Chapter THIRTEEN

When she returned home that afternoon, Bethany engulfed her in a hug at the door. Her mother and Gamlen were not present. She was thankful that the weasel wasn't there, but slightly aggrieved that her mother was not. Bethany had a bath prepared in no time, thanks to her magic, and Aria gratefully slipped into the thick foam and hot water. Bethany sat next to the tub while her sister bathed.

"So it went all right then?" Bethany asked once Aria had relayed the adventure's outcomes.

"Yes," Aria sighed gratefully. "Except I fear I may have made an enemy of Fenris, and Anders is becoming far more complicated."

"Fenris was angry that you helped a mage," Bethany stated.

"In short, yes. He was intrigued by Flemeth though."

"Intrigued? You mean he didn't spit scathing insults at her and tell her she should be bound and gagged?"

Aria chuckled throatily at this. "He didn't quite know what to think of her. He wasn't afraid, nor was he outright angry. Well, about Flemeth anyway. Merrill, the elf mage, used blood magic. I think that makes her 'most depraved' number one in his book."

Bethany shook her head sadly. "A blood mage? In the alienage? That's wise."

Her sarcasm was quite evident. "I know, but what could I do? You'll like her, actually. She's kind of awkward and flighty, in an endearing sort of way. Varric likes her."

"Well, if Varric likes her," Bethany chortled, not needing to finish that sentence. "I would like to meet her though."

"Perhaps we may visit her tomorrow," Aria softly said, sinking lower into the water. "Oh sister, you are too good to me."

"Pfff! I did it for myself as much as you," Bethany scoffed. "You should have smelled yourself."

"Oh stop it!" Aria squealed, splashing a handful of foam and hot water at her sister. "I did not smell that bad!"

Bethany giggled. "You're right, you didn't. But I can't not give you hell for leaving me here."

"There were a lot of ambushes, a lot of creatures, and a lot of spirits. I'm thankful you were here. Let the rest of them get killed—but not you."

"That's a terribly selfish thing to say," Bethany scolded gently.

"It isn't, because I don't do it for myself. I do it for mother," Aria retorted.

"I know, Aria. It's just—I hate that you're the one who has to be in danger all the time. I know, I have to worry about the Circle and the templars, but they won't outright kill me. You're putting your life on the line all the time while I sit idly by like a scared rabbit in a hole."

"That doesn't make you a coward and you have done so much good for our countrymen. The work you do with Anders is vital to the refugees' survival."

"You are being far too modest sister. I saw the gouge in your armour when you walked in. And the blood that stains your clothes. Anders healed you?"

Aria sank under the water before answering, only continuing the conversation when she wiped the foam and soap from her head and face after emerging.

"Yes. And between you and me, I can't take it if that man touches me," Aria replied at last.

"Oh it can't be that awful!" Bethany shouted, rolling her eyes.

"It's not. That's the problem," Aria moaned, covering her face with her hands.

"I see. And he won't…" she trailed off, looking to Aria to finish the thought.

"He won't."

"Perhaps I should write Ser Devon a letter," Bethany teased.

"And people call me a shrew," Aria laughed. "I'm fairly certain a man like him was snatched up by some comely Denerim maiden and has a gaggle of children by now."

"Well, then you're better off. You hate children."

Aria threw another handful of water and suds at her sister. "I don't hate them! I just don't want them. Big difference."

"But why? You'd be a wonderful mother!"

"Right. I'd take them on ambushes with bandits and into caves with the giant spiders. It would be an incredible learning experience!"

"You won't be fighting for forever, you know. Someday, you'll be a wealthy, affluent, influential woman and you'll have men courting you at every turn. Good men. With pedigrees," Bethany said, looking haughty.

"I don't want a man with a pedigree."

"No, you want a man with a purpose. Except, you're only drawn to men whose purpose is bigger than their want of you."

It stung, but it was true. Ser Devon was of the Order and answered the higher calling of the Chantry and the Maker. Anders had Justice and his freedom fight for magic. Fenris…he was hellbent on making Danarius pay at any cost.

"Sister, I'm sorry—I didn't mean—" Bethany started after Aria was silent for several moments.

"No, Bethany. You're right," Aria softly replied.

"You're the only woman capable of keeping them from going too far. You're the only woman strong enough to save them from self-destruction. It is your burden to bear—just don't be afraid to cast it off should it threaten your life," Bethany sweetly said.

"When did you get so wise?" Aria teased, throwing a sprig of lavender that floated in the foam at her sister.

