Chapter FIVE

It was late afternoon before Aria stirred. The house was blessedly quiet. She stretched and sat up, stifling the yawn that forced its way up her throat. Her entire body was sore from the night spent in vigorous battles and she was loath to leave the bed, as uncomfortable as it was.

She groaned and swung her legs over the side, peering down to see if Bethany was still there. She wasn't. Aria hopped down, moving her shoulders in slow, small circles to alleviate some of the tightness in them. She did the same with her ankles, then proceeded to emerge from the bed room.

Her fortune seemed even greater as she entered the house's main room and found it deserted. She strode over to the writing desk and read the letters from Athenril. She'd already completed one of the jobs a couple of days ago.

One of the incomplete tasks was supposed to happen later this week, late at night of course. She groaned again. Why did nothing of import ever happen during daylight hours like with normal people? She was supposed to meet a contact, Anso, in Lowtown at nightfall five days from today by the merchants' square in the Lowtown Bazaar.

She grabbed the loaf of bread that sat on the small kitchen table and cut off a hunk, chewing it thoughtfully as she peered out the tiny, dirty window overlooking the Old Slums' square. People meandered about, talking to each other and making trades from weapons and crafts to food and other necessities.

What would she do in the meantime? She didn't really have any plans for today or this evening, thankfully. She figured she'd clean and service her armour and trusty daggers. Maybe do some shopping at the market and put some better food in this house. Gamlen had resigned himself to eating half-rotten food and stale bread. Then again, he relied upon the drink to sustain him above anything else. Mother would require more—and she more than deserved it.

She went into the small wash room and pumped water into the three large buckets there. Then she went to the small hearth and hung them over the coals to warm. She desperately needed to wash. Thankfully, Bethany's skills with herbs and flowers gave her the luxury of heavenly scented soaps, creams, and oils for her skin and hair. Aria had always been particular about the way she smelled. She couldn't stand her own body odor—or anyone else's for that matter.

As the water warmed over the fire, she set to work on her armour, scrubbing the blood from it first so that she could polish it and locate any dings or dents. She diligently worked on that for nearly an hour, satisfied with the shine it had when she had finished. She checked the water and found it still not warm enough for her liking. To occupy her time until the water was ready, she set to work honing the edges of her daggers, whetting the blades and removing the nicks they'd sustained.

Once done with that, the water was plenty warm, if not a little on the scalding side. She used the tongs next to the hearth to remove the buckets and carried them back into the wash room, emptying them into the small, but deep vat that served as a washtub. She then went into the bedroom and gathered her favorite hair wash, hair cream, body soap, and moisturizing oils that Bethany had crafted specifically for her.

Bethany had used sprigs of fresh lavender, vanilla clippings, heavy cream, lard, and ground sage to create the toiletries. It was the most relaxing scent and an instant mood lifter. Not to mention, most of the Kirkwall and Fereldan women she passed would remark on the softness and glowing quality of her alabaster skin. Aria was slightly vain, but not so much that it impeded her effectiveness.

Aria gingerly lowered herself into the steaming water after stripping out of her dirty undergarments, having laid out freshly washed clothes over the stool next to the tub. She set to scrubbing her hair and body, leaving the special cream to soak into her hair and scalp afterwards. She lingered in the small tub for a time, allowing the sweet, clean aroma to permeate her pores and sink into her very spirit.

The hot water did wonders for her aching muscles, seeping straight through to the aches and gently warming them away. She actually dozed off for several minutes in the water, enjoying this alone time. It was good to just have a bit of silence, to be alone with herself. Her thoughts eagerly wandered back to Anders. She wondered if he'd thought of her at all. If those thoughts were pleasant, worried, angry. Bethany had seemed sure he was at least interested in her. Aria had been alone for so long…

She'd never really loved a man—at least, not in the world-shattering, end all, be all way. Sure, she'd had a few adolescent trysts and even laid with a couple of them back in Lothering. The most prominent one, and the one she experienced the deepest feelings for had even been in training to be a templar. He'd had the loveliest grey eyes she'd ever seen, stormy seas over a brilliant light. She wondered, sadly, if he'd made it out of the south lands in time to avoid the Blight. He'd left before her family had, gifting her a beautiful amulet before he departed. It was an amethyst in the shape of a dragon. She'd lost it when they fled. Her father and Bethany had been none too pleased that Aria was being courted by a would-be templar, but they'd said little. He was a good man. Ser Devon was his name.

She smiled wistfully at the memory. She had spent many an afternoon with him, hiding from the Revered Mother in town. They'd gone to the alfalfa and wheat fields south of Lothering near the Korcari Wilds and watched the sun set. He had always loved her hair; he'd said it reminded him of spun moonbeams, silver, and stardust. He'd spend hours just running his fingers through it while they talked. His touch relaxed her, sent her to a blissful, worry-free state she hadn't been able to achieve on her own. With father and Bethany being apostate mages outside the circle, she had much to fear.

Often they didn't return to town until well after the moon and stars had risen. He said he loved how she looked in the moonlight. He didn't realize how well it had suited him, though; he had light, ashen blond hair that he kept short and tawny, flawless skin. He kept his goatee immaculately trimmed. The moonlight made him look more like a benevolent god than a man. Although those things made him visually appealing, it was always his eyes that drew her.

Silvery grey. Fathomless. Full of compassion, mirth, and goodness. They fringed at the corners in the most endearing fashion when he smiled, delicate tridents that displayed the happiness within. He stood a head taller than her and always made her feel like the most important person in the world. She felt as though she fit just right under his strong arm, nestled close to his side.

