Chapter FIFTY-ONE

"I don't know how you've done it, but you've managed to tame Hawke. Congratulations," Varric snidely stated as he ushered Fenris and Aria into his room at the Hanged Man.

Isabela, Merrill, Anders, and Gamlen were already seated at the table, playing a hand of Wicked Grace. From the looks of it, Isabela was winning. Typical of the dusky sea captain. Gamlen was doing well in second. Merrill... Merrill was just there to drink. And Anders seemed to light up when Aria entered the room. Aria glared at Varric and Fenris simply chuckled.

"Tame is not a word in her vocabulary," the elf warrior replied as they took their own seats at the table.

"Hawke, you didn't miss much last night," Varric addressed the rogue as he shuffled a second deck of cards.

"That's not what I heard," Aria groused, offering Anders a smile when she looked over and met gazes with him.

"I'm glad you didn't come," the healer piped up. "It would have been a far worse end for Bartrand if you had."

Aria turned to Varric then. "I'm owed a story, kind sir."

Varric chuckled, though the mirth of his voice didn't reach the light in his eyes. "Are you sure about that, Birdie?"

"Absolutely."

"Well then, get comfortable, madame," Varric said, pouring her a mug of mulled cider. "Here we go."

Aria sipped from the mug and smiled as the tart, sweet, earthen notes danced on her tongue.

"We all met up at Fenris's mansion and proceeded from there. Aveline was late, most likely from a tryst with Ser Donnic. Before we could even arrive at the mansion, a band of stalwart, though laughably unskilled guardsmen impostors assailed us. We made quick work of them, ten of the fifteen kills belonging to me, and found ourselves looking up at the mansion my contacts said belonged to Bartrand.

"The windows were dark and covered in a thick layer of strangely damp dust. The doorway was heavily laced with old and new cobwebs, a sure sign of disuse. The elf made a remark; atypical of his normal broody aura. He said 'Cobwebs don't keep the tax collectors away. I've tried.' 'Well you're thinking it's a trap!' I chuckled, 'Great, it's been ages since my brother tried to kill me.' We all shared a nervous laugh, wondering if this was even the right place. I went inside to check it out while the others stayed behind to look out for more guard wannabes.

"When I entered, a whole host of Bartrand's guards waited in ambush. There were scores of them, and they all oozed black tar from their hellish mouths and their eyes glowed red with possession. I thought to myself, 'Varric, this is your time to shine.' I stared down the leader, ensnaring him in a battle of wills. I challenged them, calling Bartrand out. 'So that's how you treat your brother, huh Bartrand!'

"'Fine! Say hello, Bianca,' I drawled, and tenderly brought my love from my back. Hailstorms and flurries of arrows spewed from her lethal mouth, felling the guards left and right in sprays of crimson glory!"

Fenris sniggered then. "Really? That's how you're going to spin it?" Everyone present laughed.

"Quiet, elf. I'm just getting started," Varric chortled, and continued animatedly without pause. "We fought all through the halls, just one lone archer and his faithful, beautiful warrior maiden against dozens of men, pouring down from the landing in droves. The bodies piled on the stairs leading up through Bartrand's fortress. I clambered over them, felling these nightmarish guardians left and right, the pile so large, I used them instead of the steps. It was actually quicker that way. 'Bartrand! I'm coming for you, you nug-humping bastard!' I whooped as soon as I reached the landing.

"Still more crazed servants of an evil master rambled in from all sides. I was surrounded. But Bianca, ever faithful, ever true, unleashed storm after storm of arrows, not a single bolt missing a target. Soon, there were but four men left in my way, and the rookies had lined up single file in one last attempt to save their master. Bianca coiled and launched one monstrous bolt that went clean through every last man standing.

"As they fell, Bartrand emerged, cowering on his knees. He held his hands up in penance, tears streaming down his cheeks. He crawled towards me. 'Oh Varric! Please forgive me, my brother!' he sniveled, his eyes pleading for mercy. 'I was just jealous of you! How could I ever compete with you for mother's love? You're strong and handsome and so very smart-"

"Alright, Varric," Aria snorted then, and Varric chuckled. "Now give us the real story."

"What? Is it that obvious?" he laughed.

Fenris picked at his teeth with a throwing knife Varric had just cleaned and whetted. "Not at all."

"Facetiousness is not lost on me, elf," Varric chided.

