A/N: The next chapter of RftC is still in the works, and I'm almost there. In the meantime, I indulged in yet another one-shot. This one takes place after the Qunari showdown. A little Sebastian, some more Bran (who in my mind, does indeed have moves like Jagger), and a whole lotta angst.

Thanks for the reviews! As always, I love hearing from readers. Please keep the comments coming! A shout out to fantabulous Zute for her never-ending support. The awesome Biff McLaughlin gets many hugs and kisses for her stunning beta skills, and a special smooch for getting this back to me so I could post before leaving for the weekend. Who loves ya baby? I couldn't resist throwing in that line, Biff! Any typos are my fault due to my inability to stay away from the keyboard while my chapters are in her capable hands.

Stolen Moments

"Where are you going?" Sebastian called to Finola as she walked past her house.

"I want to stop by Seneschal Bran's a minute." The pounding in her head hadn't stopped since the moment she sunk her blades into the Arishok's chest. Her hand went to her forehead, squeezing her temples with a squint. "He should be told what's happened by a friend."

"I will accompany you then," Sebastian said, and picked up his pace.

She stopped and turned to meet his gaze, no hint of surprise in her expression. "Oh, you don't have to." Twisting her neck for a few moments to ease some tension, she eyed Sebastian, secretly hoping he would offer her a shoulder rub. He didn't. "Would you do me a favor? I'd appreciate if you went to my house and had Bodahn draw a bath for me. I've been dreaming of one all afternoon."

"You're not in any condition to be traipsing about Hightown alone." He scowled, but kept quiet for a moment, obediently following her as she resumed walking along the main path through Hightown. "And I'll keep any unwanted admirers away, Champion."

"Please. I'm just Hawke to you, or better yet, Fin. I'm tired of being compared to a predatory bird," she said with a small, forced chuckle.

He laughed. "All right, Fin."

She stopped one house away from Bran's and faced Sebastian. "Thank you, for everything." Ignoring the bloody condition of their armor, she pulled him into a brief hug. "I don't know if I would've gotten out alive without your protection. Your arrows kept whizzing by my head and striking Qunari between the eyes. It was… unreal."

At that moment, he noticed her eyelashes were as flaxen as her hair, making the blue of her irises so warm and welcoming. He didn't know if he'd ever thought about it before, but now that he had, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. "I aim to please."

"Varric's corny humor has finally rubbed off on you," she laughed, reaching out to take his hand. "I'm so grateful to have friends like you. Beyond grateful for you, in particular. I hope you know that."

The apostate fawned over her constantly, though if Sebastian was honest with himself, he could understand why she would easily fall for such a man. All the knowing looks and subtle touches Anders shared with her certainly indicated there was more to their friendship. But the way she touched him at that moment, like Sebastian was… more than a friend, and the way she looked at him, as if terrified of losing him. He realized he was just as scared of losing her. But he had his vows, his dedication to the Chantry, and she was aware of his devotion. Wasn't she?

"The Maker smiled upon me the day you walked into the Chantry a few years ago. I owe you more than I can ever repay, Hawke… er, Fin."

"No, you don't owe me. And I'm not just saying that to… to force your hand and make you stay in Kirkwall if you already have plans to leave for Starkhaven. I'm happy to have you at my side, Sebastian, however long you stay here." She smiled at him, her eyes shimmering with something he couldn't place.

"No, I'm not leaving yet. You'll need my help anyway. We've already accepted several well-paying jobs, and I expect we'll be offered many more."

"At least that's one perk I won't mind."

As she raised her hand to knock on Bran's door, Finola peered over her shoulder. Sebastian was wearing a most peevish expression. "He's not that bad. Give him a chance."

"Honestly, Fin, I don't know how you can stand his pointed remarks, not to mention his vulgar discourse," he shot back, so frustrated with her, and yet endlessly patient.

"I think he's quite funny," she said with a grin. "Can't you simply ignore him for a few minutes? You are, after all, the most patient man I've ever met."

"I thought I was the most patient man you've ever met."

Finola spun around as Bran appeared from behind a tall stand of shrubs. She smiled and walked toward him, knowing he had to have heard her comments.