"When you became so strong," Bethany simply stated.

They smiled at each other and were silent. Aria scrubbed her hair with the lavish shampoo and Bethany used a pitcher of warm water to rinse it for her. They didn't speak again until Aria was allowing the cream rinse to soak into her hair and scalp.

"I have a feeling that all of this…this fighting, this good-deed-doing, this emerging triangle or whatever the Void it is… It's only going to get worse. I fear that there will not be an end. That we will not have happy endings. That the sadness and despair will only take root and grow, and never be cut down," Aria said as she rested her back against the small, cramped tub.

"The end is what you make it," Bethany said. "One of the most intelligent, dynamic, and bravest people I know said that."

"Oh ha-ha," Aria snidely laughed, the light in her eyes playful. "All right, what do you want?"

Bethany laughed loudly and heartily. "I want nothing. I'm just glad you're home. I fear more and more for you every day. To hear the things people say on the streets—I fear you're right. There is much more coming. But, I know too, that you can handle anything that comes your way."

"Do not fear for me," Aria gently said. "I am—well-protected."

"A bonus from having your companions in love with you?" Bethany teased.

"Oh bugger off it!" Aria hollered, splashing water at her sister again.

"It is entertaining, you know," Bethany chided, ignoring the water that penetrated her skirt.

"I'm so glad you find my predicaments so amusing," Aria leeringly retorted.

"Mmm, so does Varric. I'm certain he'll have a lovely addition to his forthcoming periodical," Bethany said, standing. "I'll be at the Hanged Man or at the clinic. Talk to you later, sister."

"Later," Aria agreed, slipping below the surface to rinse the cream from her hair. She emerged from under the water and decided that it was time for her to get out of the bath. The water was dirty and beginning to cool off too rapidly. She covered herself in a couple of large towels, then walked to her bedroom.

She quickly donned her only clean pair of black knit panties, a black lace brassiere that she'd bought last week, black suede leggings, and a black peasant blouse that was utilitarian but also reasonably fashionable. She did her hair in its usual ornate bun, keeping it all up out of her face. Next, she tugged on her black doeskin boots and her leather weapons harness for her daggers. Lastly, she donned her favorite hooded cloak to conceal her daggers and protect her shoulders and head from the late afternoon sun.

It was terribly hot today and Aria was seriously reconsidering the wonderful idea she'd had in wearing all black clothes. It wasn't so bad when she reached Hightown and the breeze from the sea hit her. She took a stroll through the Chantry gardens, finding it incredibly soothing among the flowers and the larks. She snipped a few sprigs of lavender, a couple handfuls of vanilla blossoms, and a few buds of sage and deposited them in her satchel. Her stocks of soaps were starting to dwindle and she needed the items so Bethany could craft it for her. Aria also clipped a number of dark purple lilac buds and hid them in her satchel so that Bethany could make some potpourri for their room out of it.

When she left the gardens, she noticed a shadow at the top of one of the walls. She caught it just out of the corner of her eye and when she turned her head it was gone. Sighing, she unsheathed her main hand dagger, using her cloak to keep it concealed. She yanked her hood up and proceeded through the gates, making her way towards the Hightown markets.

She was stopped when someone called out a name that could only mean her.

"Song bird!" the voice addressed her from nearly twenty feet away. It was given low, meant for only her ears.

Aria turned to face the voice, her tawny eyes searching, her hood falling back. She caught movement in the shadows near the entrance to the estates. The silvery head in the dark was a dead giveaway.

"Fenris?" Aria asked, sheathing her dagger and crouching into the shadow with him.

"You are quite bold stealing flowers from the Chantry," he said as she joined him.

"And you are quite bold for following me. I planted half the lavender and all of the vanilla flowers in that garden, if you must know. It's a community thing. Everyone gives, everyone takes," Aria challenged.

"What are you doing with them?" he queried, his emerald green eyes nearly glowing in the darkness.

"Bethany crafts soaps and the like for me," Aria answered.

He leaned close and touched his nose to her hairline, just below her ear. She shuddered as he breathed in deeply. He noticed the goose bumps on her arms and his mouth briefly quirked at one corner.

"You always smell divine," Fenris huskily stated.

"And you always look it," Aria replied, clapping a hand over her mouth. "I don't know what's gotten in to me—"

Fenris chuckled, leaning toward her and tenderly pushing her cloak away from her shoulders. "You are a beautiful woman, Aria Hawke."

"You're an intoxicating presence, Fenris," she headily came back.

