Chapter TWENTY-SIX

They trekked up the path and headed toward the Wounded Coast, Fenris keeping a blistering pace in his hate-fueled haste. When they ran into resistance about a quarter mile from the holding caveS, Aria was all but drained. She was using vials of stamina potion at an alarming rate, along with healing potions. They fought two more mages and about 20 armed guards before they finally reached the mouth of the cave. It was early evening by then, but at least the holding caves were only about a 2-hour hike from Kirkwall. Aria was bound and determined to eat a delicious meal, take a long, luxurious, hot bath, and sleep in her own bed tonight, Maker be damned all the way to the Void.

"We must be careful," Fenris barked as they stopped at the mouth of the cave, after they slew Hadriana's outer defenses. "There were many such holdings once, especially in the mountains, where individual slavers kept private pens. They were designed to protect against raids by fellow slavers. No doubt it's why Hadriana chose this place."

"This is a common thing? Slavers preying on each other, I mean," Aria asked, looking down the ominous mouth of the cave. She was covered in the stains of battle and exhausted. Fenris looked as though he'd just woken up, fresh and ready for carnage. She sighed.

"They did. What better way to find slaves, than to steal them?" Fenris seethed. "The holdings outside Tevinter have mostly been abandoned. But they still exist."

Aria turned to Merrill and Anders, who looked dead on their feet. Merrill perked up when Hawke's gaze fell upon her and she nodded her consent to follow. Anders inclined his head politely, snatching a mana vial from his own belt and downing it. He gave her a thumbs' up. Aria turned back to Fenris, whose intense gaze studied her as if seeing her for the first time that day. What did he see, she wondered? What did he notice now that he hadn't before?

"Well, let's go introduce ourselves, hmm? I'm sleeping in my own bed tonight, Void take whosoever gets in my way," she chimed with a naturally lethal twirl of her daggers.

"Let's hope this isn't a waste of time," Fenris rasped, leading the way into the cavern.

The party quickly descended into the dwarven-made tunnels. On each side of the robustly constructed halls were empty cells, some littered with straw, others with cast off linens. The heavy sense of dread and foreboding that permeated the place made the hair on her arms and neck stand up. Between the walkway and the cells flowed twin rivers of molten lava which cast off intense heat. Aria's skin prickled under her armour and sweat began to drip down the back of her neck. Yep. Definitely taking a bath tonight. In her tub, not a river. Damn them all to the Void.

Fenris knelt down, inspecting scuff marks in the thick layer of dust that covered the floors. "They're still here. Good."

"Well, I'm sure they wouldn't want us to keep them in suspense," Aria deadpanned as she looked around them, searching for traps or other potential threats.

When she was certain they were safe for the moment, they pressed on. They entered a recently vacated common room and found an altar at its center. Upon the alter lay the corpse of what could have only been an elven slave, bled dry to fuel his cruel master's demand for power.

"See for yourself: The legacy of the magisters," Fenris venomously stated as they reached the altar.

Aria was horrified at the sight before her. Deep cuts rent the elf's skin from his wrists to his elbows, from his knees to his hips, and one went from ear to ear. He had been fastened down by thick leather bindings and the stone beneath him was red with blood; his sacrifice had been extremely recent, as the stone was still shining wet and slick.

"They would do this? Unwillingly?" Merrill asked, aghast at the horrific scene before them.

"You're not far from it yourself," Fenris sneered. "The magisters will do anything to justify their need for power."

"There is no excuse for blood magic," Anders softly stated as they pressed on in search of Hadriana.

Thankfully, Fenris was too preoccupied with his search for the magister to honor that statement with one of his trademark magic-hating rants. Aria's fault was that she could see both sides of the argument objectively. Still, the presence of blood magic was evidence of a fatal breach of the law. Bleeding slaves dry for the power their life's force contained was disgusting, heinous, and unworthy of mercy. Hadriana would pay.

