The First's Sister

A/N I may have broken some of my own rules here. I dislike switching between characters, particularly within the same chapter but I really wanted to be able to explore Merrill and Hawke's relationship and it would have just been weird to have tried to do that from Lyan's POV. There are just some things that I sister should just not see.

 

I am going to take this opportunity to apologise for the delay in the update but Skyrim came out. You all play RPG's you understand.

 

Final note goes out to Snowfire 'I would love a Beta all the gods know that I need one, do you know anyone who is interested?' My email address is my hotmail address which is in my profile.

 

Anyway on with the show. Please enjoy the read and review!

 

Chapter 3

Warden's POV

 

Hours later I drag my warn and tiered body through the doorway into our lodgings, rolling my shoulders to try and work out the stiffness, which comes hand in hand with a week of inactivity. The door shuts with a quiet click behind me and the lock slides into place, only moments before Leliana embraces me from behind, her hands sliding over the small incline of my hip to rest against my belly. Her lips find the column of my neck, then her breath glides sensuously along my sensitive ear as she speaks. “I'm so proud of you.”

 

My eyes slide closed and a pleasant shiver runs the length of my spine. “What's that for?”

 

“Well, there was a bar.” She starts, placing those talented lips against the hollow behind my ear, breathing through her nose, forcing her breath to cascade across my skin. “Alcohol.” Her fingers bunch in my shirt pulling the hem from the waist of my leather trousers. “A room full of humans, in various stages of intoxication and you managed to only get into one fight.” The tips of her fingers dip under my shirt to run lightly across my bare flesh. “You're beginning to mellow.”

 

I smile at both her touch and lightly teasing voice. “Is that your way of telling me I’m getting old?” I ask, tilting my head to the side as she trials light kisses to the crock of my neck. She makes a small noise of agreement in the back of her throat and her nimble fingers pull at the knot in the lases for my trousers. Not quite ready to give into her brazen subduction just yet I pull her fingers from their task and twist myself out of her embrace. “You think I’m getting old?”

 

Her hands fall to her side and I run my gaze up to her smirking features. “We are all advancing in years mon cher.” She says advancing on me a step.

 

I take a step back and hold out my hands in a way that I hope will stop the advancing panther I now find in the small room with me. “Oh no. Those fancy Orlesian words are not going to work this time.”

 

She raises a single eyebrow at me, her eyes beginning to twinkle with mischief. “Oh vraiment? Nous devrons voir juste de cela.”

 

The silky words wash over me, I may know little more than how to curse in Orlesian but the mysterious language, even after all of these years puts the hairs along the back of my neck on end with excitement. “You shouldn't tempt an old shrew in such a manor.”

 

She takes another step towards me, reaching out to lase her fingers with mine to stop any further retreat. “If you would stop resisting, I would not feel the need to seduce you.”

 

“Good point.” I say as she pulls my closer. Her free hand lands on my hip, lightly guiding them to press against her own.

 

Leaning down she presses her lips against mine, the sharp tip of her tongue, instantly pressing against my lower lip. On instinct my mouth falls open to accept the intrusive organ and a deep moan rumbles at the back of my throat. She guides my hand to rest against her side before threading her fingers through my hair, brushing the tip of my ear as she passes, her palm presses against the back of my head drawing me in and closer to her intoxicating sent.

 

She pulls back, her breath heaving and her blue eyes darkened with lust run along my features. Her hands to my displeasure, leave my body and reach up to her shoulder to unbuckled her light armour. “We have been aboard a vessel for over a week. Seven passes of the sun. Aboard which, I have little chance of your affections.” The buckle comes lose and her dexterous fingers pass to there other side. “Will you really deny me this night?” The second buckle loosens and the chest plate falls to the floor, pooling at her feet. Only the long strips of cotton wound around her breasts and her underclothes remain.

 

My tongue runs out along my parched lips. Already we both know that she will have her way. How is any warm blooded creature to deny such a beautiful woman , in such a state of undress, anything that she would desire? “Well.” I say, lowering my gaze and giving my full attention to the knot in the martial, which is keeping her skin from my gaze. I bring my thin fingers up to work it open having to resist the temptation to tear it to pieces. “When you put it like that.” Swiftly I have the martial untied and slowly unravel it around her body, revealing her scared skin to my eyes, inch by agonising inch. “How can I possibly refuse?”

 

During the long nights as we fought the blight, finding comfort in each other arms. The darkness of the wilderness and the thick canopy of our tent hid her body from my view. To this day I thank the Creators for that. Had I been permitted to lay eyes on the mangled flesh covering her torso before I has fallen so deeply in love with the woman before me I am unsure if I would have been able to hide my disgust. I may never have felt the simple joy of waking up surrounded in her warmth, nor reaped the benefits of her ferociously protective nature.

