Prompt is at the bottom, in case you want to read without being completely spoiled as to what's going to happen. ;)
The staccato click of purposeful strides echoed across the Hightown pavement, each step bringing Carver closer to his sister's home. The beautiful palette of colors from the setting sun painting the sky, and the gentle breeze from the sea didn't even register to the youngest surviving Hawke.
People hurried to step out of the way of the big man, the metallic clanking of his templar armor and the greatsword strapped to his back not half as intimidating as his glowering stare.
Carver was more than angry. He felt beyond mere anger and so far off into raw fury, he didn't know if he would ever again be able to see the world in any color but red.
He had forced himself to look at the body; that horribly mutilated husk. It was impossible to call it his mother, even in his mind. That thing was the product of magic. Foul, evil magic, that shouldn't be allowed to exist. It was the most painful example he could have imagined as to why mages needed to be watched. Why magic was a curse.
The Knight-Captain had tried to spare him the horror, but he didn't want to be coddled. He had needed to know how his mother had died. How badly his sister had failed at her most important task.
His jaw clenched tightly, the pit of his stomach a boiling morass of emotional sick and disgust. He pushed open the door of the estate, not bothering to knock.
Bodahn came trundling up, offering condolences, his subdued manner taking on a shade of alarm when he saw Carver's face.
"Is she here?" His voice lashed like a whip.
The dwarf nodded, barely protesting when Carver ordered him to take Sandal and leave for the evening. He stood tensely, clenching and unclenching his fists until both dwarves had departed, then locked the front door of the estate, not certain as to why, only knowing he would tolerate no interruptions for this confrontation.
He stopped in the outer entryway long enough to shed his gloves. If he was going to throttle his sister, he bloody well wanted to do it with his bare hands. To feel her hot skin under his punishing palms.
He searched her bed chamber first, but not finding her there, jogged back down the steps. Pushing open the door to the study, he found her sitting passively in a chair, staring into the glowing embers of a dying fire, a book forgotten on her lap.
"Cowering here in defeat, sister," he said scathingly, "or are you just too afraid of your own brother?"
She barely glanced at him from the corner of her eye before her gaze skittered back to the grate of the fireplace.
"Carver," she murmured in a quiet sigh.
He took several steps forward until he stood looking down on her, his body mirroring his attitude, his face twisted with disgust and accusation.
"You sent Gamlen to tell me. Fucking Gamlen." He laughed harshly and jerked her to her feet, her calm demeanor grating on him. His fingers dug into her arms, covered by the silken sleeves of the finery of a noblewoman. The very clothing she wore a declaration of smug superiority that set his teeth on edge.
"Champion of Kirkwall, are you? I don't see a champion." He shook her to emphasize his words, grimly pleased at the anger sparking in her eyes. "I see a coward who couldn't face me."
"You don't know what you're talking about, Carver," she said harshly, "as usual." She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip to hold her in place. Marian was no match for his strength, she never had been. Only magic had ever made her his better.
The blue of her eyes turned cold and harsh. "I did everything I could to save her. What more do you want from me?" Her voice rose with every word until she was shouting in his face.
They stood glaring in a silent battle of wills, their harsh breaths meeting in the space between them. It was her next words spoken so quietly, that hit him harder than her strongest punch ever could.
"You didn't save her either. I'm not the only one at fault."
It was a truth he had tried so hard to push away, the possibility that he had failed his mother just as much. The feeling was bitter and ugly and it made him weak. He shut off the snaking tendrils of guilt before it could rob him of his rage. A rage he had been saving for her.
His lifelong torment.
He spun and slammed her bodily into the bookcase behind him, several leather bound tomes of magical theory spilling across the floor from the impact, her choked cry of pain betraying her surprise at his actions.
His nostrils flared as he caged her in, his armor-clad body pressing against her vulnerable curves. Mages were weak and easy to kill once you removed their greatest weapon. He leaned more heavily against her, his lips smirking in resentful pleasure when she winced.
"It was your fault, Mari, I want you to admit it. Own up to something for once in your Maker cursed life!"
She struggled feebly in furious silence, so he rested his full weight against her, determined to break her. Determined to win against her at long last.
He had only a second to notice the rising pulse of magic in the air that tugged insistently at his templar senses before he flew across the room, thrown violently by a force push; Marian's favored school of magic.
He slammed against a low table and hit his head. Struggling to his feet, his eyes shot daggers at his sibling when he tasted a metallic tang in his mouth. He ran his tongue along the cut on the inside of his cheek, then spat blood on the floor. Marian took a step toward him, her hand outstretched and eyes repentant.
She barely got two words out before Craver rushed her, tackling her to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Twisting like a scalded cat, she fought against him, scratching at his face and calling up another spell, but he was ready for her this time.
He silenced her easily, the fade-thickened air cooling around him, then he drained her mana completely, laughing at her shocked face. His templar abilities turned her into a weak woman, and he reveled in it.
