A/N: Halloween present for everybody - a new chapter! It's about a week later than I meant it to be, but not too much past a month so still doing pretty good! November should not be as busy of a month for me so I should be able to get another chapter up sooner than a month. Which will mean you'll all get to see Alistair and Ayla very soon ;). Anyway, this chapter has lots of emotional conversations going on, some fluff and even some smut towards the end (if you don't want to read it it's pretty obvious where it starts so you can skip over it) so I hope you all enjoy!

Thanks to everyone who has favorited, followed and read so far - I'm happy you're all enjoying it!

Special thanks as always to my awesome reviewers - Alkeni, WolFang1011, LostSpace, Judy, ArtanisRose, Lethal Dragon, Tactus501st, and Ioialoha - I love hearing from you guys! Lethal Dragon is the winner of the 100th review gift fic - there will be another gift fic for the 150th review so let me know what you guys think!

PLEASE REVIEW EVERYONE!

Disclaimer: As always, anything/anyone you recognize belongs to Bioware, the rest belongs to me (though if Bioware wants to use Mardin and Ayla, I wouldn't say no!)

Chapter 13: The Wardens

Brianna sent another blast of lightning at the darkspawn running towards them, bouncing it back as she wiped the sweat off her forehead. She was beginning to have doubts they would survive this latest encounter with the darkspawn. Carver was slumped on the ground where Mardin had carefully set him before drawing his sword and charging at the darkspawn, and she and Anders were standing guard in front of her gravely ill brother as they tried to keep Mardin healed and fighting while keeping any darkspawn that slipped past him away from Carver. Varric stood just in front of them as well, Bianca's bolts flying as he tried to keep the darkspawn back as much as possible. However, he was no more a close range fighter than they were, and though Mardin fought hard, there had been nearly a dozen darkspawn that had set upon them, and he was clearly exhausted, his movements slower than normal and his strength beginning to fail him as he could barely keep the darkspawn off of him, let alone the rest of them.

Please, Maker, please. They were so close, she thought as she sent fire at the next darkspawn to stumble towards them. They had been travelling for hours, and just before the darkspawn had set upon them, Anders had said the Wardens were near. They had to find the Wardens, and they had to save Carver. She had a chance to keep him alive, a chance that had been denied her when Bethany was killed, and she would not fail at this chance, no matter how low her magical energy was or how exhausted she felt. "You said . . . the Wardens were close by, right?" she muttered to Anders, firing an arcane blast at another darkspawn to keep it off Mardin.

He nodded, sending lightning of his own at a darkspawn bearing down on Varric. "They are. They should be nearly –" Two green-fletched arrows thudded in rapid succession into the darkspawn Anders had just sent stumbling, and it fell to the ground heavily. " – here," Anders finished unnecessarily, as three swordsmen joined the darkspawn harrying Mardin, while a mage and a lethally accurate archer behind them began dropping darkspawn with stunning quickness.

"Shit," Anders muttered as he and Brianna kept firing what they could at the darkspawn to help. "It would have to be him."

Brianna cast him a quick, surprised glance as another darkspawn dropped right in front of them, two arrows sprouting from its back. "Him who?"

Before Anders could reply, the last of the darkspawn fell, and the dark-haired archer marched towards them, slinging his bow over his back. "Anders." His tone dripped with contempt and anger. "You're supposed to be dead, aren't you? That is the official story the Commander told Weisshaupt, after all. And it was preferable to think that you couldn't return to us because you had died, and not that you had willfully abandoned your brothers and sisters."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Nathaniel," Anders replied with a careless shrug, though Brianna could see the pain in his eyes as the archer, clad all in the dark brown leather armor of a rogue, stopped a few feet away. "But I haven't managed to die just yet."

"That's not why I'm disappointed, Anders, and you know it," Nathaniel snapped, his face framed by his shoulder-length dark hair set in cold, grim lines as his pale gray eyes burned with anger directed solely at Anders. "You fled without a word to anyone, and you knew how much we needed your healing skills. And you know Velanna has never managed to be much good at healing magic. We lost two of our new recruits to wounds only two weeks after you left, you know. Wounds you could have healed, but Velanna couldn't quite manage. She blames herself for that. I blame you. And if Velanna had been the one to die . . ." Nathaniel's fists clenched tightly. "We'd be having a very different conversation, I assure you."

Anders paled, looking as though Nathaniel's fist had actually struck him in the gut. "I didn't . . . you know why I left. It wasn't . . . it wasn't for fun or a better life. I left because it was better for everyone if I wasn't there. You know that."

"No, you left because you couldn't face the consequences of your actions," Nathaniel shot back. "You disobeyed the Commander when he told you not to merge with Justice, and when you found out the reason why he'd been right all along, you ran away, like you always do. We could have figured out a way to deal with Justice and your loss of control, but you abandoned us. And now you're bringing civilians into the Deep Roads? Have you lost your mind, Anders?"

"We asked him to bring us," Brianna intervened quickly. She couldn't stand to see the pain on Anders' face as every word Nathaniel spoke struck home as lethally as his arrows. "We would have gone with or without him; he was just trying to keep us safe, that's all."

Nathaniel's gaze darted quickly to her, looking almost surprised to see that there was anyone else there, he'd been so focused on Anders. He sighed, shaking his head. "Then you're the ones who've lost your minds. The Deep Roads aren't a place anyone should want to go unless they have no other choice. And he should have known better."

"We didn't come find you for a lecture," Brianna snapped, starting to get annoyed. They didn't have time for this, not while the taint spread in Carver with every passing moment. Maybe this Nathaniel had a right to be angry with Anders, she didn't know, and right now she didn't much care. She turned and went back to Carver, helping him to his feet, where he swayed unsteadily with an arm around her shoulders. "My brother needs help."