The reached a hall of sorts, with high, arched ceilings. Shades and reanimated corpses attacked them in force, outnumbering them four to one at first. Aria methodically dispatched of what enemies she could, employing her miasmic flasks to momentarily stun them while Fenris swung wide, lethal arcs with his enormous great sword. Merrill cast debilitating spells while Anders employed his knowledge of fire and ice in destroying their enemies.

They came out of the battle no worse for wear. Hadriana's control of magic was amazingly weak, for a mage of her apparent stature. Aria had no doubt that Bethany or Anders could have easily dispatched of her without blood magic ever crossing their minds. Merrill... Was quickly becoming a lost cause.

Once the hall was clear of Hadriana's conjured puppets, they found an elven servant girl cowering in a corner to escape the heat of the battle. She accepted the hand Hawke offered her and stood unsteadily before them. She was a waif, small and thin, with blond, well-kept hair and shining green eyes.

"Are you hurt? Did they touch you?" Fenris immediately asked her, his eyes assessing her condition. Anders also conducted an appraisal, his healing white light bathing her momentarily.

The girl's eyes were wide with fear-driven hysteria. "They've been killing everyone!" she gushed, her voice trembling in grief and terror. "They cut Papa, bled him!"

Fenris and Aria exchanged a sadly knowing glance. "Why? Why would they do this?" Fenris queried in horror, though he already knew the answer.

"The magister! She said she needed power, that someone was coming to kill her," the servant continued, her eyes darting around the room like a rabbit avoiding an eagle's talons.

Fenris looked sadly at his feet, his head bowing slightly. Guilt slammed into him—if it weren't for his pursuit, the girl's father would be alive still. The other servants would be alive. But it didn't matter, did it? Hadriana was sent by Danarius to subdue him, no matter the cost. Whether he pursued her, or she pursued him was of no consequence. They'd been doomed to die and he wouldn't run any longer. The servant girl continued.

"We tried to be good. We did everything we were told! She loved Papa's soup. I don't understand," she relayed, tears in her overly large, jewel-like eyes.

"Is the magister still here?" Aria interjected then, her own hatred for Hadriana growing exponentially with every word the servant girl said.

"I—think so," the girl sniffled, looking around again, as though the very shadows would attack her. "The magister said that they were to prepare for battle. I think she's very frightened. "

"She has every reason to be," Fenris snarled.

"Please don't hurt her," the girl begged, the terror in her eyes breaking Aria's heart. "She'll be so angry if you hurt her!"

"You're just a slave to them, property to be used," Aria gently spoke.

"Everything was fine until today!" the elven servant defended.

"It wasn't," Fenris said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. He hung his head sadly. "You just didn't know any better."

The girl took a hasty step towards Fenris, her gaze innocent and lost. "Are you my master now?"

"No!" Fenris replied, his arms going out as if to stay her. He took a step back from her, revulsion sending a shudder through his body.

"But, I can cook. I can clean. What else will I do?" she pleaded with him, her voice breaking slightly.

"If you go to Kirkwall, I can help you," Aria came to Fenris's rescue. "Go to Hightown and ask for the Hawke estate. Go there, and tell whoever answers that Aria sent you."

"Yes? Oh praise the Maker! Thank you!" the girl said before running off toward the exit they'd just cleared.

Fenris rounded on Aria, his eyes spitting acid-laced green darts. "I didn't realize you were in the market for a slave!"

Aria's own fury radiated from her body as she faced him, incensed by his continual aggro displays. But then, she realized that he wasn't understanding. How could he? All he knew was that the wealthy preyed on the poor. That humans, mages, all used his people like beasts of burden.

"I gave her a job, Fenris," she gently said, holding her hand out in a placating gesture, palm towards him.

"Ah... Then, that's good," he sternly replied, though it was an awkwardly delivered statement. "My apologies," he said with a slight bow. "Let's find Hadriana, and be done with this place."

Aria followed him as he stalked off in the only direction they could go at this point. They entered the hallway at the far end of the room and fought through yet more shades and corpses protecting their feeble master until they reached yet another room. Hadriana stood at the opposite end, a small army of her demonic minions around her.