"You forgot the chest hair," Isabela crooned. "Bartrand was so jealous of that wondrous chest hair."

"Oh! Thanks for the reminder, Rivaini. I'll add that in later," Varric slickly replied.

"Does that mean I get to touch it? Run my fingers through it?" Isabela silkily retorted.

"Only If you're a real good girl," Varric saucily responded.

"Well that'll never happen," Merrill chimed.

"Oh, sweet thing, if you can't be good at least be good at it. Would you like to come by my room later?" was the salacious reply.

Merrill blushed and took a sip of her ale but said nothing more.

"There's a good girl," Isabela laughed.

"You want the real story, Hawke?" Varric asked, looking from Anders to Fenris for back up.

"Of course," Aria replied, setting down her cards. It was a losing hand no matter how she played it. She tossed her silvers into the ante pile, flopped the cards face down on the table, and leaned back in her chair.

Fenris chuckled softly at that. "Giving up so easily?"

"I saw your hand. I'm done this round," Aria snarkily retorted. "What really happened, Varric?"

"We went in, we got ambushed by guards and servants. They were all... Not right in the head. It was terrible. Like they'd been tortured or worse. Some of them had died and Bartrand left their bodies in the hall to rot. When I finally got to Bartrand and saw how...how the idol had destroyed him, I couldn't kill him. Blondie tried to heal him, but whatever corruption that blasted thing had bestowed upon my brother, it was beyond even Blondie's impressive skill. Bartrand asked me to kill him out of mercy, but I couldn't. Even after all he'd done, after how much I hated him... I just couldn't. Yeah he left us in the Deep Roads, but ultimately? It was he who has—had –suffered the most. Aveline offered to end him when he begged again, and Bartrand consented. I gave what was left of the idol to the elf to hide. Don't let me have it back. Ever," Varric relayed the truth with a level of sadness that was very rare indeed for the dwarf. He downed a shot and then finished his mug of ale.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," Aria quietly replied.

"Don't be, Birdie. I'm...glad you weren't. You've seen enough to give an Archdemon nightmares," Varric gently rebuffed her.

"I've never seen corruption like that," Anders somberly stated.

"Ok. What happened? This was a party," Isabela snorted. "Let's get back to the fun bits, shall we?"

"Here, here!" Varric agreed, slapping his cards onto the table and challenging Fenris with a brow-cocked grin. Fenris laid his cards out, and the dwarf swore as he pushed his silvers to the center. "Luckiest damn fool."

"My deal?" Fenris asked, sitting back smugly in his chair.

"Do it up," Varric laughed.

"Watch him, he counts cards," Gamlen said then, as Fenris scooped them up to shuffle.

"I can count cards too," Merrill chimed, her tone that of haughty condescension.

Isabela purred at this. "That's right, sweet thing. You can."

They played at least five more hands of Wicked Grace before Anders and Gamlen left for the night. Gamlen had moved back to his hovel, which was actually now a nice, quaint, pleasant little cottage. Aria was glad of it; it meant she and Fenris didn't have to be discreet. Not that they ever held back, as it was. Merrill and Isabela went down to the tavern part of the Hanged Man to further imbibe when Isabela developed an itch she couldn't scratch herself.

Aria sat on the dais next to the fire, curled up against Fenris, while Varric smoked from the new pipe Isabela had gifted him. He sat on the chaise lounge across from them, contemplating the fire for a few moments after the ladies left.

"So you two really are serious about this whole family thing," the dwarf finally spoke. It was a statement, not a question. He blew a ring of smoke and then sent another stream through it.

"Apparently," Aria quietly replied, her eyes surveying the flames as they slowly devoured the logs in the hearth.

"Hey Birdie, there's a crate I put in that friend of Isabela's shop down the hall. Could you go tell him I need it back now? I was hiding some documents from the Merchant's Guild," Varric said after a few moments.

Aria sat up and quizzically looked at her dwarven friend. "Why would you leave them with that oaf?" she asked, standing and stretching. She kissed Fenris lightly on the top of the head. "Be right back, then. Want anything from the bar? I might get some more cider."

"Yeah, have Norah bring up a few more tankards, would you?" Varric requested, his visage brightening at the prospect of more alcohol.

"Haha, sure," Aria chortled. She left the room and went down to Isabela's friend, but she'd known Varric long enough to realize when he was scheming. And he was definitely scheming with Fenris right now. That was alright. She'd get it out of her elf one way or another.