"Aria," he sighed, his hands going down her bare arms. "I must be off. I just saw you enter the gardens and figured I'd keep a look out for you. One can never be too careful in this city."

Aria smiled ruefully as she allowed him to pull her to her feet. "I can hold my own. Thanks for the extra security. But before you go, I want to apologize."

He tilted his head quizzically to the side. "For?"

"I know it wasn't easy for you to help a mage."

"Just so long as you realize and bear in mind the fact that she is a blood mage and can't be trusted," he said, his eyes riveted on hers. "There is no need for apology. Just extra vigilance."

"I'll do my best," she replied softly.

"What Marethari said," he continued, striding back up to her. "What do you think she meant?"

Aria was silent for a moment, keenly aware of how he kept breathing deeply, inhaling her perfume. "I don't know, to be honest. There's a number of ways it could be interpreted, I suppose."

"And of the Witch?"

"Hers was most cryptic of all, though she seems to be well aware of you," Aria said.

His expression grew contemplative as he considered the long shadows that covered the corridors and arches in darkness. "I believe that I'm not yet truly free, but I will be. How beautiful will that day be, when I can finally claim ownership of myself?"

Aria laid a hand on his shoulder, alarmed by the heat of his skin. He was always so incredibly warm. "You already can. The only one who doesn't know it yet is Danarius. And we'll take care of him."

"Thank you, Aria," he said, looking down into her eyes.

"You're welcome, Fenris," she replied, gently backing away from him.

He gave her a half-smile, then turned and disappeared into the shadows. Aria pulled her cloak back around her and darted through the courtyards down the steps and to the market place. She swiftly descended the steps to Lowtown and raced home.

She quickly dropped her foraged vegetation off at Gamlen's, perturbed that no one was home. Gamlen was probably in the Blooming Rose, but Mother's absence was a bit more hard, and quite frankly, unsettling to try and explain. She decided to try her luck at the Hanged Man and see if Bethany was there.

As she strode in, she noticed a little scuffle going on at the bar. One of the local tavern rats, Lucky, was hassling an obviously Rivaini woman. She was dark skinned, buxom, and lithe, her movement suggesting that she was no stranger to libidinous endeavors. Her jewelry and dress spoke of time spent at sea.

"You owe us, Isabela," Lucky, a tall, reddish-blond brutish man was saying to the Rivaini, who kept her back to him. He rounded the bar so that he was in front of her, seeking intimidation.

"Well Lucky, I'll tell you what," the Rivaini, Isabela, sweetly drawled. "Since the information you gave me was worth nothing…that's what I'll pay you."

"Me and my boys will get our money's worth, bitch," Lucky cursed, sidling up to her and grabbing her arm.

Isabela tilted her head and leaned closer to him, purring "Oh you poor, sweet thing." She tilted her head more and was a hair's breadth from kissing him when she grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head on the bar.

She instantly sprang into action, fending off and disabling the other two louts who had accompanied Lucky this evening. Just as she disabled the last of the two, Lucky moved to strike. She whirled impressively and came to a sudden, swift halt, the blade of her dagger just beginning to worry the fine hairs on his throat.

"Tell me, Lucky: Is this worth dying for?"

The hooligans swiftly departed. Isabela leveled her dark, stormy hazel stare on Aria, a suggestive smile curling her lips. Aria nodded politely and bounded up the steps to Varric's quarters, feeling the Rivaini's gaze upon her rather than seeing it. To her surprise, she found everyone but Aveline and Fenris already there.

"Oho! The hero deigns to grace us with her presence!" Varric cheered as Aria poked her silvery head in.

"Haha! I'm so glad you decided to come out tonight, sister!" Bethany said, her pretty, fair cheeks flushed dusty rose with the effects of the mead. She was quite stunning, with her pale skin, her short, shiny dark hair, and her dark, soft, doe-like eyes.

"Come, pull up a stool and I'll buy you a drink," Anders said, tugging an empty stool out from under the table next to him.

"So long as it stays under five tonight, guys," Aria laughed, accepting the seat he offered.

"Five what?" said Merrill, hiccoughing.

"Never you mind, Daisy," Varric laughed. "Hawke's just trying to be a spoil sport."

The servant girl, Norah, came up with a tray loaded with all manners of tankards and alcohol. There was dwarven ale, Fereldan ale, Kirkwaller ale, meads from all over the world, and a few shots of clear liquid that Aria knew was not water. She took one of the small glasses and sniffed.

