Chapter SEVEN

The following few days passed in a happy blur. Aria spent most of her daytime hours in the clinic with Bethany and Anders, aiding the sick. She spent her evenings in the Hanged Man with Varric, Anders, Bethany, and Aveline, sharing battle stories and old tales from Ferelden.

It was good to be finally finding peace and having a group of friends with which she could pass her time. It was the happiest she'd been since before Lothering had been destroyed. Anders was a breath of fresh air to her, lifting her spirit and taking away the edge of the bitterness with which she'd begun to become all too well acquainted.

She was at the clinic with Anders, having ushered out the day's last patient; a young girl with a wicked case of boils. She sat with Anders at his dining table, sharing yet another bottle of wine and talking easily. The past several days, they'd become intensely close.

He was a passionate and compassionate person. He was driven, focused, and kind. She found herself laughing easily with him and thoroughly enjoyed working alongside him. Her Mother and Bethany seemed to be infected with the same joy, the smiles on their faces and light in their eyes reminding her of how it used to be in Lothering, before the world came crashing down around their ears.

Anders invited her to walk with him just outside the city limits at dusk, as they had done nearly every night for almost the past week. They sat on a ledge overlooking the Waking Sea and watching the darkness overtake the city. The warm breeze blew in and Aria enjoyed how it felt against her skin, tingly and refreshing. He pulled her to him so that she nearly sat on his lap and buried his face against her neck, the brush of his lips teasing and intoxicating.

"I had a friend like you once," Anders said, his tone soft and contemplative. "Got in all kinds of trouble. Dragged me along. Didn't think I'd be doing that again."

Aria laughed and leaned back against him, folding her arms over his and letting her head rest on his shoulder as she watched a few gulls lazily circle the harbour. He pressed a kiss to her temple and she could feel the heavy, strong, slightly fast thrum of his heart against her shoulder. When he was quiet too long, she turned in his embrace to look him in the eyes.

"After that whole mess with Karl, I got a bit weighty. Sorry for putting that on you," he apologized, tenderly tucking a flyway of her silvery hair behind her ear and letting the back of his hand linger momentarily on her cheek.

"You can tell me anything," Aria softly replied, smiling at him. "Dark secrets, potion recipes…dirty jokes."

He laughed this time and shook his head. "Anything? Be careful what you offer. I just…I hope I didn't seem too selfish when I told you about Justice. I didn't know what would happen. I figured a willing host, a friend…it had to be better than playing the demon and haunting some corpse."

"Well, he can't complain about his looks, anyway," Aria quipped, playfully poking him in the side.

"No," he said, his demeanor changing completely. The voice in the back of his head had been steadily growing stronger. It hounded him just before sleep each night, warning him to push away, to save her. And it prodded him viciously now. "Look, I know—these last few days have been—some of the best in my life. But, don't go there, Aria. That's not going to end well. I don't…want to hurt you." He looked out over the harbour, his dark eyes growing cold.

She sat up, uncomfortable with the sudden turn of the conversation. She scooted slightly away from him so that she could better read his expression. Staying true to form, she tried to take some weight out of the exchange.

"Hurt me. I might like it," she playfully said.

He looked at her, and gently took her hand, his eyes pleading. "No. You saw what I did in the Chantry. That's who I am."

She watched him stand and he paced back in forth in front of her for a few moments, reminding her of a caged beast. The restlessness and anxiety she'd first seen in him returned tenfold. It was starting to destroy this little bit of happiness she had so desperately wished for in the past few days. Maker, she had almost fancied she loved him.

"A year ago, maybe we could have had something. But I'm not that man anymore. I'll break your heart," he said, his voice cracking with the weight of his emotion. "And that…might kill me as surely as the templars."

Aria stood as well, grabbing his arm to cease his pacing. "Anders—"

"Don't think me ungrateful for all you've done for me already. I don't wish to convey that at all," he said, cupping her face with one hand.

