Chapter TWENTY-FOUR
When Aria reached the alienage, the Dalish pariah was watering some flowers set at the base of the heart tree. Merrill's jewel-like green eyes twinkled merrily at the sight of the rogue and she waved Aria over.
"Are we fighting someone today?" Merrill cheerily asked, inspecting a tulip with delicate hands.
Aria sighed. "Not if I go the rest of the day unprovoked."
"Who would provoke you?" Merrill asked, wide-eyed.
"Anymore? Only very powerful people," Aria bitterly laughed.
"Have you been checking on your vallaslin?" Merrill queried, indicating Aria's back.
"My mother was impressed with it," Aria simply replied, with a slight shrug.
"I like your mother. She has an open mind. Come inside, I'll have a look and make sure it isn't fading or splotching. Sometimes, it does that and it has to be touched up," Merrill chimed, motioning Hawke to follow her into the little hovel Merrill called home.
They went inside and Aria took off the upper body portion of her armor. She unlaced the blouse a little so that it slid enough off her shoulders that Merrill could inspect the tattoo on her back.
"How does it look?" Aria asked after the elven mage prodded it in a couple places.
"It's good, but could do with a little touching up if you're up for it. It will...hurt," Merrill added apologetically.
"After the night I had, I could use a little tension relief. Do what you need, touch it up."
Merrill gathered supplies to make the vallaslin. She used Hawke's blood mixed with a scarlet dye to create the bright, arterial blood red color. When that was ready, she filled an ornate vial with the vallaslin, attached a tiny hollow needle made of silverite to it, and set to work.
Aria sat facing the mirror Merrill had been attempting to fix, her arms draped over the back of the rough-hewn chair. The first bite of the needle stung and Aria couldn't help but smile into the crook of her elbow. She liked the pain; it sang through her nerve endings, chased away her inner demons for the moment, and it granted her a sense of clarity and serenity like nothing else she'd ever experienced.
Merrill drove the needle slightly deeper, chanting something arcane beneath her breath, the needle darting under Aria's skin in a blurring, staccato rhythm so fast that the searing burn became constant. Aria did not wince at all. This beautiful pain was a physical release for all the emotional pain she kept locked away in her soul. It was transcendence of a sort, and Aria briefly wondered if there might be something wrong with what she was doing. Normal people didn't need to experience physical pain in order to purge emotional pain, did they?
"I've rarely seen anyone be able to hold so still while they endure this," Merrill softly commented after a few long, silent moments.
Aria chuckled softly. "I actually like the pain."
Merrill nodded, even though Hawke couldn't see her. "I think I understand."
"Do you?" Aria asked, genuinely interested in what Merrill had to say.
"Yes. Sometimes... People get so caught up in keeping secrets, that they have to find a way to physically manifest their anguish."
It was a surprisingly profound comment and Aria wondered fleetingly if the blood mage was reading her mind. She did have a vial of Hawke's blood, after all.
"You're absolutely correct," Aria quietly stated.
"People ask too much of you. You should do more for yourself. Be happy. There's too much...bad in this world to squander the things that make it brighter."
Aria considered this a moment. "I don't know what makes me happy anymore."
Merrill stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. Satisfied, she placed a soft, clean linen over the entire tattoo and pressed for a few seconds. She removed it with the gentleness of a summer breeze and presented the cloth to Hawke.
A perfect replica of the tattoo lay emblazoned on the linen, only this one was made entirely of blood. Aria stared at it for a moment, then handed the linen back to Merrill. She smiled her satisfaction and Merrill fetched a jar of sweet-smelling salve. She slathered a bit of it over the tattoo, then helped Aria gingerly don her armor again.
"Before you go, I have—a slight favor to ask of you," Merrill sheepishly stated as Aria strapped her daggers once more onto her back.
"I am in your debt," Aria graciously replied, resting her hand supportively on Merrill's shoulder.
"The mirror... It's almost finished, I think, but I need an ancient tool from the Keeper to do it," Merrill blurted out, her elvish accent thickening in her duress.
"That mirror is dangerous," Aria softly said. "I know you want to preserve your past for your people, but sometimes, things that are in the past, need to be left there."