Nathaniel took a long look at Carver before rearing back in surprise in almost the same way Anders had done earlier. "Your brother is tainted?" He didn't wait for confirmation before he turned to Anders. "You want to turn him into a recruit? Put him through the Joining?"

"You know as well as I do it's his only hope of survival," Anders replied evenly.

"And you know as well as I do that the life of a Warden is not necessarily a kindness," Nathaniel retorted. "Nor do we recruit just anyone."

The other Wardens – for Brianna assumed the other people with Nathaniel had to be Wardens – had ranged themselves behind the archer by now, watching the proceedings with interest, while Mardin and Varric came over to join her and Anders. Though his face was pale and drawn with exhaustion, still Mardin came to the other side of Carver and pulled his left arm over his own shoulder, taking the burden of weight off of her. "Let me," he said softly.

She nodded gratefully, carefully letting go of Carver's arm before planting herself directly in front of Nathaniel, hands on her hips. "Carver happens to be a fine warrior," she informed him. "You'd be an idiot not to recruit him."

Nathaniel shook his head. "Be that as it may, I cannot. I might be leading this mission, but I don't have that kind of authority. Only the Commander does."

"Come on, Nathaniel," Anders said quietly. "You know he'd say yes. He gave both of us second chances, didn't he? Besides, Carver has been training under Ayla's brother the last couple of months." He nodded back at Mardin where he stood with Carver.

"What?!" This time true shock registered on Nathaniel's face as his eyes snapped back to Mardin, studying him hard. "Are you saying . . . is he - Ayla's brother, Mardin? But how did you . . ." he cut himself off quickly, darting a swift glance at the Wardens behind him. "That is, how did you end up with Anders?"

"I am Mardin, Ayla's brother," Mardin said with a nod, looking almost amused at Nathaniel's questions and the clear shock that indicated to Brianna that he, like Anders, had to know the truth about where the siblings were from. "And I happened to get a little lost looking for her. Ran into Brianna here on the Wounded Coast, who introduced me to Anders, who said he knew my sister and where I could find her. I've sent word to her, though I haven't heard anything back yet. She is all right still, isn't she?"

"Of course she is. That is, the last time I saw her, she was," Nathaniel amended, and Brianna saw Mardin's face fall a fraction at these words as the Warden continued, "She and the Commander had a mission of their own, and I haven't seen them in over a month. But they were fine then. It's an honour to meet you." He nodded formally at Mardin, who returned the gesture. "And Ayla will be happy to hear that you've . . . turned up. So what say you of the boy's skills?"

"If I were the Captain of my own Order still, I would have recruited him long ago," Mardin replied. "He's a fine swordsman and skilled warrior. Your Wardens would be lucky to have him."

Brianna saw Carver smile with pride at that, even in the midst of his feverish illness, and she couldn't help a smile of her own. She would owe Mardin forever for that smile in the midst of such a dark time – even more so for the fact that he was absolutely sincere in his statement.

"Red's right," Varric added. "Junior might be young, but he fights hard. And I doubt the Wardens are swarming with recruits now that the Blight is over, anyhow."

"Please," Brianna said, turning back to Nathaniel. "He's my brother, and if there's something you can do for him . . . please."

Nathaniel's face softened for the first time since he had approached them, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned to Anders. "This is no simple thing. This may be as much a death sentence as the sickness itself, and you know it."

"And you know that he'll die anyway," Anders replied. "Take him and try, brother, please. I'm asking you."

Just like that, a cold mask descended over Nathaniel's face again as he frowned. "You lost any right to call me brother when you left. I will take him, but not for you." He turned back to Brianna, adding in a softer tone, "He must come with us now, and you may not see him again. But we will let you know . . . either way."

"Thank you," Brianna told him sincerely, even as she tried to swallow back the tears clogging her throat at the thought of never seeing Carver again. "I owe you more than I can ever repay. You are sure about this?" she asked Carver quietly as Mardin helped him forward towards Nathaniel and the other Wardens.

"Not entirely," Carver muttered as they stopped next to her, "but like I said before, I want to live, and this is the only way to do that."

"We must go quickly if we are to ready the Joining in time," Nathaniel interrupted them gently.

Brianna nodded, and quickly hugged Carver, trying her hardest to keep her tears at bay as she pulled back. "I'll miss you, Carver. If . . . if you can, send letters, and come to visit, please."

Carver nodded, tears shining in his own eyes. "Of course. I'll . . . I'll miss you too, Bree. Take care of Mother."

And before she could say anything else, he started forward again, Mardin helping him until they reached the Wardens. Two of the swordsmen from earlier took Carver from Mardin, supporting him between the two of them as Mardin nodded at Nathaniel, shaking hands with him. "If you see my sister sometime soon, tell her I'm in Kirkwall. I don't think I can come to Ferelden, but if she can come there . . ."

"I'll let her know," Nathaniel promised him, before turning away and relaying instructions to the other Wardens. They left the room without a backwards glance, bearing Carver with them as they took one of the three doors leading out of this particular section of the Deep Roads.

Brianna watched them go until she could no longer see any of them, and didn't even realize she had lost the battle against the silent tears streaming down her face until Mardin squeezed her shoulder, saying softly, "Carver's tough. He'll be all right."

"Junior's stubborn," Varric agreed. "If anyone can survive this, he will. And we need to survive, too. If only to piss my brother off and then slowly boil him in a vat of oil."

Brianna managed a smile, struggling to bring her tears under control as she laid her hand over Mardin's and squeezed it, sending him a grateful look. She would cry later, for Varric was right; they needed to get out of here. "Of course, you're right, Varric. Let's get out of here as fast as we can."

