Part III - Closure
Beth reined in her horse in the courtyard of the small village inn, looking back over her shoulder to see Anders catching up to her. He looked exhausted, but he had kept up well, all things considered.
The ride from Kirkwall hadn't been a long one, but the roads were bad, and they had had to fend off bandits more than once. Luckily, the training with the fighter mages at the Keep had left her more than able to deal with that riffraff on her own.
She dismounted and looked around her. Stormhaven was hardly more than a small fishing village, but in the evening sun it looked neat and better cared for than most places in these troubled times. When her gaze swept out to sea, she uttered a small cry of happy surprise. "What is it?" Anders had gotten off his horse and stepped up close to her, resting his hand on her slender shoulder.
"Look, out there!" she said. "That ship looks familiar. If I'm not completely mistaken, it's the Hawk's Wing."
Anders face brightened. "Isabela's ship!" he stated.
"Named for my lovely sister who financed it," Bethany added with a grin. "Well, if Isabela's here, we're sure to find her at the tavern."
And sure enough, when they entered the small smoky room, they could hear a passionate argument going on at a card table in the corner. Behind the table, her back to the wall, they could see Isabela, long dark curls framing her face, which was a picture of innocence, protesting loudly that she wouldn't even know how to cheat at cards.
And to her right, there was the unmistakable lithe figure of Zevran Arainai, assassin extraordinaire, rogue and newly-minted pirate. His long blonde hair, as carefully braided as ever, certainly fit the part, as did the leather pants, the ruffled white shirt and the black vest.
As for Isabela, she was wearing her usual tight-fitting outfit that revealed more than it hid. When she saw the arrivals, her eyes widened. "Gentlemen, you'll have to excuse me!" she exclaimed. "I have other matters to attend to, surely you'll understand."
"Not so fast", grumbled one of the merchants at the table, whom she had no doubt relieved of several gold coins, and grabbed hold of her wrist. That, however, turned out to be a mistake.
Beth didn't even see the lightning-speed movements of the two rogues, but both merchants suddenly found themselves at the taverns' doorstep, clutching painful bruises. Luckily, they were smart enough to let it go at that and disappeared out into the dusk, muttering angrily.
"Beth!", Isabela cried out and embraced the young warden. "And Anders," as she took a closer look at him, a relieved smile stole over her face. "Anders! You really did it?"
"Yes", he replied quietly as Zevran walked up, and after careful scrutiny of his face, took his hand and pressed it forcefully.
"Is there somewhere private we can talk?" Bethany asked.
"We share a room upstairs," Isabela replied. "Let's go there."
When they had all settled down in the small room, Bethany looked at both of them, smiling. "Well, Zev, so you're a pirate now?" she asked playfully.
"Weelll," his Antivan accent was more pronounced than ever, "more of an assassin-at-sea, really, to tell the truth. But our lovely Bella lets me travel with her and I enjoy her company and her support."
Anders looked up. "So are you two...?"
"Well, not exclusively, you know," Zevran replied with a knowing wink. "So if you feel like company tonight, either of you..."
"... then we'll be perfectly happy to provide that ourselves, thank you, Zevran," Beth cut in firmly.
"Suit yourself," Zevran pouted. "Though I seem to recall a time when our dear Anders was a lot more... adventurous, no?"
Isabela chuckled. "Well, well, times change... But let's get to the important bit - what happened with Anders?"
The mage gave her a tired look. "Justice is gone," he answered. "The ritual was a... success, I guess. But, as you can see, it wasn't easy. It's a long story."
Isabela took a closer look at him. He certainly looked tired and seemed to have aged, but then she never really had given a thought to how old he was. Now his face was lined, but his eyes had the warm amber shine she remembered from back when she had first met him with the Warden, and he no longer seemed as driven as he used to be.
"Will you ride out to the estate with us tomorrow?" Bethany asked anxiously. "I'm eager to tell Cait, and of course to see my little niece."
"Why not?" Isabela shrugged. "It's not as if we can set sail, as long as the sea is becalmed. And I miss our dear Hawke."