"I know what I'm doing, Hawke," Merrill pleaded. "Please, just...go to the Keeper with me. Help me get the aru'lin-holm."
Aria sighed and placed her hands on both of Merrill's shoulders. "Alright, but at the very first hint of danger, I'm smashing that thing."
Merrill nodded mutely at this, tears welling in her gigantic, emerald eyes.
"Hey," Aria murmured, pulling the mage to her for a hug. "I'm not saying I won't help you. I'm just trying to...save you. You can't trust demons for help, lethallan."
Merrill smiled at the elvish term of endearment. She nodded again at Aria and showed her to the door. Aria trudged out of the alienage, wincing as the leather strap that sheathed her daggers shifted across the tender, inked skin between her shoulders.
Aria was actually quite fond of Merrill; her simple, almost childish view of the world gave her a unique perspective. She just got tripped up in this crazily erroneous way of thinking when it came to demons. Mage blood flowed through Aria's own veins. She knew far too well what blood magic wrought and nothing good ever came of it. She just hoped, for Merrill's sake, that the elf would see that in time to keep it from destroying her.
At least, the venture would give her something to do. Mother was going to drive her crazy playing dress up if she didn't. She walked briskly to Darktown to pay Anders a visit. If she was going to head up the mountain with Merrill, she wanted another mage there who knew about possessions.
There was a line of three or four people waiting to be treated when Aria arrived at the clinic. A sudden pang of remorse hit her when she realized how much Bethany had helped Anders heal the city's poor and sick people. She smiled weakly when his eyes finally met hers. He waved her over and returned to setting the broken leg of a small girl with surprisingly well-made splints.
"I'm glad you came to see me today," he softly stated as the girl's parents escorted her out of the clinic. A pregnant woman stepped up and took her place.
"You won't be when I'm done asking what I need of you," Aria glibly replied, then offered the pregnant woman a smile.
Anders chuckled and put his ear to the woman's belly. "Have the pains stopped?"
"Yes, messere. Thank you. I still have the dizziness and weak spells, though," the woman responded.
"I'm going to put you on bed rest. That baby will be here next week. Do not tax yourself overmuch, or you will lose it."
She thanked him again, took the herb vials he offered, and made her way out the door. A sickly, frail, hunchbacked elderly man stepped painfully forward. He employed a crutch to help him ambulate. He complained of pain in his bones; so deep it was that he could hardly bear to move. Aria watched Anders crush some strange bluish-silver flowers with a mortar and pestle, then he smeared the strangely clear liquid over the man's leg joints and feet. The man seemed instantly relieved and Anders gave him a few vials he'd had stashed of the clear liquid. Once that man had gone, Anders dispersed cough remedies to the remaining people.
Anders motioned Aria to sit at his dining table. He gave her a plate with bread and butter and some dried fruits. After he poured them both glasses of wine, he sat across from her.
"What is it you need of me?" he asked at last, sipping from his glass as he waited for her response.
"Merrill needs to acquire some carving tool of some sort from the Keeper," Aria answered quickly.
Anders sighed at this and pinched the bridge of his nose between his middle finger and thumb for a moment. "She does realize that damned mirror has demon written all over it, right?"
"I don't think that has ever crossed her mind," Aria bitterly laughed, taking a bite of the bread he'd given her. It was deliciously soft and the outer crust was just the right bit of flaky.
"Much as I hate to say it, bring Fenris. If she goes abomination, we're going to need all the brute strength we can muster to keep her busy enough to destroy," Anders groaned mournfully.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Aria said, popping the rest of the food into her mouth and quickly chewing it.
"When are we leaving?" Anders asked, finishing his wine. Aria did the same.
"Dawn. I've got to get some supplies packed and check in with Hubert on some mine business," Aria said as she stood. He mimicked her and walked her to the door.
"Are we meeting at the Point?" he queried as she stepped over the threshold into Darktown.
"As always," Aria replied with a smile. She turned and bounded down the steps that led to the mucky street.
"Stop!" Anders suddenly called, jogging to reach her again. He lifted the cloak from her shoulders and saw the freshly touched-up tattoo on her back. "You're bleeding..."