"You've made a terrible mistake coming here!" she screamed as she saw Fenris. She was a small woman, slight in build. She had long, dark hair that looked as though it hadn't been brushed in days. Her skin was pallid and nearly translucent. Dark circles appeared as stains under her vivid blue eyes.

"Not as much as you have, witch!" Fenris retorted, cleaving the head of a shade that attacked him in that moment.

Aria launched into battle, along with the rest of their party. The magister sent wave after wave of shades and undead at them. Aria fought with renewed vigor, feeling that finally she could help free Fenris from the shackles his old life still had on him. If he killed Hadriana, perhaps Danarius would relent and finally let the elf be free.

The battle raged on, Hadriana weakening exponentially in their relentless onslaught. Fenris was a whirlwind of destruction, his lyrium brands glowing constantly as he dispatched of every foe she sent his way with reckless ease. Soon, they had her in a corner, drained of her mana, and but inches from death.

Fenris stood over her, kicking her staff from her reach. He brought his sword over his head, but Hadriana spoke.

"Stop! You do not want me dead!" she pleaded, her breath coming in halted gasps.

"There is only one person I want dead more," Fenris snapped. But he stayed his weapon for the moment.

"I have information, elf," Hadriana gushed. "And I will trade it in return for my life."

"Pah! The location of Danarius?" Fenris scoffed. "What good would that do me? I'd rather he lose his pet pupil."

"You have a sister," she continued frantically. "She is alive."

Fenris nearly dropped his sword and a look of hope mixed with fear stole across his visage. For the moment, he was stunned. He...had family. And they were still alive. Hadriana saw this as a victory and sat up, her eyes darting toward her staff for a just a second.

"You wish to reclaim your life?" she breathlessly asked, unsteadily getting to her feet to stand before him. "Let me go, and I will tell you where she is," she pleaded once more.

Fenris sheathed his great sword on his back and studied her, then looked to Aria.

"This is your call," Aria answered the question in his gaze. She wasn't about to get in his way now.

He approached Hadriana and she fell to her knees before him. His movements were slow and steady, calming. He bent down to bring himself to her level and looked into her eyes.

"So I have your word?" Hadriana queried hopefully. "If I tell you, you'll let me go?"

"Yes," Fenris snapped, eyeing her as a wolf eyed wounded potential quarry. "You have my word."

"Her name is Varania. She is in Qarinus, serving a magister by the name of Ahriman," Hadriana gushed, eager to hold Fenris to his word.

"A servant," Fenris mused, inching closer to the magister. "Not a slave."

"She's not a slave," Hadriana confirmed for him as Fenris's lyrium brandings flared and he was cast in a blue-white halo.

"I believe you," he said, and she looked up hopefully at him.

But then, he plunged his hand into her chest. Hadriana's eyes widened first in shock, then in terror. Fenris crushed her heart right then and there and let her lifeless body fall gracelessly to the stone. "We're done here," he spat. He turned and stalked past Aria, but she sought to waylay him.

"Fenris... Are you alright?" Aria asked, currently at a loss for any other words.

"I don't want to talk about it!" Fenris raged, spinning to face her. He loomed over her for a breath, then backed away, violently gesturing with his hands in the air. "This could be a trap! Danarius could have sent Hadriana here to tell me about this 'sister'. Even if he didn't, trying to find her would still be suicide! Danarius has to know about her, has to know that Hadriana knows," he said, his voice growing more venomous and bitter as he spoke, until it was a soft, rage-filled snarl. "But all that matters is that I finally got to crush this bitch's heart." He turned from Aria as he continued, "May she rot, and all the other mages with her."

Aria lay a placating hand on his shoulder, mindful of the spikes his armor possessed at that juncture. "Maybe...we should leave," she softly said, trying to turn him to face her.

"Don't comfort me," he snarled, stepping lithely away from her touch, avoiding her gaze by employing the long bangs that framed his angular face. Fenris whirled to face her, pointing at her in silent accusation for a second. "You saw what was done here. There's always going to be some reason, some excuse why mages need to do this. Even if I found my sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her." He looked away then, shame and fury seizing his features. "What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil?" he snapped. Fenris clapped his palm to his forehead and bowed his head for a second. "I...need to go." He stalked off and Aria gave him a lengthy head start.