"Careful, Hawke," Varric chortled. "That'll put you on your ass!"

"What is it?" Aria asked, bringing the little shot glass to her lips.

"Moonshine," Varric answered. "Finest in Kirkwall. Guaranteed to put you down where you stand."

"Huh," Aria nonchalantly said, draining the shot and slamming it on the table. "We'll just have to see about that, now won't we?"

They all burst into cheers and took their own tankards from the tray. They all knocked the rims of them together in friendly toasts, then settled back down to drinking and storytelling. Varric began with a tale that he'd just written.

"Hawke, Blondie, you might want to cover your ears for this one," Varric said before starting.

Aria looked to Anders, who smiled back at her. He slipped his hand over her knee beneath the table where no one could see. Aria fought to keep her breathing even and her heart from hammering a hole through her chest.

"I think we'll be just fine," Anders said.

Varric's tale was a simple, embellished recounting of their most recent quest, in which they brought Merrill down to the alienage and gave Flemeth back her locket. Merrill didn't realize this until very late in the story, where she often interjected with her own thoughts. Varric was gracious as usual and incorporated her takes on the plot into the telling.

When he got to the part where Aria had felled the Arcane Horror and found herself narrowly evading the cliff face, Varric made up a new twist in which the mage and the elf both reached for her and pulled her back. He embellished again, saying the mage and elf crossed blades over the matter of the lady's affections, but the handsome, gilt-tongued dwarf rogue in the party settled them down. The elven mage they'd come across did the ritual with the locket and the witch Flemeth appeared, giving each of them a piece of advice that they would do well to heed.

As the story came to an end, when Asha'bellanar flew away, Varric made his own little prophecy.

"As the dragon-formed Flemeth took to the sky, her mighty wings thumping like the beat of a giant heart and her roar heard for miles, the heroes revisited the witch's words to them, her warnings. The Lady was especially troubled, but she needn't be. While she may not have the wings of a dragon to lift her, she has so many more to choose from. The Lady Hawke need not fear falling. She already knows she can fly," Varric tenderly stated, his eyes on Aria's. "And that, my friends, is a tale for next time!"

They all clapped. Bethany dabbed at the tears that formed in the corners of her eyes, her gaze meeting with Aria's for a moment. She smiled and reached across the table, grasping her sister's hand. Aria couldn't speak. Varric had such a beautiful way with words and he knew how to work a crowd. She wanted to say something sarcastic to diffuse the sappiness of the situation but couldn't find the right thing to say. Merrill was gazing starry-eyed at Varric.

"What a beautiful story," Merrill said, resting her head on her folded arms where they rested on the table. "I hadn't seen it like that at all. Can you really fly, Aria?"

Aria laughed. "I haven't any real wings, Merrill. Varric meant figuratively."

"Figuratively. Oh right, not literally! But then, what does it mean?"

Anders chuckled, his hand still resting on Aria's knee, squeezing gently. "It means, Merrill, that she has people who will catch her should she fall. And if she cannot be caught, well, there are those of us who will employ whatever means necessary to ensure her survival."

He looked into Aria's eyes as he said this, fighting the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear. Her cheeks flushed and she timidly smiled back at him.

"Oh! She has us!" Merrill giggled, nearly falling off her stool. It was enough to snap Anders and Aria out of the trance they'd been in.

Aria hurriedly snatched a pint of the Kirkwaller Mead and chugged about half of it before rejoining the conversation. Varric meanwhile cut Daisy off from further imbibing. She had a hard enough time finding her way around Lowtown, let alone doing it drunk in the dark.

"So what's next, Hawke?" Varric queried, lifting his tankard to his lips and finishing it. The display between her and Anders had been carefully observed, much to Aria's dismay.

"There's plenty to be done. I've been hunting down leads Athenril's been sending my way."

"I thought you weren't working with her anymore," Bethany pouted. "Aria, you promised—"

"It's nothing like what we used to do, Bethany," Aria quickly consoled. "It's just security on shipments, tracking down missing items, oh—and I forgot. We have to go to the Bone Pit for Hubert. Figure out why the miners have stopped reporting in."

Varric groaned. "And when are we supposed to be doing all of this?"

At this, Aria grinned rather devilishly. "Well, I'm dangling Hubert by his purse strings a little. Thinks he can insult a Fereldan to their face and they won't do anything about it. I guess we could have gone a few days ago, but he's losing his ass in gold every day that I hold off. I figured I'd bleed him a bit, then help."