"May I pass on some scuttlebutt I eavesdropped whilst in the Merchant's Guild the other day?" Varric said then, as soon as Hawke's footsteps had gone off down the hall.

"Regarding what?" the elven warrior queried. He warily regarded Varric.

"There were a couple of lower house merchants engaged in a heated debate. They were playing the odds at taking over the Hawke Estate once the inevitable happened, and they brought up an interesting loop hole, actually."

"Go on," Fenris rasped. He ran through the list of frequent fliers in the Merchant Guild in his mind. Some dwarves might suddenly go missing.

"Say, Hawke were to expire. Who would get the estate? Bethany will never be allowed out of the Gallows. Gamlen could make a play for it, but let's be realistic, he's not going to hang on to it. The obvious choice would be you, but there's no... Legal authorization for such a thing."

"What are you getting at, Varric?" Fenris challenged.

"Perhaps... Before you're Hawke, Fenris, and Fenris junior, maybe you should... Tie the knot."

Fenris glared at Varric but said nothing. He looked down at the frayed red ribbon on his wrist for a moment, the suggestion of marriage hitting him like a kick in the gut. Aria would lose everything by being married to him. She'd have no chance at a title or of being considered of decent society. It would ruin her politically and socially. But then... When had she ever cared about any of that? She'd introduced him to nobles as her better half already and no one had dared challenge her on that. Fenris looked to Varric again, a war of emotions swirling the green depths of his eyes, but his face remained stoic and cold.

"You...wouldn't want to marry her?" Varric asked in a hushed tone as footsteps went past the door, then down the stairs. He really hoped Hawke wasn't listening.

"We've never really... Given it thought. We want a family yes, but..."

"It was just a suggestion," Varric said as he sat back in his seat. "I don't know how you two even feel about the subject. I was looking at it from an assets' retention point of view."

That's when Aria walked back in, Norah on her heels with a tray of ale tankards. Her amber gaze shot accusatory darts at the dwarf, who just chuckled in response. Aria returned to her previous position next to Fenris and rested her head on his chest.

"I don't know what you're conspiring, but I do hope it doesn't involve a fight that doesn't include me," Aria sweetly announced.

"Nothing of the sort, madame," Varric laughed. "Nothing of the sort."

"Saying it twice doesn't make true a lie," Aria sing-songed, looking first at Varric then at Fenris.

"It wasn't about a fight," Fenris quietly rasped, smoothing his fingers down her shoulder to her elbow and back up again.

"Well, good. Gentlemen, that ale isn't going to stay cold," Aria accepted Fenris's statement, then pointed to the tankards.

"Much obliged," Varric said, grabbing two mugs off the tray and handing one to Fenris before he sat down and sipped off the other.

"So Varric, what of the gossip of the city? What troubles do we have to look forward to?" Aria asked at length.

"As of right now, nothing. For once, things are pretty quiet. We'll see how long it lasts," Varric replied.

Fenris drained his entire tankard and set the empty glass on the table before him. He looked down at Aria. "I'm ready to retire if you are."

Aria yawned and stretched, then stood. Fenris mirrored her and they both looked to Varric. He raised his glass to them.

"To the most dynamic duo ever to exist," he toasted, then downed the rest of his mug. "Good night, Hawke, Elf. Be careful on your way home."

"Good night, Varric," Aria said as Fenris nodded cordially at the dwarf.

They left the Hanged Man together and stepped out into Lowtown. The night air was chilly as it had been of late, and Fenris drew Aria to him as they made their way towards the Hightown steps. The sky was cloudy and the air smelled of wet earth and brine, as though it might rain soon.

"So, why was Varric so eager to talk to you alone?" Aria quietly asked as they bounded up the steps.

Fenris chuckled, a low, pleasant rumble in his throat. "That really bothers you, doesn't it?"

"You're hedging," Aria replied, slapping him playfully on the chest.

"Must you know everything about everything?" he retorted, mussing her hair slightly.

She ducked away for a second then rested her head on his shoulder as they continued walking. "The less I know, the more easily I'm blindsided."

"Sometimes, it's good to be surprised," Fenris nonchalantly stated.

Aria sighed. "Is it something good then?"

Fenris kissed the top of her head and laced his fingers through hers. "It is."

