Chapter SIXTY-FIVE
Aria made her way through Lowtown to the alienage, numbly waving at those who hailed her. She needed to get out of the mansion and Fenris had gone with Donnic and Varric for the day. Where, they wouldn't say, but she hated it when they schemed without her and it particularly irked her because there wasn't any reason to exclude her. She wasn't pregnant. She wasn't sick. She wasn't hurt. Beside all that, she wasn't staying in that giant house alone.
Well, not alone, really, she amended the thought. Orana was there. Bodahn and Sandal were working their little shop outside the Merchant's Guild in Hightown until later in the evening. Normally, Aria was happy to spend time with Orana, but lately, understandably... The girl's spirit seemed just as broken as Aria's and it was all she could do to not sweep the girl into her arms and tell her that the baby wasn't really gone. But she and Fenris had agreed, and that was that. Aria knew that it was only a matter of time until she did tell Orana the truth. The loyal servant deserved to know. Just... Not quite yet. Not until Aria was sure that Isabela had safely dropped Charade and Tristan in Highever with Teyrn Cousland.
Merrill seemed surprised to see her when she answered the door and saw Aria standing there. She ushered Aria in and offered her a glass of water or some bread crust. Aria declined the food, but accepted the water.
"So... What are you up to?" Aria asked once the customary pleasantries had been sufficiently honored.
"Lethallan, I have something to ask of you. I know you won't like what I have to say, but I'm out of options," Merrill pleaded, drawing her stool closer to Aria's.
Aria sighed and took the elven woman by the shoulders. "It's about that Maker-damned mirror again, isn't it?"
"Please, Aria. Just listen," Merrill begged, grabbing both of Aria's hands and squeezing them tightly.
"Alright, Merrill. Out with it," Aria resignedly stated, huffing out a breath that blew a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. She sat on one of the chairs near Merrill's small hearth when the elf released her.
"Right. Well—even if I'd had the arulin'holm, it wouldn't work. And the eluvian... There's... Well, I think... I think I have to go back to the spirit. The one that helped me start all of this," Merrill haltingly stated, carefully gauging Aria's reaction.
Aria worked to keep her face as neutral as possible as she said, "Why do you think this demon will help?"
Merrill heaved a sigh of relief at this, thankful that Aria hadn't taken the obvious route of downing on her because of her continued involvement with demons. "He knows about the mirror. I don't know how much. He wouldn't tell me everything and it's dangerous to trust. He said he witnessed its forging. He told me how to cleanse it of its corruption. He must know how to make it work."
Aria cast her gaze to the floor, thinking, trying not to upset Merrill. This was by far the most dangerous thing Merrill had done. Toying with a demon, pitting her desire to restore the Elvhen against the demon's desire of a shiny, new, elven flesh suit... This was sheer madness. And crazier still, Aria couldn't let Merrill go it alone. That wasn't what friends did and Aria... Well, she'd lost quite enough, thank you very much. She wasn't about to lose another loved one, even if they were hellbent on their own destruction. Briefly, she thought of Anders, but quickly brushed the thought aside in order to stay in the present.
"What do you mean when you say it wouldn't work?" Aria finally managed, briefly meeting Merrill's eyes.
Merrill threw up her hands in the direction of the mirror, gesturing wildly as she paced in front of the accursed thing. Aria regarded her with mild curiosity, despite the terrible turn this conversation was taking.
"Well, look at it! Do you think it's supposed to just... What? Sit there showing nothing at all?"
Aria glanced at the eluvian, then back at Merrill, her expression blank. "I've no idea, Merrill. Isn't that what mirrors are supposed to do?"
Merrill bodily sat on one of her stools, setting its wooden legs to squeaking despite her small frame's light mass. She looked at the eluvian for a moment, lost in her own thoughts as her eyes raked over it. She was utterly consumed by this quest. And Aria feared that there may be no saving her, after all.
"I can... I can feel the power in it," Merrill continued quietly, though her timbre was feverish. She reached for the mirror, palms out, as if warming her hands by a fire instead of reaching for something extremely deadly. "But it's... It's like it's asleep. I can't seem to wake it."
At this, Aria couldn't stifle the sad sigh that issued from her lips. "Lethallan, summoning a demon can't possibly be the only way to fix the mirror. Someone else must know something." Aria expected a tirade from the elf, as that was how she normally reacted when Aria pointed out the obvious.
But Merrill surprised her. "The eluvian was lost before Arlathan fell. The only creatures who would know anything about it are in the fade."
Aria grunted, conceding the point to her friend. Hey, she tried. She... Always tried. She had the sad, sinking sensation that she was about to fail. Again.
"I've called to the spirit, but he doesn't seem to hear. He was sealed in an artifact on Sundermount. I have to look for him there," Merrill continued after a few tense, silent moments had passed. He expression was pleadingly earnest as she resumed, "But if things go wrong... If he possesses me... Aria, please promise me you'll strike me down?"
