Solona stared at Anders for a long moment, waiting for him to explain his appearance at the door. She cleared her throat, the force of her scowl increasing the pounding in her head.

"Yes?" she asked impatiently. "What do you need?"

Anders straightened his stance and shrugged: a loose, jangly motion that betrayed his own intoxication.

"Just need to make sure you're okay," he said finally. "Sorry it took me so long to come check on you. I was, uh —"

Solona waved off the rest of his answer and grumbled as she turned away. "I know what you were doing."

Enjoying the attentions of the barmaids again. Reveling in the fame and prestige of being a Warden.

"Besides, you didn't need to come. I'm fine." Casting her eye toward her bedside table, she searched the darkness for something new to drink. Water, preferably, to clear the sourness out of her mouth and ease the constriction in her temples. She left the door open as she walked back toward her bed and squinted down at the table tops. The fireplace held only a rash of glowing orange coals, hardly enough to illuminate the minute details of her possessions, but sufficing at least to outline shapes and lend a dreamy surreality to the room. She sensed Anders moving closer and a second later the door clicked closed.

Anders chuckled. It was a warm, forgiving sound. "Well it seems like you're back to normal."

Solona turned back toward him in time to see the flash of his outstretched flask. "Looking for this?" he asked.

"Nope." The last thing she wanted was something guaranteed to make her headache worse.

Locating a pitcher beside the basin on the far side of the room, Solona dragged herself toward it. Tepid and tasting of dust, the water filled her belly, squelching for the moment the earliest rumblings of hunger. She swished water around her mouth and swallowed while wiping cool drippings off her chin. The cloud of sleep distorting her awareness began to part, revealing more memory of the night in quick flashes. She'd thought, even maybe hoped a little bit, that the knock on the door might have been Nathaniel. It seemed like something alien inside her, a wanting that must have originated in the fading dream of her drunken sleep. But again she saw his face as she'd sat beside him on the balcony, his eyes reflecting a shine of light from the hall beyond the glass door. Even just the memory of it was enough to sting with a visceral reaction.

It was a little exciting to have someone looking at her like that again. But also nauseatingly frightening.

All at once she remembered Anders at the bar, his fingers trailing down her back. Her casually delivered confession. That too had felt good. And before then, sitting at her chair by the mirror, her body shooting with the reawakening a vague but carnal desire. She felt it again, a flush of wanting as immediate as her memory. Things like this drove people to stupidity.

But then, did she really care about being smart anymore?

Except now Anders was actually here . Standing feet away, his purpose unmistakable. Coming to her room wasn't something he'd ever done before, and that hadn't been her first close call with a panic attack while in his company. Solona focused bleary eyes on him and sized him up. Somehow he seemed less intimidating in this moment, filtered through a residual haze of sleep and wine. His robe was slightly wrinkled, and the shadow of stubble on his jaw had already darkened since the morning. His honey colored hair bulged out of his off-center ponytail. The bulky shadow of him swayed on his feet as he drank from his flask, apparently not ready to give it up for the night yet.

Numbness spread like ice-water over her body. She recalled her new policy of not holding back.

Except, apparently, when it came to Nathaniel. It hadn't seemed so simple with him.

Taking a breath she strode toward Anders, placing herself directly in front of him and studying his face. "I guess the red-head decided to warm someone else's bed tonight?" Solona asked. Anders' eyes brightened, his smirk spreading.

"Jealous?" he asked. Replacing the topper, he pocketed his flask.

Solona snorted. "I've lived with you for over a month now, Anders, and in all that time you haven't slept alone once, except at camp when you have no choice. Why should that bother me now?"

Anders snickered. "I see you've been keeping track of my activities."

Solona crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head. "It's hardly a secret to anyone. You're not exactly a master of discretion."

"It's not my fault that joining the Wardens came with so many… changes." Anders retorted with a laugh. "I thought it was bad enough back in the circle, but I wasn't prepared for how much all my… appetites would intensify."

Anders took another slow step toward her. There was little space left between them.

"Is it true for you? Or is it because you've been a Warden for so long now that you don't have these needs?" he asked. His breath was a warm breeze on her collarbones. "Does this go away after a while?"

