Chapter FIFTY-SIX
Aria and Fenris left Gamlen's, the thrill of a new adventure trilling through Aria's blood. They walked together in companionable silence, Fenris making faces at Tristan as they made their way to the Hanged Man. They entered and Corff hailed them heartily. Several of the bar's regular patrons lifted glasses in greeting. Isabela squealed and skipped over to them, hands out for the baby. Tristan's deep crystalline green eyes lit up when he saw the high seas temptress and he keened, his own arms outstretched toward her. Fenris gingerly allowed Isabela to take Tristan and she held him up above her head so he could look down at her.
"Who's the most handsome baby in all of the world?" Isabela cooed, bouncing him a little. Tristan squealed in response. Isabela brought him back down and cradled him against her ample bosom. The baby rested his head on her collar bone and played with the brooch on her shirt. Aria eyed her warily.
"He's going to be a terror when he hits puberty," Varric's voice greeted them from the top of the stairs where the Hanged Man's rooms for rent existed.
"I'm worried already," Aria conceded, motioning Isabela to follow them and they all went into Varric's private room.
"You have that look on your face again," Varric stated as they all sat around the large table near the hearth.
"What look?" Fenris and Aria defensively said in unison.
Varric laughed in response. "And that confirms it. Who, or rather, what, is on the menu for tonight's slayings?"
Aria laughed lightly. "Why must we always jump to the slaying?"
"It generally ends up that way, doesn't it?" Varric chuckled.
"Not...always," Fenris defensively stated.
Varric chuckled again. "So, who, what, where, when, and how?"
"You forgot 'why'," Fenris droned nonchalantly.
"Elf, when it comes to anything related to you two, I seldom need to ask the question," Varric cheerily replied.
"Some idiot trying to swindle my uncle, a meeting, Darktown, sundown, something to do with a gem, and probably on foot," Aria replied, counting off the answers to Varric's questions on her fingers.
"Fair enough. We taking the brat?" Varric jibed, jerking a thumb at Isabela and Tristan.
"Hey! He's not a brat!" Isabela indignantly stated, her expression mortified.
"I wasn't talking about the baby," Varric smirked.
Isabela narrowed her eyes at him, but the smile on her lips sapped any evil intent from them. Aria sighed and elbowed the Rivaini.
"Does the brat want to come?" Aria asked Isabela.
"You go. Leave this little fellow here with me," Isabela purred.
"Perhaps not here, here," Fenris growled. "Let's take him home first. You can watch him there, and Orana and Bodahn can watch you."
"Spoil sport," Isabela groused, rising from where she had been seated. "They don't think I'll take care of you. Perfect little gem that you are!" She spun with the baby in her arms and he cooed gleefully.
"You won't say that when you find him trying to slide down the banister, playing with the coals in the hearth, or standing on the work table attempting to take down the daggers on the wall," Aria darkly stated, though her eyes were soft with the light of love as they rested on her son.
"He did what?" Fenris asked, appalled. "But he can hardly stand!"
Aria shrugged her shoulders. "He could hardly stand a month ago. Today, he used Sandal's stool to climb onto the work table, and he was doing his damnedest to reach my new daggers."
Fenris looked at his son in awe and Isabela laughed. Varric sighed. "Can't even walk, and he already has a weapon of choice. I'm telling you, that kid is going to be damn dangerous. I'll wager 100 sovereigns he bags his first kill by his fifth birthday."
Fenris cocked a brow at this. "Wanna shake on it?"
"Why, so you can help him? He has to do it on his own."
"Done," Fenris said, shaking hands with the dwarf.
Aria looked between them in horror. "You two! No bets on my son!"
Fenris shrugged and Varric guffawed. The party all left the tavern and meandered up to Aria's Hightown mansion. Bodahn greeted them at the door. Aria explained the plan for the evening to her "staff"-though they were definitely more like family—and began preparing for the potential battle.
