Chapter TEN

It was nearly dusk when Aria woke. She heard the clinking of metal against metal as her mother prepared the evening meal. Probably a weak stew again. Aria planned on doing some shopping for food at the market again, but the waning light of day told her this venture could not be undertaken until tomorrow. The stalls would all be closed and she didn't exactly trust the food that was available at the Hanged Man.

She lay in her uncomfortable, tiny top bunk for a few moments, just listening. Gamlen was not in the house. From the sounds of it, neither was Bethany. Sighing, she tossed off the thin, scratchy, moth-eaten wool blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Groaning sleepily, she vaulted herself to the floor.

Every muscle in her body was sore, though not as badly as nearly a week ago. She was steadily getting used to this new lifestyle she'd adopted. Her muscles responded more quickly and with more force. Her balance was improving dramatically, though she'd never been called graceless. Her skill with the daggers was leaps and bounds better than what it was a little over a year ago in Lothering.

Maker, had it only been a year? She felt as though she'd aged centuries since then. Sighing, she decided to make her wakefulness known and opened the bedroom door.

"Child of mine, why have you been so late to bed these past couple of weeks?" Leandra Hawke asked from her position by the fire.

Beside the large kettle, the three large buckets they used to heat bathwater were immersed in the coals, their bottoms glowing red.

"Good evening, Mother. I'm sorry—work has kept me out late and there has been naught I could do about it," Aria sweetly replied, kissing the top of her mother's head.

"What work have you been doing? Mercenary work? You aren't back working for Athenril, are you?" her mother asked, fearing for her child's welfare.

"Not directly. I'll have you know last night I spent the night ensuring the freedom of an escaped Tevinter slave," Aria answered, stretching her arms above her head to relieve the knot of tension that coiled in her upper back.

"Your father would be proud," Leandra whispered, stirring the stew on the hearth. "I was going to wake you in a few minutes, but you saved me the trouble. I have some bathwater ready for you at Bethany's behest. She said you would appreciate it."

"And I certainly do," Aria replied, reading more letters for her on the desk. It was then that she noticed the enormous bouquet of lilacs, lavender, white roses, and Andraste's Grace sitting in mother's favorite vase on the work bench. "What are those?"

"Oh! Those are for you. A rather handsome young fellow brought them a few hours ago. He said he wanted to apologize, but for what he did not say."

"What did he look like?" Aria asked, bending to sniff the lilacs and lavender. They were her favorite.

"He was tall. Carried a staff like Bethany. Golden haired and dark-eyed. He's been here a few times, though I've never caught his name. I think it begins with an A... He looked a mess," Leandra answered. She knew it was Anders. They'd met but weren't on first name terms yet.

Aria groaned in response, thumping her forehead against the hovel's wall a few times before turning to her mother, who was smiling secretively to herself as she watched her daughter.

"I think a hot bath is in order. And then I have some business to attend to in Hightown," Aria said when her mother gave her a curious look.

"Is he a noble?" Leandra asked.

"What?"

"The person you are going to see. Is he a noble?"

"I didn't say I was going to see anyone," Aria gently hedged. "I simply have business there tonight."

Leandra merely chuckled to herself and went back to preparing the meal, pointedly ignoring her daughter as she hummed a common Fereldan love song to herself. Aria took the water into the washroom and emptied it into the small tub. She let it cool for a few minutes, letting her sleep-tousled hair down from its pins and combing out the snarls.

She loved these small luxuries. The hot water instantly relaxed and soothed her aching muscles and bones. The scent of the soap Bethany had made for her always chased away her troubles and left her in the most beautifully blissful state. She didn't linger as long as normal, though, wanting to head up to Hightown and chase down some of the leads Athenril had blessed her with before the night got too late. She wanted to be in bed again well before dawn.

Aria reluctantly stood and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a clean sheet around her body. She applied the moisturizing oil she was so fond of to every inch of her skin, then set to work combing her hair. She took the top half of it and secured it in an intricate, elegant knot on top of her head, leaving the rest to flow around her shoulders and down her back. The luminescent, silvery mass cascaded nearly to her waist. Idly, she wondered about cutting it. Bethany would kill her.

She emerged from the washroom, clad in a soft cream peasant dress popular amongst the slightly better-off in Lowtown. Its bodice was laced with mauve cord and stopped just below the bosom, where the white sewn-in blouse underneath took over. The white bell sleeves were slightly off shoulder. She donned her favorite doeskin boots while sitting at the dining table and ate with her mother.

"You should leave your hair down more often, Aria," her mother said as they began to eat.

"Most of the time I cannot afford to," Aria replied through a mouthful of the surprisingly rich stew. She broke off a piece of the fresh loaf of bread and handed it to her mother before taking a piece for herself.