Heat bloomed across Solona's cheeks, making her glad for the low light. Remembering how torturous it had been being separated from Alistair even for a few hours, it seemed impossible to believe that once unrelenting desire could have gone away at all. But it had. Grief was a strange and powerful thing.

"I don't exactly know how it works," she answered honestly. "Duncan, the man who recruited me – who could have taught us more about these things – died the day after my joining," she said. "The only other Warden I knew then was relatively new himself. We didn't have time to ask many questions."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Anders answered. It sounded genuine, but also disappointed. He sighed, pausing for a heartbeat. His glassy eyes slid down the length of her.

"Well, to answer your question," he continued. "The red-head made quite the case for keeping me company tonight. Begged, in fact."

"And instead… you came to my room," she finished. After a heavy pause, he nodded.

"I came to see if there was any way I could improve my Commander's evening." Solona heard the slight beginnings of a slur in his words. Not that he'd ever needed liquor to aid his boldness before.

"After all, that hubbub downstairs was my fault, so," he sighed, "it's really the least I can do."

The flush of warmth spread from Solona's cheeks down into her belly. The last of her sleepiness was gone, though wine still lightened her head and made the images before her eyes swim. It would have been easy to believe this was all a dream, especially as she studied the image of him, taking in all the familiar details of the face she'd swooned over for so long. That smirk, those caramel eyes locked upon her in the same manner she'd seen directed at so many others. How many times had her stomach sank at his satisfied grin while he and another stole hand-in-hand out a doorway, headed to some dark corner? Or the supply room each floor of the circle had? The one on the third floor even had a line of cabinets that had been pulled away from the wall so that a bedroll could be laid out behind them. The cabinets were tall enough to obscure where the ceiling ended and the wall began, with only enough space on one end for a side-turned body to ease itself through. For as long as she'd been in the circle the Templars had never discovered that little secret nook. The rumor was that Anders had created that space, but gave everyone else free reign to use it whenever it was unoccupied. Stain the bedroll and you replace it had been the rule.

And now, here was Anders in her private quarters, slowly closing the distance between them while sporting that same, tell-tale grin. A sharp pang of anticipation thrilled through her. Consciously, she squeezed out the image of Alistair, the quiet nagging in the back of her mind of how hurt her true love would be.

But this is different, she informed that voice. This is meaningless. Merely an overdue visit to the supply room.

Still a twinge of discomfort joined the excitement deep inside her belly.

"How about a massage?" Anders asked as he stepped around her. "You look… tense."

His hands landed warm and heavy on her shoulders and immediately began to squeeze in soft circular motions that migrated inward toward her neck. The tension he remarked upon immediately became apparent as even light pressure stung with soreness. Once his thumbs pressed deep into her tightly-wound trapezius, Solona hissed involuntarily, her body stiffening.

"Damn, Sol," Anders purred in her ear. "You really do need this."

Softening the pressure, he continued on, but the warmth in his hands became something more. A slight blue glow radiated in her periphery, along with a gentle buzz that she knew to be his healing. Almost against her will, her muscles began to uncoil, her limbs seeming to drop lower and lower with each pass of his hands. She relaxed back into his touch as spasms of tension gave way to a liquid looseness. A low moan escaped her throat as a wash of relief spread down her body and threatened to buckle her knees.

Without warning the warmth was gone and the weight of his hands lifted. Solona jerked dazedly forward to keep herself upright. Maker's fucking breath.

A scrape of wood sounded off behind her, followed by a gentle tugging on her waist.

"Sit," Anders whispered. She obeyed, allowing herself to be directed to a nearby chair . She fell into it with a quick glance up to Anders' face. His satisfaction in her quick surrender was evident in his curled lip and glinting brown eyes. Solona sighed and once again smothered the quiet chiding in the back of her mind. If Alistair hadn't left me here alone he could do this himself, she reminded it. But he did leave me, didn't he?

Anders' hands returned and pushed her slightly forward before dragging firmly down the cord of flesh running parallel to her spine. Along the way he stopped and worked small circles at the few remaining knots, luring another small whimper from her throat. It was almost lost on her what was actually happening; Anders' practiced hands and soothing magic working quickly to complete her immersion into an unexpected trance. He added his own satisfied grunt as he reached low and pressed the palm of his hand against the small of her back. A warm tickle radiated out from his touch, raising goosebumps up her arms and neck. Solona exhaled a long drag of breath, releasing the last bits of stiffness in her posture, her body pooling into a formless mass against his palms.