"Then I'll needle you no more about it," Aria chortled quietly.

When they reached the Merchant's Guild, Fenris turned them toward his mansion instead of hers. Aria stumbled slightly at the unexpected turn and Fenris held her more tightly to him. Aria ran her fingers over the frayed ribbon on his arm.

"I should get you a new one. This one has about had it," she absent-mindedly stated, looking up at the sky. It was beginning to clear and a cold mist started to rise from the stones around them.

"Is there a way to tell for certain whether or not you are yet with child?" Fenris asked, changing the subject abruptly.

Aria turned to him, her brows knit together in a mixture of bemusement and consternation. "I... Don't know. I suppose I could ask Anders to check."

Fenris sighed grumpily at that and kissed the top of her head.

"Why do you ask?" Aria queried, casting him a suspicious sidelong gaze.

"A degree of certainty would be nice," Fenris half-snarled in response, pulling her against him yet again. The reached his mansion a few moments later.

"I don't think I am, yet," Aria whispered sadly as he took her cloak and hung it on the wall in the foyer. She took his proffered hand and followed him up to his room.

He was silent as he undressed, and Aria noted a fine trembling had taken his normally steady hands. She stopped him when he fumbled too long with the buckle that held his shoulder armour in place. Aria's hands took over and Fenris watched her so closely, she started to blush. A thousand-thousand times he'd looked at her like this, and every time it still brought a flush to her cheeks.

"You're nervous," he said after a moment.

"I am? You're the one who can't even undo their own armour for the shaking in your hands," Aria retorted.

Fenris chuckled. "Is that why you took over? And here I thought you just couldn't wait to get my clothes off."

Aria mussed his hair and let him finish removing his armour while she went to work on her own. She was unlacing the back of the armoured bodice when his hands took over. She waited patiently, wondering why he was taking his time, but then his lips found the side of the column of her throat and she suddenly couldn't think anymore. He stole her breath away, and she hoped she had the same effect on him.

ooooooo

"Oooh! I like the green one!" Merrill chimed from the other side of Isabela as they perused one of the high-fashion shops in Hightown.

"You like anything green, sweet thing," Isabela chortled, lightly punching the Dalish in the arm.

"What? It is pretty," Merrill defended, taking the sleeve of the strangely dusty green gown and feeling the fabric. "Is this silk?"

"Aye, of fine quality, too," Isabela replied, eyeing the dress with a covetous gaze.

Aria sighed and looked over at the clock on the wall. It was only noon, and this was the last shop left in Hightown they hadn't been this morning. Isabela had demanded girl time and Aria had promised her some new items for the pirate's wardrobe. Merrill never really wanted or bought much; she just liked having their company. She was much less angry with Aria, what with all the Champion had been through. Aria hated pity.

"You don't look with child. Are you with child?" Merrill suddenly blurted.

Isabela stifled a guffaw, but failed miserably and had the good sense to walk to the other side of the shop. A few of the patrons turned their heads to stare at Aria, most of their eyes darted straight to her belly before they awkwardly looked away. Aria groaned.

"Merrill, for the hundredth time, I don't know," Aria nonchalantly replied, walking up to the jewelry case. A small howling wolf pendant with blood-red garnets for eyes had seized her attention. It looked to be made of silver, but the metal seemed to be lit from within. It was the same with the long chain that bore the pendant.

"He's become a bit... Obsessive," Merrill said from next to her.

Aria waved the shop keep over and he extracted the necklace from the case. "He has," Aria absently agreed, lifting the pendant up to the light. "I'll take it," Aria said after a moment. She deposited a bunch of hair ribbons on the counter, then snatched up her coin purse.

"Oh no, Champion. Your gold is no good here," the shop keep sweetly said, his blue eyes sincere. "A gift. It is yours."

Aria shook her head. "But it isn't for me. And that is no ordinary precious metal. Here, for your troubles and kindness," Aria replied, handing him 10 gold sovereigns and 70 silver pieces.

"You're too kind! Thank you!" the shopkeeper gushed, putting the coin swiftly into the till. "Thank you!"

Aria nodded and then looked to her companions. "Anything else before we go?"

Isabela snatched up the green dress Merrill had been ogling, and Merrill grabbed a new pair of Dalish crafted boots. Aria shook her head and tossed the shopkeeper another sovereign before they were on their way again. Isabela guided them toward the Blooming Rose. Apparently, she'd made friends with the whorehouse's owner.