Varric took the lead now, taking them out of a different door than the Wardens had gone out of, one that would lead them back towards Kirkwall and the surface, he said. As they walked, Brianna dropped back next to Anders, who looked more depressed than she'd ever seen him. "Are you going to be all right?"

He smiled wearily at her. "Eventually, I suppose. I knew that wasn't going to be fun, no matter what, but I was hoping it would be a Warden I didn't know well, not somebody whose side I fought at for years. The only way it could have been worse was if it had been the Commander himself. I doubt he's forgiven me any more than Nathaniel has."

Brianna couldn't help but feel bad for Anders; he looked so broken at the thought that the Wardens hadn't forgiven him. "I don't know all the circumstances, of course, but Nathaniel seemed like he was being a bit harsh," she offered, hoping to help make Anders feel better – and to distract herself from her own thoughts.

He shrugged in response. "Nathaniel has always been a bit harsh and . . . blunt, I suppose. He wasn't wrong, though. They did need me . . . and I did run away and abandon them."

"That may be so, but you thought you were doing the right thing for them. You thought you were keeping them safe," Brianna pointed out. "And while, yes, you may have been able to save those two recruits' lives had you stayed with them, think of how many people in Darktown would have died by now if you hadn't set up your clinic. They need you more than the Wardens do. You've saved our lives a few times as well . . . and if you hadn't been down here with us, Carver would have died for sure. I'll be forever grateful to you for that. So, whether the Wardens agree or not, I think you're where you're needed the most, right now."

"I . . . thank you, Hawke," he said, looking surprised and pleased. "That . . . means a lot."

"You're welcome. Now let's get back to Kirkwall; we have people that need us back there." She sternly reminded herself of that fact as they hurried to catch up to Varric, who was keeping a surprisingly quick pace even with his short legs, Mardin by his side. She might not be able to do anything for Carver anymore, but she could finally give her mother the life she deserved. That would be what she would have to focus on, now.

It was nearly two weeks later when they finally returned to Kirkwall. They'd managed to find an inn not long after leaving the Deep Roads, where they'd all slept for a full day to recover from their exhaustion before buying all the provisions they could from the innkeeper with the treasure they'd acquired and continuing on to Kirkwall. Brianna had never thought she'd be this relieved to see Kirkwall, as she still wasn't entirely sure she considered it home, but her entire body sagged with relief when they passed through the gates, nonetheless. Somehow, they'd made it, and at the very least, she should be able to give her mother her home back. And now that they were back safely, she could finally allow herself to grieve properly over the fact that she hadn't brought Carver back with her, something she'd been determined not to do until she was alone and no longer had to be Hawke, the leader, but could allow herself to be Brianna, the person, instead.

"Home, sweet home," Varric declared, breaking through her thoughts as he threw his arms wide. "Finally. I wonder if Bartrand came back to the city." He glanced around as though expecting to see Bartrand strolling down the street towards them before continuing, "You think I'd be that lucky?"

"Just make sure you let me know when you find him," Brianna said tightly, unable to prevent her anger at the mention of Bartrand. The only other thing that had allowed her to keep her sanity was blaming Bartrand entirely for what had happened – and trying to reassure herself that it wasn't her fault for bringing Carver along in the first place. "He needs to pay," she told Varric firmly. Maybe then she'd feel better about the whole incident.

"Trust me, you'll be the first to know." Varric hesitated for a moment before he said quietly, "I'm . . . sorry about what happened to Carver. I hope he makes it."

"It's not your fault," Brianna replied gently, knowing that Varric felt as guilty as she did, with even less cause.

"He'll make it," Anders reassured her. "Carver's stronger than he thinks, and the fact that he survived with the taint that long already is a good sign."

Mardin nodded in agreement. "He won't die so easily, not now that he has a chance to live. You'll see him again."

"Thank you." Brianna smiled at him, grateful not for the first time in the last two weeks that he always seemed to know what to say to make her feel at least a little bit better.

Varric shook his head. "I should have seen Bartrand's betrayal coming." He glanced over at Mardin. "Especially after what you said, Red. But I didn't listen and . . ." He scowled, clenching his fists. "I'll find that maggot if it's the last thing I do."

"You didn't want to think that way of your own brother," Mardin replied, "and no one can blame you for that. I should have been more careful, and trusted my instincts more."

"Look, you all need to stop blaming yourselves. All of you," Anders said sternly, looking significantly at Brianna. She nodded in response, knowing he was right even as he went on, "The only person to blame is Bartrand, and whoever created that idol. And that's it."

"Well, Blondie, I suppose you're right." Varric forced a smile before he looked to Brianna. "I imagine you'll be heading home to . . . tell the family?"

Brianna sighed. She might be relieved to be back home, but she was dreading the prospect of telling her mother what had occurred. "Yes, I suppose I don't have much choice. Mother is . . . not going to take this well."

"Well, you'll be a wealthy woman, Hawke." Varric jingled the pouch he'd stuffed full of gems and coins, similar to the one they all carried. "It wasn't all for nothing. I'll be at the Hanged Man, getting very drunk, if you need me." She nodded at him, forcing a smile for his sake before he walked away in the direction of Lowtown.

But what if it was all for nothing? Brianna wondered as she watched him go. The expedition was supposed to have been her way to provide a better life for both her mother and Carver. Now Carver might be dead, and even if he wasn't, he would never be able to live in the new home she hoped to get for them, and Mother . . . well, Mother might not ever forgive her for bringing him into the Deep Roads in the first place.

"It'll be all right, Hawke," Anders told her quietly, as if sensing her thoughts. "You'll see. I need to go back to the clinic; there are probably a lot of people that need healing by now. But if you need anything, just let me know."

"Thanks, Anders, I will." She waved goodbye to him as he headed for Darktown, leaving her and Mardin alone in the street.