"Oh, Merrill fixed it. Or something," Aria said, wincing slightly as Anders's hands tugged the strap off of her dagger sheaths. He let it drop, then smoothed his hand across the skin. It felt instantly better. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. See you at dawn," Anders amicably replied with a slight bow. He offered her a smile before he turned and went back up the steps into his clinic.
Next stop, Hightown. Aria winced with every thought she had as she ascended the steps towards the city's "noble" district. People either glared at her as she passed, refugees who hated her for her success; or they hailed her as though she were a long lost friend, seeing her as a beacon of hope for their own plights. She wished they wouldn't call her a hero. There was little honor in most things she'd accomplished.
Hubert was waiting for her at the top of the steps. She'd barely had time to acknowledge him before he launched into supposed ramblings of creatures stirring once more in the mines and the even more troubling fact that someone from inside their operation was giving intel to have their caravans raided. Aria agreed to go with him and confront the Fereldan who stood accused of the crime.
It was a taxing venture and Hubert got the Coterie involved. The Coterie was one of the top crime organizations in Kirkwall, and Hubert sought them out for protection. Aria wasn't fond of the agent he was involved with; a bloodthirsty, heartless woman named Lilley.
Aria went with a complement of the Coterie to investigate a lead the Fereldan turncoat had given them, after she rescued the poor sod from Hubert's pitiful fury. She couldn't blame the man; she'd been in his shoes not too long ago, scraping to get by.
Turned out that a man named Brekker was running his own operations outside his allegiance to the Coterie. Lilley left to investigate his involvement after they'd slain the mercenaries who had tried to ambush another of Hawke's caravans.
Aria wearily returned to Hightown well after sundown. She stopped by Hubert's modest mansion to inform him of the events and shared a glass of fine Antivan brandy with him. She then went to Fenris's home, but found no one there.
Her mother was waiting for her at the door when she returned home.
"You're covered in blood and dirt," Leandra said as her daughter walked through the door. She clicked her tongue in disapproval.
"I've had a busy day," Aria neutrally replied, allowing Bodahn to take her cloak and daggers from her.
"Fenris is in the study, working on penmanship," Leandra said as they walked into the common room. She went upstairs to her own room after knowingly smiling at her daughter.
Aria took the bowl of mutton stew Bodahn offered her and went up to the study. Fenris sat hunched over the desk, a quill in his hand. He didn't look up when she entered, and ignored her still when she settled herself across from him. Aria surveyed the lines of flowing words that graced half of the parchment page before Fenris.
"You have lovely handwriting," she said after a moment.
"Your mother said as much," Fenris replied almost curtly.
"I'm sorry—what have I done to deserve this coldness?" Aria answered the subdued anger in his voice.
He looked up at her, his verdant eyes cold. "Nothing."
"Well it certainly doesn't appear that way," Aria retorted.
Fenris stood abruptly and paced in front of the fireplace a few seconds. Then he rounded on her. "He was here last night."
Aria shook her head and pounded her fist on the table. "Is that what you're all fired up about?"
He glared at her, cold green fury lancing straight through her. "You evaded the question."
"You didn't ask a question, you made a statement."
"Don't get technical. Why was he here?"
Aria stood and leaned over the table, meeting his gaze full force with her own. "To check on me. He knows when I'm rattled. And yesterday, I was rattled."
"Pah!" Fenris spat, turning away from her. He rested his hands on the mantle, his arms splayed out. His head hung low as he gazed broodily into the fire for a moment. "He's manipulating you. That man...that mage is a master at finding ways to weasel himself in, just enough to prick at everything a person is most sensitive to. He'll find the weakest spot, and then he'll tear at it until he gets what he wants."
"What in the Maker's name are you talking about?" Aria asked, her ire piqued.
"Nothing. I think I'm done with lessons for the evening," he said, returning to the table to clean up his implements. Aria watched him in angry silence.
"I need you tomorrow," she finally said as he made to leave the study.
Her voice was strained and weary. He hated hearing that. She could make his blood boil simultaneously from two completely conflicting emotions. He hated the influence that manipulative conjurer had over her. He hated his own position for not being what she deserved. He loved her for her strength and her compassion. He loved that she defied him and hated her for it, all in the same heartbeat. But those words... Those words would have him bend to whatever her will deemed necessary. And he both hated and loved her for that as well.