"You do dangerous work," Leandra acknowledged, delicately chewing a piece of beef that she spooned into her mouth.

"Where is Bethany?" Aria asked after a couple of silent minutes.

"She left with the gentleman that brought the flowers," Leandra said simply.

"Did she say what they were doing?"

"Helping at his clinic. There was a bout of the cough that sprang up and he required her aid."

Aria nodded and lifted her bowl, hungrily drinking the remaining broth. She swiped at her mouth with the flimsy napkin her mother had laid out for her.

"What is going on between you and him?" Leandra asked as her child finished eating and grabbed her implements from the bedroom.

"Absolutely nothing," Aria bitterly said, trying to keep her voice from being too harsh. She strapped the sheaths for her daggers over her shoulders, her mother assisting with buckling them.

Leandra watched as her daughter drew her buff colored cloak on, hiding the daggers sheathed on her shoulders. "It certainly seems as though it's quite a bit more than nothing," Leandra passively stated.

Aria sighed. "It's a case of the wants-but-cannot-have-for-silly-reasons."

"Well, who is the wanter and who is the cannot have?"

At this, Aria had to laugh. "He has feelings for me that he will not engage for fear of hurting me."

Leandra's expression darkened slightly. "That's silly. Why would he hurt you?"

"Mama, he has a very unique set of circumstances. But he doubts his strength, needlessly. And in that doubt, he fears breaking my heart."

"It seems to me, he is doomed to do so no matter what. Might as well enjoy what he can and damn the consequences."

Aria was a little surprised at her mother's liberal train of thought, though it was parallel with her own. "Exactly my thinking." She bent and kissed her mother on the top of the head, holding the hand she extended.

"I hope you're not out too late tonight, my child. You have been so weary as of late."

"I'll try to be back at a decent hour, I promise," Aria said, making her departure.

The heat of the day still radiated off the city's streets and buildings as Aria alighted the steps from Gamlen's house. She quickly walked through Lowtown, drawing the hood of her cloak over her head so that she may pass through this part of town unrecognized.

She nimbly took the steps leading up to Hightown two at a time and removed her hood once she'd cleared them. The heat was stifling, even in the growing dark. She caught one of the merchants Athenril's letter had mentioned as he was closing up his shop.

"Hear you're having problems with the Bone Pit," she said, to the man, Hubert—he ran an eclectic shop renowned for its quality goods. She realized he was the flippant Orlesian she'd talked to a couple weeks ago. "I can help."

He threw up his arms. "Eh! Finally someone comes to help me. You look a bit unseasoned, but I hope you will do."

Aria glared at him. "Appearances aren't everything, messere. I may not look the part, but that is my greatest asset."

"Indeed. I had to suspend operations!" he continued with his thick, ridiculous Orlesian accent. "My workers are lost in the mines or have run off. Serves me right for hiring Fereldan refugees. I sent others before, but no word. Perhaps they are putting me off! I need someone competent to figure out what is going on."

Aria's glare hardened. "You said some of your workers are Fereldan?" she said, malice slicing through her voice.

"Yes! All of them. An unruly lot to be sure," he said, oblivious to her change in expression.

"Mind what you say about my countrymen if you wish to have my help at all," she warned, pointedly patting the hilt of one of her daggers over her shoulder.

"I was not referring to you, of course!" the slippery Orlesian backpedaled. "My workers are a particularly desperate sort. They are lucky to work for me. Few in Kirkwall will hire refugees."

"Surely the miners had good reason to leave," Aria accusingly stated.

"I am at a loss," he said, his statement seemingly genuine. "No miner has reported in, and no one takes me seriously."

"The Bone Pit must be dangerous if people are afraid to venture there," she said, her assessment of Hubert not going so well in his favor. He was an idiot, and that was being more than nice.

"No, nothing like that. Pay no heed to local superstition. The Bone Pit is mostly harmless."

Seeing that there was no way to really make any headway with this moron, Aria simply said, "I'll head there soon."

"The sooner the better. Each day the mine is not running costs me more than these miners make in a year. The Bone Pit is just outside the city. Any map will show it," Hubert replied.

Ha, she thought to herself. You're going to wait a while before you hear from me. See how favorable you are towards my countrymen when you've lost your ass in gold.

Aria turned away from him and started walking across the Hightown merchant square, towards the robe shop run by Jean Luc, when she noticed someone leaning on the pillar beside the armour stand to her left. The figure was lean, lank, and lithe and she immediately recognized the silhouette.

Her golden brown gaze met the cool, calculating green one and she stopped. He inclined his silver head politely and gracefully pushed his shoulder off the pillar. She watched him stride towards her, his movements as fluid and graceful as a stalking mountain lion.