Merrill and Anders were silent the entire way home, no doubt digesting what they'd seen. They jogged most of the way, making it back to Kirkwall just as the final rays of the sun sank beneath the horizon. Aria saw Merrill safely to her hovel in the alienage, and Anders disappeared as soon as they walked through the city gates.

Not quite ready to be home yet, Aria decided to confront Fenris at his mansion, as she was fairly certain that was where he'd be. When no one answered the door, she picked the front door's lock and let herself in. She thoroughly searched his entire home, but it looked as though no one had been there in days.

Finally admitting defeat, she wearily trudged across Hightown to her own estate. The lanterns and torches were all extinguished in the bed rooms. Everyone was asleep. She preferred it that way. After a journey like today, the last thing she wanted was to tell stories of how horrible her latest endeavor had turned out.

She slid her key noiselessly into the door and slowly unbolted the heavy lock. She deftly pulled it open and quickly slipped inside. She had hardly enough time to register the face that appeared in the wake of the door's opening before he retreated, granting her entrance and leaving her agape for the thousandth time at his lethal, powerful brand of grace. She reacted a split second later, realizing he'd closed the door and she now stood with her back against the wall. He pressed in on her, indomitable, possessed. One of her hands instinctively went to her hip, seeking the sheathed throwing knife that this time was not there. The other rested on his chest, as if to hold him off. But the tenseness of her muscles relaxed against the heat of his skin and the steady thud of his pulse there.

His unfathomably verdant eyes bored into hers through the reckless halo of his silvery hair, endowed by obsession. His gaze was searing her to the bone, leaving her to do naught but draw gasps of breath through her lips and struggle blindly to get a grip on her senses.

"I've been...thinking about this whole mess with Hadriana," he said suddenly, backing away from her. He lifted a hand to his face, his fingers covering his mouth in trepidation as he continued, "I took out my anger on you, undeservedly so. I was...not myself. I'm sorry."

Aria relaxed further and relief flooded her as she discerned that he was unharmed. She offered him a soft smile, then worry came over her again. "I went to your mansion when I returned to Kirkwall, but you were not there. I was...worried."

"I...needed to be alone," Fenris replied, his voice stern but gentle again, his features apologetic. "When I was still a slave, Hadriana was a torment. The things she did to me... The things he told her to do me... She had to die, Aria. Not just for what she did to me, but to the other slaves unlucky enough to have her as a master."

"I could see that," Aria mused aloud for his benefit.

"The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now..." he said through gritted teeth, his eyes alight again with his hatred, "I couldn't let her go. I wanted to, but I couldn't."

Aria cautiously moved closer to him, her eyes on his, studying him. She could understand his actions, but it didn't mean she had to condone it. He gave his word. Having seen him go back on it in nearly the same breath... It broke a sliver off of the rock of trust she had in him. What good was someone's word if they so easily broke it?

"Fenris, you gave her your word," Aria whispered, mentally preparing for the barrage he would launch in the wake of that statement.

"She had to die!" he roared, closing the distance completely between them. He gripped her by the shoulders, his grasp steely and bruising. "This...hate. I thought I'd gotten away from it. But it dogs me no matter where I go. To feel it again after...after everything I've experienced with you...to know it was they who planted it inside me, it was too much to bear." His visage softened, a hint of shame radiating from the way he held his head. "Bah!" he said, releasing her and turning away. "But I didn't come here to burden you with this."

"It is a burden I would gladly bear, Fenris. You have to let go of this hatred, of the past. It's eating you alive."

He rounded on her again, slamming her into the wall and pinning her arms in front of her so that she could not unsheathe one of her lethal daggers. Her hands were on his chest, his fingers ensnaring her wrists savagely. She glared back at him, readying herself for a fight if need be. She had feelings for him, yes, but she would not take abuse.