At this Aria's head snapped up. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized what her friend was asking. Anger, metallic and hot, burned her tongue. "You want to summon a demon that may possess you, then have me kill you? How is that a plan? What in the Maker's name are you thinking?"
"You haven't left me any other choice!" Merrill retorted, abruptly standing. The stool clattered across the floor, rolling on its side in the wake of her movement. "And there's no one else I trust," she said, her voice softening. "I need you, lethallan. I'd never forgive myself if someone else got hurt because of me."
Aria clutched her head in her hands, buying herself some time to think. What Merrill was asking... Was a terrible thing to ask of a friend. Aria had asked them to lay their lives on the line herself, sure, but it was never out of selfishness and they always had the choice of leaving without earning her ire. It was an unspoken code within their little... Family. Yes. It very much was a family. Dysfunctions and all. And here Merrill was, blatantly offering up herself and asking Aria to clean up the mess if it blew up on them. Damn her sweet, innocent, crazy ass all to the Void and back. And then it hit her. Maybe Marethari, the Keeper, would have more information. It was her job, after all, to be a walking history of the People.
"What if you went to Marethari? Maybe she could show you another way, without summoning a demon?" Aria hopefully replied.
Mentioning the Keeper, of course, was like taking a branding iron to a raw, exposed nerve. Merrill blanched, the light in her emerald eyes furious. "The Keeper would never help me! Why do you think I had to find the demon in the first place?"
Aria winced at her fury. She'd known it was coming but it still was something she'd never get used to with Merrill. It was just... So uncharacteristic of her, otherwise. Merrill was kind, sweet, compassionate, a bit daft at times. She wasn't after power, she was after history. Her history. Her intentions were noble... But they often said those intentions were the kind that paved the way to the Void.
"Besides. The whole clan has moved on by now, anyway," Merrill stated as an aside, uncomfortable with Hawke's silence. "You'll never find her."
"Don't be so sure," Aria said. "I was there not much longer than a month ago. The clan was still there."
At this, Merrill seemed aghast. "They...They're still here?"
"More than likely," Aria replied.
Merrill paced for a few moments and a green tinge took to her skin. She looked as though she was suddenly ill, and she held her arms around her waist as though fighting the sudden sickness down. Aria felt a pang of remorse and decided to deviate from the subject a little.
"So. We're going to need Fenris and Anders," Aria resignedly stated, kicking idly at a loose floor board before tamping it back down again. She stood and stretched.
Merrill groaned theatrically at this. "Must we bring Fenris?"
Aria wryly chuckled. "You know he won't let me out of his sight for more than an hour. It's going to take at least a day and a half to get up Sundermount. I should get going. Get packed. We leave at dawn."
Aria departed then, picking her way carefully across the alienage. A young, blond elven woman with vines tattooed around her amber eyes stopped Aria by the Vhendahl tree and handed her a wreath woven together with beautiful, small yellow and purple flowers. Aria accepted the gift, perplexed, and the young elf smiled sweetly.
"Mythal ghi'la ma," the young elf said. "Ir abelas sul mar laimasha."
And with that, the lady turned and disappeared through the door of a hovel a few doors away from Merrill's. Aria held the wreath out, perplexed, unsure of what had just happened. Deciding to accept the whole thing as simple random kindness, she carefully placed the gift in her pack and carried on into Lowtown towards the Hanged Man.
Tristan had been gone a week and as of yet, there had been no word from Isabela. While she knew better than to worry overmuch, she couldn't help herself. It was storm season on the Waking Sea. A million and one things could go wrong and true to form, rather than just pressing her luck, Aria had sorely jabbed fate in the face with this last harebrained scheme. They may just never show up at port and no one would ever know what had happened. They may have been attacked by a Qunari dreadnought, avenging the Arishok's death. Slavers or worse could have captured them. Meredith could have intercepted them and taken the baby away to be murdered—justifying it by saying he was some sort of blood mage or possessed. Yeah, okay, that one was stretching it a bit but if Anders and even some of the templars were to be believed, it was entirely within the Knight-Commander's current scope.
Aria shook her head to clear the negative thoughts as she tromped into the Hanged Man. Corff waved a greeting to her from the bar and she returned the gesture, her eyes landing wistfully on the stool in the corner that Isabela once frequented. A pang of loneliness sang through her, bittersweet on her tongue. She missed Isabela already and hoped that the High Seas Temptress was happy now that she was back in her element. And more, she hoped the pirate was keeping her son safe.
The rogue trudged up the steps to Varric's suite, which had been enlarged recently during one of several remodels of the place. Varric had successfully secured half-ownership with Corff and they'd begun making several upgrades to the dingy, unsavory little bar. The rooms were cleaner and updated with new, modern furnishings and homey window treatments, and fresh coats of paint in stylish, welcoming colors. There was a fresh coat of varnish on all of the hardwood floors and bright red carpeting was laid into the center of the staircase that led up to the inn's rooms. Varric had even managed to get a shower installed. Aria was jealous and made a mental note to have something like that installed in her own suite back at home.
