What Could Never Be
He whirled her around the small area of the Hanged Man that served as a makeshift dance floor, taking pains to avoid the sticky residue of spilled ale and wine that had found its way onto the scarred wooden flooring. Her slightly embarrassed laughter joined with his more exuberant chortles as her wayward feet refused to follow his lead. Put twin daggers in her hand and she could complete the most difficult movements and patterns with skill and grace, yet trying to follow the simple four-step waltz made popular by the elite of Orlais was proving to be an effort in futility for the woman in his arms.
He had never enjoyed himself more, and he never wanted this night to end.
Smiling down into her upturned face, he savored the lovely sight of her rounded cheeks flushed with the deep rosy hue of excitement, her wide, green eyes sparkling with mirth as she tried desperately to master the steps of the dance. Her clear voice, lifted in laughter when he winked one of his light brown eyes at her, then tightening the hold he had around her trim waist, he moved them quickly away from the over-worked barmaid and the loaded tray of drinks she held high, precariously perched upon one raised hand.
The music swelled around them, mingling pleasantly with the sounds of voices raised in conversation or in shouts of good-natured ribbing. Pewter and ceramic tankards clanged together in drunken toasts to hearth, kin, country, and friends, while others saluted and cheered enthusiastically for the winning hand in a rousing game of Diamond Back. Suddenly she smiled at him, a smile so full of light and beauty that in that one moment the world around him ceased to exist. All sounds, all movements, all sights came to a silent end, and the only thing that mattered was the feel of her curves against his body, the scent of her warm, sultry perfume that filled his head with longing, and the knowledge that for one glorious moment her smile was for him alone.
The shrill half-angry scream and ensuing laughter of a buxom woman put an end to the magic of the moment as she, and her slightly drunk and over-heated male companion, tore past the dancing couple and trampled up the nearby stairs leading to the second floor rooms. Raising a brow, he remarked dryly to his dancing partner that if the hasty and fumbling way that the man had mounted those stairs was any indication of the way he was about to mount that woman, she was in for a great disappointment.
His boisterous laughter added to hers as she fondly chided him for his incorrigible ways, and he swung her around in a dizzyingly fast circle until she finally squealed with breathless laughter and begged him to stop. Grinning, he pulled her close to him and enfolded her into a hug that threatened to cut off her air supply, or at the very least, bruise a few ribs. When her fingers found their way to a particular ticklish spot under his arms, he quickly loosened his embrace, chuckling softly at her self-satisfied smirk.
The waltz ended and the trio of musicians started to play a jig that had the dwarves in the tavern clapping their hands and stomping their feet to the lively beat. The pair looked at each other and burst out laughing at the thought of her trying to muddle her way through the fast footwork involved in dancing a dwarven jig. The tavern door opened, letting in a cool gust of air that stirred and lifted a few her long locks that had escaped from the tie that bound her dark, wavy hair. Reaching up, he brushed the loose tendrils away from her face with his fingertips, tucking them gently behind one shapely ear.
The current that passed between them when he touched her warm skin surprised them both and his laughter faded away when he heard the soft hitch of her breath. He could sense her sudden confusion, the distrust of her own emotions. She had always viewed him as nothing more than a good friend, a companion to fight by her side as she sought to defend Kirkwall from both foreign and domestic forces that threatened to tear the city apart. He knew that she had never envisioned the possibility of something more between them…until now.
She was looking up at him, her smile unsure and fleeting. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, a familiar action that made him smile. He knew that she only did this when she was feeling uncertain about something or someone, and without any forethought, he lifted his hand to her face and caressingly rubbed his thumb across the soft fullness of her lower lip. Her green eyes widened and her lips parted, oh so invitingly, and again without thought to his actions, he leaned in and gently brushed his lips across her mouth in a tender, questioning kiss.
When she abruptly pulled away from him, his heart plummeted to the farthest depths of his bowels and fearing that he had just put an end to their friendship, he opened his mouth to apologize but something in her expression stopped him.
"Anders…"
Then suddenly she was in his arms again; he felt her arms slide around his neck, drawing his head down to her upturned face. He kissed her again, but this time he was not gentle, nor restrained. Months of longing made him rough and impatient, yet he felt her tentative acceptance and he deepened his kiss further, using both his tongue and lips. With a tortured groan, he crushed her to him, and he marveled at the passion with which she returned his fervent kisses.
He silently prayed to an absent Maker that this moment would never have to end.
"Marissa…" He whispered her name against her mouth and he felt her body tremble in his arms. He was vaguely aware of the other couples that were dancing around them as he and Hawke stood together, locked in a sweet embrace. He could hear others around them, shouting ribald comments, laughing and cheering the two of them on, but it was if he heard their voices from a great distance, so lost was he in his desire for her.
Once again, he felt his stomach drop and his heart sank when she abruptly pulled away from his embrace, her bosom heaving, her charming face flushed as she sought to catch her breath. He took a step towards her but immediately stopped when she violently shook her head at him. "Hawke? Please, Marissa…" She shook her head again and he dropped the hand that had been reaching out to her.
"I'm sorry Anders…forgive me. I should never have… this should never have happened."
He eyes pleaded with her, confused and hurt, but he did not say a word. He just stared at her as his heart slowly splintered into a million pieces. He felt a rush of cold air on his back, and her expression changed as she gazed over his shoulder, looking past him at something or someone. He knew that look, the one he now saw in her deep, green eyes and written across her face. The same love-stricken look had stared back at him from his mirror in the clinic for the past year or more, and in seeing that same look reflected in her eyes now, he knew in an instant that there could never have been anything more between he and Hawke other than friendship.
Sensitive to the power of lyrium -as most mages were- he felt the subtle change in the air around him. "So, it's the elf after all." Smiling at her through his pain, he waited for her to look at him again. When her eyes met his, he could see her regret and guilt. "It's alright, Marissa. I understand." He understood, but it did nothing to lesson his pain.
He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in the scent of her hair, when leaning close, she placed a kiss upon his cheek. He felt as if she was saying goodbye and his throat tightened up until he could scarcely breathe.
"I'm sorry Anders," she whispered in his ear, "Perhaps if things had been different… If we were different people…"
But they weren't different people; they were who the Maker had made them to be, how circumstances had molded them, and neither one could ever change the path they were destined to walk upon. Opening his eyes, he gave her a sad, fleeting smile but remained silent, locked in his awful pain.
When she finally turned to walk away, he quickly reached out and caught her hand in his. Lifting it to his lips, he placed a small kiss on the back of her hand. "Thank you for all the dances…and for a night I will always remember." He returned her smile and watched heartbroken as she crossed the floor to meet the one that she truly loved.
Standing amidst the dancing couples, he watched as Fenris greeted her warmly then leaned down and spoke into her ear. Looking up at the elf, she answered him with a smile and a look that revealed the depths of her feelings for the elf, and then they moved to the table across the other side of the large room where Varric and Aveline were sitting.
He observed the pair for a few minutes longer, prolonging his torture, before gathering his belongings from the bench by the wall. He walked with slow, heavy footsteps to the tavern's doorway, wishing only to escape from the sound of her happy laughter and the memory of her kiss. Turning around for one last look at Hawke, he gave a small sad smile. Turning back again, he opened the door and walked out of the tavern, alone into the cold, dark night, and he knew that nothing would ever be the same again.