"The return of this hatred just exacerbates everything else—I have done everything in my power to distract myself. But I find I can think of nothing else," Fenris fervently stated, his hands shifted gently to cover hers, which he guided to rest on his chest, pressing her palms against the armour he still wore. She relaxed at the sudden gentleness. "You…haunt me."

Her amber eyes lifted drowsily to meet his deep, crystalline green gaze. "Fenris, I am here. Whenever and whatever you need," she managed, her voice uncharacteristically heavy with emotion though she spoke with subtle softness and unabashed earnestness.

Her eyes slammed closed and she gasped simultaneously as his lips collided with hers, blissfully brutal in this initial onslaught. Her arms ensnared his shoulders while his hands cupped her face. His body was hard against hers, crushing her to him as their mouths waged beautiful war against each other. She drank him in, every bit as needy and hungry as he was. He tore his lips from hers and planted white-hot, irresistibly enticing kisses along the column of her throat, desperate to touch as much of her as he could.

She moaned and spun, slamming him against the wall. In the brief moment before she launched her own assault on him, they exchanged a knowing glance that ignited her blood to a deafening inferno. His eyes were dark with his desire. His lips turned up on one side in a sexy, snide little smirk that made her all the more crazy for him. It was a look between them that simply said, "Now you're speaking my language."

His lips hotly claimed hers again, grunting as she shoved him against the wall. His arms went around her waist, crushing her to him even as she ground against him. Aria couldn't think when his lips touched hers. All she could do was react, and Maker help her, she'd do anything he asked of her right now.

So lost in the passionate exchange was she that she only noticed he cradled her in his arms when he'd begun ascending the stairs to her chambers. She struggled a little, trying to get to her feet, but he only held her more tightly, his eyes seeking hers, his expression somewhat hurt. She ceased her struggles immediately when his countenance registered in her mind.

"Would you prefer it if I let you down?" he huskily whispered, his lips grazing hers as he continued towards her bed chamber.

She could only sigh. "Never let me go."

His pace quickened and a moment later, he set her down at the threshold of her room. She quickly and silently opened the door and they sneaked in together. Just as quietly, she closed it and threw the seige bar down, meeting his eyes as she turned to face him. A wickedly lupine grin spread his lips at the action and she returned it. She would not allow any interruptions. Not tonight.

Fenris watched her stride lithely up to him, his eyes ravenously devouring her form and she fought the urge to writhe beneath the unabashed hunger in his gaze. She fisted the collar of his tunic and seized his lips with hers. But a breath later, they were falling to the bed. His deft fingers made swift work of her armour, desperately seeking the pliable, soft skin beneath. She arched against his touch, yanking him down by the shoulders and renewing their feverish kiss exchange.

Maker, she could get lost in him. He stole all rationale, all the logic she knew in this world with the mere brush of his lips, the movement of his hands, and a heated glance. But tonight…mere promises were not enough for either of them. Over a year, they'd been playing cat and mouse, engaged in coy flirtation, feeling each other out while being too shy to make that final plunge. And that was changing here. Tonight. Right. Fucking. Now.

With renewed vigor, she plucked at the leather lacing that bound his armour to him. He propped himself above her, granting her easier access in removing his garments. She hastily peeled away the encumbering implements he wore, leaving the flimsy white undershirt as the only barrier to the treasure beneath. He sat back, straddling her hips and smiling devilishly. She watched as he slipped the garment off over his head, enjoying thoroughly the sinuous way his body moved. Her eyes clung haplessly to the steely contours of his chest and abdomen, marveling at the pure beauty of his movement, sinew sliding like a shallow river over a rocky bottom and laced with rivulets of undulating silver.

He latched onto both of her hands, sliding them first up his chest, then back down his silken, firm abdominals until their fingers encountered his belt together. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat that had risen as soon as her fingertips touched the rough leather. This was really happening, wasn't it? It had been years since she'd had a man. 3 years since she'd been in Kirkwall. A year that she'd known the elven warrior. And now... She slowly raised her eyes to meet his gaze.

"Aria," he sighed, guiding her hands in undoing his belt. His actions finished the statement far better than any words could say. Unbind me.