Looking back at Sebastian, she saw him grimace. He was so appealing when he did that, an expression much like a pout on his soft, full lips. Leaving him behind to watch for people who might try to rub shoulders with the new Champion was undeniably a good idea, if only to see the adorable frown on his handsome face.

"I'll be right back, Sebastian!" Finola always preferred to maintain a certain level of control anyway. It was easy enough to let Sebastian believe he was managing every situation, but deep down, he realized she held all the power. "Behave!" She wagged a finger at him, and he couldn't help but smile. Now, if he would only fall to her other whims.

The sun had begun to set, painting the pale blue sky with streaks of pink and orange, and taking with it all the anxiety and fear Bran had lived with the last two days. He watched her as she approached, silently praising Andraste for her safe return.

"It's good to see you, Bran."

"And you. Thank the Maker you're safe." Ignoring Sebastian's attempt at an icy glare, Bran threw his arms around her and squeezed her tight. If Bran weren't so concerned for her, Sebastian's expression would have been laughable.

"Bran. Bran! … can't… breathe…."

"Oh… apologies," he said, releasing her. "I'd heard you had only minor injuries, and you do look remarkably unscathed, even if you are covered in dried blood and… brains." He glanced down at his own clothes. Ah, good. No stains.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Lovely, isn't it?"

Then he spotted a bloodied bandage sticking out of her left pauldron. "Except for your shoulder. Maker, Fin, what happened?" His shocked gaze traveled to her eyes.

"I couldn't escape that particular arrow. I had to break it off and leave it lodged in my shoulder for a while. But other than that, just a few cuts here and there. Anyway, I guess you know everything," she said, her words coming out fast. He nodded somberly. Taking a deep breath, her expression fell mournfully. "There was nothing I could do, Bran. Dumar was already held captive by the time I reached the Keep. I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize." Bran sighed and shook his head. "You did save Kirkwall, mighty Champion. Dumar would have gladly given his life to do the same." He noticed was how pale she was, her skin almost transparent but for the flecks of dried blood. Half-lidded eyes and sagging shoulders convinced him of her exhaustion. For a few more lingering moments, neither of them spoke. "Fin, are you honestly feeling all right?"

"No," she whispered, her voice wavering. "Yes. Yes! I'm okay. I... just have a headache, that's all," she tried to reassure him.

The impulse to sweep her up and tuck her into a warm bed with her favorite pillow was almost overwhelming him. Bran sucked in a shaky breath. "Thank you for keeping your promise, Fin. I wasn't sure you would come here."

"Well, now that you know we are all okay," she said glancing back at Sebastian, "I should get going."

As she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard. "Please, stay for a minute longer." Her pulse thrummed under his fingers, and when he let go, his fingertips slid across her palm, feather light. A corner of his mouth turned up when he saw the goose bumps rise on her arm.

Her heart skipped a beat. No, that's impossible. My mind is playing tricks and I'm just imagining that… feeling.

"You know, there's already talk of a celebration in your honor."

"What?" she said, confusion scrunching up her face. "Oh Bran, if you have any power in this, please don't let it happen."

"Come now. Aren't you eager to slip into some finery and show Kirkwall what you look like without your blood-spattered leathers?" …Naked, he thought with a smile.

"Truthfully? No. And I'm even less eager to be the center of attention."

"Well, you'd better get used to the idea. I'm afraid I have no say in these matters."

"Bullshit. You just want to see me squirm."

"If I wanted to see you squirm," he began with a wolfish grin, momentarily forgetting the disapproving archer standing several paces behind Finola. With narrowed eyes, he looked at Sebastian, a wicked remark on the tip of his tongue. "Well, maybe you should bathe after all. There is a nauseating odor coming from your general vicinity," he said before looking back at Finola, "and you do look a wreck."

"You're incorrigible, Bran," she said, smiling. "Well, as delightful as this conversation has been, I'm going to leave before the worm behind me turns." She pointed her thumb over her shoulder, and Sebastian took it as an indication to join her.