"My lady," Fenris said as he reached her, offering her his arm. "Why are you in Hightown this evening?"

She fought the blush that rose to her cheeks at his greeting. She wasn't a "Lady". At least, not yet. Perhaps when she took back the Amell estate for her Mother, she would be. But for now, the title was flattering and nothing more.

"I am chasing down some leads on some work," Aria replied, taking his arm and satisfied that her voice did not give away the fact that she was all aflutter on the inside.

"Any luck?" he asked.

"A little, yes."

"Hubert is a bit on the—willfully ignorant side," Fenris said, his voice deep and slightly raspy.

"Precisely what I was thinking, except in a little less flattering terms," Aria laughed, allowing him to lead her up the steps towards the estates.

"Where is it you are going now?" he asked, turning to look her in the eyes for a brief instant as they walked.

"Actually, I'm just wandering at this point. Had to get out of the house before I murdered my uncle, to be perfectly honest."

"He is particularly irksome?" Fenris asked, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

She had to consciously force herself to look away from his mouth. "That would be the understatement of the age," she replied darkly, glowering ahead of them.

"So, you are in need of distraction, then?" he asked, turning toward the estate that they'd broken into the night before, the one belonging to Danarius.

"I am, so long as it does not involve the use of weapons, magic, or trickery."

He chuckled at this, a husky, rasping, deep sound within his throat. "In that case, I think I may be able to provide it for you. Come, have a few drinks with me in my stolen palace," he said, opening the door for her.

Aria laughed, throwing her head back slightly. "Oh, such music to my ears," she said, entering the mansion.

Once inside, he took her cloak and hung it on the rack by the door. His skin was quite warm to the touch, as though he had fire coursing through his veins. She supposed it was the lyrium branding that was responsible. Still, she fought the chills that ran through her when his hands lightly brushed her shoulders.

"Go ahead upstairs to the main chamber. I'll be with you in a moment," Fenris gently commanded, his green eyes sparkling.

Aria studied his visage for a few seconds, noting that the harsh lines of anxiety and anger were much less visible. He looked several years younger and there was a vitality to him that was intoxicating. She hadn't garnered any of this last night; today, he was a completely different person. Er, elf, she mentally corrected. Whatever.

She smiled and bowed slightly, then made her way up the grand staircase to the sitting room they'd cleared only the night before. She sat in one of the luxuriously cushioned, ornately carved chairs that stood next to the enormous, lavish table.

Aria looked around the room, noting that much of the damage that had been done in their fight was cleared, at least in this room. A couple decorative pillars lay on their sides, broken, but beyond that, it was clean. It was a rather nice place. Much nicer than Gamlen's, anyway. Just as she was beginning to wonder where he'd disappeared to, the elf ascended the stairs, carrying two bottles of wine. He uncorked one and handed it to her, then uncorked the other for himself. They tapped the rims of the bottles together in a silent toast and took long draws from their respective bottles.

Fenris wiped his lips with his arm and looked at the label on the bottle. "Aggregio Pavali," he said and looked at her, his eyes aglow with an emotion she did not recognize. They were almost too bright, a manic intensity claiming them but so mesmerizing she couldn't look away. He took another long draw of it before continuing. "There are six bottles in the cellar. Danarius used to have me pour it for his guests. My appearance intimidated them, he said, which he enjoyed."

Aria nodded, also taking a long sip from her own bottle, which contained a much lighter colored wine. She read the label and found it to be some sort of Moscato. As she lowered the bottle, she looked over at him.

His gaze studied her and it set a slow, smoldering sensation to burning within her abdomen. Her heart rate climbed slightly. She fought to keep her breathing even. She could feel the heat reddening her cheeks and hoped he didn't notice.

"I can't imagine why—perhaps they were more awed than intimidated," Aria said after a minute of locked gazes.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he chuckled, lifting the bottle to his lips and draining the remainder of the wine. He looked at the bottle and with an almost wicked smile, he threw it at the wall. It shattered upon impact, making Aria jump slightly at the noise.

"You could have offered me a glass first, you know," she lightly teased, finishing her own bottle and setting it demurely on the table.

He tipped his head sideways, one brow lifting quizzically. "There's more, if you're really interested," he said, the innuendo in his tone not lost on her.

"Mmm. I've only just met you. I think one bottle of wine would suffice for my visit, lest we get too carried away. People will talk. Besides, how else would you redecorate the walls?" she saucily replied, leaning back slightly in her chair and stretching her back a little.

He laughed, that low, deep rumble she was beginning to become fond of. "Hmm," he said, looking as though a particularly profound thought had occurred to him. "I've wanted to leave my past behind. But it won't stay there."