She held his gaze as her fingers stopped fumbling and remembered the task at hand. In removing all his armour, stripping him bare, she realized that for both of them, this was symbolic; she was unbinding him from the chains of his past and releasing him to the freedom of the future—his future, one he got to choose. She could help make him his own master. She could put an end to all the hatred and despair that haunted his gaze. She wanted him to be free, truly free.

As she plied the leather binding apart at last, he shoved her back against the bed. He hovered over her, his eyes riveted on hers once more. She couldn't take the way he looked at her, green fire that stole her breath and made her skin ignite; her stomach somersaulted, her ears rang, and there was a deep ache coming in heated waves low in her abdomen. She wanted to be consumed by him, to consume him herself. She involuntarily squeezed her thighs together, hot, immediate need pulsing there. He snarled, the movement drawing one of her thighs in a hard press against the front of his painfully tight pants.

Taking a page from his book, she yanked him down to her and guided his hands in parting the half-unlaced blouse she wore under her armour. His hands were rough and warm, incredibly strong, and yet here, in this moment, they were unbelievably gentle. He sighed as she sat up a little, allowing him to free her arms from the offending garment.

As soon as her arms were liberated, he crushed her back to the bed, his lips taking hers. She couldn't help the moans that escaped her every time his skin encountered hers. His fingertips skimmed over her belly in lethargic, passionate pattern. Her hands caressed his back, fingernails lightly coursing from his shoulders to the small of his back. His tongue danced with hers, each further inciting the other.

After far too short of a time, he tore his lips from hers, kissing a trail from her mouth, across her jawline, to her ear. His teeth gently seized her earlobe and he feverishly whispered, "You're mine."

Aria gasped as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her unlaced breeches, perpetually southward until he found the source of that dull, hot ache. He stroked the pain away, leaving in its wake exquisite bliss. She wantonly arched into his touch, drawing a soft groan from him, watching his eyes devour her even as his fingers plundered her. He stopped after but a moment and stood at the side of the bed, motioning her to him.

She swiftly complied, scooting across the bed until she reached a sitting position in front of him. He guided her hands to the waistband of his pants once more, and she quickly took over. She deftly unlaced the fly of his breeches; every half second or so, her hand brushed the hardened evidence of his intent for her and his breath came in heady rasps.

Once unbound, the soft black suede pants slipped down his sinewy, spry legs, revealing to her every naked inch of him. She sat forward, softly tracing the lyrium marks on his abdomen with the pads of her fingers. Where her fingertips met his lyrium-branded skin, it seemed to emanate a soft silvery light, like moonbeams off glass. It reminded her of the times they were on watch, and he'd called upon the lyrium in his skin to warm her. He ran his fingers through her hair as she explored him, his head falling back in the exquisitely painful ecstasy her touch brought.

As Aria's excursions led her to his chest, he gasped suddenly and brought her face to his sternum. His heart hammered wildly and he clung to her like a wet rag to skin. She held him as best she could, unable to get a read on his emotions without being able to gauge his facial expression. She thought he was hurt, but the way he held her told her that this was how she could ease it.

A brief moment passed and he released her, smoothing her hair away from her face as he drew her to lay facing him on the bed. His expression was of wonder, pain, and passion. He seemed as though he'd just taken a blow—but enjoyed it.

"Fenris?" Aria asked, touching his face.

His reply came in the form of yet more passionate liplock. His fingers worked at her brassiere's fasteners while he stole her sanity with his kisses. She buried her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, unable to satiate her need to taste him.

She gasped when he abruptly ended the kisses and met her eyes. His hand rested on her hip, thumb hooked in the belt loop of her breeches. He tentatively tugged the fabric down, his dark emerald eyes pleading and yet commanding her. She lifted her buttocks, arching her back. He groaned and his eyes raked over her in this brief pose, committing each detail to perfect memory. He hastily tugged her underwear down her legs and tossed it haphazardly across the room. She wondered for a fraction of a second what became of the brassiere, but found herself distracted by the thrill of his fingers moving ever so lightly up her thigh.