When they arrived at the manor late the next morning, though, neither Fenris nor Caitlin were there, as they had gone out hunting. Bethany took a quick look at Anders. He looked pale and worn. "I have an idea," she suggested. "Why don't you and Zevran stay here and rest, while we girls ride out to the lodge to fetch the happy couple?" Anders agreed gratefully, and Zevran was only too pleased to renew his acquaintance with Orana, the pretty Elven housekeeper. So Beth and Isabela got back on horseback and set off towards the lodge.
Fenris and Caitlin had left the house early that morning and gone out to the lodge. They had a good hunt, and by late morning they already had two deer to show for their efforts, as well as a huge boar that had attacked Fenris, when he was gutting one of the deer. He had single-handedly taken the huge beast down with his hunter's axe, and Caitlin smiled indulgently, when she saw the proud swagger in his step as they returned to the lodge. "How did you do that? I've never seen a stroke like this?" she asked. It was a hot summer day and they were both dusty and sweaty.
"Easy," he answered, leading her over to their practice courtyard, pulling her close in front of him, and putting his axe in her hand. "See?" he demonstrated the manoeuvre for her, never letting go of her body.
"Show me again", she murmured, her lips softly brushing his throat, not wanting him to let go of her so soon.
He smiled a wicked little grin and did as she had asked, this time pulling her even closer. She could feel his strong hands on her waist, his long silver blonde hair tickling her neck, his growing arousal at the small of her back. With a small moan, she ground her hips against him. He swiftly turned her to face him, kissing her hard. Before she knew it, they both went down to the ground, kissing and touching, frantically trying to unlace each other's clothing. He had already thrown off his tunic and had half pulled her shirt up over her head, when they heard hoofbeats on the road. Quickly Caitlin jumped up and smoothed down her clothes while looking up at their unexpected visitors.
Isabela galloped in and took in the scene with a single glance. "Naughty, naughty," she drawled. "Don't you two have a home to go to?"
Caitlin shrugged, slightly annoyed, but when she saw the second rider she forgot all about it and rushed into her sister's embrace. "Beth!" she exclaimed. "Is everything alright? Is Anders...?"
Bethany looked at her with a slightly teary smile. "He's fine, Cait, he's resting at the manor. We thought he wouldn't make it, he was in a coma for more than three weeks, but yes, he pulled through."
"Thank the maker!" Caitlin sighed with relief. "And you, Isabela, what brings you here?" She turned to the pirate.
Bethany let go of her sister and walked over to greet Fenris. He was still lying on his back in the dust, propped up on his elbows, and Bethany had to suppress a gasp. Frankly, she'd never understood, what her sister saw in the broody elf, but when she looked at him now, she had to make a rapid adjustment to her opinion.
Fenris' bare upper torso was caked with dust, but she could easily make out his perfectly sculpted muscles and the intricate swirl of his lyrium tattoos. His breeches were partially unlaced, exposing his flat belly and the exquisite outline of his hipbones to her sight. Further below she could make out a sizable bulge before she quickly tore her eyes away and looked back up to his face with a slight blush. He returned her gaze with an amused confidence, obviously reading her thoughts easily. She blushed again, feeling like a stupid little girl.
Suddenly he smiled and in one fluid graceful motion jumped to his feet. "I'm sorry, Bethany, I'm rather a mess!" he said in a husky, deep voice. Without further ado, he walked over to the water trough, filled a bucket with icy-cold water and poured it swiftly over his head and body.
"Maker's mercy!" Bethany muttered softly as she heard Isabela behind her draw in a sharp breath. When he turned around, the water glistened on his well-muscled forearms and his wide chest, running down in rivulets all over him. The wet black leather pants clung to his body, leaving little to the imagination. Bethany swallowed hard and turned back to her sister.
The expression on Caitlin's face was hard to read. She looked at her two guests with a bright smile. "You know, why don't the two of you just ride back, ask Orana to get you a bath and a snack, and rest a little - you must be tired after the long ride. We'll just clean up here and be with you in an hour or two."
