Saving Grace

Not surprisingly, Bran had been correct in his thinking; Finola had avoided him for months following the celebration in her honor. The new Champion of Kirkwall spent most of her time on the windfall of jobs she had been offered, traveling the width and breadth of the Free Marches. Gone for weeks at a time, Bran had only caught glimpses of her when she strolled through Hightown on Vael's arm. Sometimes he would see her at the Keep when she met with Knight Captain Cullen to discuss the animosity between the First Enchanter Orsino and Knight Commander Meredith. Finola would smile sheepishly at Bran and give a little wave before disappearing into the shadows again. It was discouraging, to say the least.

A year had passed since Bran had given her the pair of tigers she'd forgotten. He was ready to march to her home and shove them into her hands. A chance encounter, in a place he least expected to find her, had changed his plans.

Alone on a fact-finding mission one evening, Finola bumped into Bran at the Blooming Rose, literally, almost knocking him off his bar stool. Not surprised by his appearance in the brothel, she laughed at her clumsy slip and sidled up to him, offering to buy him a drink as an apology. She listened with wide eyes as Bran regaled her with mocking tales of the Templars and their increasingly fractious relations with Orsino and the mages of the Circle. They reacquainted themselves for two solid hours, his eyes rarely leaving her steady gaze. She hadn't realized how much she missed his company until then. As the night ended, he asked her to stop by his house for a drink some time. She politely declined, but not for long.

Their periodic conversations over tea and biscuits soon became monthly, then weekly as time allowed. She didn't think much of it. Bran remained proper, never touching her, never veering into inappropriate territory. She was ready to settle back into their comfortable, casual friendship, ignoring the intimate moments they had shared the previous year.

And so it went on for weeks. Finola would visit Bran and tell him of her latest conquests in the trenches, and Bran would tell her of his latest conquests in bed.

The day Finola returned from an extended trip to the Deep Roads, she found herself at Bran's once again. She was hungry, exhausted, and depressed. Nevertheless, she still gave him a full account of their mission, and he was held spellbound by her tale.

A Grey Warden had gone missing in the Deep Roads, and Finola was hired by his sister to search for him. Anders had accompanied her, of course, as did Sebastian and Fenris. Darkspawn and ogres plagued them at every turn until they finally happened upon the Warden, Nathaniel Howe. Every Warden in his team had died, all except Bethany, Finola's sister.

"Bethany walked away and didn't look back. I think she hates me." She looked at Bran, her gaze filled with uncertainty. "Was I so wrong to keep her alive?"

"Of course not," he said, sitting down next to her on the couch. "You did the right thing under the circumstances."

Bethany had greeted her sister coolly at first, warming only as they said their goodbyes. Guilt racked Finola to the core. She had thought saving her sister from a tainted death was the best course of action four years ago. In reality, it seemed Bethany would have preferred to die than spend her days in subjection to the Wardens. All she had to look forward to now was a lonely death in the Deep Roads of Orzammar in twenty years.

"I don't think I'll ever see her again." Finola closed her eyes as her head tipped back to rest on the back cushion of the couch.

"Maybe you can travel to Amaranthine and see her one day," Bran said, optimistically. "Spend some time there and get to know one another again."

"Being a Grey Warden means leaving everything behind, your friends, your family… your whole existence before joining them. I have no place in her life anymore."

"Surely they wouldn't turn you away if you showed up?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "It seems I've miscalculated every important decision I've ever made."

Bran pushed her arm hard enough to make her tip sideways. "Hey!" Her head jerked up. "What was that for?" She reached out and swatted him back, curious about the arrogant smile beaming in her direction.

"You've grown so morose this last year, Fin dear. I'm convinced the absence of my daily musings has caused your extended ennui."

"You may be right." She shrugged lazily.

"I am always right. Therefore, I shall endeavor to rid you of the tedium that is sapping the life from you." Her melancholy was unacceptable, and annoying. "You know, Fin, I could make some enquiries about your sister's whereabouts, maybe find out if she would be within travelling distance for you to visit her."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course I would." Why was she surprised by his offer? Bran could only quirk his lip. "I'm not making any promises, but I do have some connections. In fact, I happen to know a high-ranking Grey Warden by the name of Stroud. He may be able to help."

"Stroud? He was the Warden I met in the Deep Roads. Anders knew him and convinced him to recruit Bethany. Maker, Bran, do you think…?"

"It's worth a try." Bran walked to his desk and took out a parchment from the drawer. "I'll draft a letter tonight." He placed it on top as a reminder.

"I'm sorry I forgot the gift you gave me that day," she blurted. Perched on the table next to her was the newest addition to her carved tiger collection. She glanced at it and smiled. "You know, Bran, I do regret not seeing you very often the last year. I was… so busy."

And so stubborn. "What's done is done. I'll see to it that we make up for lost time."

Holding the tiger in her hand, she growled at it playfully, baring her teeth. "Tell me, Bran, why are you so nice to me when I can be such a bitch?"

"True, you can be uncommonly rude at times." He fought a smile and failed.

"You don't have to agree so readily, jerk."