She sighed, looking up at him. "I suppose I should go tell Mother now."

"Even if she's mad, she'll forgive you," Mardin said gently. "Take all the time you need with her, okay? I'll let the others know."

"Oh, Maker's breath, Merrill!" Brianna exclaimed. She'd been so focused on telling her mother, she hadn't even thought of the other people that she needed to tell. "She'll be so upset! I should –"

"I'll do it," Mardin cut her off. "You have enough to worry about with your mother, and it wouldn't be the first time I've had to tell people something like this. Just go tell your mother, and if you need me later, I'll be back at the mansion, okay?"

"Okay," she said at last, "if you're sure." He nodded firmly. "Then, I appreciate it, Mardin. Thank you."

He waved her off, looking slightly embarrassed at her fervent gratitude. "It's the least I can do."

"No, it's really not." She nodded to herself, before closing the distance between them and standing up on tiptoe to kiss his stubbled cheek gently. He had definitely earned himself a second chance, once she felt more like herself again. "I'll see you later."

He looked a little shocked at her action, but he nodded at her before she turned and headed to Gamlen's house, leaving him to go on to the alienage.

Once she'd reached the steps in Lowtown that headed up to Gamlen's house, she halted, feeling her heart pound unsteadily and her palms starting to sweat. She didn't know how to begin telling her mother this, or where she would even find the courage to do so, but she knew she had to; there was no other choice.

Slowly, reluctantly, she made her way up the stairs and opened the door. It led directly into the main room, which served as a combination of kitchen and sitting room. Her mother was sitting in one of the rickety chairs that served as furniture, but her head jerked up as soon as the door opened, and her eyes lit up as Brianna stepped through the door.

Before Brianna could even say anything, Mother had fairly flown across the room to her, throwing her arms around her in a tight hug before she pulled back, beaming. "Oh, my baby! You made it home!" She looked beyond Brianna's shoulder, frowning as she realized that no one stood on the steps behind her. "Carver isn't with you?"

Brianna slowly shook her head, searching for words and wishing to the Maker that she had any other answer to give besides, "No. He's . . . um . . ."

Mother's eyes went wide with fear. "Is he . . . coming back?"

"I . . . I don't know," Brianna admitted. "Eventually, he might be, but I'm . . . waiting to hear. He's . . . you remember what happened to Wesley?" When her mother nodded, looking pale and shell-shocked, she went on, "While we were in the Deep Roads, we fought a lot of darkspawn, and eventually . . . Carver became infected with the taint, like Wesley. But we had a Warden with us, this time, Anders, I mean," she continued quickly, seeing the grief and tears beginning to well up in her mother's eyes, "and he said the Joining could save Carver. We took him to some other Wardens, and they're going to put Carver through the Joining. And . . . and if he makes it, if he becomes a Warden, they'll send us word."

"If?!" Her mother fairly shrieked. "You mean he might not survive this Joining either?!"

Brianna reluctantly shook her head. "Apparently . . . not everyone does. But I'm sure Carver will." Maker, please say he will.

That was when Mother collapsed to her knees on the floor, sobbing broken-heartedly, much like she had the entire ship ride to Kirkwall after Bethany had died. Brianna closed the door quietly behind herself before she knelt on the floor, trying to put her arms around her mother, but Mother pushed her away, meeting her gaze accusingly as she cried, "Why did you take him with you? I told you not to! I told you something would happen! You were supposed to protect him! You said you'd bring him back safely, but you didn't! Just like you didn't stop Bethany!"

It would, Brianna thought dully, have hurt less if her mother had slapped her, or even stabbed in the heart with a dagger. In fact, it felt rather like a dagger was slowly being turned in her heart, even now. She had failed Bethany, it was true, but Carver would survive . . . wouldn't he? Her eyes burned with tears that she refused to let fall in front of her mother as she said quietly, "I did everything I could to protect him, I promise you. And he'll make it through the Joining, you'll see. We'll see him again."

"What if he doesn't?" her mother wailed. "Oh, my baby boy! I should never have listened to you! I should never have let you take him with you!"

That was it. She couldn't take it anymore, not when she felt like her heart had been thoroughly shredded to pieces. It was one thing to see her mother cry, it was another thing entirely to try to comfort her mother while she blamed her for what had happened, and she just couldn't do it. She stood up, whirling away from her mother through the sudden blur of tears and stalking out the door. Let Gamlen comfort her whenever he got home; at least she wouldn't blame him.

She walked through Lowtown in a daze, unsure of where to go or what to do. She thought of going to the Hanged Man, but there would be too many people there for her to completely break down the way she wanted to, and she didn't want so many strangers to see her weakness. The same held true for Aveline and the barracks; she might even be too busy right now to talk, for it was only late afternoon. Mardin, she decided at last, remembering how he always knew what to say to make her feel better – and how well he understood the burden of being the older sibling, the protector. She would go to the mansion, and if he wasn't back yet, she'd wait until he was, and hope that he could set her mind and heart at ease.

"What happened?" Mardin asked softly, pausing in the doorway of his room when he saw her.

Brianna set down the wine bottle she'd just taken a long swig out of that Fenris had provided for her on the small table next to the bed. Fenris had been surprisingly understanding when she'd burst into the mansion earlier, tears finally streaming down her face when she simply couldn't hold them in any longer. She'd managed to give him some sort of explanation about Carver between her sobs and had asked if she could wait for Mardin to come back. Fenris had simply nodded wordlessly, steering her to Mardin's room and handing her the bottle of wine he'd clearly just brought up from the cellars for himself before telling her he'd send Mardin to her as soon as he got back and leaving her alone in the room with her grief.