Varric laughed heartily. "Remind me never to get on your bad side, Hawke."

"Oh you needn't worry. You don't speak with an Orlesian accent," Aria retorted.

Just then a knock sounded on the door. They all looked up to see a beautiful, buxom Rivaini pirate woman standing there. Her eyes leveled on Aria. Varric stood.

"Ah, Rivaini! Come to join the party?" Varric cajoled, waving the woman in.

She bowed respectfully and entered, pulling a stool out next to Aria. She extended her hand to the other rogue, and Aria took it.

"You're new around here aren't you?" she asked as she sat down. "Welcome, and keep your wits about you. You're nothing but tits and ass to the men in this place, and they won't hesitate to grab both," she said, taking the tankard Varric proffered.

Aria sat back a little, her posture assuming a defensive stance, her hand sneaking up her cloak to her shoulder and resting on the hilt of one of her daggers. "Speaking from experience, are we?"

The woman, Isabela, Lucky had called her, laughed low and suggestively in her throat. "After a few broken fingers here and there, they got the idea," she said, looking Aria over. "You needn't be so cautious. If I wanted to hurt you, you'd already be dead."

"I highly doubt that, Madam, and you're not at all welcome to try," Anders coldly said, his eyes hard as onyx.

The Rivaini chuckled again and turned her attention back to Aria. Aria got the distinct impression that she was being sized up—like a prize stallion at market. It set her teeth on edge and she kept her fingers on the hilt of the dagger.

"I'm Isabela," the Rivaini said, taking a swig from the tankard Varric had given her. "Previously 'Captain Isabela'. Sadly, without my ship, the title rings a bit hollow. You're Fereldan, aren't you?"

Aria nodded tersely, not giving any more details away before she could do her own feeling out.

"You have that look about you. I was in Denerim not too long ago. You know, you might be just what I'm looking for to solve a little problem I have," Isabela continued.

Aria sighed and sat back in her chair, glaring at the ceiling for a second before leveling her tawny stare on the Rivaini. "Can't anyone fix their own lives around here?"

"Must be something in the water," Isabela warmly chuckled. "Someone from my past has been pestering me. I've arranged for a duel—if I win, he leaves me alone. But, I don't trust him to play fair. I need someone to watch my back."

Aria turned her head to look at the woman, who smiled seductively and placed her hand on Aria's thigh, leaning in slightly so that their faces were closer. "What makes you think I'm right for this?" Aria coldly asked, not batting an eyelash as the pirate's face stopped mere inches from her own.

"You saw me talking to Lucky, didn't you?" she almost purred, the honey in the mead evident on her breath. "Those boys couldn't manage simple information-gathering. I can't trust the riff raff in this place to do anything right. But you…" she said, trailing a finger down Aria's arm. "You're different."

Aria sighed and took a long draught from the tankard in front of her. She slammed the empty vessel down and looked back at the Rivaini, who still sat way too close. "I think I could manage watching your back."

Isabela sat back, a throaty chuckle bubbling from her mouth. "I'll bet you can," she said, licking her lips. "I've arranged to meet Hayder in Hightown after dark five days from now. I'll meet you there." She stood and made her exit, stopping at the door to turn and address Varric. "Thanks for the mead, handsome. I'll see you around."

"Anytime, Rivaini," Varric chuckled as she shut the door.

"I do not like her," Anders said as soon as the pirate's boot steps were out of hearing range.

"She's—interesting," Merrill chimed. "I like her skin. It's very dark and very mysterious."

"Ah, Daisy. You must learn to be careful," Varric chuckled.

"I don't like her either," Bethany softly added.

"She's a pirate. A temptress. A rogue. She's driven, focused, and talented in her own ways. But I will never trust a word she says if it doesn't involve some gain for her. Altruism is not in her nature and she'll be quick to sell you out if her hide is in danger," Aria said, dragging the other shot of moonshine across the table with the tip of her index finger.

"An accurate assessment," Varric laughed. "And are you so rattled that you need that, Hawke?"

Aria cast him a sidelong grin, her tawny eyes sparkling mischief. "Rattled? Ser Dwarf, you wound me. Rattled am I not. However, I am thirsty and a fire in my belly would be much appreciated. So," she said, lifting the little glass to her lips. "Down the hatch!"

They cheered when she slammed the little glass on the table. Varric rang the servant bell for Norah and they continued talking amongst themselves well into the night. It was nearly midnight when Merrill took her leave, escorted by Bethany.

To their surprise, no sooner had the two mages left, when Aveline came tromping in.