 

During the time she spent imprisoned in Orals almost every inch of her skin had been burned, slashed or whipped, the scars left behind have no distinguishable pattern, if you are to exclude the word 'Traître' meticulously caved into the flesh at her hip. I had felt them many times beneath my touch and she had told me of the torture she endured at the hands of her guards. Though nothing could have prepared me for the sight of them that first time in the low, flickering candlelight at Redcliff, as she hesitantly bared her skin to my gaze.

 

Since then I have spent many nights tracing those old wounds. Learning their story's as and when she is willing to tell them, slowly finding that many of her wounds run far deeper than mere flesh. I have sworn many times to every God I could call on by name, that in either this life or the next, I will have my pound of flesh for every moment of pain my beloved endured at the hands of her kinsmen.

 

“You are completely overdressed for the occasion.” Leliana's voice rings through my ears dragging me from my murderous inner musings and into the present. The material around her torso drops to the floor at her feet and I drag my eyes upwards to meet hers, only to find her smiling. I feel her fingers tugging the lases at the neck of my shirt and lift my arms so she is able to completely remove it.

 

In mere moments her practised fingers have me completely disrobed. Using her confident steps and the mischievous gleam in her eyes she forces me to retreat backwards until the backs of my knees press against the side of the straw mattress. She leans down to cover our distance in hight, pressing her lips tightly against mine, her arms snaking their way around my hips.

 

When she releases me from our kiss my breath is already shaky and ragged, the almost dangerous smile on her face doing nothing to help control my erratic heartbeat. She leans down again, veering her head off to the side before she can brush against my lips, whispering against my ear. “C'est beaucoup mieu.”

 

The exotic sound of her words flow over me as she knew they would, forcing a shiver down my spine and a groan from my throat. “That's just cheating.”

 

“I know.” She says resting her fingertips against my breastbone and pushing me backwards onto the bed. She soon follows me crawling over my prone body to nip and kiss along my throat.

 

Sometimes. Coming out on top isn't everything.

 

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Hawks POV

 

Walking slowly down the streets of Lowtown at night is never a very safe thing to do. With so many blind corners and dark allies you never know what might come out at you. When you add a very animated Elf, who is perpetually oblivious to the dangers around her, into the equation your life expectancy sinks like a stone in the lake.

 

I'm a soldier and I've lived in Kirkwall for long enough to know that her fast, almost incomprehensible speech makes her stand out like a beacon against the quiet night. Calling out to all the lowlifes this city has to offer, to come and slit the throats of the two woman walking down the darkened streets without enough sense to pay attention to their surroundings.

 

When all I do is smile and nod in her direction. Ignoring my training and betraying my instincts. That's when I know how deeply I have fallen for the tiny woman walking next to me with her small hand engulfed in my plated armour. I've never seen her so exited. So happy. Nothing in me has the strength to try and stop the ramblings, that bring her so much pleasure.

 

Instead I turn my eyes to the street, hoping to visibly identify any threats before they can pose a problem.

 

“... Do you not think Ma Vhenan?” I am only half listening to Merrill's insistent chatter so I am unable to stop myself tuning my head to her sharply, with a shocked look on my face when I hear this term of endearment she has adopted for me.

 

For a few moments I feel like a fish out of water, going to speak only to stop myself before I can draw sufficient breath. “Urm...” I start, chancing a short glance in her direction, hopning that just maybe she might give some visual indication as to how she wants me to respond. Upon receiving none I opt for the first thing that comes to mind. “Yes?” I had intended for my words to sound like a response not a question and failed miserable.

 

“You're not listening are you?” She says in a lightly teasing manor.

 

“No.” I say, after a long pause. Shooting my gaze behind us before removing my attention from our surroundings for a moment. “I'm sorry Merrill. I'm just...”

 

She waves a hand in dismissal. “I know. I'm rambling again aren't I?”

 

“A little.” I say, hearing the smile in my voice. She lapses into silence, appearing to be completely unaware of how endearing her rambling can be. I return my attention of our surroundings, feeling that I may have given the thugs of Kirkwall more that enough opportunity to jump me for one night.

 

I know that it will not be long before she begins to speak again. She appears to be completely unable to keep a thought in her head without voicing it much of the time. Over the past weeks, since she came to my estate I have often wondered if it had been her absolute honesty that draws me to her, after a lifetime of lies, secrets and hiding from the Templars. It's refreshing to say the least.