Maker, it had been far too long since she'd had a good adventure. Truth be told, she was looking for a good fight. Minding Tristan was great for keeping one's reflexes sharp and one's speed in tact, but it had been ages since she had been able to really cut loose. The threat of death was a potent elixir and there was nothing else like it in the world for making one feel alive. Aria shuddered at this; she was a warrior. She lived for fighting. And she hated the slight twinge of resentment she felt at having to put that part of her aside to be a mother. Guilt slammed into her next and she agitatedly sheathed the keen new daggers she'd bought several weeks ago on her back.
Just as they were preparing to walk out the front door, Anders and Aveline strode in.
"Honestly Hawke, I'd figured you for the sensible type!" Aveline boomed, indicating Isabela in the other room with an agitated flick of her hand.
"And what have I done so offensive this time, Captain?" Aria sniped, checking the buckle on her shoulder harness. She glanced back at Isabela and Tristan. They were gurgling nonsense at each other, smiling ear-to-ear. Aria couldn't help grinning.
"You're going to go on some fool's errand and leave Isabela to watch your child? Your only child?!" Aveline bellowed, glaring at where Isabela stood, dancing in a slow circle with Tristan in her arms near the hearth.
"Why not?" Aria asked, intending to barb the ornery carrot-topped wench. Aveline had always had an uncanny knack for pissing Aria off.
"Have you lost your Maker-damned mind? She is no such person with whom to leave a child!"
"Oh pipe down, Vermillion. I've tended my fair share of babes," Isabela called from the great room.
"When?" Aveline challenged.
"Sailors have families too, you know," Isabela calmly stated, spinning around and holding Tristan high.
"Honestly Aveline," Aria snorted. "If you're so bothered, you stay and watch them."
"I don't have time to babysit for you, Hawke," Aveline glowered.
"Funny—you somehow made time to come tromping into my home to once again tell me how to live my life. If you've time for that, you've time to mind a baby. Buh-bye, now," Aria chortled, shouldering the door open and disappearing into the twilight. Anders, Varric, and Fenris followed suit, and Fenris slammed the door in Aveline's protesting face.
"Honestly, if she were anymore jealous, her skin would be green," Varric huffed as they made their way towards one of the lesser used passages into Lowtown.
Aria looked over her shoulder at Anders. "Aren't you giving her fertility potions?"
"Yes. I don't know why they're having so much trouble conceiving," Anders snarled. "Maybe Donnic isn't putting in the right hole."
They all sniggered at that and began jogging down the steps together.
"I hate to say it, but perhaps the problem isn't her," Fenris coolly stated.
They alighted the steps into Lowtown and made their way towards Darktown via Lirene's Imports. Anders seemed to contemplate what Fenris had said.
"Maybe it is Donnic. I just figured with Aveline's temperament, history, and closeness to the Darkspawn Taint, perhaps it had rendered her barren. Hmm. I wonder if there is a potion or treatment for men to be more...potent," Anders mused, his demeanor uncharacteristically light-hearted. He'd been surly, silent, and markedly withdrawn since Tristan was born, and for the moment, the feud between him and Fenris over his exploitation of Aria in order to do something at the Chantry was halted.
"Or maybe they're not trying as hard as they let on," Varric added his take. "Aveline is downright appalled by the vigor with which you two take to love."
"It doesn't take much to send that uptight twat into a self-righteous tirade," Aria grumbled. "I mean it—one more time. She tries to dictate my life one more time, and I'll bury a dagger clean to the hilt between her hateful eyes."
Varric snickered. "I'd pay to see that. She's been really stepping on a lot of toes lately. The guards are begging Donnic to do something."
"What do you mean?" Fenris asked, holding out his hand to help Aria around a particularly large, foul-smelling pile of goo on the steps before them. Aria deftly lept over it and lightly kissed his cheek as she passed.
"Drills, patrols, tension with the templars, mild skirmishes over territories," Varric replied, hopping over the same goo.
"The templars, and by templars, I mean Meredith, are greatly overstepping their duties," Anders darkly stated. "It's an unspoken turf war and the only one who can rein Meredith in anymore is Grand Cleric Elthina."
"I've heard even she is becoming daunted by Meredith," Varric commented as they stopped to take in the people milling around them.
"I think that's our man," Aria said, drawing their attention towards the group of heavily armed mercenary types near the top of the stairwell that led down to the sewers. "Ready or not..."