"Oh, you would not believe the headache nobles can give you," Aveline said as she sat down and took the pint of Kirkwaller ale that Varric gave her. "Thank you, Varric. I trust your mission to the Dales went well?" Her gaze circulated quickly around the room, meeting each of theirs in turn.

"It did. You actually just missed our newest addition," Aria said, smiling as Norah entered the room with a fresh tray of tankards. Aria was quick to hand over the necessary silvers and left Norah a generous tip. Varric nodded his head in thanks that Aria bought this round.

"I had heard there was a new Dalish in the alienage. Is she dangerous?"

Anders snorted. "Depends. She's whimsical and a bit daft. Oh, and she consorts with demons so… No, no real danger. None at all."

Aveline's green gaze spat sparks as she turned to Aria. "Hawke?" she said, her voice commanding an answer.

"Oh for the love of Andraste," Aria said, elbowing Anders in the ribs. She took a hearty swig from her pint of mead and continued. "She's a Dalish First. She was supposed to inherit the Keeper's responsibilities, but she is obsessed with recovering Dalish history and artifacts. She's actually very friendly and one of the nicest, most absent-minded creatures you'll ever meet."

"But she consorts with demons," Aveline said, not won by the gloss Aria had thrown over the subject.

"Yes, and Anders is a spirit abomination," Aria said. "Your point, messere?"

Anders glowered at Aria, but the slight smile tugging at his lips made her ignore it. Aveline sighed heavily and took another long drink.

"Just see to it that she doesn't cause any trouble," Aveline admonished. "So how'd the mission go, besides bringing back a Dalish?"

"Hawke almost took a tumble," Anders said, barbing Aria for her crack on Justice.

"What?" Aveline cried, her eyes going wide with horror.

"They make mountains out of molehills," Aria exasperatedly said, throwing up her arms. "There was this wretched spirit who just would not die. He had me at the ledge, but I smote him down. I won. It lost. End of story."

"Sounds pretty serious. But you can handle yourself," Aveline replied coolly.

"So what about those nobles giving you a headache?" Varric pressed, his elbows on the table as he cupped his chin. He was always eager for information and Aveline was privy to some real gems.

"Maker help me. If I had all day to spend concocting complaints to rain down on the Guard-Captain, I'd do much better than these lot. They constantly complain about the estate Fenris is in. It's in slight disrepair, but there are estates that are worse. And, they've complained that the name Hawke is more esteemed than their own houses and they want to put a ban on ever uttering the word," Aveline launched into her vexation, smirking at Aria as she recounted that last bit.

"Oh stop it. They did not either. But what about this thing with Fenris? Is it serious? Is he in danger?" Aria asked, kicking herself for the look of pure jealous hatred that washed over Anders's face.

"Not immediately, no. But if he doesn't do something about the appearance of that mansion, I may not be able to hold off his—eventual eviction if it comes to it," Aveline said. "They don't know he's there, I think. But they complain that the estate's condition brings down the values of their own estates."

"Hmm," Varric said, stroking his chin between his index and thumb. "Let me see what I can do, Aveline. I might be able to stir something up."

"So long as it isn't illegal and doesn't come back on me, Varric," Aveline said, her eyes playful.

"Madam! Do you really see me as such a low criminal?" Varric replied, feigning a wound to his heart.

"I take you for that and much more!" Aveline playfully challenged.

Varric guffawed loudly and slapped the table. "I knew I liked you for a reason, Aveline!"

"Yes well, just mind your methods and we won't have any trouble," Aveline retorted.

"The elf needn't worry. I'll take care of it," Varric said, extending his hand to Aveline. She took it and shook it.

"See that you do," she said. "So, where are you off to next?" she addressed Aria.

"Probably the Bone Pit," Aria replied, swiping foam from her lip as she finished her mead.

"Hubert's a fool for mining there. And he uses refugees for cheap labour," Anders spat, his mood not improving since Aria had expressed interest in Fenris's welfare.

"Hubert," Aveline groaned, rubbing her temples. "He's been in my office demanding that I send guards. There is no one at the mines, so why would I need to send guards there? Oh, and do please hurry up on that promise, Hawke. He's come in the past two days demanding that I clap you in irons for failure to deliver on a service."

Aria snorted at this. "We didn't sign any contracts. And he would do well to learn a bit of humility. He insulted my kinsmen to my face, then expected me to just run along and do his bidding. I plan on going there tomorrow. I just wanted to dent his purse a little first."