"Do come back later and tell me all the details of your fight with the Arishok."

"I might, if only to see your face when I describe the spine-chilling screams and the river of blood that ran after I sliced the head off a saarabas."

"You'll do nothing of the sort tonight!" Sebastian addressed at Bran directly. "Have you no understanding of what Hawke has been through the last two days?"

"Sebastian Vael, please do not scold me like a child," she growled as she spun around to face him. "What has come over you?"

Sebastian's lips moved, but this time, he had nothing. She will never change. Never. "I'm going to your house, as I should have done in the first place." Sebastian stomped off, muttering under his breath.

"And have Bodahn draw me that bath when you get there!" she shouted. "He's so touchy, don't you think?"

"Absolutely." Bran cracked a smile, relief evident on his face as Sebastian disappeared. "The rumors have muddled the whole altercation, you know. One even had you impaled on the Arishok's blade as he swung you through the air."

"I'll tell you, he came close to doing just that a few times. Anders' healing skills were put to the test today. But, I'll save the blood and guts for another time."

"I will await your story with bated breath then."

His smile held the same affection she so vividly remembered from two nights ago. "We'll need plenty of whisky for that tale."

"As you wish." His mind flooded with thoughts of the celebration they would attend. Not together, of course, but that was inconsequential. Something significant was needed, something unique. "Now, go and get clean, Champion."

"Will do, serah." She only got one step away from him before turning back, his serene, admiring expression stealing her breath away.

"I… I searched for you. When I saw Dumar's head roll down the staircase, I thought…." Her voice broke, filled with emotion. She took another step closer. The tears she had managed to hold back began to fill her eyes. Only a few escaped and flowed down her cheek as she forced them back. "Maker, Bran, I looked everywhere for you, in case you ignored my advice. I'm so glad you're alive and well."

"No more than I am!" he laughed, a warm and comfortable chuckle meant to lighten the mood. "I suppose I owe you my life now."

"Ooh, now there's a thought," she said swiping the tears from her cheek. "If you put an end to the celebration, I'll call it even."

"I will not."

"Fine. Have it your way," she said. "Payback is a bitch."

"Normally, I would say you are as well, but… I'll let you relish your champion status for a day or two before knocking you off your high horse."

"And here I thought it was impossible for you to become more condescending. I can see I'm going to have to kick your ass one of these afternoons, Wyndham."

"Give it your best shot."

"Don't' worry. I won't break your nose or damage that perfectly handsome face of yours in any way," she said as she tilted her head, her eyes shining with amusement. "But when I exact revenge, you'll never know what hit you."

"You're stalling, Fin." She blinked as her lips slightly parted. "Could it be you prefer my company to that of the archer after all?"

"No," she said with a lilting and uncertain tone. "Tch. I'm leaving now. So… bye… jerk."

"Goodbye... sweet cheeks."

As she shook her backside at him, the smile on her face was almost as large as the one he wore.

Why am I here? Bran wondered as his eyes scanned over the sea of greedy people, mingling and eating, dancing without a care in the world. Useless slobs. He had been waiting over an hour for Finola to arrive. Fashionably late must be her mantra.

The chill in the breeze was unnaturally harsh the afternoon of the celebration in the courtyard of Hightown, but Bran hardly noticed. He was too distracted with thoughts of Finola to care about the coldness seeping through his clothes. Pondering her whereabouts, a flash of golden hair caught his attention. He saw Sebastian twirl the Champion of Kirkwall as she made her grand entrance in the center of the dance area. She was laughing, the sound of her delight carried on the breeze, straight to his ears.

"… and then it threw me off right into a puddle of mud," said the pert little brunette girl standing next to Bran. Her high, shrill laugh caused him to pinch his eyes closed before taking a sideways step away from her.

Bran waved the back of his hand to her. "Perhaps your mother can steal you one tomorrow, Lydia."

"Steal a horse? Oh, Seneschal Bran, you're such an amusing and… strange man."

"Haven't you a pair of shoes to buy or something?" he said to the girl, his gaze steady on Finola. Lydia answered, but Bran heard none of it.