As his hands pulled across the meat of her shoulder, he moved his body to her side, his fingers caressing light magical bursts down her upper arm.

"It's a shame there's so much clothing between us," Anders laughed softly as he tugged on the sleeve of her robe. The throaty note in his voice traveled straight down into the root of her, stoking a fiery tingle between her thighs. Solona let her head fall back against the chair, wondering why she wasn't rising right then to rip off her damned robe and let him just have at it. But the nagging at the back of her mind remained, resisting her attempt to smother it completely. She wanted this, certainly. Her body burned for it, for... something. But Anders had been a God among men back in the circle, and had clearly continued to indulge in his exploits since gaining his freedom. How many people had Anders taken to bed? Could he even answer such a question? And how disappointed might he be by a plain, inexperienced girl who'd only ever had one lover in her life?

She shook the thought away, but made no move to hurry things along. The pleasure of his touch eclipsed the quaking nerves beneath her growing arousal. She took a deep breath and tracked his shadow as he picked up her arm, wrapping his hands around it entirely and squeezing deep relief into her forearms. He worked with a sensual precision, his knowledge of anatomy clearly informed by his role as healer. Lured deeper into a lull, Solona resisted the urge to close her eyes and float away into a blissful sleep.

His fingers moved to a whisper around her wrist, caressing their way into her palms and then pulling outward toward her fingertips. In her daze she revisited the balcony and Nathaniel's hand against hers, his fingers so recently upon her where Anders' were now. Both men had a touch that was light yet sure, hands that were capable of uniquely astonishing feats. While Anders could mend flesh and erect impenetrable barriers around comrades, Nathaniel's deft fingers could tease open the most complicated lock with supernatural quickness. The pins always seemed to slide instantly into the perfect place and turn without a trace of fumble, or any suspect noise. There was never a wasted moment standing idle in wait for a door to open or a chest to give up its contents. He could draw and nock an arrow almost faster than the eye could follow. It was this that had convinced her of his necessity to the Wardens, beyond just his impassioned plea that he be allowed to join.

Solona's lids drooped closed and for a moment the touch at her her arm registered as Nathaniel's. Shivers alighted up her back, bringing with it the echo of the archer's rich baritone in her ear. A low moan escaped her throat; Anders breathed a quiet, approving laugh.

Forcing herself back into the moment, she watched calmly as Anders placed her arm in her lap and stepped around her before dropping to a kneel at her feet. A light fluttering touch tickled against her shins as he pulled boot laces free from their knots. Each moment that dragged by increased the thumping of her heart; the anticipation beginning to cut through the woozy trance of his healing massage. Shivers traveled up from the new source of his touch, reverberating through her knees and deep into her hips. She sat forward in the chair, her body feeling light yet unwieldy, heat and hunger building into a delicious urgency. Her fingers itched to reach for him, to grab his head and smash her mouth to his. But he leaned out of her reach as he slid off a boot, his smile seeming to betray the deliberation of his slow pace.

Her boots removed, Anders' fingers teased up the bare skin of her ankle before the warmth of his palm spread firm and broad around her calf. Solona squirmed in her seat, torn between wanting to sink into the soothing sensation of his touch, and in obeying the growing need between her legs. Sitting forward more, Solona prepared herself to grab him.

"Sit back," Anders ordered softly. "There is nothing you need to do right now other than let me take care of you."

A nervous laugh bubbled out of her throat. Her cheeks burned, the hunger of her body growing more insistent by the moment. Anders raised a brow and retracted his hands, waiting. Reluctantly, she obeyed and lowered herself against the back of the chair.