"Birdie! Come in, come in!" Varric hailed her as she rapped on the door frame, announcing her presence.
Anders stood with him, poring over maps and scrolls on the enormous table in the center of the suite's main room. As expected, Anders ignored Aria and continued tracing a route through northern Ferelden with his fingertip. Aria noted that it ended in the Frostbacks and he looked perturbed at where his finger had stopped. He sighed and scribbled something onto a small piece of parchment.
"I thought we did plotting on Tuesdays," Aria glibly stated, taking her normal seat near the hearth.
"No, Tuesdays is course charting. Plotting is on Thursdays," Varric chortled, offering Aria a shot glass full of clear liquor. Ahhh, Hanged Man moonshine—Kirkwall's finest.
Aria appreciatively downed the shot and proffered it back to Varric for a refill before she spoke again. "Right. And Wicked Grace Wednesdays."
"And Fridays!" Varric merrily added, obliging Aria with another shot. "What brings the mighty Champion to the dregs this afternoon?"
Aria snarled at this, downing the second shot as she glowered at the hearth. "Something my husband is going to really detest."
At this, Anders's ears all but perked up and he finally deigned to acknowledge Aria's presence. Their gazes met and held for a moment, then Anders returned to his survey of several maps.
"So, we leave at dawn?" the mage almost cheerily quipped.
"We've got a winner! Get this man a tankard," Aria sarcastically replied.
"And what is it we're going to be leaving for at dawn?" Varric chuckled.
"Helping Merrill summon a demon and then killing her if it gets the better of her," Aria nonchalantly replied, picking at her nails as if they were merely conversing about the weather.
Anders froze and turned to look at her once more, incredulity written on his features. "She's a bloody idiot."
Aria shrugged. "Yeah, what can you do? She's obsessed and I haven't the heart to tell her no," Aria said, her eyes shifting back to regard Varric. Then, she had another disturbing thought. "Hey-Where are Donnic and my husband? I figured they'd be here with you."
At this, Varric laughed and pointed at something on the map. Anders nodded in agreement and scratched something onto an unused page. They checked something together, both agreeing again, and Varric turned back to Hawke.
"They went back to your place," Varric said. "Are you sure you want to take Fenris? This is kind of like poking a really big bear with a really small stick."
Aria replied by way of holding out her shot glass and Varric chuckled again as he filled it. She downed the shot and stood, joining them at the table. Several maps of various areas of Ferelden had been marked. Aria was quick to notice that none of the labels existed in big cities or busy ports.
"What is this?" she asked, rifling through a few of the charts and ignoring Varric's question.
"Plans," Anders stiffly answered her query, deliberately vague. He swatted a few of the charts from her grasp and crisply rolled them up before she could get a detailed look.
Aria sneered at him. "Obviously, but for what?" Aria pressed, seeing no logical explanation connecting the various towns and locales.
"Never you mind that, Hawke. I hear there's something going on at the Hawke Estate. Go home," Varric said, gently pushing her toward the door. "See you at the Point at dawn tomorrow?"
Aria stumbled to the door under Varric's gruff guidance and stopped when she was again outside. She turned to issue a retort, but the door shut in her face. Several locks went into place and Aria glared at the heavy door, calculating how long it would take to get it back open. She could pick them all, and quite handily of course, but Varric knew this as well. The message was clear and she grumbled to herself as she turned and bounded down the stairs.
Why in the Maker's name would they not let her in on a plan? Had something really gone wrong with Isabela? Or had some ill fallen Charade? Where in the Void was her son?! Glowering as impressively as her husband, she continued out of the Hanged Man and into Lowtown. She stopped at Lirene's Ferelden Imports to make a donation for the refugees and to pick up some healing and stamina potions. She made small talk with Lirene for a bit before finally making her way back up to Hightown.
Bodahn and Sandal were just entering the courtyard on their way back to the estate as well, laden with their wares and the day's earnings. Aria held the door for them and followed them in. Sandal disappeared into the servants' quarters while Bodahn lingered with Aria in the foyer.
"Mistress Aria? If I may, I'd like to... Thank you for all you've done for me and my boy these last few years," Bodahn said, wringing his hands in trepidation.
At this, Aria was slightly taken aback. "You're quite welcome, Bodahn. I feel a 'but' coming on, though."
"Ah, yes. I do not want to seem ungrateful. We—I mean my boy, Sandal, has been requested to serve the court in Orlais by Empress Celene herself."
"Well that's... That's excellent news, Bodahn! When were you planning to leave?" Aria asked, genuinely happy for her friend.
"Soon. With things getting more intense around here and all the tragedy... It's just time we moved on. This is a big opportunity for my boy and I'm so proud of him."