She didn't know if she loved him, because before that revelation could occur, he was ordered to leave Lothering with a bunch of the younger recruits. They'd gone to Denerim to serve the Chantry there and fortify Ferelden's capitol city as it braced for the onslaught of the coming Blight. She would never forget the despaired look he gave her as he was forced to march away from the village.

She felt quite similar when she looked into Anders's eyes. They had the same warmth, the same goodness within. But they also held a haunted light. She wanted to drive that part away and see if he was not too broken to repair. To take some of that sadness away and replace it with the light of mirth and wonder.

Aria had always enjoyed fixing things. While she had a knack for quick wit and a sharp tongue, her first instinct was always to make people laugh. To make them forget their troubles and just enjoy the gift of life for a while. Too many people didn't have the chance to enjoy the life they'd been given. Poverty was a blessing; it absolved one of the responsibilities those of higher stature held. Love abounded. Joy could be found in the smallest of things. Coin could not buy that.

Here in Kirkwall, she realized just how good she had really had it in Lothering. The long days she spent with father, aiding the sick and making people merry. She used to sing and dance a lot; the village often gathered during times of the planting and harvest, and it was often requested of her that she sing for them. Her father used to call her his little Birdie, and it had been her childhood nickname. He'd said her voice was clear and pretty as any Chantry bell.

A knock at the washroom door snapped her from her reverie. Bethany's dark head poked in and she smiled sweetly at her sister.

"I could smell you all the way outside. How are you feeling?" she timidly asked, stepping in and closing the door.

"Much better now, thank you," Aria said, wiping at the tears that she hadn't realized fell down her cheeks.

"Don't be sad," Bethany compassionately said, striding quickly over to the tub, a large towel draped over her arm. She laid it across the stool and sat on top of it, her dark eyes kind.

"I'm not—I'm actually quite happy. Just—remembering the good times in Lothering."

Bethany smiled. "They were good. You're…thinking about Ser Devon, aren't you?"

Aria couldn't help the bitter taste that rose in her mouth. "I hope he lived. And I hope he's found someone to make him happy."

"I like to think he did," Bethany said, folding her hands in her lap. Aria noticed she held something folded in cloth. "For a templar, he was a good man. He was always gracious about us."

"They're not all bad. Just like not all mages are bad," Aria replied. "What have you there?"

"Something I picked up today at the market for you. I hope you don't mind. I just thought that it would look lovely on you," Bethany said, handing the item to her.

Aria carefully unwrapped it after flicking the water from her hands. It was a pair of pewter hair combs with small amethysts and jet gems set in swirling patterns. They were quite lovely.

"I imagined you would bathe when you woke, and I wanted to set them in your hair when you were ready," Bethany said, her dark eyes shining.

Aria choked on the sudden lump in her throat, deeply affected by her sister's sweet generosity. "They're…perfect. Thank you. I would like that very much."

"I am so glad! Hurry up in here so I can do your hair," she said, standing. "Mother will be home soon and I know she'd just love to see them."

Aria waited until Bethany closed the door behind her before dipping beneath the water and rinsing the cream from her hair. She quickly stepped out of the tub and dried herself, then smoothed the same scented oil over her skin. She swiftly donned the clean undergarments, slip, and long black dress she'd laid out and exited the washroom to find Bethany sitting at the little table next to the hearth, brush, combs, and hair pins at the ready. She seated herself on the floor at Bethany's feet and allowed her sister to comb through her long, damp tresses.

"You know what I miss?" Bethany asked after a few minutes of companionable silence, taking the snarls from her sister's long hair with a beautiful whale ivory bone their mother always used.

"Hmm?" Aria asked, her eyes closed in blissful relaxation.

"Your voice. You never sing anymore."

Aria laughed, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone. "What is there to sing about?"

"Plenty! Haven't you any inspiration anymore?" Bethany exclaimed, hurt.

"These times have been dark. I fear any song I sing will only add to the melancholy," Aria softly replied, wincing as Bethany twisted her hair a little too tightly. She inserted a couple of pins, then twisted a few more of the strands together, and secured them with one of the combs.

"Melancholy or not, I wager it would make you feel better in the end. You have such a pretty voice."

They were silent again, and Bethany finished the other side of Aria's hair. Bethany handed her the little ornate pewter looking glass they'd nicked from a slaver last year to check her hair. Aria was a little surprised by the image in the mirror. Her sister was so talented. She could make the ugliest of hags look like a divine goddess.

"Oh, Bethany…" she murmured. "You do such beautiful work."

"Aria, you are so gifted. Don't squander them because we've had a bad turn."

Just then, Mother entered the house. She took one look at her daughters and her hand flew to her mouth. She smiled broadly and rushed over to them, enveloping them both in her arms.

"Oh! I was so worried about you!" she gushed once she released them. "I feared something bad had happened. You two were so sound asleep all day!" She looked at Aria and cupped her cheek. "Aria—you look lovely today."

"Thank you, Mother. I was going to go to market and pick up some fresh food. Gamlen doesn't know the meaning of sustenance," Aria replied, withdrawing slightly. She didn't much care to be the center of attention.

"Do go! Get out! Enjoy the day! I fear this past year has been too heavy a burden on your young shoulders. Make merry! I will see you later this evening," the Hawke matriarch said, ushering Aria to the door after handing her the satchel she always carried.

Aria laughed, despite being pushed out of the house. "All right. You two stay out of trouble while I am away."

She walked out of the house after slipping into her favorite pair of shoes, simple flats made of doeskin that had stretched and formed to her feet perfectly. She wandered through the markets as the sun set, buying fresh fruit, vegetables, a few cuts of salted meat, and some more bread. She even bought a bottle of decent mulberry wine. She returned home to drop the items off, only to find the house empty once more.