There she was, the Champion of Kirkwall, in Vael's arms and surrounded by well-wishers. The dance came to a halt, and Finola's eyes flashed in Bran's direction. He saw the corners of her mouth turn up slightly.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Lydia called after Bran as he hurried away, silent. "Well, that is just plain rude, Seneschal Bran!"

Heading for the center of the courtyard, his legs moved forward of their own accord, even though they felt filled with lead. He stopped next the musicians and stared at her again, formulating his strategy.

She was smiling at Vael with coy grins, flirting with contrived, bashful eye flutters, completely entrancing the future prince who held her in his arms. It was sickening. A hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach started to rise up to his chest. He paced closer and focused on how lovely she was, repressing the urge to vomit on Vael's boots.

A burgundy dress of silken damask fitted her waist snugly, straining slightly over her ample bosom. The gown hugged her hips, flowing out and down, billowy claret layers trailing to the ground. Tendrils of golden hair blew in the light breeze absorbing the rays of the setting sun and bathing her face in warmth.

She was beautiful. Radiant.

"May I cut in?" Bran heard himself ask, almost unaware that he had walked toward her.

Sebastian looked at him, suspicious and annoyed. "I suppose, if it's all right with you, Hawke…?" Bran smirked at her easy smile. "I'll be waiting with the others over there." She nodded as he pointed to Fenris and Varric standing near a table covered with confections. Sebastian strode away, but not before pinning Bran with a menacing glare.

"Spare me," Bran muttered.

"Ignore Sebastian. He's overly protective at times. " Finola felt Bran's gaze upon her and turned to him. "Good afternoon to you, Seneschal Bran."

"Good afternoon, Champion of Kirkwall."

"I'm surprised your new duties have allowed you to join in the festivities."

"You know I would never miss an opportunity to eat pie with my hands and then belch in public."

"This must so hard for you, you poor thing," she teased.

When she placed her hand on his shoulder and held the other out for him to take hold of, he thought he would melt under her touch. He ran his fingers down the soft waves of golden hair, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back. Their fingers entwined, and he curled his arm around her, drawing her closer as their dance began in earnest. Swaying to the music, Bran felt like time had stood still just long enough for him to imprint this moment forever.

She was laughing when he snapped out of his reverie.

"But you'll get no sympathy from me! At least you don't have to wear an uncomfortably tight dress. Maker, I can hardly breathe," she said as he led the dance. "Though I must say you look rather handsome this evening, you evil, evil man."

"Evil? What have I done now?" he groaned.

"Exactly nothing. You could've told me it would've been acceptable to wear my leathers."

"If I had, I wouldn't be gazing upon the loveliest woman in the courtyard."

A wave of uneasiness coursed through her, but when he pulled her closer, pressing against her, she felt her insecurities drift away. "Smooth talk will get nowhere tonight, traitor."

He stared at her boldly, ignoring the inquiring eyes of the onlookers, his self-importance abandoned. "I mean it, Finola. You look… enchanting."

She raised an eyebrow, moving to the music and holding his gaze. "That's a word I wouldn't have expected to come from you."

"No? Have you no recollection of our night together before you sent the Qunari to their graves?" he asked, closely watching her reaction.

"Of course I remember," she whispered, her gaze dropping away from his. Memories surfaced, no longer held close and secure - whiskey and hot breath and smooth fingertips feathering across her skin – but she pushed them back. "Won't your escort be upset to see you dancing with another woman?"

"What makes you think I brought someone?" he asked as he stole a glance at her flushing neckline.

"I saw that annoying chit, Lydia, pawing at you. She must be fantastic entertainment for you," she choked out, a spark of resentment flashing in her eyes. "Someone to flirt with and then bed, no strings attached."

"And did you also see me brush her aside when I noticed you were here?"

She turned her head away, gazing beyond the musicians. "So, is she every bit the tart I've heard she is?"

"Why do you care?" The jealousy in her voice made him dizzy with anticipation. She opened her mouth to say something, his questioning eyes holding hers, but then pursed her lips together, turning away with her chin up. Bran shook his head, laughing quietly at her attempt to show disinterest, or perhaps disgust. "If you must know, her mother sent her over, to suck up to me, no doubt."