Aria slung her arm around the dwarven man's shoulders and led him into the main room. She leaned down and hugged him. He returned the gesture, his expression somewhat bewildered as she pulled away.
"Well, whatever you decide, wherever you go, you're both welcome at my hearth any time," Aria gently stated.
"Thank you, Hawke. I wish you luck on all your... Endeavors. Maker knows you've earned it," Bodahn kindly said. "Good night."
"Good night, Bodahn," Aria softly replied.
She heard voices upstairs coming from the study then, and she decided that she should probably let her husband know about tomorrow's plans so they could get the angry bits over with before it was time to go to sleep. As she climbed the stairs, she was surprised to hear Aveline's laughter filter out of the study and into the hall. Donnic's lower timbre joined hers and Fenris said something that made them both laugh loudly again.
"Aria! You're finally home! Come, I've got good news!" Aveline called as Aria slowly strode in.
Aria eyed her friends suspiciously. "How—How much have you drank this evening?"
Donnic's laughter mingled with Aveline's and they held hands as they sat on the dais. Their relaxed postures, their easy, effortless gaiety, Aveline's constant smile—something was definitely wrong here. Aveline was never this brazenly affectionate with Donnic. At least not with company present. They suddenly looked years younger, the recent burdens gone, the worry lines in both their faces relaxed away in the wake of their infectious cheer.
"Sit down, Hawke. We've got some good news we would like to share with you," Donnic said, his arms going about Aveline's shoulders.
Before anything else could be said or done, Aveline giddily interjected: "We're pregnant!"
A torrent of manic joy flooded through Aria at this. Her smile was radiant and genuine as she looked between them, trying to decide if she believed them. The happy flush to Aveline's face and the mirth in her eyes confirmed it. Aria squealed and tackled her friends to the dais, kissing them both repeatedly on their cheeks. Aveline and Aria fell to the floor together, laughing so hard that both of them had tears in their eyes. Fenris watched the display, his mouth quirked up on one side, and Donnic's deep-throated chuckle could be heard from across the room.
Aria held Aveline's face in her hands and planted a smacking, wet kiss in the middle of the woman's forehead. "I'm so... I'm so fucking happy for you!" she squealed.
Aveline laughed and righted them so that they sat next to each other on the floor in front of the dais. "I'm so glad. I thought... I don't know what I thought. We wanted to tell you sooner, but with all that has happened..."
"Aveline, I will always share your joy. Maker knows we need something good to happen for once," Aria cut her off. "So, have you thought of names?
At this, Donnic coughed. "Well, we're going to need two."
"Well of course, one for if it's a girl and-" Aria started, but stopped when she registered the sly, smug grin on Donnic's face. She turned to Aveline, confused. "Wait..."
Aveline's goofy smile widened even more and she bit her bottom lip, her green eyes sparkling in a way Aria had never before seen. She looked positively impish. "Twins!" Aveline chortled.
Aria's eyebrows flew up her forehead and she gaped at them in joyful shock. For once, Aria was rendered speechless. Never in a hundred-thousand ages would she have ventured to speculate about Aveline having twins. They'd had such a hard time conceiving at all. Now... They'd have two. Aveline looked fit to burst and Aria threw her arms around her again, hugging her tightly.
When the rogue pulled away, she smoothed Aveline's hair from her face. "You deserve this. You deserve to be happy, to have all that your heart desires."
Tears rolled hotly down Aveline's flushed cheeks, her freckles darker, her eyes a flood of mixed emotions. "It means so much to me to hear you say that. Truly. I thank you, Aria. We're fairly certain that holiday you suggested did the trick."
"Well. And maybe Anders's potions," Donnic coughed.
"Have you heard from Isabela?" Aveline tentatively asked as she helped haul Aria to her feet.
Aria's face fell and the joy fled in the wake of the question. Aveline tended to have that effect sometimes. "Not yet. But no news is good news."
Fenris rose at this and pulled Aria to sit nearly on his lap in the overstuffed chair. His arms encircled her, snaring her comfortably against him. He looked to Donnic and Aveline.
"They're fine. They're safe. Isabela knows to wait long enough that it will not rouse suspicion if she responds," Fenris said, more to Aria than anyone else. "Charade will have him in Highever and the only one who knows is the Teyrn."
"We're on the brink of war," Aveline softly added. "I won't be able to-"
"Don't even worry about that, Aveline," Aria cut in. "You'll be commanding the guard. Not fighting. We need you exactly where you are."
"I know, Hawke, but-"
"No, Aveline. Whatever happens... We will handle it. And when it's over... When we've won..." Aria's voice trailed off. They were all quiet. It was no secret what would happen once everything was over. Kirkwall's Champion would no longer claim the place as home, and no one who knew her would ask her to stay.
"Where will you go?" Aveline softly asked.
"Ferelden. Orlais. Tevinter. Who the fuck knows. Far, far away from here, that's for certain," was Aria's reply as she turned to rest her head on Fenris's chest, her eyes seeking the flames in the hearth.