He chuckled as he watched the gooseflesh creep over her skin, his eyes particularly interested in her breasts, her nipples painfully erect in the wake of his teasing. "Are you cold?"

She laughed airily and regarded him with a seductive, flirtatious grin. "If I was, what would you do about it?" she countered playfully.

"This," he murmured, yanking the covers out from under them and letting the down comforter fall over top of them.

"Fenris—" she giggled, which turned to a soft moan as he crushed her to him once more, their naked bodies colliding and entangling. The hard planes of his chest and abdomen crashed against the softer, suppler curves of hers, a study in opposites.

He kissed her, teasing and light, his tongue darting playfully at hers then retreating. His hands grasped her hips, pressuring her against him as he moved to be above her. The hard length of his sex pressed against her lower belly, hot and pulsing. His eyes raked over her naked form, then settled on her face. She reached up and tucked a particularly long, silvery lock behind his ear. He turned his head and kissed her wrist, his teeth lightly grazing the pulse point there.

"Such…enigmatic beauty," he murmured, letting one of his hands trail down her rib cage, up the curve of her bent leg, then inward to her inner thigh. He stroked soft, small circles there, edging closer to the throbbing heat at the apex of her thighs. He stopped the circles after a few intense moments, then smoothed his rough palm to her knee.

He gently drew her knees apart, moving so that his body rested between them. Her whole body was trembling, her eyes slipping down his chiseled, branded abdomen to his engorged, elven manhood. She watched, enchanted, as he moved his hips forward slowly, and using the free hand that wasn't holding her knee, he guided himself sweetly in.

She ground her teeth and fought the tortured moan that tore from her throat at the beautiful intrusion. He hissed a breath out between clenched teeth as he stretched her to fit him, the little sounds of pleasure she made fueling his desire for her. Her hips bucked involuntarily against his and he collapsed forward onto her, his head resting on her chest. Her fingers raked through his hair as he kissed and gently massaged the firm, supple globes of flesh there, his tongue lapping at the crest of one of her breasts, drawing soft cries of pleasure from her. They stayed that way, connected, reveling in the shared new experience.

His hips began to move after she bucked against him a few more times, his teeth having grazed the overly sensitized flesh of her nipples and forcing her body into blissful spasms. She could feel his pulse inside her, their heartbeats merging, and she wanted more. More of him, more of this. She wanted... Madness. He moved slow and deep, drawing her legs around his waist as his mouth claimed hers once more. He softly groaned each time they came together, feeling her body tighten around him and loath to let him leave. Her nails dug into the thick muscles of his shoulder blades, her breathing ragged.

Fenris pitched deeply into her a few more times before fully withdrawing and turning Aria on her side, so that she faced away from him. She cried out, bereft as he left her, but he soothed her with softly murmured Tevene, his hands smoothing down the indentation of her spine, over her derrier, and to the backs of her thighs. He lifted her top leg and angled his hips so that they were flush with her buttocks. He slowly pressed into her again, her body arching beautifully against him, and once inside, he lowered her leg in favor of cradling her to him.

He kissed the strange, scarlet Dalish tattoo of the hawk that adorned her back, just below her neck between her shoulder blades. It was the very brainchild of the design that she later had made into her own family crest. It fascinated him and he marveled for at least the hundredth time that she'd allow such marks to come to her body. He knew the pain acquiring the adornment entailed.

Aria was his puppet right now. She didn't think he knew it, but she was. She complied with his taciturn requests, communicated solely by his touch. She moaned softly as he entered her again, the steely hardness of him igniting her belly, stretching her sweetly, and shortening her breath. It was mad, wonderful, chaotic bliss. She gave herself over to him, over to the beauty and the madness, to this world of instinct and action. No thought. No reason. No logic. Just action and reaction.

His lips brushed her shoulder, her neck, her ear. His hand curled gently over her throat and he whispered soft foreign Tevinter phrases of what she could only guess were pleasure and flattery next to her ear. She noticed then a low pulsing light coming from the lyrium brandings in his arms, which had wound around her now and held her tightly as his body ravaged hers.