"For?" he asked, his tone softening, his shoulders relaxing. He did not turn to face her.
"Just...be at the Point at dawn. Please?"
He rounded on her again and strode over to where she sat once more. He rested one hand on the table, the other going to the back of his neck to relieve the knot of tension that had risen there. He still refused to meet her gaze; mostly for fear she would see his thoughts in his eyes.
"What do you need of me?"
Aria sighed and rubbed at her temples. "Merrill needs a tool from the Dalish."
"For what purpose?" he bitterly asked, his fingernails biting into the wood of the desk's face.
"She wants to restore that Maker-damned mirror," Aria huffed in disgust, slamming a fist on the table. "Don't bother lecturing me with your well-pronounced hate of her. I need you, in case something happens."
"I imagine you've already asked Anders," he snarled.
"Who better to fight an abomination than another abomination?"
He glared at her then through the reckless fringe of his silvery hair, so similar in shade to her own. "Aria, your logic... Is at best, fallible."
"That is why I want you there."
He only grunted in response and made for the door. Aria rested her head in her hands, staring blankly down at the parchment before her. She didn't know for how long she'd sat that way, but when her hand was suddenly enveloped in warmth, she looked up.
Fenris's face was inches from hers. His eyes were a storm of warring emotions and thoughts. She lost herself in them for a breath or two, then looked over at the fire in the hearth. He deftly caught her chin and drew her visage back so he could look into her eyes.
"I will be there," he softly said, then took his leave completely.
Aria sat in the study a long time, watching the flames in the hearth. Mother came in, dressed in her nightclothes and luxurious robe. She sat in the chair Fenris had vacated and inspected his handiwork.
"He is a prickly character," Leandra said after a few more silent moments had passed.
"Hmmmph," Aria snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I take it you're going to be gone a few days?"
"With any luck, that's all it'll take. Hopefully it's just a quick exchange and I can be done with it," Aria said as she stood and stretched.
"Be safe, child. Wake me when you make to leave," Leanrda replied, also standing. She and Aria walked up the stairs to their rooms together, arm in arm. Aria left her at her door with a good night hug and retreated to her own room.
She busied herself with packing, assisted by Sandal and Bodahn. They carried her two rucksacks downstairs for her and she closed her bedroom door after them. Dawn was but a few hours away, and she was going to need every ounce of energy she had to deal with Anders and Fenris tomorrow. Joy of joys.
ooooooo
Aria removed her armour as they made camp just outside the Dalish's current homestead. Two days' worth of hiking and they finally made it. Tomorrow morning, they'd meet with Marethari. Merrill assured Hawke that it would be a quick affair. Aria hoped she was right.
It was unbelievably hot out and the heavy undermail was stifling. Sweat poured off her in torrid rivulets and she was all too aware of how badly she smelled. Her thin cotton camisole clung to her like a second skin. The breeze that wafted down the mountainside was most welcome against her bared flesh. Merrill came up behind her, looking at the tattoo on her back that was now visible.
"It's healing nicely," she said, smiling and offering her a flagon of ice cold water. "Very quickly, too. It amazes me how resilient you are."
"It is, and I may have had a healer's help," Aria agreed as she took a long draught from the proffered canteen, then handed it back to the elven mage.
Fenris sat on the other side of Aria, taking the canteen from Merrill as she offered it. He too took a long drink then looked questioningly at Aria.
"What is that on your back?" he bluntly asked, reaching up to tentatively run his fingers over the ink. He'd seen it before, but had never found the right time or place to inquire after it. He held his breath as his skin met hers, smooth and soft beneath the rough pads of his fingertips.
Aria smiled and shivered involuntarily. Goosebumps appeared down her arms at the gesture but thankfully, no one seemed to notice.
"It's a hawk, silly. What did you think it was?" Merrill interjected, baffled by his question.
"I can see that, blood mage. I mean, how did you acquire it?" he asked, his eyes still on the design.
"I asked for it," Aria simply stated, leaning forward and unlacing her boots.
"Why would you ask for such a thing?" Fenris queried.
"I did it to become one of the People," Aria softly replied, returning the smile that Merrill gave her.