She watched entranced as Anders lifted her leg with one hand, and pushed the hem of her robe up onto her lap with the other. The warmth of his touch at her ankle was replaced by hot breath as he laid an open mouthed kiss on the inside of her calf, the tip of his tongue tracing an agonizing line up toward her knee. Graceful fingers scored up the softness of her thighs, Anders' lip curled with satisfaction, a faint shine glittering his caramel irises. Solona's back arched slightly as another kiss came higher up, his lips sliding warmly against an impossibly sensitive patch of skin and sending hot tingles into the deepest recesses of her belly. Anticipating the next kiss, Solona stiffened, but instead came a gentle pinch from his teeth, along with a new effusion of soothing magic from his fingertips. Gasping as she sank back against the chair, warm shivers cascaded over her, her legs opening as her thighs went slack, her focus drawn into the sweet aching at their apex. Each flutter of Anders' tongue against her skin caused her to open more for him, welcoming him in as deep as he desired to go.

The waves of soothing magic, and the low glow of fireplace coals imbued the room with a surreal quality that had Solona repeatedly grasping for confirmation she was not merely lost to some fantastic dream. Her eyes traveled the lines of Anders jaw as it moved slowly against her skin, studying the contours of his cheek, the lush pout of his lips. Stubble scraped the sensitive flesh of her thighs, leaving behind a pleasant sting to mark his trail. His eyes flashed darkly up at her, locking onto hers with a sharpness that belied his drunkenness. Palms scored up her thighs, reaching deeply under her robe with exploratory caresses. In a quick move, the weight of the robe in her lap lifted as buttons revealed themselves undone and parted, the opened flaps pushed aside while Anders pressed himself deeper between her legs.

His mouth, hot and hungry, consumed its way up until mere inches separated him from the black satin of her panties. There he paused, hovering, his chest heaving. Reaching deeper forward, one hand pressed between one buttock and the chair, gathering up a handful of her flesh. His other hand trailed lightly over a hip bone, before resting heavily against her inner thigh. Solona gulped air, her skin searing with the need for more of him, her fingers aching with the force of their grip on the chair's arms. She held her back stiffly, ready to rush him and straddle his lap, eager for the promise of his advances to be delivered.

His face lit up with his smirk again. He tilted his head. " Sit back."

Solona let out a shaky exhalation and forced herself back against the chair. Her limbs quivered, her teeth gnawing at the flesh of her lower lip. Anders made no move to come closer, his glassy eyes glinting with amusement. Puffs of breath whispered against her thighs. One of his thumbs slipped under the hem of her panties and ran lightly along its line.

"Stop teasing me, Anders," Solona gasped.

Anders' brow raised. "Is that an order, Commander?"

Solona nodded, her eyes rolling closed as the slow movement of his thumb sent peals of heat directly to her sex. She suppressed the urge to buck toward him, her head lolling against the chair as something deep in her belly contracted and released. Eyes closed, she heard a small laugh.

She cried out audibly when his mouth landed on its target, the black satin still separating the heat of his mouth from the throbbing cluster of nerves embedded between her folds. Anders groaned, his tongue flicking against her panties and tickling the aching flesh beneath. Solona rolled back on her hips, opening her legs and positioning herself for optimal contact. Anders's fingers dug into her buttock, the other hand clutching the flesh over her hip. The stubble of his jaw penetrated the satin, scraping against her as heat bloomed across her panties with his every breath. Finally came the pinching scrape of teeth, the satin lifted away, leaving her torturously untouched. A glance downward revealed Anders' eyes closed, her panties pulled away from her body and disappeared into Anders' mouth as he sucked the fabric. A hungry, sultry moan reverberated into her thighs.

Solona rolled her hips again, that reawakened Warden lust buzzing through every raw nerve in her body, threatening to rock her forward and force satisfaction. The dark spaces of the room spun and wavered in her vision, the need to obey her desire overpowering any slivers of sober coherency. Anders' hands jerked, her body jolted with the sound of a harsh tear, her undergarments a flying shadow that disappeared into a corner of the room.

And then his mouth again, open and unhindered, suckling at the flesh between her legs. Solona found his hair, her fingers quickly lost in silky tangles. His head bobbed as he pushed her thighs wider, and then yanked her hips forward. First his tongue, sliding firmly deep into her slit and dragging upward, before delivering several measured lashes against the aching pearl of nerves. Solona writhed against him, the heat of his mouth a revelation after months and months of nothing.

"Fuck, you're wet," he growled, his fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her hips and yanking her further forward. The painful force of his hands a welcome reminder that this is happening. Solona's head fell back against the chair again and she let herself be opened, surrendering to his mouth and hands.