Aria gently pushed herself away from him, nearly sobbing as they disconnected, and she turned so that she could see his face. She smiled at him, a tender expression, and moved back into the fold of his arms. She lifted a leg over his hip and he positioned himself so that she could guide him back into her. Aria sheathed him with a swift, smooth movement of her hips, watching the pleasure flicker across his facial features.

He sighed and held her to him, letting her set up the pace, his eyes never leaving hers. He matched her movements, caressing her back, setting her skin ablaze wherever his touch grazed. They continued thus, slow and erotic, lost in each other's eyes, falling anew. To Aria, it was simple: They belonged together. He completed her. She'd had few men in her lifetime, but this… None had ever made her feel like this.

The dawning of this realization forced her to act. She pushed him so that she straddled his hips, her body above his, keeping him inside her. He loosed a guttural groan, his hands flew to her hips, his fingertips staining her skin white with the pressure of his touch. She moved slowly, her hips gyrating in a deep, languid rhythm that left him moaning, writhing, and breathless beneath her. She guided his hands to her breasts, teaching him how she liked to be touched—and he was a most apt pupil. She began to move in a faster, rocking motion then, staring down into his eyes. He gazed back at her, his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he tried to stifle the deep, libidinous sounds of pleasure she elicited from him. She smoothed her hands up his chest, thumbs playfully tweaking the hard buds there, and drawing out a tortured groan from deep within his throat.

When he was satisfied with the pace she kept, or when he could not hold onto her like this any longer—she couldn't tell, he pulled her down and rolled so that he was above her again. His chest crushed hers, his breath was hot on her neck. She dragged her nails lightly down his back, her teeth gently grazing his shoulder with each of his powerful thrusts.

"You're mine," he whispered again as he drove into her, as if the words were a prayer that had been answered.

She noticed again the pulsing light within the lyrium scars down his arms and back. It flushed through him like wind swirling thick fog. She also noticed that the pulse was in time with his thrusts, with his thunderous heartbeat. He was…stunning. He was not of this world—he was a god. All she could do was stare at him in awe while he possessed her, hot and hard and deep inside her. This all felt surreal, like a dream. A beautiful, lucid, potent dream.

"To have you look at me like this… I've dreamt of that look for months," Fenris murmured brokenly, having pulled away to look into her eyes.

"Fenris…," Aria breathlessly replied, unable to think anything else. She smoothed her hand along the perfectly chiseled line of his jaw, still watching the pulse of light breathing through his strange markings.

"Aria," he whispered, lowering his lips to stop a hair's breadth from hers. "I need you."

He pushed more insistently within her and his mouth possessed hers once more. She couldn't tell where he began and she ended. She couldn't rationalize anything. All she knew was she had never felt this adored in her life. All she knew was that she never wanted this night, this moment to end. But something within him was changing and it brought the same change in her. The tension that had been building for so long, stoked to a raging inferno this evening, was about to break.

He drove hard into her, his breath ragged and his heart pounding. He kept murmuring things in Tevene, his voice pleading and intense, his hands all over her, his mouth hot on her neck, her ear, her lips. She found herself gasping for air in the ardent maelstrom that swirled around them, clinging desperately to his body as if it were her one salvation.

The heat between her thighs erupted violently and white hot light of exquisitely painful release rent her psyche. Through the blinding haze, she felt Fenris slamming mercilessly into her and heard him issue an impassioned oath before he collapsed onto her. His body shuddered against hers for a moment, and then he was still. He gently caught one of her hands in his, their fingers twining together as if their very souls were joining.

She couldn't move even if she had wanted to. Fenris lay above her, his cheek against hers, his lips caressing her shoulder in silent prayers. Where they were joined, she felt wet heat and smiled, guiltily pleased at the ending mess they'd created. She smoothed a hand through his tousled, reckless, silken hair while her other hand was caught in an intimate embrace with one of his. She was sore where he still rested inside her, stretching her sweetly, but she wouldn't have done anything to stop the pain. It was perfect. He…was perfect.