"All right!" Isabela shrugged. "Suit yourself. I would certainly love a refreshing bath."
Once the two horses had disappeared around the corner, Caitlin turned to face Fenris, who was still standing near the trough. "You are evil, Fenris", she snarled at him, trying to sound angry and failing miserably.
"Who, me?" His expression was one of wide-eyed innocence. "Whatever can you mean?"
"You know precisely what I mean!" she growled. "That was quite the performance right now."
He still kept up that innocent look, though she could see he was shaking inside with mischievous laughter. "Well, I really needed to cool down after, you know..." he defended himself.
"This may have cooled you down," she replied, moving closer to him and letting her hands trace the pattern of his chest tattoo with light, dancing strokes, "but it sure as hell had the opposite effect on everyone else."
His face took on an even more mischievous expression. "Well, that is easily mended," he grinned, and before she could guess his intent, he took one step back, grabbed the bucket again, and drenched her in a flood of cold water.
She gasped for air, then screamed "Fenris, you bastard!", caught between laughter and anger, and lunged at him.
She was on him in a flash and, having the advantage of surprise, easily took him down, straddling him and pinning his arms to the floor. "Cry for mercy, Fenris, if you want me to let go of you again." She heard him laugh, a deep throaty laugh, and his eyes freely roamed over her body, her soaked clothes, the white shirt clinging to her breasts, the dark nipples visible through the thin linen, her long legs wrapped tightly around him. He was clearly enjoying the view, and she could feel him grow hard again under her.
"Not going to happen, my sweet," he teased her.
"Oh, and why not?" She pinned him down harder.
"Because," she could hear his voice grow deeper, even more seductive, "you won't be able to keep this up, my love. Not when I tell you what my hands and lips will do, once you let go of me." She felt herself go momentarily weak at his words, but was still keeping her grip firm. He went on mercilessly. "When you let go of me, my sweet Cait, I will gently, oh so gently, rub your nipples through the wet cloth, I will suck them and tease them until I can hear you whimper at me," his voice continued, and she trembled at the thought. "Then I'll tear this stupid shirt off you and kiss you, lick you all over, and..."
It was too much, the images he was conjuring up made her go hot and weak inside and she cried out in frustration "Damn it, Fenris, you win!" as she let go of his wrists and rolled off him. She heard him laugh triumphantly as he immediately proceeded to make good on his promises, leaving her gasping with desire. Then he pulled her up to her feet, kissed her long and deep and led her back toward the lodge.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Into the house! I don't want any more interruptions", he replied, dragging her after him and bolting the door from the inside, then pushing her down on their old bedstead. Their wet clothes came off in a flash and she writhed on the bed sensuously, impatiently waiting for his caresses.
But he took the time to sit back for a moment, enjoying the sight of her naked body. She had filled out a little after she had the baby, but now that she had gone back to her usual practice routine, her body was as firm and strong and supple as ever. She was so beautiful, and he wanted nothing more than to see her quiver with desire for him. He wanted her desperate for him, begging for his embrace. With a quick twist of his hand, he turned her on her stomach and began planting hot fiery kisses along her spine. She moaned and sighed happily, and he confidently continued stroking and caressing her back, her belly, her breasts, every single sensitive spot on her body, until she was flushed with desire and trembled under his every touch.
Gently, he let his hands slide between her legs, and parted her hot wet folds. She moaned as he slowly, oh so slowly entered her, first with one finger, then another, teasing her with a taste of what was to come. He heard her whimper and felt her muscles contract around his fingers, as he stroked her tantalizingly. Then, with infinite care and gentleness he let his thumb caress her hot nub, feeling her hips buckle against his touch, as she cried out. "So, who's begging for mercy now?" he whispered with a wicked smile, gently holding her down.
He expected protests, or at least a dark look, but when she looked up at him, her eyes were clouded with desire and he heard her softly moan "Fenris, please, Fen."