"The Underground is growing," Donnic said after a few moments of tense, contemplative silence. "There are more Templars helping in it than not."
"Things with Meredith must be escalating terribly, if that's the case," Fenris growled.
"Kerran, that templar you saved? He's involved," Aveline added. "He's been in contact with Varric."
At this, Aria lifted her head. That could only mean one thing. They were planning on breaking Bethany out. She regarded Aveline with trepidation, unsure of how exactly to respond. If Varric could smuggle Bethany out of the Gallows...
"The city needs you," Aveline continued after Aria was still for too long. Her voice was low and soft. It wasn't accusing. It wasn't manipulating. It was just a statement of fact.
"This... This will be the last time, Aveline," Aria replied, just as softly, her eyes remaining rooted in the flames licking at the logs in the hearth.
"I know," the guard-captain sadly stated.
Aria abruptly sat up in Fenris's embrace but did not leave it. She looked at the stones glistening from a fresh coat of wax on the floor for a few moments before she said, "But until then, I've already got something planned for this week. Beginning tomorrow at dawn, in fact."
Fenris's head lolled back against the headrest on the chair behind him and he groaned loudly. "What now?"
"Merrill needs to go back up Sundermount. You know, to talk to the demon about that mirror."
"Venhedis, Amatus. Why?" Fenris snarled.
Aria turned in his embrace and he looked down into her eyes. "We'll have Anders. And maybe Varric. It'll be fine."
Donnic chuckled from across the room at this and Aveline just shook her head.
"Hawke... I don't need to tell you how much danger you're in. Just... Be careful. And if that stupid blood mage gets possessed..." Aveline started to say, but was interrupted.
"I already promised Merrill I would put her down if that happened."
Aveline nodded once in response, and then she and Donnic stood together. Fenris released Aria so that she could escort their friends out. Once at the mansion's main front door, Aria hugged them both.
"I truly am happy for you," Aria said, holding both of Aveline's hands.
"I appreciate this, Hawke. And... Look. I know that you and Isabela are terribly close. I know it might feel like you have nothing left here, like there's no one else in whom you can confide. That no one appreciates you. But... I do. You can always trust me, Hawke. I love you like a sister. We don't always see eye-to-eye and we don't always get along. But all you have to do is yell and I'll come running," Aveline blurted, uncharacteristically eloquent in her speech.
Aria realized she'd been rehearsing this and she couldn't help the sudden sting of tears in her eyes. Aveline and she fought like cats and dogs and rarely ever agreed on anything. But, they always had the other's back and it was something Aria hadn't realized she'd needed to hear. Aria embraced the warrior tightly. "Come get me when you need me. Just... Knock first."
Aveline laughed and sniffled at this, the reference not lost on her, and she gently pulled away. "Of course, Hawke."
Aria watched them go until they'd disappeared beyond the courtyard. When she turned to go back inside, she saw Fenris leaning against the foyer's entrance into the Great Hall. His shoulder was against the frame, his head cocked to the side, arms crossed over his chest. The look in his eyes was indescribable and unfathomable. Sometimes... She couldn't tell what he was thinking. Other times, she could read him like a book. Right now, she needed a cryptographer to decipher his mood.
"So, Bodahn and Sandal will be leaving soon," Aria said then, not quite ready to have the showdown in earnest yet over her latest promise to Merrill.
Fenris straightened, his brows knitting together and the corners of his mouth turning down slightly. "Why?" he asked, striding up to her.
Aria sighed. "Empress Celene has apparently offered Sandal a position at court. Doing enchantments."
Fenris rubbed at the back of his neck, his eyes downcast. "I suppose... It's for the best. Kirkwall is becoming dangerously unstable."
"What will we do with Orana? She's devastated. She hasn't said more than a handful of words in the last few days. I'm going to tell her," Aria said, issuing the challenge she'd meant to issue since the night she'd... Lost her child.
"Tell me what, Mistress?"
Fenris and Aria rounded on the little elven woman who was holding a duster in one hand and a rag in the other. She was haggard looking—her golden hair dull, though neatly pulled back, her green eyes red-rimmed and listless. A stab of guilt lanced through Aria's breast and she turned to Fenris, eyes pleading. He sighed and Aria knew she'd won.
"For the last time, Orana, it's Aria. Come with me," Aria gently reprimanded, snagging the duster and rag from the woman's hands and placing them on a nearby table. She hooked her arm in Orana's and led her up to Aria's room. They sat facing each other on the bed while Fenris went across the room and begin removing his battle implements.
"What... What's going on, Aria? Have I failed in some way? Please don't release me—I don't—I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have this," Orana begged, the hint of a sob cracking her voice.