"And what does her mother want from you? Grandchildren?"

"Maker forbid! Nothing of that nature." Bran leaned in to whisper, his lips almost touching her ear. "Since her husband's been off to who knows where, she has fallen behind on city taxes."

"You're like an old biddy, you know that." He heard the smile in her voice, amused by this tiny bit of gossip. "But fill me in on the scandal."

"Ah, Fin, we grow more alike every day." He could see the humor and mischievousness in her eyes, and for a moment, he thought his knees would buckle. "Apparently, she's a compulsive spender and can't go a day without a new hat or fancy shoes to complete her ensembles. They are near to being ruined."

"No!" she breathed out in surprise. "Tell me more."

"Perhaps later." He let out a small laugh and grasped her hand tightly as the music ended. "Come. I have something to show you first."

"Can I trust you won't put me on the dais to make a speech?" she asked as he pulled her toward the line of vendors who were selling unique wares for this special occasion.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't want to embarrass you, my dear."

"You don't think I could make a stirring speech for these fools?"

"Actually, I'm sure you can. But I have other, more exciting plans for you this evening," he said as they approached an outer wall of the courtyard.

"Oh? Do tell."

"Just follow me." Seeing her suspicious glare, he smiled and leaned in. "You don't have to be afraid, Fin."

"I'm not afraid!"

"It's only a short distance." His finger brushed the tip of her nose gently. "No one will see."

Her breath caught in her throat. "What does that mean?"

His exasperation was rising, and he began to tug her along harder, although she seemed willing enough. "Just close your eyes and let me lead you, Fin."

"I want to know what this is about," she whined as he led her toward the trade row.

"Oh, for the love of Andraste… Close them, my petulant Champion. Just a few more steps."

Finally, she did as she was told, but he knew she'd steal a look before getting to their destination. No matter. The location wasn't the surprise anyway.

"Stop. You may look now."

When she opened her eyes, she was standing in an alleyway behind a large trader's tent where no one could see them. Bran smoothed his hair into place and turned to her slowly, the fingertips of one hand tracing over his unshaven chin.

To her surprise, he brought his other hand forward and held out a gift, perfectly wrapped in parchment and tied off with purple ribbons. She furrowed her brows and started to reach for the gift, but he snatched it away, his eyes gleaming with delight.

"Tease."

"You love it."

"I do not like to be teased." She reached her hands out again, and he laughed as he handed over the present. She felt it for a moment, her eyes squinting as she tried to imagine what was inside. Sliding the ribbons off, she taunted him with her slowness, looking up with a sly smile.

"Don't flatter yourself." He gave her a smirk. "I'm an exceptionally patient man."

"Bah. You're no fun."

"And as expected, you're acting childish."

"And you love when I act childish."

Yes, I do, he thought. "Just get on with it," he said, waving his hand at the box.

If she wasn't suddenly holding her breath, she would have laughed. She ripped in to the wrapping paper and tossed the mangled pieces of parchment on the ground. As she pulled off the box lid, her eyes widened at what she saw inside; a superb pair of carved wooden tigers, hand painted with glass eyes and intricately carved teeth. Plucking the figures out of their nest of dry grass, she glanced up at him, her eyes still wide and her lips parted.

His face was an image of seriousness. "Surprised?"

She nodded. "Bran, they're beautiful, so elaborate… thank you."

"When I saw them, I thought of you."

"Tigers made you think of me?" she asked with raised eyebrows. "Because they're deadly?"

"Yes, but also because I know how interested you are in things that are stealthy and mysterious. I thought maybe you'd fancy starting a collection."

"This is a very thoughtful gift, Bran." Without a second thought, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "You've spoiled me now, you know," she said, her breath warm against his cheek. His lips hovered near hers as goose bumps begin to prickle across her body.

"There's plenty more spoiling to be done in my estimation. I'm pleased you like them."

"I love them, but…?" She placed the box on top of the adjacent wall and met his eyes again. "But why?"

He recoiled at her voice, so filled with uncertainty. "Must you always question my good deeds?"