Her look and the sound of her voice were more than he could bear, and he realized that the time for games was over, that he wanted her just as urgently as she wanted him. Moving between her legs, he slid into her easily, marvelling at how perfectly she fitted him, and they moved together in unison. He never took his eyes off her face. Nothing excited him more than watching her expression when they made love, the abandon, the flush of lust and desire. When she finally screamed her release, he followed her over the edge almost immediately, completely overwhelmed by the way she made him feel.
Afterwards, Fenris sighed happily and settled down next to her, gently stroking her face. "You never told me where and when you got your tattoos, love," he murmured, tracing the dark red twirls over her cheekbones.
Her face darkened. "It's a stupid, silly story, really." she answered. He could see her eyes cloud over. "It was shortly after I joined the army. We were a bunch of young recruits, five of us, who became fast friends, and just a few weeks in, we all gained our first promotion. They said we were the best fighters of our units. We celebrated that night and, in a rush of drunken pride, decided to get matching tattoos. We fancied ourselves some kind of elite unit in the making." She laughed bitterly.
"What happened to them?" he inquired softly.
"Kieran and Mara didn't even survive the first battle. And the other two... died at Ostagar. I'm the only one left... So much death," she muttered, and he could see a tear running down her cheek, over the intricate lines of the tattoo.
"I'm sorry, Cait," he said quietly, and held her gently for a while.
Then he got up and moved around the lodge, quickly building a fire in the old fire-place and warming some water in a kettle over it. He threw in some of the Elven herbs Merrill had brought when she last visited, then turned around to face her. She admired the unselfconscious grace with which he moved, his naked body perfectly relaxed and at ease in her presence.
"Come, my love," he said gently, as he lifted her up from the dirty, messed-up linens, and carried her over to the fireplace, carefully setting her down on the soft rug. Then he picked up a sponge and started slowly and carefully washing her body. She luxuriated in his touch, so light, so knowing, so familiar. By the time he had finished drying her off and handed her the sponge, the dark memories had receded.
As she touched him, he leaned into her hands, enjoying every moment of her ministrations. When they were both thoroughly clean and relaxed, she put away the sponge and moved over onto his lap. He pulled her closer and started kissing her deeply, tenderly, with no rush, as if they had all the time in the world. Yet she felt herself getting more and more aroused with each kiss, and was not surprised to find him hard and ready when her hands trailed down his belly to his groin.
With a small moan, she straddled him again, moving down in an agonizingly slow motion, taking him into her completely. She heard him sigh quietly, then he began very slowly to rock her body up and down. She followed his lead, savouring every moment of feeling him deep inside her.
They didn't rush, didn't force it, but when their lust reached its peak, it hit them with the gentle force of a warm soft wave. He could hear her cry out softly, a strangled, low cry that touched him oddly. Their lips locked in a deep sweet kiss and they lost themselves to the moment, wishing it to last forever.
When they arrived back at the manor house, the afternoon sun was burning down hotly, and their guests had gathered in the relative coolness of the hall. Caitlin jumped off her horse and immediately walked up to Anders. When she looked into his face, she gave a small cry of joy and pulled him into a tender, sisterly embrace.
Fenris greeted them with a curt nod and a handshake, then strode off confidently to give orders to the servants. Caitlin sat down with Anders. "Tell me about it," she said simply, looking at him with a radiant smile that he couldn't help but reciprocate.
Then he grew serious again. "At first, it was just waiting, endless waiting. Wynne kept putting it off for months and months, saying that she needed to tweak the ritual here or there, to make sure it was as safe as it could be. When she finally agreed to try it out..." Anders swallowed hard. "The ritual was gruelling, Cait. I had to go into the Fade and slay Justice there. Wynne said, it would only work if I did it myself. It was the hardest thing I ever did. And I don't think I could have done it, if he hadn't changed so much." She saw his face flinch at the recollection of what Justice had become.