She'd appreciated the fact that Fenris had understood she didn't want him seeing her like this, would prefer to be alone until she could talk to Mardin, though she suspected his willingness to leave her alone stemmed as much from the fact that he was equally uncomfortable seeing her like this as it was any real understanding on his part. At any rate, she'd availed herself of the bottle of wine he left her, knowing it would dull some of the pain while she'd curled up on Mardin's bed to wait for him. It was, after all, far more comfortable than the stiff wooden chairs in the room, and if she got really drunk from the wine, it would be much harder to fall off the wide bed than the chairs. She didn't know how long she'd waited for Mardin, but he was finally here, and she'd managed to calm herself down at last.

At least, she thought she had until she tried to explain to him why she was here. "Mother . . ." she swallowed down the unbidden tears that welled up in her throat as she remembered the whole incident anew. "She blamed me for what happened to Carver, for failing to protect him. Said that she shouldn't have listened to me, shouldn't have let him go with me. And she blamed me for not stopping Bethany back then, either. I always knew . . ." This time she couldn't stop the sob from escaping, or the tears that spilled down her cheeks again as she finally choked out, "deep down, that she blamed me for Bethany, but she'd never actually said it out loud before . . ." She couldn't hold it in any longer, burying her face in her hands as the grief overwhelmed her body and she dissolved into full tears.

"Ah, Goddess," she heard Mardin mutter before he closed the door behind him, crossing the room to her in mere seconds and climbing onto the bed with her. He carefully pulled her into his arms, and she went willingly, seeking some comfort, any kind of comfort, after what had happened, after holding her feelings in for so long. She buried her face in his chest, though the light chainmail he still wore wasn't exactly comfortable, and curled up against him while he settled her on his lap, wrapping his arms gently around her and stroking her hair as he murmured above her head, "Do you want me to talk, listen, or just hold you?"

She felt a brief flash of shock – and grateful surprise – that he knew enough to ask the question before she managed to reply, "Talk – I think." But she didn't lift her head, or try to move out of his arms, hoping he would understand that she wanted him to hold her still while he did talk. She was surprised at how comforting it felt to have his arms around her, and she was far from ready to lose that feeling - it had been so long since she'd felt it.

And he seemed to understand the unspoken demand, for he didn't let her go and continued to gently stroke her hair with one hand as he said softly, "It doesn't matter what your mother said. What happened to Bethany wasn't your fault, and neither was what happened to Carver. I told you before, they made their own choices, and no matter how you feel about it, it wasn't your right to tell them otherwise, to force them to go against their choices. And I'm sure your mother knows that, too. People say things they don't really mean when they're grieving and upset. I'm sure she regretted what she said as soon as you left. And if she didn't, she should. But . . ." he hesitated a moment, his arms tightening reflexively around her before he went on, "I understand how you feel. It's hard, when you've been looking after them all their lives, to let them make dangerous choices without feeling responsible for everything that happens. And I understand how hard the waiting, the not knowing, is. For that first week after my sister disappeared, I nearly went insane trying to find out what happened. I was starting to think it would be better to find her dead than to keep not knowing, because at least then it would be over. But every time I thought that . . . I thought of how much it would hurt, and then I would think I didn't want to know for sure, because I could imagine she was still alive. And my thoughts just kept cycling like that, around and around, until I thought I'd go mad."

She lifted her head a little, having gotten her tears more under control while listening to him, to the soothing rumble of his deep voice and the clear pain in it when he spoke about his sister's disappearance. "How did you deal with it?" she asked softly, looking up at him.

He smiled wryly at her. "Not well. I barely slept or ate for the first few days, I was searching so frantically for her. I'd spent all my life protecting her, keeping her safe, only to lose her to a simple walk in the woods she'd done a hundred times before. Lorcan, my lieutenant, eventually put his foot down and told me I had to sleep, had to take care of myself or I'd get myself killed before I could find her. So I did. Forced myself to eat even though I wasn't hungry, and got a sleeping potion from a healer. And finally, we got word what had happened, that she'd been sent here. So at least I knew where she was, then. But that didn't mean that she couldn't die at any time, and I wouldn't know it. Cranin couldn't see what was happening to her here, after all, and he didn't know for sure if she was alive still, even when he sent me after her. And even though I've got word from Anders and Nathaniel both, now, that she's still alive, neither of them has seen her recently, so it still doesn't mean . . ." he shrugged, trailing off, pain flashing through his eyes.

"That she couldn't die any time now," Brianna finished for him. "And you wouldn't be there to protect her." Yes, she understood exactly how he felt, just as she knew he understood how she felt.

Mardin sighed, absentmindedly threading his hand through her hair, the look in his eyes faraway. "Exactly. So I try to keep myself busy, try not to think about it too much. Training, fighting, whatever I can do to keep my mind off it."

Keep her mind off it, Brianna thought. Right, that was what she had to do. Thinking about it constantly, wondering if Carver had been through the Joining yet, wondering if he was alive or dead or when word would arrive to let her know was not helping. Dwelling on it would only make her sick with grief. "So distract me," she told him, dragging his gaze back down to her as his eyes widened. "Tell me something about yourself, take my mind off of Carver." Her lips twitched slightly as she wondered what he thought she'd been about to say. Though that wouldn't be a bad idea, either, she thought idly.

"Right." His face went carefully blank again, though he didn't let her go, nor did the free hand that wasn't snug on her back stop playing with her hair. And she didn't ask him to stop, or push him away as he asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about your childhood. What it was like, what your family was like, if you remember anything about your mother. Please," she added softly when she saw his jaw tighten. "I want to know." She needed to know. If there was ever to be anything between them – and she was just starting to realize now how badly she wanted there to be something between them once more – she needed to know more about the version of Mardin who was honest about his feelings, not just the flippant, easygoing version that teased her. As much as she enjoyed that version, she wanted to know all of him, not just the careful face that he showed to the rest of the world.