The fear, the pain, the distress in Orana's tone broke something in Aria. Orana was family. Not by blood, no—but by something stronger. Choice. She'd stayed through some of the worst times in Aria's life. She'd been unflinchingly loyal. She'd been a confidante, a crutch, an irreplaceable boon. Tears sprang to Aria's eyes again and she cursed herself for being so easy to the waterworks. Maker help her, she better not be pregnant again. She gently took Orana by the shoulders.
"Orana, look at me," she gently commanded, and the elf did as bade. "Tristan is not dead."
Orana reeled as if struck. "But, Mistr—Aria, we saw... But the funeral... He's gone."
Aria slowly shook her head, catching the elven woman's chin and drawing her eyes back to Aria's. "He's not dead. We...staged it. He's in Ferelden. Isabela took him and my cousin is keeping him until..." She trailed off, unsure of when she would actually be able to see her son again.
But Orana had understood and relief washed over her. Her fist flew to her mouth and she sank her teeth into one of her fingers in order to anchor herself in the flood. Tears flowed anew down her cheeks and her verdant eyes sparkled with as much joy as confusion. "He's... He's okay?"
Aria nodded emphatically and Orana abruptly turned to Fenris, who also nodded. Aria grunted as Orana embraced her with the force of a tiny hurricane. She began to sob openly and Aria just held her, stroking her hair, and whispering that it would all be okay.
When Orana finally returned to her senses, she sat back, apologizing for the tear stains on Aria's shoulder. Aria smiled at her and offered her a kerchief for her face. Orana took it and dabbed delicately at her eyes, sniffling and laughing all the while.
"I must swear you to secrecy on this," Aria said once Orana was in control of her faculties again.
"Of course, Aria. I'll take it to my grave." She meant every word and Aria's fondness was bolstered by the young woman's devotion.
"We'll see him again. Now, no more moping, no more tears. We'll get through this. Did you know Bodahn and Sandal are going to be leaving soon?"
"Master Feddic said as much this evening. He and Sandal will depart within the fortnight for Orlais," Orana replied. "I would choose to stay, if you'll still have me. Outside of Tevinter, you are all I know."
"Then you're welcome to stay. And to come with us when we do leave this place," Aria softly stated, hugging the girl again. "You're family, Orana."
"Thank you, Aria. Thank you. If it's alright... May I take my leave?"
"Of course. Whatever you wish," Aria laughed, helping the girl to her feet. She bade the elven girl goodnight and closed the door after her.
By now, Fenris was clad only in his usual tunic and leggings, his armour removed and settled neatly on the mannequin. They watched each other for a few moments, simply reading the other's expressions and body language, having a conversation without needing words. Questions with no good answers, worry about what the future held for them all, the unknowns piling up in a distressing mound well on its way to becoming a mountain. He strode lithely over to where Aria sat on the bed once he'd made up his mind about something, and took her face in his hands.
"Careful. People are going to begin to think you're getting soft," he rasped in a hushed tone, his thumb tracing over her bottom lip.
"About this Merrill thing—," Aria started, but was cut off when he pushed her so that she lay on her back on the bed beneath him.
"I don't want to hear one more bloody thing about mages until we have to deal with them in the morning," Fenris snarled before claiming her lips with his in a fierce kiss.
ooooooo
No one was in much of a mood for talking as the party met up at the point shortly before the sun broke the horizon the next morning. Aria handed out small, sweet pastries to everyone for breakfast to improve the morale of the party and give them something common to share. They munched on them in relative silence as they made their way to the mountain trail. Aria hummed softly to herself as she scouted ahead of the main group, enjoying the early morning songs of the birds and the quiet, peaceful aura around them. The weather was shaping up to be a fine day, not too hot and not too cold. A breeze that was just on the right side of brisk to be considered refreshing but not overpowering blew down on them from the mountain, bringing with it the scents of evergreens, wildflowers, smoke, and earth. A few puffy clouds drifted past the sun here and there, allowing brief dips in temperature. Perfect traveling weather.
At midday, they broke for a short picnic lunch, still quiet except for the occasional 'Hey pass me this' or 'Thank you' Once the meal was done, they hastily move on, then continued their trek up the mountain. When dusk fell, they were but a couple hours from the Dalish camp's previous known location. An early morning start would see them through Merrill's quest and hopefully, they'd be on their way back down by the end of tomorrow evening. With luck, they'd be back in Kirkwall in four days or less.
Anders, Aria, and Varric set up camp and got the cook fire going while Fenris and Merrill scouted for food. Once the tents were put up, dinner gear unpacked, and a spit erected over the fire, Varric and Anders settled next to it, swapping stories while Aria listened in content silence. Merrill and Fenris returned with the food and the meal began in earnest. Merrill had gathered some wild greens and sweet berries that complimented the rabbit Fenris brought. Anders shared some of his bread while Varric passed around two of his wine skins.
After supper was finished and the gear re-packed, Merrill retreated almost immediately to her tent while Anders and Varric shared puffs from Varric's pipe, trading insults and ideas for the next guard quarterly. Fenris declined their offers to join, his gaze raptly following Aria's form as she sneaked off to the nearby stream to bathe. He waited a few moments in tense silence before he excused himself from their company to shadow her.