Time and space swirled into an infinity as Anders suckled, his tongue dancing expertly within her, lips closing around her clitoris. Hungry moans vibrated deep into her flesh; Solona bucked against them, her inner walls contracting with building need. The tie of his ponytail fell away, releasing golden waves to fall forward and obscure his face. Gathering handfuls of it up, Solona steadied his head with the reins of his hair, letting her hips rock against the rhythm he set with his tongue. His brows knitted in concentration, his lashes fluttering against his cheek; Solona was stunned away from the growing wave of ecstasy in her body by the beauty of Anders' face, lost and devoted to the giving of pleasure. The earring she'd given him flashed a faint glow of light. Something bubbled up inside her that felt alarmingly like a laugh, but emerged as another feral cry as he nipped and lunged forward, driving himself hard, deeper against her. Simultaneously his fingers sent out a crawling web of sparks that tingled up her skin and toward her center, teasing out a new wall of beautiful sensation. Her body quaked, the sweetness between her legs intensifying until she felt every cell within her drawn toward her center. Her muscles tensing as she clawed Anders, desperately urging him closer, deeper.

When the implosion came, Solona's vision burst into a changing tapestry of white. Her chest heaving, the only thing she could do was steady herself while it washed over her, drowning out the dull awareness of the taint, roaring over the voices in her head and the twinge in her chest. The vision of Anders ebbed into darkness, their forms reduced to mere undulations of nerves and flesh.

An eternity came and passed, the end looping back into a new beginning and carrying her deeper into a blissful delirium.

When finally stillness and silence grew louder than her body, Solona opened her eyes. Sitting back on his heels, Anders observed her with a cocked head. Solona raised herself back up in the chair, now the only thing keeping her body from oozing onto the floor. Strands of blond hair clung to her fingers. Shakily, she picked them away, letting them drift toward the ground. She felt as though she'd just run the length of Ferelden.

"Do I have any hair left?" Anders asked as he tenderly patted the side of his head. The rosiness of his cheeks and lips were visible even in the dim light. Solona tried to form the words of an apology, but could only manage a shrug and a quiet laugh. She dragged herself up, replacing the flaps of her skirt over her thighs. A raw scratch bit at the back of her throat and Solona knew later she'd care about how loud she had probably been. Though in the moment, the spell of countless orgasms scrubbed her mind of all worries. She glanced at her bed, tiredness accumulating deep into her bones. The hard wood of the chair seemed oppressive around her. Solona pushed herself upward, her muscles gelatinous and unwieldy. Anders was at her side to offer a hand, but not before rolling his shoulders in a deep stretch.

When he presented his hand, Solona clung to it like a lifeline, allowing herself to be steadied as she rose. She gaped in disbelief at his face, his alluring combination of features and personality that she'd memorized every detail of during countless nights alone in the circle. How many hours had she lost to fantasies of what it might be like to hold his attention for a while? To feel his lips, be the object of his touch, his lust? Now inches away, stood the manifestation of years of school-girl longing. The deeply satisfying burn between her legs evidence that it had become reality.

With each step toward her bed, Solona let her hand map out the landscape of his arm, the curve of his bicep, the slender lines of his forearm, the feverish humidity in the air around him. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow, the palm of his hand wet with expended energy. She felt herself smiling, floating as she breathed the warm, spicy air around him.

She'd yet to give thought to the possibility of him staying the night, of more activities to fill the remaining hours of darkness. Still when his hands opened to release her and pull himself away, Solona knew it wouldn't be happening.

"I'll let you sleep," he said.

Arguments flooded the quiet of Solona's mind, but none of them lingered beyond the knee-jerk force of their arrival. Solona did want sleep. Arms around her, as much as she might have thought she could handle such an experience again, crossed too close to the real territory of betrayal. The fear of how that might feel, of how profoundly she wanted to be held, promised a heartache she might not be able to contain.

Solona nodded. It was better this way.

"Thank you," she laughed softly as she fell down into her bed and began the process of considering her nightclothes. Her panties were gone, her robe still half opened. Somewhere in the room she had a sleeping gown, but not the energy to find it.

"It was my pleasure, Commander."

Buttoning a few buttons down the front of her robe, Solona turned to her side and nestled down into her bed. Sleep claimed her before the door clicked shut.