"Beth - she went in with me, she supported me and pulled me through, but then ..." he swallowed again, "... I... lost her and I couldn't find my way out. The Fade... it is like no other place, full of terrors and nightmares and echoes of past sins..." He looked up at her with his clear gaze, trying to describe the indescribable. "I... erred around for what seemed like an eternity. They told me later I was unconscious for twenty-three days; they had nearly given up on me by the time I woke up."
Caitlin looked over at Bethany, who was chatting animatedly with Bella and Zev. "That must have been torture for her," she muttered. "Oh, Anders, I can't even begin to tell you..."
"I know," he replied. "I know." And they embraced again, both realizing that they didn't have the words for what they were feeling.
In the meantime, Isabela was nudging Bethany in the ribs. "Lucky girl!", she said. "Your lover always was special, but now he has really turned back into the man he once was. Thank your stars for that mage who freed him of the spirit."
"Oh, believe me, I do," Bethany replied. "But honestly, the thing that I can't get over is the change in Fenris. What happened to the broody elf? I hardly recognized him out there."
Isabela grinned "Yes, you wouldn't have caught him behaving like that two years ago."
Zevran cut in. "Now I'm curious, eh? What happened?" When the two of them described the scene out at the lodge, Bethany blushing slightly, he sighed wistfully. "Oh, to have missed that... But really, it is not so very hard to explain, don't you think? Two years ago, when we last met, he and our Hawke had barely begun licking their wounds. Since then, he has become master of this house, sure of his love, and now she's given him a child. What you see now, is simply Fenris as he would have been if he'd never been a slave. He's confident, happy, sure of himself. A free man."
Isabela looked at him with surprise and a hint of respect. "Just when I think I've figured you out, Zev, you say something astonishingly insightful like this. But does that explain his... his allure, do you think?"
"Aaah," Zevran smiled, "that is something else entirely. By some magic that I don't even pretend to understand, our dear Fenris has somehow taken all the hatred and fury that he used to lock up inside himself and transformed it into the most impressive example of magnificently aggressive masculinity I've ever seen."
Isabella grinned like a cat. "Magnificently aggressive masculinity, eh? My dear Zev, you are definitely affected just as much as we are."
"Magnificent, indeed," Beth muttered under her breath, recalling the scene at the lodge. "But wait a minute, Zev, didn't you and Cait once...?"
Zevran smiled fondly for a moment, recollecting the night of passion he and Caitlin had shared back when he first met her. Her musky, intoxicating scent, her body trembling under his skillful caresses, her small cries of pleasure, her long legs wrapped around his waist...
With a sigh of regret he returned to the present and shrugged off the memories. "Ah, yes, but that's ancient history! Of course I wouldn't say no if the happy couple invited me into their bedchamber, but that's not very likely, don't you agree?"
"No", Isabela agreed, "they're both a bit too... possessive for that. Pity."
Bethany rolled her eyes in mock desperation at the two of them, but then she was distracted by a movement at the door. Fenris walked in, carrying his little daughter, who had woken from her nap, tossing her up in the air and laughing at her delighted shrieks.
"Maker, what is it with him?" Isabela swore. "He even makes me want to have his babies."
Zevran nearly choked on his ale. "Better leave that to our beloved Hawke, cara," he sputtered. "You'd be a lousy mother anyway."
They both watched as Beth made her way over to the pair and held out both arms to take her niece from Fenris' arms. Little Rhianna was a bit shy at first, her large green eyes looking up with a confused expression at this new aunt. But when her daddy held on to her hand, she started to babble away happily enough. At just over a year old, the baby was pleasantly chubby, with a shock of dark red hair like her mother's and perfectly formed pointy little ears. Bethany cooed at her and visibly melted when she was rewarded with a nearly toothless grin.
"I dare say you're right, Zev," Isabela muttered, "but Bethany and Anders should better get going and make their own soon."
"Can't", Zevran replied laconically. "It's a Grey Warden thing, the taint," he elaborated when she looked at him questioningly. "It's very rare that one of them has a healthy living child, and with them both being Wardens... besides, you wouldn't want a baby around when you're fighting off darkspawn, no?"
Isabela sighed. "Darkspawn... It's so easy to forget about all of this out here. It's almost too idyllic to believe."
