeccably impassive as always, to Laica, still wearing her very best princess face. “See that you do,” she said with calm menace before rising and leaving without giving them a chance to respond.
All the breath left Laica’s body in one long sigh as she covered her face with her hands. “Well,” Cullen said, “that part was easier than we expected.”
“Which only means it will be harder later,” Laica moaned, flopping back in her chair. “Maker, they’re going to send a platoon of Hunters after me.”
Cullen snorted. “If you’re lucky. Keep playing this game and you’ll end up with an Exalted March.” He sighed and shook his head. “I have work to do.” He got to his feet and strode out of the keep.
Laica sat in the reception room a long time, considering those words.
The two letters sat on her desk, carefully folded and addressed neatly. One to Sebastian, and one to Carver. She straightened them one more time and looked around the room. She felt a sudden swell of pride at the fact that she was able to call it her desk. Her office. Her title and crown.
Not bad for a hedge witch, no matter how short-lived it was. She felt a pang as she looked at her father’s portrait on the wall. “Sorry I couldn’t do any better,” she whispered. “They just… outmaneuvered me.” Sweeping her cloak over her shoulders and allowing herself one last glance around the room, she slipped out.
Carefully, she made her way to the docks, making sure to avoid the guard patrol routes, heading for a ship bound for Orlais.
She huddled in the corner of the cell, wrists bound, shoulders aching from where Donnic had wrenched them, pulling her to follow him.
There was the sound of footsteps in the hall outside. She heard Donnic’s voice, muffled through the door, “Right in here, Knight-Commander.”
“Thank you, Guardsman Donnic.” Cullen’s voice was calm, but something in his tone sent a chill down Laica’s spine. She pressed her back against the wall and took a deep breath, bracing herself.
Cullen opened the door deliberately, holding a lantern over her head. She blinked as the light stung her eyes.
“Viscountess,” he said in that same deceptively calm tone. “I understand you were attempting to flee to Val Royeaux.”
“More or less,” she replied, trying to work her wrists out of the restraints again. “Donnic stopped me. Which he had no right to do, might I add.”
Cullen hung the lantern from a hook on the ceiling, and in the swaying light she could make out more of his stony features. “Earlier today we were in agreement that you were not to go to Orlais. What changed?”
“My mind,” she flared. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. I don’t answer to you—“
Quick as a snake, he lashed out and grabbed her wrists, pulling her to her feet. “I thought you were safe from the demon’s snares. Perhaps that was overly confident of me.”
“What are you talking about?” She struggled harder. “This is no demon. This is my choice.”
“Silence. I will not listen to your lies!” He snarled and shoved her against the wall.
The air was knocked out of her lungs as he pinned her. “I’m not lying—“
He grabbed her head with his free hand. “I will examine you,” he said, voice strained.
She tried to fight him off but he was too strong, and with her wrists bound she could not cast. His will slipped into her mind, searching her thoughts for signs of the demon. She felt his mind in a turmoil, thoughts of another woman, with dark hair and grey eyes who left and never came back. An apprentice? No. An enchanter. An explosion of blood magic. Several older men with beards and grim looks.
“Who is she?” Laica gasped as Cullen let go of her face and pressed his palm to her heart. She felt his will pulse into her, again searching for signs.
“You come up with plots and schemes and leave and then the rest of us have to deal with the aftermath,” he growled under his breath.
Again her head spun with visions of the woman, viewing her through some sort of… purple haze. Her sorrowful look, a feeling of overwhelming anger. “Cullen, please,” she begged, fighting in earnest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Blood mages and demons and abominations,” he continued, gripping her hip tightly as his will surged into her, igniting the same tug of desire she felt the last time he examined her. Along with feeling of anger, guilt, and regret.
“Cullen, listen to yourself!” She pushed at him desperately, feeling lightheaded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no demon!
His hand returned to her face, touching her gently this time. Rough fingers cupped her cheek as his thumb stroked her cheekbone. “I know,” he whispered raggedly. “And I will not lose you.”
The door opened. “Hawke?” Aveline said sharply. “Knight-Commander? Is there a problem?”
Cullen straightened to his full height, his hand dropping away from her face, though he kept his grip on her wrists. “The viscountess was apprehended attempting to board a ship to Orlais. I was examining her for signs of demonic possession.”
“I see,” Aveline crossed her arms. “And you are finished?”
“He is,” Laica shoved at his hold on her wrists again, feeling guilty, though she couldn’t quite place why.
“Guard Captain,” Cullen said to Aveline, finally releasing Laica. “If you could stay here with the viscountess while I summon some of my men to guard her, that would be helpful. You should, ah, keep her wrists bound. So she can’t cast.” He nodded and quickly left.
Aveline turned to Laica with a skeptical look on her face. “Demon examination, eh?”
Laica huddled in the corner again. “Yes. And if you could keep the lectures to yourself I would appreciate it.”
Aveline sat on the cot with a sigh. “No, I won’t lecture you, Hawke. But I’m not going to let you go, either.”
“Fair enough,” Laica mumbled and leaned her head against the stone wall.