"I'd do the same," Aveline said. "I wish I could join you, but I've got obligations—"

"Aveline, you needn't explain yourself," Aria gently cut her off. "We all know you're busy. I'll take Fenris in your stead."

"Fenris. Do you trust him?" Aveline asked.

"He's never given me reason not to," Aria honestly replied.

"Fair enough," Aveline said. "Well, I think this should do it for me for the night. I'll see you all soon, I bet."

"Good night, Aveline," Varric said, inclining his head politely. She nodded in response.

"Do watch yourself on these streets. The scum are likely out," Anders said.

"I think they'll think twice about assaulting the captain of the guard," Aveline replied. "But thank you for your concern. Hawke—" she said, extending her hand to the rogue. Aria took it. "Be careful tomorrow. I've heard bad things about the Bone Pit and the miners aren't there because they're simply too lazy to work. It's dangerous."

"I'll be careful," Aria said, shaking the captain's hand and releasing it.

"Do. Good night."

"Goodnight," they all said in unison.

Aria stretched and leaned back in her chair. "It's been a hell of a day."

Varric yawned and also stretched. "Yeah—I'm gonna have Norah prepare me a bath. Then I'm hitting the sheets. You're welcome to crash here, but I think Bethany would have a fit if you weren't home."

Anders stood then, offering Aria his arm. She politely took it and turned back to Varric. "Thank you, Varric. You're a trusted, formidable ally."

"My pleasure, madam," he said with a flourish. "Likewise."

"Goodnight, Varric," Anders said as they reached the door.

"Goodnight, Blondie."

Anders closed the door and they descended the steps leading into the lower part of the tavern. Isabela waved to them from her perch at the bar, her brows shooting up in curiosity at the manner with which they walked. Her eyes settled for a moment on their linked arms and she winked at Aria. Aria ignored her after that and allowed Anders to lead her outside.

The night was warm and the fragrance of Lady Elegant's wildflowers drifted through the square. A stray cat scurried ahead of them and Anders made a mewling sound in his throat. The cat turned toward him for a split second, then disappeared into the shadows towards Darktown.

"You are fond of them," Aria liltingly said, allowing him to pull her slightly closer.

"Cats are incredible creatures. They're every bit as smart as a Mabari, but they're more…more…"

"Independent. I understand," Aria softly chuckled, placing her free hand on top of the one that held his arm.

He smiled at the gesture and continued walking, their shoulders and hips gently bumping as they walked.

"Are you truly worried about Fenris?"

Aria sighed. "He's part of our little squadron. Of course I worry. What would those Hightown noble idiots have done to him if they found out? They'd have him deported and sent right back to Tevinter, and I doubt he'd go without a fight."

"So it is merely—professional worry?" Anders tentatively asked.

Aria stopped walking and faced him. "Anders—if any of you were in danger, I'd react the same. Fenris, you, Varric, Aveline, Merrill, Bethany… Any of you."

"I just—I'm sorry I can't control myself. The thought of another man touching you—"

"Perhaps that is exactly what I need, what I'm yearning for, Anders," Aria softly said, leaning into him and sliding her palm gently down his face.

His hands went around her waist and drew her sharply to him. He looked down into those fiery, brown-gold eyes and saw what she wanted. What she needed of him. He tenderly cupped her face in his hands.

"Aria," he shakily whispered. "What I'd give to have you to myself…"

"Then give it," she whispered. "And claim me. Otherwise, Anders… My heart won't wait forever."

He crushed her to him, nearly sobbing as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips caressed his jaw, finding his ear and the soft, sensitive bit of flesh just behind it. Her breath gently grazed his skin and set his blood on fire. Maker, he wanted her more than anything in creation. But then there was the voice of Justice, telling him it wouldn't be fair to her. He had a purpose, and that purpose would surely only lead to her demise. He couldn't destroy her.

"Aria," he whispered, moaning as her lips grazed his neck. He gently pushed her back enough that he could look down into her eyes. He cupped her face again, his thumbs smoothing over her cheeks. "It would be the most selfish thing I could ever do. It would…destroy you," he nearly sobbed.

"Anders, please," she pleaded, stroking his face with her own hand. "You're stronger than you think. I'm stronger than you think. Just please…"

Anders closed his eyes tightly shut, trying to ward off the sudden ache that took his heart at her words. He should never have let his feelings for her known, and Maker help him, he couldn't stay away from her. She was a potent drug, irresistible, indomitable. She was his other half, but his sins wouldn't allow him to claim her as such.