"I'm not questioning your intent. Well… not really," she said, her voice tense. "I just thought maybe you'd want something in return, something I can't give you."

A warm hand took hers gently, his soft voice breathing out. "You're my friend, my closest and perhaps only friend, as sad as that is. I thought it only fitting to get you a small token of appreciation after everything you've been through, and to show you how much your… companionship means to me." His voice wavered, and he cleared his throat to conceal his emotion. They stood for a moment, neither saying a word, but both staring at his hand upon hers. "It could be more, we could be more, if you'd only-"

"You're a great friend, Bran," she cut in. "Truly. You should find a suitable woman to take care of you, to cook for you, and… to love you."

"As you seem to think I have one foot in the grave, maybe you'd like to be my caretaker as I grow weak and decrepit."

"I don't mean it that way, it's just… I think you deserve more from life than all this upheaval, all these… groveling nobles and self-important templars," she said, waving her hand toward the courtyard.

"Without those oafs I might not have a job." In his mindless wanderings, he placed a hand against the rough stone wall, just beneath the box perched atop it. Timing is everything. When to move in, when…?

"True enough," she agreed. "I imagine the templars are snapping at your heels every day."

"They are, but let's not ruin this day with talk of templars and government."

"What did you have in mind?" she said with a good-humored smile, as if ready to go off and play games.

"Well," he regarded her with eager eyes, "I had thought to kiss you senseless, but it seems I'm already too late."

"Are you suggesting that I'm drunk?" His brows rose. "I'm barely tipsy." Well, maybe a little more than tipsy, thanks to the Aggregio.

"Good. Then you won't mind if I kiss you."

His hands flew to her face, entwining his fingers in her hair, pressing her against the stone as he molded his body to hers. Instantly, she responded to the fire in his touch, the fierceness of his need, and he pressed closer to her, deepening the kiss. Sliding his fingertips along the curves of her body, his hands brushed along her hips.

She pressed her cheek against his neck, inhaling the sandalwood scent she loved so much. She whispered to him, saying they should stop, but her weak attempt only resulted in a smile she felt as he placed small kisses on her neck.

She wanted to push him away, to slap him and shout, but she couldn't invent a lie convincing enough to explain why she would do such a thing. Again, her mouth parted under the force of his lips, and her knees began to tremble as she kissed him back, fighting for dominance. Thoughts sped around the crowded space of her mind. How had she ended up in this position? She had thanked him for a gift with an innocent kiss on the cheek, and now she was saddled with feelings she couldn't explain and urges she didn't expect - for a second time.

Pained lines spread across his forehead as he lowered it to hers, his hands caressing both sides of her face. He knew it wouldn't last, but in that moment, he was glad to bask in the warmth of the arms wrapped around his waist. When she tried to pull away, he held her tight for a moment longer.

Breathing deeply, her head jerked back and she met his gaze, her lips swollen from the brutal kiss. "What was all that for?" she barked, taking a step back and shoving her hands down to straighten her dress.

"As if you weren't agreeable," he scoffed. "Do I really have to explain myself to you?"

Even if he hadn't voiced them, he was still making demands that she couldn't possibly fulfill, even after she'd thought he had moved past such feelings. Hadn't he?

On the surface, he ignored her feigned anger, but in his heart, he delighted in it. He was ready to show her what she would be missing by rejecting him, but instead, said something impulsive, something that gave away his true disappointment. "Has your relationship with that simpleton of a Chantry brother finally softened your brain?" His words came out far harsher than he'd intended, regretting his tone as soon as he spoke.

Hurt and betrayal were plain on his face, and she was the cause of his anguish, again.

"Look, Bran, I know I haven't exactly treated you as I ought to have, but…." Bran opened his mouth to say something, but she held up her hand. "Please, let me finish… Someday, Sebastian will be leaving for Starkhaven, and I will be going with him, leaving this Maker forsaken city to its own violent end."

A darkened frown drove his lips downward as he avoided her eyes. "And does Vael know this?"

"He will, in time."