"Green is definitely not your colour," Varric softly commented once the elf had disappeared from view down the trail after his wife.
Anders sighed heavily. "Once, she could've been mine. She... was mine. But..."
When he didn't finish, Varric continued. "But you chose something else."
"It was a choice I'd made long before I met her," Anders defensively retorted. "If I did not take a stand, who would?"
"The resistance has many members now. Bolstered by templars, even," Varric chided. "But still, I think things worked out the way they were supposed to."
"She's happy. With him. What she needs—I couldn't provide, let alone even offer. It's something I'll have to force myself to accept. Doesn't make it sting any less," Anders candidly replied, his gaze hard as he stared in the direction they'd gone.
"So what's the plan, then?" Varric asked, leaning forward, his deep-set eyes serious.
"I'm afraid I don't follow your meaning," Anders deliberately hedged.
"Oh fuck you, Blondie! You have a plan for the kickoff to the next war and we all know you do. Don't insult my intelligence by thinking you've pulled one over on me," came Varric's uncharacteristically sharp, bitter response. "You're not doing any of us any favors by keeping us in the dark. Especially Hawke."
"That's just it, Varric. I don't have a plan. Everything is hinging on Meredith. The harder she pushes, the harder we'll resist. We have to get Bethany out. It's the least we can do for Aria. Let your focus be on that, my friend."
Varric spat at the fire, glowering as the expelled fluid hissed angrily in response. Both he and Anders watched the flames slowly consuming the logs and dancing among the existing coals, neither having much else more to say to the other. Varric's ire burned in his eyes but he held his tongue. Anders's recalcitrance stubbornly continued and the silence between them was thick with tension.
There was a nip of chill to the air that spoke of extra blankets needed to comfortably endure the night. They wouldn't need watches this close to the Dalish encampment. Varric finally stood and placed a few more logs on the fire, stoking the coals until the flames rose higher. Anders finally bade him goodnight when it was quite evident no more conversation was to be had and turned in, leaving the dwarf alone with his thoughts until the other two of their companions returned.
The biggest barrier to removing Bethany from the Circle hadn't been a lack of options. Several times they could have facilitated her escape. No, it had been the simple fact that Bethany was still a Hawke. Where there was trouble, a Hawke didn't avoid the challenge. They met it head on. Bethany stubbornly refused to leave while she saw that she was needed. And while Varric could understand her reasons, he didn't agree with them. Bethany couldn't see the daily strain her plight put on her sister. She couldn't see how much the city relied on Aria's interventions. She didn't comprehend how bad things were—the eternal optimist, to a bloody, Maker-damned fault.
Varric sighed and puffed on the pipe, brows knit in consternation at this riddle. How could so much stubbornness exist in one single family line? He stood and stoked the fire again, and again added more logs, until the hastily dug, shallow pit was the home of a small, raging inferno. Sparks showered out when one of the logs collapsed and fear lanced through him as he pondered the enormity of the problems surrounding Kirkwall's politicking.
ooooooo
Aria unceremoniously shed her armour and clothes on the stream's bank, hastily leaving the lot hanging on a thick tree limb to keep them from becoming soiled. She left her clean underthings on top of the pile, then snatched up the leather satchel in which she kept her toiletries. She deftly pulled out the small glass bottles of her shampoo, cream rinse, and body soap, leaving the satchel with her clothes.
She waded swiftly into the stream toward a rocky outcrop, toiletries in hand, setting her teeth against the chill of the water, then dove under. When she emerged next to the small cliff, she carefully set the glass vials onto the makeshift shelf and set to work lathering the cleanser into her hair. She ducked under the surface of the water to rinse the suds away, then dispensed cream rinse into her hair. She dove once more to rinse, and when she came back up, a man stood before her in the stream.
Aria, thoroughly startled, coughed when she gasped and some of the water that sluiced down her face was accidentally inhaled. Her first instinct was to flee, but that rapidly faded when the glow from his skin registered. Logic overrode her hindbrain's initial response and she simply gaped at him in awe.
Fenris stood before her, lyrium flared for warmth against the biting chill of the water. Maker, he was a sight that quite literally took her breath away. The raw power grafted to his skin lit up and revealed every beautiful detail of his impressive physique; from his penetrating, green crystalline gaze, his prominent, chiseled jawline, to his heavily muscled arms and chest, down to his starkly delineated, silken, hard abdominals. Below that was difficult to discern, but she didn't need to see what she already knew was there. His rippling reflection cast him in a white-blue halo of light that was refracted in the water that beaded on his skin like tiny, brilliant crystals and once more, before her stood the Elvhen god in the flesh. The deity whose body, mind, heart, and soul were the altars at which she devoutly worshipped. He held out his hand to her and before her rational brain could register a response, her body reacted, moving eagerly toward him. He smiled as he pulled her close, breathing deeply of her trademark lavender, sage, and vanilla scent. The heat radiating from him intriguingly contrasted with the cool rush of the water and the sensation it left against her skin was exquisitely thrilling. She wound her arms around his neck, his chest abrading her cold-erect, sensitive nipples and sending lightning immediately racing through her veins. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world stilled.