They strode purposefully up to the group and Aria introduced herself. The leader, Mekel, seemed to be interested in settling a score with her uncle and decided he was going to take it out on her hide. Aria was overjoyed when he and his cronies brandished their weapons.
"And it's not even my birthday yet!" she literally squealed, launching into battle.
It was a dismally short affair and the rag tag band of cronies fell easily. Aria was almost heartbroken. Aria and Varric searched the corpses of the would-be assassins and found a note that mentioned a wallop mallet of Gamlen's and something about a heart tree—Vhenadahl tree as the Dalish called it. There apparently was one in the alienage. Anders declared that he'd had enough for the evening and went back to his clinic. Varric accompanied Fenris and Aria as far as the Hanged Man and bid them good night. He supposedly had some merchant's guild business to attend.
"You're not seriously going to go confront him now, are you?" Fenris queried as Varric disappeared inside.
"Why not? The night is young!" Aria cajoled, invigorated by the thrill of the small battle, her appetite stoked and lusting for more.
"Because I fear that if we're gone too much longer, our son may be witness to a double murder," Fenris glowered.
"Ugh. I hate it when you're right," Aria groused. "We go talk to him, and whatever happens, we'll finish this tomorrow."
"You're not going to really finish this tomorrow, are you?"
"We'll see. Come on! We haven't had an adventure, just the two of us, since... Since..."
"Most of that trip was wonderful," Fenris said, seeking to quell the pain that had risen in Aria's eyes at the memories of their time in Denerim and beyond.
"We have a son now. And he's perfect," Aria replied, bouncing on her toes to kiss the tip of his nose and then bolting towards Gamlen's. Fenris followed, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.
Aria knocked and didn't wait for an answer before heading through the front door to Gamlen's quaint little cottage. To think it had once been a disgusting little hovel... Aria didn't recognize the place any longer. Aria sat on the cutesy little canary yellow dais the decorator had installed in the corner of the common room.
"What do you want now?" Gamlen groused, coming out of the great room from where he'd been sitting next to the hearth, a thick book in his hand.
"What in the Maker's name is a wallop mallet?" Aria asked, crossing one thigh over the other and leaning back against the wall. She picked at her teeth with one of the throwing knives she kept on her belt.
Gamlen seemed astonished by the question. "Huh," he said, seating himself at the large oak table which now sat where the small driftwood table had once been. "I haven't played wallop since I was a kid. Still got my mallet up on the wall, though" he said, indicating the large warhammer-looking thing that served as decoration. "Last time I was any good at something."
"Where'd you get it?" Fenris asked, walking over to examine the thing. He seemed intrigued.
"Void if I remember," Gamlen said scratching his head.
"Has it got anything to do with the tree in the alienage?" Aria asked, sitting up and sheathing her throwing knife. Gamlen regarded her with something akin to horror. Aria wondered if he really thought so lowly of her and what he'd really think if he'd seen some of the things she'd done with his own eyes, instead of the embellished tales to which Varric treated him.
"Who is watching your son while you're here?" Gamlen suddenly asked, as if the baby's absence was just now occurring to him.
"Bah!" Aria spat, and stood up. She languidly stretched and yawned. "Isabela."
"You... Left your child with Isabela? Alone?" Gamlen asked, aghast.
"Why... Does everybody react like that? Have you seen her with a baby? She adores him! He loves her! And besides, Orana, Bodahn, and Aveline are there."
"Well that's comforting. He's going to watch as those two kill each other," Gamlen sighed in resignation.
"Builds character," Aria snorted.
Fenris regarded her coolly and Gamlen just shook his head. "If Leandra were here," he started, then picked up his book from the table.
"Wherever she is, she's proud. And happy," Aria kindly stated, then made for the door. "Good night, Uncle. See you tomorrow?"
He just waved the book at her and disappeared back towards the great room. Fenris followed Aria back out into the night and they stood looking over the group of houses that surrounded the little square outside Gamlen's home. Fenris's hand covered hers on the railing and they looked at each other in silence for a moment.
"To the alienage then?" he quipped after another silent moment had passed.
Aria quirked a smile. "Yes. And then home."