"You can't break my heart any worse than it already is," she softly stated, searching his dark, haunted eyes for the warmth she knew they could possess.

He studied her for a moment, floundering for something to say to that. He hadn't realized—but who could have done that to her? Who could have been so cruel to such a wonderful gem?

"It is already broken? By whom?"

"Not necessarily by whom as much as by what," she said, looking back out over the harbour in the direction of Ferelden.

"You've lost much," he softly acknowledged.

"I've never—well, I might have been in love once. Oddly enough, he was a templar in training."

Anders shook his head. She didn't believe in fate, but he did. And it was definitely cruel to her, twisted and conniving. It sought to break her and had yet to succeed. "He must have been a very good man."

"I'm surprised to hear you say that," she murmured, turning away from the sea and looking down the path that led back to Kirkwall.

"All templars are not evil," he cautiously said. "I'm not so blind. King Alistair was a templar in training. I met him once. He was more sympathetic to my cause than most Circle mages are."

"It does my heart good to hear you say that," Aria said, smacking the dust off her trousers. "I must be going. I have a long night ahead of me tonight."

He followed her down the trail, looping his arm through hers. "I'm coming with you."

She smiled at him but said nothing more until they reached Lowtown. They stood outside her door in the twilight, the neighbourhood peacefully silent. He smoothed an errant strand of hair away from her face again and tilted her chin up so he could look down into her tawny eyes.

"I have to suit up. It could get bloody," she softly said, her eyes searching his.

"Where shall I meet you?" he queried, still holding her face. His eyes kept darting to her mouth and the hunger in them was sparking the same in her.

"The Hanged Man. Bethany and Varric will be there as well."

Before she could form another thought, his lips were on hers, his arms going around her waist and pulling her tightly to him. She moaned against his mouth, snaring his neck in her embrace. He whimpered at that and his hands found her hips and slipped beneath the tunic she wore, finding soft skin beneath. Warmth surged through her. It had been a long time since she'd felt this and she clung to him, starving.

Her eagerness incited his desire and he slipped his tongue over her bottom lip, delighted when hers responded in kind. She tasted divine—sweet, heady, and enthralling. He crushed her to him, never wanting this moment to end.

Aria buried her fingers in his hair, seeking an anchor in the tempest he'd just started. Her pulse hammered wildly in her ears. His tongue was rough and savory, his touch feral as he pulled her more tightly against him. His fingers brushed the skin of her belly and she groaned against his mouth, the contact sending fire rocketing through her veins.

His conscience, no, Justice, screamed at him. All you're doing is hurting her. Stop now. But he couldn't. He didn't want to. She deserves better. She deserves more than what broken promises you can make. She filled him; her scent, her touch, her heat, the little sounds of pleasure she made. She overwhelmed him and he couldn't stop... You'll kill her. Stop this. Stop this, now!

It took all the strength he had to tear his mouth from hers.

She whimpered softly at his departure, her eyes seeking his, pain and questioning in their tawny depths.

"Maker help me," he whispered, cupping her face tenderly in his hands. "Aria—I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... We can't ever do this—"

The pain that crashed through her at his words stole her breath and stopped her heart. She abruptly removed herself from his embrace, her amber eyes hardening as she stared pointedly at the ground. He tried to lift her chin but she stubbornly jerked her head away, like a spirited horse throwing off the bridle. She would not be tamed. She was not... For him.

"Just—be at the Hanged Man in half an hour," she whispered, her voice steely. She turned from him and stalked inside, quietly closing the door.

He nodded mutely and walked slowly down the steps, his hand over his wildly pounding heart. He licked his lips, still tasting of her sweetness and tormenting him with every step. His skin burned where she had touched him. A deep ache began in his chest and it robbed him of his breath. If he hurt her, it would be his undoing. She deserved so much better, and he could not give it. Sweet Andraste, he wanted to. But the road to the Void was paved with good intentions, and he wasn't going to allow her to be hurt. He wasn't selfish enough to do that to her.