She wasn't quite sure how to articulate that, though; she'd never been interested in a man who was so close-mouthed about himself. He must have read something in her pleading expression that decided him, however, for after a long moment, he nodded.

"My childhood – before Mother died, that is – was actually terrific." He wasn't looking at her, but rather at the wall opposite, as though he could see something there she couldn't. "Mother and Father were so in love and happy together – and they loved us so much. Ayla and I, that is. It couldn't have been perfect all the time, of course, but from what I can remember now, it feels like it was. Because . . . after she died, it was like everything just . . . went dark."

Brianna could feel the pain in his words, and she was suddenly appalled at herself for asking something so personal. He'd spoken of his father, but never about his mother besides saying that she had died when he was young. She'd thought that he didn't talk about her because he'd been too young to remember anything. Now she realized he had been old enough to remember, and old enough for that memory of her to shape every bit of his life afterwards. "Mardin, if you –"

"No, it's fine," he cut her off gently, finally looking down at her and smiling faintly. "I decided I do want to talk about it, so I will." Realizing how determined he looked, as though he were drawing poison from a wound, she snapped her mouth shut and nodded as he went on, "Mother was amazing. She was warm and kind, funny . . . it seemed like she always had a smile on her face, and time for me or Ayla. She was gorgeous, too. Long golden hair, bright green eyes . . . she just seemed to . . . shine. And she was a mage, like you."

"She was?" Brianna asked, surprised. "But you – "

"Don't have an ounce of magic in me?" he finished for her, smiling wryly. "No, I don't. She was a little disappointed about that, I think. The year she . . . got sick, I was seven, and by then, most mages in my world have shown some sign of magical talent. An accidental spell, or something. I hadn't shown any signs. 'You'll end up being a swordsman, like your father,' she said. 'You look just like him, you might as well fight like him, too. I'll have to rely on your sister to carry on the magical talent in the family.' Ayla was only three, and still had plenty of time to show some magic. Of course," he shrugged, "she never did have any magic, either. I often wonder what Mother would have thought of it, both of us following in Father's footsteps and not hers."

"She would have been proud of you, I'm sure," Brianna told him gently, tugging his hand away from her hair so she could squeeze it with her own, threading her fingers through his. "I wonder what that would be like, though, for your parents to hope that you'd show signs of magic. I remember when I was seven, I almost burned our barn down with my first display. Father . . . he looked like he didn't know whether to be proud or worried, and Mother just looked . . . scared. I'm sure she was just scared for me, knowing what it meant for my life, but still, it would've been nice to just see pride. With Bethany, I think they were almost expecting either her or Carver, or both, to show signs, so when she caused a snowstorm in the house, they managed not to look worried or scared. They still didn't look happy, at least, not until Carver said we could build a snowman in the house. Then it became a little more fun." She smiled faintly at the memory, though it pained her as much as it made her happy to remember the snowman they'd built and the snowball fight they'd had until the spell had disappeared.

He squeezed her hand in turn. "I'm sure they were proud of you, too. And that your mother still is. It's just a bit different in my world, where the mages have their own Order, just as we shifters do, and just as the archers do. There's always been a bit of a friendly rivalry between the Orders, which one is more helpful to the King and the rest of the country, that sort of thing, and my mother belonged to the mage Order, so she liked to tease my father a bit. Of course, she had to take some time off to have each one of us, and she'd lightened her duties quite a bit to be around for us. Otherwise she might have been a Captain herself. Or once we were older, she still might have become one, had she lived."

"So what – if you don't mind talking about it, of course," she added hastily, "what happened? You said she got sick?"

He nodded, frowning, pulling her a little closer as if for comfort. "That last year – she started to lose some weight, have less energy, and she was looking more tired. She was fine, she'd say. She was just working too hard, or not sleeping enough, or it was exhausting keeping up with two young children. But eventually Father realized something was wrong, and he took her to the Master Healer, but . . . there was nothing he could do. Healing magic can't stop damage the body is doing to itself, he said. It can't fix organs that keep damaging themselves, at least not permanently." He wasn't looking at her again, she noticed as he finished quietly, "At best, it only 'prolongs the suffering'. Mother didn't want that, so we took her home and we just . . . waited."

"Healing magic can't fix those kinds of illnesses," Brianna agreed softly. What had happened to Mardin's mother sounded remarkably like what had happened to her father. Only there had been no Master Healer to go to, just her and Bethany trying their best to use what little healing magic they knew to keep their father alive, once he was too sick to do it himself. In spite of being younger than her, Bethany had always been better at healing magic; like Anders, she'd had a natural talent for it. Even still, with both of them trying their hardest, it hadn't worked, and in the end, they had only been able to wait, too. "It couldn't keep my father alive, either."

"I'm sorry," he said. "That must have been hard for you, especially when you were probably the one trying to heal him."

She nodded, willing the tears pricking at her eyes again not to come out. This was about his grief right now, not hers. She had the feeling he'd never told this story to anyone – and he obviously needed to. "Bethany and I both, but it didn't seem to make any difference. In the end, all we could do was wait, too. I'm so sorry about your mother. Losing her must have been very hard, especially when you were so young. At least I was an adult by the time Father passed away."

He sighed, leaning back against the headboard of the bed and closing his eyes, though he pulled her with him, and she went willingly. "It was hard. Harder still because I didn't only lose my mother. The father I knew died that day too. Before then, he'd always been happy, joking, easygoing, optimistic. That was all gone the instant my mother died."

Brianna nodded, laying her head against his chest as he wrapped his arm around her a bit tighter. "My mother was never the same after my father died, either."