"Was it terribly painful?" he pressed, touching the design again. He was happy for an excuse to make contact with her, to touch her.
"It was," Aria said. "Very much so."
"But you—chose to have it done?"
"Yes, Fenris."
"That's…very noble," he softly said, his expression contemplative.
"Thank you. I'm truly glad you think so," Aria congenially replied.
"Why the scarlet dye, though?" he asked, finally taking his eyes away from the design and meeting her gaze.
"It has very little dye in it," Merrill answered for her. "It's mostly Aria's own blood."
Fenris grimaced, then nodded sternly. "And you did it as a sign of solidarity?"
"I respect the Dales. They are a good, noble, hearty people. They have suffered much, and yet here they are," Aria said, kicking off the boot she'd just finished unlacing and going to work on the other.
"I have known only little of them. But if they've garnered your respect, they must be worthy," Fenris said, standing and stretching. He looked down at Aria, still more questions in his unfathomable green eyes. "Why did you get it on your back and not your face or arms?"
"Because sometimes it's best that alliances remain hidden," Aria answered him, lost for the moment in his gaze.
"But—if you're considered of the People, why wouldn't you want it known?"
"Because she's an honorary, but not a blood member of the clan," Merrill answered for her again. "Only full-blooded elves who have completely integrated into the Dalish are allowed to have it visible."
"Oh Maker, this heat is going to be the death of me," Anders said as he joined them. He was soaked head to toe, having just come from the waterfall just north of their camp. Aria averted her eyes from his naked form. Merrill blushed and also looked away. Fenris eyed him with unabashed disgust. Anders tugged his robes back on, covering his mostly naked body from view.
"I can think of much worse deaths for you," Fenris growled, turning and stalking towards his tent. He cast the mage one more baleful stare before disappearing behind the tent's flap.
"Well, the heat certainly doesn't make his demeanor any better," Anders sniped, sitting down in the spot Fenris had just vacated.
"I didn't notice any change," Merrill innocently stated.
"Exactly," Anders groaned, watching Aria kick off her other boot.
"I'm going to walk to the falls," Aria said as she rolled her socks down and off her feet. She stood and looked down at both of the mages, "Be back in a little while."
"Alright," Merrill chirped, walking over to their cook fire and setting the wood ablaze. She stood there and watched the flames, mesmerized.
Anders rose to his feet and smoothed his hand over the tattoo on her back, a sweet smile on his lips. "You should show that off more often."
Aria smiled politely, flexing her toes in the grass and enjoying the sensation it left on her bare feet. "It's my secret."
"Then I'm glad to know it," he murmured, grazing her cheek with the back of his hand.
She smiled wryly and walked away, uncomfortable with the affection he was bestowing upon her. In the wake of his requests of her to aid him and the amount of trust he begged of her, she was growing slightly wary and fearful of him, as he foretold she would. Add to this the fact that she had a painfully obvious attraction to Fenris... It made for an unpleasantly interesting triangle. Varric was having a heyday with it, she feared. Especially when Merrill gave him all the details. She was terrible at keeping secrets, Aria had learned.
Sighing, Aria reached into her tent and brought forth her bathing implements, as well as clean undergarments and a clean camisole. She was not putting her armour back on until it was absolutely necessary. She tucked everything into her leather rucksack and walked down to the waterfall.
Tall oaks and ash trees surrounded the river, cooling the air there further. The crisp scent of evergreens mingled with the slightly musty scent of the water and she sighed. It was serene and beautiful here. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, not at all sure that she was alone. There could be Dales around, scouting and making sure the Shems in the area didn't offer any sort of threat.
With a soft sigh, she set to undressing and quickly waded up to her chest in the water. It was a lovely relief, having the cool water rush over her skin. She began to swim up the current, angling towards the waterfall, holding the pack over her head with one hand to keep it dry.
She quickly bathed and returned to camp. Merrill said watches were not necessary, as the Dales were about. Aria went to her tent after helping Merrill douse the cook fire. She lay there contemplating all the ways tomorrow's quest would go down. Best case scenario, Merrill got the tool she needed. Worst case, Merrill would be possessed and Aria would have to kill her. Aria decided to entertain the former idea as she drifted off to sleep.