"Aria, I can't," he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Maker help me, I want to. My heart…my heart is ever yours. But I can't."

She slowly backed away, her chin lowering. "I think—I understand."

"Do you?" he asked, gently touching her shoulder.

Aria looked up at him, trying to figure out if she really did understand. Was it really Justice he was afraid of? Or did he have something planned that would be his undoing? Was that the fate he was protecting her from? Had he really given up all hope?

"You will—eventually—be forced to act in such a way that it will mean the forfeiture of your life," she quietly said, the words becoming surer with each syllable pronounced.

The breath rushed out of his chest. How could she know? He'd done nothing, said nothing to give it away. He wasn't even sure of it himself, until she had just now uttered the words. Something fell into place and he recalled the conversations they'd had regarding fate. He knew his. How could she fathom what burdens had been set unto him when he decided to bear Justice? But then, at least this way, now that she knew, she understood.

"What I'm at a loss about is why you think you have to do something like that," Aria continued, her gaze lifting to his again, her eyes sad and her tone slightly accusatory. "Such an act will not bring peace, Anders. Not for you, and not for anyone you love."

He stood there in stunned silence, tears rolling from his eyes at her words. He fell to his knees before her, burying his head against her waist, his fingers tangling in the cloak that surrounded her. Her arms gently folded around his shoulders and they stayed like that a good long while. He wept silently, clinging to her. All the sorrow, the frustration, and all the hatred he had for the injustice in this world would kill him and she knew it. He knew it now, too. He couldn't let it take her. He wouldn't.

He slowly rose to his feet, wiping at his eyes with the sleeves of his robe. She watched him, those tawny eyes catching everything. He offered her a smile, but it was bitter and sad.

She touched his face again, her own eyes hurt and pleading. "Why must you go to such lengths, Anders? Why is it not enough that you already help so many in need?"

He jerked away from her, working to harden his eyes, then feeling the nauseating sensation of the fade portal opening. "Because it is not what I'm meant for," he said, his tone taking on a much sharper edge. "I'm meant to bring down every injustice done unto mages and hold those who trespassed against us responsible."

Aria stepped back, seeing the immediate change in him. The white light pulsed weakly beneath his skin. "Then you will have us all killed," she snapped.

"If you deserve it!" he shot back, taking a step towards her. The white light was much more pronounced now and she recognized his voice was not his own anymore.

"Then that is not justice!" she shouted back, stepping up so that she looked him dead in the eyes. "That is vengeance, and vengeance is as much a sin as murder!"

"I am Justice!"

"No, you're not," Aria softly stated, reaching up and touching his face, knowing Anders was in there somewhere.

The light faded and he was himself again, though much weakened and drained of his energy and mana.

"Do you see now?" Anders whispered.

"Justice is a coward. Rather than take the time to actually find those at fault he blames everyone and would see us all killed," Aria spat.

"That part isn't him," Anders gently said. "That's my anger. That's my…wrath. He absorbed it and this is what has happened."

"Cast him out," Aria said, rounding on him. "Cast him out and relinquish him to the fade where he belongs. Let him wreak his righteous havoc there. Not here."

"It isn't that simple, Aria," he pleaded. "He's…part of me now. The only way to do that would be to make me…Tranquil. Could you do that to me?"

She touched his face. "I'll kill you myself if that ever happens to you."

He kissed her palm and gently set it back at her side. "Then I'm truly grateful to have such a compassionate friend as you."

"It's late," Aria wearily said, looking back at the alley that led to her home.

"It is. I must go. When you're ready to leave in the morning, send for me. I'll be there," he softly said.

"I have to bring Fenris," she admonished.

"It won't be a problem," Anders said, and his expression was earnest.

"Anders—"

"Aria?"

"I wish you could be happy," she said, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"I traded that ability away in the hope that others, many, many others, could be happy. Take heart, Aria. You've given me more than I had ever dared hope for."

He turned then and swiftly disappeared into the alley that led down to Darktown. She stood and watched the place where he'd gone from view, unable to move. She wasn't quite sure what had happened tonight, but she did feel a strange inner peace. Like some weight had just been removed from her shoulders.

A cold breeze blew in off the sea, chilling her into action. She sighed and traipsed back towards Gamlen's hovel, deeply lost in thought. She understood. She thought she had before, but now… She understood. But she wasn't going to give up on him. She wasn't going to lose hope that somehow, Anders would be victorious without the bloodshed Justice—Vengeance—demanded.