Sagging beneath him from the power of his smite she lay stunned and helpless, unable to fight, unable to move. He stood, laying aside his sword and beginning to remove pieces of his armor, his long hidden desires and endlessly repressed yearning teasing his mind with a myriad of possibilities.
His whole life had revolved around his older sister. Her talents always casting him into her shadow and dictating what his duty should be and how he should behave, but not now. Not anymore. This was a time of reckoning.
Tonight, she would pay him back for all of it; the insecurity he suffered, the rages and misery he endured, the endless years of torment while he longed for things he could never have. Marian was going to answer for it, whether she wanted to or not.
Stripped down to nothing but his breeches, he stalked over to her, taking satisfaction from the fear in her eyes when she looked up at him. He pulled her to her feet, swinging her up into his arms, her weight hardly more noticeable than his greatsword.
He mounted the steps two at a time and entered her bedroom, slamming the door with his foot. He stopped next to her bed, then tossed her down, grabbing her ankle and dragging her back when she tried to crawl away.
He fisted a handful of hair at the back of her head and yanked, forcing her to look at him. She rose to her knees to lessen the pressure on her scalp, her hands flying up to brace herself on his arm.
"Can you even begin to understand how you have tormented me over the years? How much you made me suffer."
She tried to shake her head, but his grip was too tight. "Carver, you're behaving irrationally. We just need to talk about-"
"Shut up!" He cut her off harshly, leaning down until their noses were nearly touching. "This is me, Mari. I'm immune to your silver tongue, just like I'm immune to your magic now."
He lowered his head and bit into the muscle of her neck, sucking the skin there and feeling deeply satisfied at her shocked gasp. He pulled harder on her hair, stilling her before she could try to fight him again.
Leaning back, he looked into her wide eyes, hiding nothing of what he felt. Unveiling all the desire and repressed longing to her he had had to swallow over the years, like vile poison tainting his soul. The desire for her. He smiled, a cold twisting of his lips when he saw the realization creep across her face. He didn't care that he didn't have her approval- he didn't need it.
His free arm circled her waist, bringing her against his bare chest, and she still stared at him, frozen in shock. He shifted his grip in her hair, his eyes darkly searching her face.
"I'm not under your power anymore, sister. But tonight, you will learn what it means to be under mine."
Carver crushed his lips to hers, stifling her whimpering cry and tightening his arm against her. Her lips were soft, but unyielding as she stared at him defiantly. He nipped her lip sharply in punishment, and she began to struggle in earnest.
He laughed at her feeble attempts to dislodge him and pushed her down, pinning her to the bed and lazily trapping her arms above her head so he could explore unimpeded. He touched one long leg in fascination, pushing her robe further up, the softness of her skin causing his hardened cock to stiffen further.
"You don't want to do this, Carver. Just go now and I will never say another word about this. We'll never mention it. It never happened." Her voice shook on her final words when his thumb grazed against the smalls covering her sex.
He looked up at her with a raised brow, noting her flushed cheeks and parted lips. Pushing aside her robe, he smirked to see she wore no breast binding but was bare, her dusky, stiffened nipples practically begging to be sucked.
"It's too late to pretend anymore, Mari. Much too late."
He rubbed his stubbled cheek against her breast before darting his tongue out to taste her, licking against her sensitive nipple with broad, languid strokes. She bucked against him wildly, trying to stop him, but he bit down on her nipple until she stopped from the pain of it, then he laved the bruised flesh with teasing flicks and gentle sucks.
He released her arms to pull off her robe completely and she seized the chance to shove him off, but only ended up tumbling onto the floor with him on top of her again. He ripped her smalls from her angrily, the rending fabric digging into her before it gave way.
She tried to summon a spell, wisps of mana having returned, but he growled and drained her again. Carver watched her close her eyes and turn her face away in defeat. He returned to her breasts, lapping and suckling, stifling a pleasured groan as she involuntarily arched against him.
When he trailed his fingers through the folds of her sex and found her dripping wet, he scoffed mockingly. "Don't even try to pretend you don't want this, Mari. Your body isn't the liar you are."
He looked up and stared into her eyes, dark red staining her cheeks in shame. When she spoke, it was the firm, commanding tone she used in battle. "Let go of me, Carver."
He shook his head and started to deny her, but she spoke first, her eyes burning with intensity. "I don't want to get away, I want to touch you. Release my hands so I can."
Watching her face for an answer to his desire, he rubbed a finger against her clit, considering. She shuddered and lifted her hips against him, encouraging his touch. Cautiously, he loosened his grip on her wrists, and her hands flew to his face, pulling him to her for a hungry kiss.
He suckled her tongue and she licked at him greedily, her mouth tasting of wine and a sweetness he couldn't define, sending a thrill of exultation through him that she wanted him in the same wrong way. Her hands mapped his bare chest, sliding over skin and pressing firmly against muscle. She dug her nails into his back, kissing him wildly.