They lunched there, with several of the "girls"; they all swooned over the merchandise the three companions had picked up that day. The Madame even graced them with her presence, and inquired after Aria's health. She even offered a remedy to help with fertility. Anymore, nothing was sacred. Everyone knew Aria's business before she even knew it herself.

From there, Aria demanded a visit to the Chantry Gardens. She was starting to run low on some of her favourite soaps and needed to procure the ingredients Bethany needed to make them. Aria hadn't seen her sister in nearly a year now, but through Anders' underground smuggling operation with the Circle mages, Aria had been able to sneak ingredients and niceties to her sister. In return, Aria received reports about the Circle and her soaps. It was a service Anders was all too happy to supply, since Aria had helped him gather the strange ingredients needed for whatever Tevinter spell he was going to do on himself. As far as Aria knew now, Anders was still a Justice plus one.

Aria bade Isabela and Merrill farewell at the Hanged Man and took the flowers to Darktown. Anders was in his clinic, healing a very pregnant woman. He sent her away once finished and locked his clinic doors while he entertained Aria.

"You should really see about donating some of these soaps to the folks in Darktown and Lowtown. I'm sure they'd appreciate it," Anders said as he gathered up the materials Aria had laid out for him to inspect.

"Yes, I'm sure that will go over nicely. Henceforth I'll be known as 'The Champion who made Darktown less smelly'," Aria replied.

Anders chuckled at this and sat at the table, a pile of scrolls in front of him. "There is that, yes," he laughed. "Everyone knows of your obsession with hygiene. I don't doubt it would be met with some scrutiny, but then they could go around and say 'I smell like a Champion!'"

"Pre or post battle? Not that I've seen much of that lately," Aria retorted.

Anders sighed. "It's maddening to see him doing everything right. Well, almost everything."

Aria rubbed the back of her neck in trepidation as she sat across from him. She wondered idly if she'd ever be rid of this ridiculous triangle with them. "Almost everything?"

"Normally people go about starting families after exchange of vow. Though, I doubt anything could ever come in between the likes of you two," he said, carefully guarding his facial expression. He did not meet her eyes and instead busied himself with scribbles on the scrolls.

It was Aria's turn to sigh. "And I wish people would mind their own damned business when it comes to us."

"I wasn't trying to be judgmental, I just... I want you to be cared for. I want you to be safe. And most of all, I want you to be happy," Anders said, finally meeting her gaze. His eyes were dark and cold, but warmth seeped into them as he looked upon her. He blinked as if seeing her for the first time and studied her for a moment. "This is the healthiest I think I've ever seen you look."

"Thanks... I think," Aria laughed, smoothing her simple fawn-hued cotton skirt.

"The Knight-Commander might be coming to you, just so you know."

Aria groaned and put her head on the table. "What now?" she said, her voice muffled by her folded arms.

Anders chuckled quietly. "There were three mages that escaped the night before last. The templars are saying they used blood magic to escape and they smashed their phylacteries before they left."

Aria peered up at him over the crook of her elbow, scowling. "What does it matter? Every mage is a blood mage to them anymore."

"My sentiments exactly," Anders darkly agreed.

"I won't be able to go track them down, so it doesn't matter," Aria said, sitting back straight. She plucked at the orchid he had as a centerpiece on the table and ate one of the petals.

Anders arched a brow at her. "You in need of courage?"

"Huh?"

"In the Anderfels, nobles would give orchids to their armies to eat, because it gives them courage."

"That's... Interesting. But no, it just looked tasty so I ate it," Aria replied on a laugh.

Anders stood up abruptly and walked around the table. He held out his hand to her and she took it, giving him a befuddled look. He pulled her to her feet, studying her from head to toe. Anders cupped her face in his hands and examined her eyes, then smoothed his hands down her arms to her sides.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, hating the sudden thrill in her pulse that occurred at his touch.

"Shhh," Anders hushed her, then smoothed his hands over her belly.

Aria giggled. "Stop, that tick-" but the warmth that coursed suddenly through her belly stopped her words. Anders was glowing, the way he did when he was healing someone. She could feel his ethereal presence in her veins.

A moment later, he stumbled and sat down on the bench Aria had just vacated. He looked up at her with a mixture of deep sadness, desperation, and awe.

"What?" Aria asked.