 

Her hand begins to fidget in mine, telling me that she is stopping herself from speaking and is having a hard time accomplishing it. It is a pattern we have fallen into, my waiting for her to tell me what is on her mind and her prying my thoughts from me with gentle prodding. “When will you ask me?”

 

Another part of this Elven beauty I am begging to get used to. Even though I know the exact moment she sill strike up a conversation I am always surprised by what she says. “Ask you what?”

 

Her footing changes direction, her muscle memory taking her back to the Alienage and I have to tighten my grip on her tiny hand to lead her in the direction of high town. We are both well used to the movement and after a moment of confusion she realises I am leading her to her home and and this occasion does not feel the need to comment. “Why I never mention Lyan.”

 

“Oh that.” I say climbing the stone steps and feeling my stance relax slightly as we enter the relative safety of Hightown. “I figured you'd tell me when you were ready.”

 

I don't have to look round to know her eyes are on me. Studying me in that intense way she does whenever she doesn’t understand my actions. “But...” she says hesitantly and the tone of her voice makes me turn to look at her. “You do want to know?”

 

“Of course I do.” I pass her hand from one of my palms to the other, drawing her tightly against my breastplate so I am able to rest my arm across her shoulders. “She was once a very big aspect of your life. It's curious that you didn't bring her up but I’m sure you had good reason.”

 

“You are crazy sometimes Hawke.” She says.

 

“I know.” Reluctantly I extract myself from our awkward embrace so reach into my pouch for the key to the door, as we begin to approach the estate.

 

Over the last few feet to the front door she falls back into silence, her face thoughtful as we climb the four stone steps and I push the key into the lock. “It's just...” I turn as she pauses ,watching as she tries to order the words in her mind. It is a rare moment when my little elf takes a moment to think about what she wants to say and I immediately leap to the conclusion that it is important to her. So my hand stills on the iron key and I give her my full attention. “I didn't want you to think I was broken.”

 

“Broken?” I feel my forehead crease in confusion. Giving myself pause to mull over the word. I turn the key in the lock and push the door open. Holding it wide to grant her entrance before me, her head turning to watch my reaction as she passes me by. After stepping through the threshold and closing the door behind us I continue. “Do you think you're broken?”

 

Her eyes drop to the floor and her hand comes up to push her short hair behind her pointed ear. “The keeper once said. When Lyan left, that it broke me, in some ways. I don't think I ever fully understood what she meant.”

 

My eyebrow raises of it's own violation. “The more I hear about this keeper of yours the less I like her.” My gaze drops to my steel gauntlets and I attempt to pull the buckles lose, the heavy plating around my fingers as always proving to be a nuisance in the task. Merrill's hands very quickly cover mine to move them out of the way and removing my distraction in the process.

 

More years ago than I care to remember in the war with Orlais I saw men truly broken by what they had seen or endured. Driven mad by the organised chaos of war. “Broken isn't the word I would use. Lonely maybe but not broken.”

 

With her bare hands she is able to unfasten my gauntlets and pulls from my hands before I am finished, placing them neatly on the table by the door. “How is that I person can be broken?”

 

One side of my mouth lifts in a better sweet smile, lost for only a moment in the screams and useless ramblings of those men. “Pray to your Creators that you never find out.”

 

Just as she is opening her mouth to speak a third voice enters the conversation. “Good evening Messere. I trust all is well.”

 

“Bodahn, you should be in bed.” I chastise lightly, happy that I no longer have to follow this line of questioning, some memories are just better left buried.

 

“Nonsense.” He says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “What if you or Miss Merrill had returned hungry?”

 

His constant attentiveness is unsettling at best. I am used to being independent and I would much prefer if he were to spend more time attending to Mother's needs than my own. “I've cooked for myself for over twenty five summers. One more night wont hurt.”

 

His moustache twitches in amusement. “That as may be but has our young miss here ever sampled your cooking?”

 

I try my best to look dangerous, which is difficult with a smile plastered across my face. “Good night Bodahn.”

 

He has already begun climbing the staircase as he calls back. “Good night Messere.”

 

I shake my head at the small cheeky dwarf and wonder not for the first time, why I let him get away with such comments. A long yawn at my side makes me forget all about my manservant's behaviour and my eyes are drawn to the tiered eyes of my beloved elf. “I think it's time you were in bed too.” I say gently.

 

“I think you might be right. It's been a long day.” Her eyes half closed turn towards me. “Will you be long?”

 

“I hope not.” I reply drawing her closer to place a lingering kiss against her forehead and turning her in the direction of the stairs.

 

I catch myself watching her as she ascends the stairs and shake the less than pure thoughts from my mind. After reminding myself that Merrill is tiered I quickly leave the foyer and escape into the seclusion of the drawing room before my over active libido can dictate my actions.