She tried to flip him onto his back and take over, but he pushed her shoulder down into the floor. "No," he said emphatically, with eyes full of warning, "you do as I say, Mari. You aren't in charge now." Her mouth tightened in annoyance, but she kept silent.
He wrestled off his remaining clothing and freed her from her robe, pleasured groans rising between them when they lay skin to naked skin. She pushed against him again, trying to reverse their positions and his annoyance took over.
He flipped her over onto her hands and knees, pushing her head down and slapping her ass sharply when she resisted, the loud crack ringing through the room and pinking the pale skin of her bottom. She looked back at him and sucked in a surprised breath at his implacable display of dominance.
He rubbed the head of his shaft against her wetness teasingly, enjoying the sound of her frustrated whimpering. When it was more than he could take, he plunged his cock into her, hilting himself fully in her feminine sheathe, grunting when she gripped him so strongly.
Digging his fingers into her hips bruisingly, he took a moment to breathe, adjusting to the sensation of being inside her at long last. Something he never thought to experience except in his own fantasies, but the reality was…
So wet. So tight. Burning up with heat.
Leaning over her, he covered her smaller body with his larger frame. She pushed back against him eagerly, seeking friction. He pulled her up so she was resting on hands and knees, rewarding her compliance by pinching her nipple gently, then trailing his fingers into her sopping wetness to stroke her pearl.
He drew back, then plunged in again sharply, as deep as he could bury himself inside her, their hushed moans growing steadily louder as his hips snapped against hers with increasing speed.
With every stroke inside her, every time she clenched around him with her inner muscles in wordless acceptance, a little more of his rage bled away. He might live to hate her, but he could never deny he loved her just as much. She was all that was left to him of his family, all that remained, and he had always loved her best.
He rested his head against her back, pulling out of the haven of her body, and she murmured in protest. Standing, he looked down on her, bared to his gaze and dripping her desire like a wanton, stirring his blood anew. She looked up at him with furrowed brow, struggling to read the strange expression on his face.
He extended a hand and she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Leading her to the bed, he urged her to recline. Head falling back against the pillow, she moaned when Carver came to rest between her thighs and lowered his dark head to devour her sex with eager lips and tongue.
He lost himself in her taste, quickly growing addicted to each sigh and moan. Greedily, he did all he could to wring more from her, taking her to the very edge then bringing her back down, finally plunging two fingers inside her pulsing core to feel her coming from his efforts with his name spilling from her lips. Satisfied he had given her pleasure to make up for the pain he had caused, he kissed the inside of her thigh.
Crawling up her body, he gave her no time to recover before he entered her again, lifting her ass in his hands to tilt her hips, making her gasp when his cock unerringly stroked that special spot inside of her.
She wrapped her legs around him, lifting her hips to meet him, urging him to take her harder. He stared into her flushed face, watching her closely with hooded eyes, keeping his own pleasure at a distance until she shattered again spasming around his cock.
He buried his face against her neck, licking at the salty sweat there as he thrust into her again and again, his blood singing through his veins that this was good, this was right, finally reaching his own orgasm in a blinding wave of white hot ecstasy, spilling his seed within her silken depths.
Dropping his head to rest against her shoulder, he recovered his breath and his senses. Marian stroked gentle fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, poignantly reminding him of when he was a child, and she cared for him when he was sick. He sought her lips, not ready to face reality, just wanting to stay with her, to be in her, for as long as possible.
He opened his eyes and saw she was crying, streams of tears dripping into her ears and down her neck. Remorse twisted in his gut to see her hurting and vulnerable, when she was usually so strong. Turning onto his side, he pulled her tight against him, the muscles in his arms bunching around her when she sobbed.
"I'm s-s-sorry I failed. Forgive me, b-brother."
He shushed her, feeling awkward, wanting to give her comfort but uncertain how to go about it.
"You were right, Mari. We are both at fault." He ran his fingers through her hair and across her back, feeling his resolve building. "You are all I have left now, I won't make the mistake of staying away from you again. We're going to make some changes."
She looked up, his words hanging between them and startling her into silence. For long moments they stared at each other, his arms still locked tightly around her in a possessive embrace, the sweat of their lovemaking still dewing across their skin.
Something dark and new was rising like a phoenix from the ashes of their suffering and grief, and it had been many years in the making. He couldn't define what it was, but he could feel it pulsing just beneath the surface in his mind.
His entire world was narrowing to focus on Mari, his sister, his future, and now his lover. He knew with absolute certainty that this wouldn't be the only time, but only the first of many.
Nothing between them would ever be the same again. Carver wondered whether it would prove to be a blessing or a curse.
As tension between Templar and Mage intensifies so does the relationship between the two Hawke siblings.
Still hurt from the brutal murder of his mother at the hands of a mage, and still feeling out shined by his "champion" sister, Carver proceeds to show his older sibling just what he's learned while with the Templars.
The fight quickly gets out of hand- from screaming and harsh words, to fist and fire balls, and finally to rough, angry sex on the floor of the family estate.
Carver forcing Marian at first but she eventually getting into and giving as good as she gets.