He shook his head. "It wasn't just that. In my world, there's something we call the life-mate bond. It's a spell of sorts, I suppose, that couples in my world can choose to undergo if they want a deeper commitment to one another. It binds them together, lets them feel everything their mate is feeling, whether it be love, desire, or pain. And if the bond becomes strong enough, the pain of one's death may actually cause the death of their mate, as well, even if their mate isn't sick or wounded. It also means they can share strength with one another if they are sick or wounded. Mother refused to let Father do that, of course. She wanted to make sure that he didn't die with her, that he had all the strength he needed to survive, both for his sake and ours. Even still . . . he almost didn't make it. When she died, he just . . . fell. Like he'd been shot with an arrow. He didn't wake up for three days. And to this day, I still think the only reason he did was because Ayla wouldn't stop crying, screaming for him to wake up, for Mother to come back, and I kept begging him to wake up, too. I told him we needed him, that I didn't know what to do, that I couldn't get her to stop crying. And finally . . . he woke up."

"Maker, Mardin . . ." Brianna breathed softly, appalled as she lifted her head to look up at him. His eyes were still squeezed shut, but she could still see the pain that twisted his face - and the few stray tears that trickled down it that he hadn't been able to stop. She couldn't even begin to imagine what he must have gone through, so young, with his mother dead, his father unconscious and his younger sister hysterical. At least when her father passed away, she'd been old enough to have some idea of what to do, and her siblings had been old enough to understand. She didn't have any idea how she would have dealt with all that when still a child herself. "Didn't you have anyone else around to help?"

He nodded slowly, eyes still closed. "My uncles and their wives were there, trying to help, but my sister wouldn't go near them. They'd taken Mother away after she'd died, and so Ayla wouldn't leave Father's side, afraid they'd take him away too. And I couldn't leave her."

"Of course you couldn't," she said softly, reaching up to touch his face gently and wipe the stray tears away. He leaned his head into her hand, taking a deep breath.

"Anyway," he went on after a moment, opening his eyes, though he still didn't meet hers, "once Father did finally wake up, he was never the same. He was just . . . a shell of himself. Don't get me wrong, he was still a good father, and he did the best he could, but that optimism, that sense of humour, was all just . . . gone. It took days before he even looked normal, and he never smiled the same. It was nearly a year before he even started to joke with us a little bit, and it was nowhere near as often as he used to. Like I said, everything was just . . . darker after. In some ways, I think Ayla is luckier because she was too young to remember what it was like, and what was missing afterwards - and I couldn't bring myself to tell her, either. And in other ways . . . I feel guilty that she doesn't know. The memories hurt, but . . ." he shrugged.

"You wouldn't give them up for anything," Brianna finished for him softly, dropping her hand away from his face finally, and he nodded. She understood; as much as it hurt sometimes to remember Bethany and her father and what it had been like when they were both still alive, it was also sometimes wonderful to remember how happy they'd all been then, how simple life had been compared to now. She just prayed that Carver was not going to become only a memory as they had; she didn't think she could deal with that, too.

"I'm sorry," Mardin said softly, obviously seeing that Carver was on her mind again when he finally looked down at her. "This clearly didn't help take your mind off of things."

"No, it didn't, but that's okay. I was the one that asked." She knew, however, what would take her mind off of Carver – and everything else. "I've thought of a better distraction, though. Kiss me."

"What?" He blinked at her, looking shocked, though she could see his eyes already starting to darken at the thought. "You've changed your mind, then? You're giving me a second chance?"

"Yes. I am going to have some conditions, but we can talk about that later. Right now, though . . ." She pulled away from him so she could sit up on her knees, facing him. "I don't want to think. And when you kiss me, I can't think."

He stared at her for a long moment before he muttered something that sounded like a curse in a foreign language. He threaded his hand in her hair once more, jerking her head close before he growled, "I can't either," and his mouth closed over hers.

She'd expected the kiss to be savage and heated, as it had been before, and was surprised to find that instead, it was almost tender. He kissed her deeply, slowly, gently, searching her mouth with infinite patience as though looking for hidden treasure, and she let out a sigh of pure pleasure as her body melted and her mind finally quieted.

She wound her arms around his neck, sliding one hand into his surprisingly soft hair and clutching his head closer as his lips moved down her neck, suckling gently and lighting a trail of fire in their wake. Before she'd quite realized what she was doing, she'd fallen back to the bed and pulled him down with her, revelling in the weight of his body and the growing hardness currently pressed into her thigh.

"Brianna . . ." he breathed into her neck, trailing his lips further down to the collar of her robes. She squirmed beneath him, fully intent on driving him to distraction and enjoying the liquid heat spreading through her body, and so didn't notice immediately when he lifted the upper half of his body off of her. She did notice, though, when he unlaced the front of her robes, shoving them hastily aside and pushing her breastband down before the heat of his mouth suddenly descended on her left nipple, suckling hard.

"Mardin!" she gasped, arching against him as a bolt of white-hot lust shot straight through her body at the sensation of his mouth pulling on her, feasting on her. One of his hands slipped down to squeeze her ass, pushing her hips into his as he ground against her, while the other toyed with her breast, rubbing the nipple not currently covered by his mouth, bringing it to a hard peak.

Her body was simply alive, thrumming and singing with sensation, and she was enjoying every second of it. Every second of the lust consuming her, drowning out any other thoughts or worries that she had, and she wanted him to enjoy it as much as she was. So even as he was switching his attentions to her other breast, she slipped her hand between their bodies, beneath the waist of his leggings, and stroked the hard length of him.