Then, Fenris reverently lowered his lips to hers in a searing, wanton kiss that stole her ability to reason and left her caving enthusiastically, completely, to the animalistic hunger he always incited in her. Her legs ensnared his waist, his hands moving to cup her buttocks in a bruising grasp that crushed her against him as their bodies collided. Their mouths recklessly engaged, oblivious to the offensive and inconsequential world that existed beyond their intimate little universe.
A soft moan escaped her lips as he tore his mouth from hers, only to press white-hot kisses down the column of her throat. Aria gasped and writhed in his embrace, unabashedly eager to accept whatever his body offered hers and unable to think of anything beyond this erotic dance in the water. She bit her bottom lip to muffle the sudden yelp of pleasure when his grip on her hips brought her down firmly over his erection, sheathing himself to the hilt within her body.
"You're mine," he snarled against her ear, a loud groan following the wake of the words as her hips rocked hard against him, gyrating in a deep, slow rhythm that ignited his blood and had him frantically desperate for release.
"Take me, Fenris," she whispered fiercely, seizing control of his lips with her own again as he waded back toward the same rocky out crop she'd employed as a shelf; against which he intended to brace her, then more completely ravage her.
Aria's back met the cold stone, the impact nearly knocking the wind out of her in the wake of his desperate haste. Knowing that she was now anchored, he thrust deeply into her, snarling as her teeth found the sinew of his shoulder. The bite only served to heighten his painfully intense arousal and he rewarded her by driving faster, one hand slipping between them. His fingers sought the hard, hot bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs and when he found it, she cried out again, his mouth clamping over hers to absorb the sound.
Fenris found himself engulfed by the flames of her mutual desire, drowning from both the vigorously ravenous reception his body received from hers and the raw, primal need that flowed through both of them. She was slick and maddeningly tight around him, her mouth eager. The quivering muscles of her sex gripped him in rhythmic contractions, bringing him swiftly and perilously close to the edge of sanity.
"Please," she wantonly pleaded against his lips. "Don't stop."
He couldn't even if he tried. The plea was intoxicatingly arousing and once more, he marveled at the power he held over her. She was his—consummately his. Only he could do this to her, elicit this response from her. And she wanted him to. No, it was far more than mere want. She desperately needed him to.
Fenris pitched deeply into her, his fingers working to assist the inevitable release with the rubbing of her clit, and far too quickly, she crested. The contortion of her body around him, the intensity of the climax that hit her erupted within him and he emptied himself into her, his own cries muffled by the hot, needy press of her mouth.
Her body quivered against his and he flared his brandings once more to bathe her in heat. Gently, they separated, both of them breathing heavily, both of them spent. Fenris snagged the bottle of soap from the ledge behind her and dispensed a goodly amount in his palm. He vigorously scrubbed her skin with his hands, spending more time than he should have lathering her breasts and too-sensitive nipples, delighting again in the soft sounds of pleasure this drew from her. Moments later, he guided her in dipping down into the water to rinse herself and when she re-emerged, she took the liberty of reciprocating. Except she spent a gratuitous amount of time lathering him, paying particular attention to his manhood. She murmured her excitement against his lips when he became hard again. He dipped beneath the water to rinse away the soap and as soon as he stood fully upright again, he snagged her by the wrist and pulled her against him.
"Should we go again?" Aria gasped against his lips, her own parting in a wolfish grin when his hand dipped beneath the water to tease her once more.
"Tell me to stop," he challenged, spinning her so that her back was to him.
Aria lifted her hands to brace once more against the ledge, arching her back in anticipation. Wasting no time, Fenris buried himself once more inside her, one hand slipping over her belly and down to tease her, the other gently encircling her throat. His teeth grazed her shoulder as he set up a deep, driving rhythm and this time, they came swiftly, though lacking in the same intensity.
Sufficiently sated and slightly cleaner than they had been prior to this romp, they made their way back to the stream's shoreline together. They hastily dried off and dressed, then languidly strode back up the path towards the camp. When they returned, arm-in-arm, they found Varric still awake and tending the gratuitously large campfire.
"Whoa, we'll be seen for miles," Aria laughed as they reached the pit.
"I think I know how Anders is going to set off the war," Varric replied, softly enough that only they could hear him. He looked sad and withdrawn. Aria swallowed the lump in her throat, unsure if she wanted this answer.
That was a sobering statement and both Aria and Fenris pensively waited for the dwarf to continue. When he didn't, Fenris heaved a sigh.
"Well?" the elven warrior prodded.