"Why are you running away?" he whispered, his voice holding an echo of disquiet. Reaching up, he brushed his fingers along the side of her face. He searched her eyes, trying to find some semblance of uncertainty in their depths, but they were frozen. Knowing that there might be no point in trying, he still said, "You'll never be happy in Starkhaven. Kirkwall has been good for you. Why would you leave it behind?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The truth, it seemed, was irrelevant at this point. She jerked her head away from his touch.

He grabbed her hand, his grip tightening. "I don't believe I've lost you to him, not yet."

"What?" She yanked her fingers away. "You're not making any sense."

"I want you, Finola. All of you." A faint smirk crossed his lips as he leaned in to whisper. "Stop running from me."

She held her breath and closed her eyes before she breathed against his lips. "But I don't want you. I don't know how to make it any clearer."

"Your actions do not match what your mouth is saying."

With a single gasp, she slapped him across the face, hard. "Just stay away from my mouth. Stay away from me."

He barely flinched, and then pulled her close to crush his lips to hers. She didn't fight him. She couldn't fight him. Instead, she hated him. But she melted into his arms, not wanting him to stop, and at the same time, her stomach was churning. She wished he would have hit her back.

"It's a shame, really," he sighed. "There's so much more to you than you realize." Sad eyes flicked away before resting back on hers. "I was hoping to show you."

She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. "I'm not exactly princess material, I know that, but I will go to the ends of the earth to learn what I must, to make him proud."

"Don't sell yourself short, Fin. You have more in your little finger than most budding royals." His hands came from nowhere to hold her face, his eyes daring her to pull away. "You bend a knee to no one, and you fear nothing. You never give up or give in and yet you'd ignore your own needs and desires for what? Status as a princess? For him? He's not the man for you. You want out of this city? I'll take you away. Anywhere you wish."

Please make him stop, please, she thought, shuddering inside as she forced her face to remain indifferent. She closed her eyes and reveled in this last touch, the final caress she would let herself enjoy from his hands. "What I am right now is nothing, a nobody. I'm insignificant," she whispered, opening her eyes and halting the tears that wished to escape. "But that will change."

"You are not insignificant! Never say that. Never."

"You don't know anything about me beyond what you want to see. Believe me, I'm not worth your time."

"But you are," he said softly. "And I can see through your attempts to spurn me."

"A quick fuck with one of your whores should cleanse your system of whatever it is you feel for me."

Wincing at her choice of words, he knew the hope of turning this disagreement around was dwindling, but he would not be deterred. "You can't tell me you don't feel the heat between us. Why do you fight it so?"

She ground her teeth together. "Because I despise you."

"You're a liar." He brought his hand up to caress her cheek, but she smacked it away without blinking.

"You hold no control over me, Bran."

"Don't I?"

She had no answer.

The cruel woman who stood before him, who made him feel again, didn't even realize that his heart was breaking as she stood there, staring him down. He decided to tempt fate.

"I know you hunger for me. You long for the abandoned kisses, you crave to submit and surrender to my touch." His words drifted through his lips, hushed but filled with intense perception. "You want a man to take your power and choices away from you, to free you. I am that man." He leaned over, trying to look her into her eyes as her anger evaporated, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction; she wouldn't let him see how he'd gotten to her. "You can't ignore me forever, my dear."

"I have to go," she said, her eyes never meeting his. "Sebastian is waiting."

This can't be the end...

Was she on her way out of his life before she even understood she was his life? If that were the case, he had no one to blame but himself.

She turned and walked away, missing the wretched look on Bran's face as he grabbed the present she'd forgotten. He could've shouted to her, or ran after her with the gift, but keeping it afforded him the possibility of returning the tigers to her another time.

Stepping out from behind the tent, he watched her figure slowly being swallowed up by dusky shadows, and he sighed.

She would avoid him now, going back to her life of daily bloodshed and nightly prayer with Vael. Days would come and go, but he was confident the memory of this day would be forever emblazoned in her mind. And he was not going allow her to slip through his fingers so easily.

"You will find your way back to me, Finola. And if you take too long…." His eyes dropped down to the box he was clutching in his hands. "I will find you."