He froze, his head lifting up, his eyes wild and blazing blue as they met hers. She smiled at him before stroking him again, and he let out a guttural moan, bucking against her before he arched back, pulling her hand away and putting room between them as his hands slid to her waist, pulling almost frantically at the leggings she wore beneath her robes. He tugged them down along with her smallclothes, only bringing them about halfway down her legs before his mouth was suddenly buried between her legs and he was feasting on her like a starving man.

It was her turn to freeze as her hands now gripped the covers beneath her as passion crashed over her body, all centering on the sensation of his mouth and tongue as he licked at her, tasted of her, drank from her while her hips rocked beneath him of their own accord, causing him to pin her to the bed with an arm over her hips. He groaned when she gripped his head tightly in her own hands, tugging at his hair, the sound of his groan vibrating deliciously all through her as she felt the wave of lust building ever higher in her. "Maker, don't stop," she begged him.

He lifted his head again, his gaze scorching right through her. "Never. Goddess, you taste even better than I thought – and you still haven't screamed for me." Before she could answer that, he'd dipped his head again and was suckling at her nub while he slid one calloused finger deeply within her. She moaned at the delicious sensation, but when he slid a second finger and crooked them deep within her while his mouth continued to work hotly at her, she did scream as her body convulsed, a burst of blue magic flaring through both her and Mardin and briefly lighting the room around them.

Was that what Father had meant by losing control? she wondered dimly, hearing Mardin say, "That's new." She raised her head just enough to peak at him, her body feeling limp and thoroughly sated, to see him looking down at her with a bemused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"It's new for me too," she admitted softly, and his grin widened. "Father did say something about what could happen when a mage loses control. You're not . . . hurt, are you?"

"No, of course not. It just felt . . . warm. A bit like your healing magic, actually." His grin turned a bit predatory as his gaze roved over her body again. "I think I'd like to see how often I can make you do that. But . . ." he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat up fully. "I don't think now is a good time to find out, or go any further than this."

"What?" she exclaimed, shocked. She looked down at the very prominent bulge showing through the drake-scale leggings he still wore. "But you haven't . . ."

"I know," he interrupted her. His head tipped back as he let out a long breath, his fists clenching tightly together so that his knuckles were nearly white. "Believe me, I know. But you've been drinking, and you're grieving. I shouldn't have even done that much, but I couldn't help myself. Anyway, like I told you before, I don't want you to regret our first time together. And you might regret it if things go any farther. But I only have so much self-control, which really isn't much where you're concerned, actually, so if you want to stay here tonight, I'll have to go find another bed."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused. "When did you ever talk about me regretting our first time?"

He smiled. "You really were drunk that night, weren't you?"

"Oh, Maker." She felt her face flame as she finally realized what he was talking about – the night she'd gotten so drunk he'd carried her home, and she still couldn't remember what she'd said to him. Obviously it was worse than she'd thought. "What did I say?"

"You don't remember?" When she shook her head, he went on, "You told me I could put my hands wherever I wanted, and I told you not to tempt me like that, because I wanted you to remember our first time together, and not regret it. And that I wanted you to really know what you wanted. You were too drunk then, and besides being a little drunk again now, you're still not really yourself. I'd rather wait until you are. We'll just call this kissing with a little something extra, and when your . . . wait is over, and you're sure that you want to go further, let me know."

She couldn't help but smile as she realized what a gentleman he really was at heart, even when he was struggling to control his desire for her. He'd refused to take advantage of her when she was drunk and trying to seduce him, and he was refusing to take things any further now when he thought she wasn't quite in control of herself, either, despite how much he clearly wanted to. And he was right; she hadn't really asked him to kiss her this time because she'd wanted him, or not only because of that. She just hadn't wanted to think, and now that she was, she realized she didn't want their first time together to be tainted by memories of what had happened earlier in the day. There really was more to him than she'd realized at first, she thought as she tugged her clothes back into place, straightening herself out, and he more than deserved the second chance she'd decided to give him.

"Thank you, Mardin, really," she told him. "You have no idea how much I appreciate everything you've done, but especially that you're willing to wait until I'm more myself again. I think I'm all right to go home now; Mother's probably calmed down by now, and so have I. And I will definitely let you know when I'm feeling more myself again, and when it's just you I want, and not a distraction. And I'm sorry; that wasn't really fair of me to ask you that."

He grinned at her. "Believe me, it was more than fair. I enjoyed every bit of it as much as you did."

"I doubt that," she told him honestly, and he laughed, making her smile at the sound. She was sure it had been weeks since she'd last heard him laugh; the Deep Roads had been hard on all of them. To hear him laugh now made her feel lighter than she'd ever expected to after everything that had happened today, and she marvelled at how easily he'd brightened her mood. "Thank you, again," she said as she slid off the bed. "I'm sorry to have cried all over you like that, and I appreciate how well you handled it. Most men wouldn't have done so well with it."

"You're most welcome," he replied, though she noticed he didn't get off the bed to walk her to the door, and his hands were still tightly clenched. "I have a little sister, after all, so I do have some experience in that area, even though it's been years since I saw Ayla cry. It seems I still remember the right questions to ask."

"You really do," she agreed before she crossed to the door, telling herself that leaving, that waiting right now, was the right thing to do. She turned as she reached the door. "I'll see you soon, then."

He nodded. "I hope so. And like I said before, if you need anything, just ask. You know where I'll be."

"I do, and I appreciate the offer more than you know. We'll see them both soon – your sister and my brother. I'm sure of it."

"We will," he agreed firmly, and she left his room with a final, grateful nod to him, because she really believed it now. She would see her brother again, because she hadn't failed him, not this time. And now, she would go make sure that her mother understood that, too, for she didn't want a rift between them when there was so little of their family left. And thanks to Mardin, she had the strength to fix things with her mother. She would owe him more than he ever knew for being the first person in years to comfort her and look after her; one day soon, she would show him the extent of her gratitude.