The afternoon and evening passed happily, and everyone was relaxed and content. When darkness had fallen, however, their peace was abruptly shattered.
Zevran was outside in the courtyard taking a stroll, when the others heard a muffled groan. Caitlin immediately was on her feet, and so was Isabela, grabbing her knives. Then Zevran stumbled in through the open door, a knife protruding from his left shoulders. "Damn it, how could I be so stupid," he croaked, before collapsing on the floor.
In a flash, Anders was at his side, pulling out the knife and examining Zev's writhing body. The rogue's lips were already turning blue. "Poison," he stated, and immediately set to healing, magic energy flowing from his hands.
"Assassins," Isabela growled and promptly set off for the courtyard, Caitlin and Beth hard on her heels.
"Careful, Cait!" Fenris cried, grabbing two swords from their place on the wall. Rushing after her into the yard, he tossed one in her direction. She caught it with easy grace, and in the same fluent movement turned around taking off the right arm of the assassin attacking her with one powerful stroke. The man was still screaming when Fenris' greatsword hit him from behind, cutting him nearly in half.
The yard was swarming with shadowy figures now. Bethany froze the first rush with a practised flick of her hand to give the others time to regroup, then proceeded to take out one after the other with her spells. Fenris and Caitlin took up position back to back, a swirling deadly whirlwind of blades. Isabela seemed to be everywhere at once, her cutlasses making short work of her opponents.
It soon became clear that the attackers didn't stand a chance. Finally Isabela cornered the last standing assassin, backing him up against the wall with her blade pressed against his throat. "Are there any more of you?" she hissed at him.
"Won't... talk," the man squeezed out.
Isabela shrugged. "Just as well," she stated, slashing his throat with a quick, practised movement. He crumbled down at her feet.
"Search them and make sure there aren't any left, will you, Isabela?" she heard Caitlin call out to her, and she disappeared with a quick nod.
In the meantime, Anders was fighting desperately to heal Zevran. He could feel the poison spread at lightning speed through the rogue's lithe body, and he used up all his strength in the effort to stop it. When Zevran's breathing finally became less ragged, and he realized that the Antivan was saved, he sat back, surveying the scene in the courtyard. Dead assassins were everywhere. Bethany was resting, leaning against a wall close to the door, her magic utterly spent. He could see Isabela take out the last attacker, and, at a command from Caitlin, rush off. Caitlin. Hawke. He marvelled at how easily she had taken the lead again after all these years.
As he watched Caitlin and Fenris strut across the yard towards him, both covered in blood, but with huge grins on their faces, he couldn't help but notice the heated glances they exchanged. Of course... He remembered only too well how she reacted to this kind of situation.
For a moment, his mind wandered back to a night in Kirkwall, long ago, when they had been attacked by a particularly vicious bunch of blood mages in Hightown. When they had returned to the estate, he had gone up to her room and offered to heal her bruises, but she would have none of it. She had grabbed him and pulled him over to the bed instead. He could still hear her urgent, burning voice, "Anders, it's not healing that I need from you now," as she had pulled him closer, her feverish hands touching him, stroking him, teasing him, until he was putty in her hands. She had been wild and fierce that night, more so than ever...
Fenris' voice tore him out of his brief reverie. "Well, that was fun!" the elf exclaimed. "I hadn't realized how much I've missed a decent fight."
Caitlin laughed with giddy abandon, but then her gaze fell on Zevran's still body and her face changed. She quickly dropped on one knee next to Anders. "Anders, is he...?"
"No, he'll live," Anders calmed her. "He just needs rest and good care, and he should be back to normal in a week or so."
Fenris stepped closer. "But that was Crow poison. No one survives Crow poison," he said hoarsely.
"Well, someone just did," Anders replied with a tired smile.
Fenris looked at the mage with renewed respect, then he carefully, gently swept Zevran up in his arms. "I'll take him to his room and get Orana to look after him," he said in a gruff voice and walked off into the house.