He sat next to her, adjusting in his seat so that he was turned toward her. The way he moved… It was mesmerizing to her. She had never seen another being so lithe and powerful; he moved like water over rocks, fluid and strong.

"Tell me, have you never wanted to return to Ferelden?" he asked, his eyes locked on hers.

"I have no home left to return to," Aria softly stated, feeling the effects of the wine already. Maker help her.

"The Blight is over," he said, leaning forward towards her. "You could rebuild what you lost. Do you truly not want to?"

"If I could, I would. There are some memories—best left behind," she replied, glancing down at her hands as she clasped them in her lap. "Even if I wanted to, Kirkwall is my home now."

"Having a place where you can put down roots. I understand. Still, to have the option…must be gratifying," Fenris mused.

The way he looked at her, the intensity of his gaze was unsettling, but not necessarily in a bad way. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it, still. He was making her all too aware of her own needs as a mature woman and at the same time it was slightly unsettling. Like she was being hunted, sized up as prey. She shifted in her seat slightly and his eyes flickered over her body for an instant. It brought heat to her cheeks. Thankfully, she could just blame the wine if he asked.

"You've been on the run a long time, then?" she asked, working to keep her voice smooth and nonchalant.

He sighed and sat back, his eyes going to the mantle on the fireplace for a moment and granting her a blessed momentary reprieve. "Three years now. Danarius has a way of finding me—perhaps, it is the markings? Whatever the means, it never takes him long to follow. This is the first time I've given him reason to pause. I suppose there are advantages in numbers," he mused aloud, his gaze returning to her.

"Haven't you sought help before?" Aria asked, surprised.

"Hirelings when I could steal the coin. Never anyone of substance—until you," he said, his voice perceptibly softening for a second, then regaining the flintiness he seemed to reserve for his former master. "Danarius will not give up, however. I await his return."

Aria smiled. "What if he does give up? What then?" she challenged.

"Then I go to him," Fenris bitterly stated. "I will not live with a wolf at my back."

"Were I in your situation, I feel I would do the same," she tactfully said, nervously turning the empty wine bottle on the table so she could look at the logo better.

"If it comes to that," he sighed. "I doubt it will."

"Do you intend to keep living here?" she asked.

He turned a little in his seat again, facing her more easily, his expression open. "I haven't decided. For now, it's as good as any other place. I would return to Seheron if I could but…there is no life for me there."

"Is that where you're from?"

"So I've been told," he replied, his eyes drilling into her soul again.

"Were you very young when you left, then?" she pressed, intrigued to be learning more about this very mysterious elf. She'd never in her life met anyone like him and she found him damnedly interesting.

"Perhaps," he said, leaning forward slightly more.

"I can't imagine a life like that. It must be—very difficult."

His eyes softened slightly, but his teeth seemed to set. "I am not made of glass," he replied. "I should thank you again for helping me against the hunters." His tone was genuinely appreciative.

"Yes, you should," she playfully replied and he returned the flirtatious smile she gave him.

His hand rested on hers on the table then, warm and rough on her much cooler, much smoother skin. "Had I known Anso would find me a woman so capable, I might have asked him to look sooner."

She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat at his touch. "You sound as though you're asking for more," she quietly said, surprised at the slight huskiness in her tone.

He smiled and gently, lingeringly withdrew his hand from atop hers. "Well, this mansion does require some upkeep," he said lightly. He gracefully stood, offering her his arm to help her up.

She took it and allowed him to walk her towards the steps that led into the great hall and out the entryway.

They stood in the foyer for a moment, just watching each other, eyes locked for what seemed like forever but in reality could only have been a minute or less. He broke her gaze in order to fetch her cloak. She allowed him to help her don it, noticing that he inspected the daggers still sheathed on her back for a second before she adjusted the cloak around her shoulders.

"Perhaps I'll work on my flattery for your next visit?" he teased, turning the doorknob and gently tugging the door open, making a sweeping gesture with his arm as he lightly bowed. "With any luck, I'll become better at it."

She laughed despite herself and stepped through the doorway, looking over her shoulder. "I look forward to it. Thank you for the lovely evening."

"My pleasure, my lady," he said.

She continued down the pathway, feeling his gaze on her back as she went. She fought the urge to look back again and get one last glimpse of those intense, green eyes. But she didn't want to seem…desperate? Was that the word? There was a fine line between confident in what one wanted and outright desperation.

Confident in what one wanted. Dear Maker, she wanted that beautiful elf. What was wrong with her? She sighed to herself and drew her hood up over her head, hurrying back to Lowtown. She decided that she would stop in at the Hanged Man and see what Varric was up to. Perhaps he could provide a better distraction. Or at least a distraction from the one she already found and wasn't too comfortable with at the moment.

Maker help her.