"Well, your healing spells definitely didn't suffer in the ritual," Caitlin remarked wryly.
Anders looked up at her and smiled a slightly crooked smile. "No, they didn't. On the contrary, they seem to have become more powerful. On the flip side, my fireballs aren't what they used to be, but Beth keeps telling me that's normal at my age..." Caitlin didn't quite manage to suppress a grin.
Then Fenris was back, with two flasks of lyrium potion, handing one to Bethany and one to Anders. "He's asleep now," he said. "You worked a miracle there, Anders."
Anders gave him an amused smile. "And that's the first time, if I'm not mistaken, that you actually called me by my name, instead of 'mage', Fenris," he said sardonically. "Another miracle. At that rate, there may still be hope for us mages."
Isabela had returned from her search of the corpses. "Definitely Crows," she said tersely. "They nearly got him this time."
Bethany shook her head. "I can't believe they're still hunting him after all these years."
Isabela laughed a joyless bitter little laugh. "They won't ever give up. He knew that when he left," she said. "Still, the madman keeps saying his freedom is worth the occasional hassle."
"I know what he means," Fenris answered quietly.
They made their way back in. Caitlin gave the order to clean up the bodies in the yard and to release the mabaris for that night, to make sure there wouldn't be any more unpleasant surprises. They sat for a little while after that, drinking wine, swapping old stories and laughing until they felt safe and relaxed again, and one by one headed for their bedchambers for the night.
Anders was already in bed, stretched out comfortably on his back, when Bethany came in, and he stayed where he was, while she undressed. She was smaller and more petite than Caitlin, but her curves were as ample and generous as her sister's, and he thoroughly enjoyed watching her. She pulled off her tunic and pants, stretched, yawned, and sighed wearily, her eyebrows raised in disbelief, when she noticed the noises coming from the room next door.
"Maker's mercy, are the two of them at it again? Do they never tire of it?", she said with a tiny frown.
Anders lifted an eyebrow and grinned at her. "I hear it's a common reaction to death and violence," he replied. "Besides, you can hardly blame your sister. After all, the elf's been looking good enough to eat lately."
"Not you too!" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes in mock desperation, while she slithered under the cover next to him. "I feel like I've spent the whole day listening to people telling me how gorgeous he is."
Small creases of amusement appeared around his amber eyes. "Jealous, my love?" he inquired with a faint grin.
She slapped him playfully. "Not so much jealous, but I might be developing a small case of sisterly envy here..."
The creases deepened as he turned on his side, facing her. "I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't realize you were so... dissatisfied." His experienced hands began gently roaming her body, adding just the tiniest touch of magic to enhance her pleasure.
"Well, not so much dissatisfied," she purred, eliciting a contented chuckle from him, as they happily settled into a familiar rhythm.
Anders' prediction turned out to be correct. Within three days, Zevran had visibly recovered, the main challenge being to keep him from overexerting himself with Orana. After a week, he was his former self again. He kept apologizing for Caitlin for leading the assassins to her home, and she kept telling him to shut up, assuring him that she had vastly enjoyed the opportunity to keep her fighting talents honed. Anders and Bethany stayed on to oversee the healing. Caitlin was grateful for the short respite before she had to let them go again.
At the end of the week, Merrill unexpectedly walked into the courtyard, a huge smile on her face and a handsome Dalish ranger in tow, who shared her passion for Elven antiques, and maybe more. They were all a little subdued but very affectionate during that week. The attack on Zevran had made it painfully clear for all of them that this farewell could well be the last, that the lives they all were leading were fraught with dangers and risks well beyond the scope of a normal existence.
When all goodbyes had been said, and the guests had left, Caitlin turned to Fenris and grasped his hand firmly. They could hear little Rhi squeaking happily inside the house.
She looked up to him, suddenly fearful. "Fen, will we be allowed to hold on to our little bit of happiness?" she asked.
"I don't know," he replied. "But it seems to me we have deserved it. Besides," he looked down at her with a reckless smile, "we're not exactly helpless, are we?"
* The end *