"I know what lies beneath your bluster, Fin. I've been there for the highs and the lows these last years, and many things in between. Your friendship is worth more to me than… well, you are very dear to me. Never doubt it."

"I have to admit your amusing conversations have been my saving grace many times, Bran. You're a special man… to me."

She looked dangerously close to tears, and although his heart warmed at her admission, he thought it best not to push further.

"Any more drivel and I may shed a tear." He picked up a small box from the table. "How would you like a truffle? I bought some this morning and thought I'd share them with my favorite blonde."

She raised her eyebrows. "Yes! Toss me one."

"Toss?" he said, appalled, yet smiling. "My dear, these are the finest confections in all of Kirkwall. I will not throw them as if they were a pair of dirty socks."

She laughed at his haughty posturing, her chuckles growing louder until she held her side and doubled over. She couldn't stop, and could barely speak. "You are the most…ridiculous man… I have ever known!"

He watched her as she laughed, gazed at her as if she were a newly found treasure. She was quirky and appealing all at once. He hated clichés, but this was one instance where nothing else would suffice. She was an unexpected ray of sunlight in an otherwise dreary day, not to mention delightful as the first flower of spring. And at that moment, she was as beautiful as the day was long.

He had made her happy, made her laugh. It was a good day.

Bran's finger traced over the egg-shaped mark on her neck. "Another scar?" he asked, furious the apostate hadn't healed her as he should have.

"What?" She stood with arms and legs akimbo in Bran's sitting room. "Am I ugly now, like a mabari who's seen one too many fights? Should I start wearing a darkened veil to hide my face from small children?"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Fin. You are as lovely as ever, in my mind at least," he smirked. "I'm only angry Anders didn't take care of you soon enough to alter the manner in which your wound healed. You are their leader, after all."

"It was a brutal fight, and others needed healing before me," she said softly as she stared at the floor. "Especially Sebastian."

"Bloody pansy, he is."

"I've asked you not to speak of him that way," she chided, twiddling her thumbs.

"Why must I stop expressing my resentment towards the man? I can only imagine what he says about me. Nothing pleasant, I'm sure."

"I defend you, just as I do him," she stated firmly. "Besides, I'm pretty sure if you took him on, you'd be the pansy in that scenario."

"Bah! He's a self-centered ass. I can't begin to understand why you would waste your time pursuing a man who only wants Andraste as his bride."

"Have an opinion? Maker, Bran, maybe it was a mistake for me to think we were beyond this kind of crap."

"Fine, fine. I'm sorry." He threw a crumpled parchment onto his desk and took a deep breath. "Just… stop mentioning his name."

"So, who's the whore of the month at the Rose?" she asked, plopping down on the couch. "Oh, I know! The elf with the long auburn hair, right?"

"Interested in a tumble with her?" he said indifferently. "I believe her appointments are backed up a few weeks though." He picked up a goblet from a side table and drank some water.

"When is yours? I could tag along," she said, her voice calm yet confident. "It would be fun, don't you think?"

"You're not serious… are you?" Oh, I'll play this game, you wicked temptress.

"Of course I am. And why not? I might as well pay for it since I can't seem to get it for free."

"Finola Hawke, I do believe you've shocked me." With her head buried in a book, he couldn't make out her expression. "As it happens, I have an appointment with her tomorrow evening. Are you game?"

"I… yes. I'll meet you there," she said, idly flipping through the book, careful not to look in his eyes.

He went around the back of the couch and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "She likes it a bit… rough. You won't mind some scattered bite marks, a few scratches here and there, will you?"

"Are you kidding?" she scoffed and tossed the book aside. "You've seen some of my scars, Bran. Do you honestly think I can't handle a little roughhousing?"

"Hm." His lips inched closer to her, his breath warm and minty. "There is also the question of the unique gadgets and magical tonics she insists on using." Wearing a scandalous smirk, he sped around the couch to watch her reaction. "Do you have an opinion on nipple clamps and phalluses shaped like fish? Thumbs up or down?"

"Oh, I think they're quite delightful," she said, silently cursing the spontaneous hot flush creeping to her cheeks. "What's a little pain when the there's so much pleasure to be had?"

"You, my dear, are so full of shit I can smell you over here." Maker, no more of this talk, or I may need to change my trousers.

With her head down, her eyes rolled up to look at him. "Yeah, well, someday I'll go to the Rose for my own pleasure, and then you won't be able to poke fun at me." She stood and poured a glass of water for herself, sipping as her heart raced. "But… nipple clamps? Sounds painful."

"Ah, Finola dear. I am of the opinion that you would enjoy some naughty delights followed by a good spanking. But that's my favorite fantasy, so…."

"Really, Bran." She sucked in a breath. "Stop it."

"What? I'm not lying about my daydreams," he affirmed. "And your innocent blush doesn't fool me either. I'd be more than happy to explain the finer points of role-play. You need only ask."

She stood and stepped forward a bit, gaining a small amount of confidence. Pinning him with a glare, she said, "Never."

"Never say never, Champion."

Finola licked hers lips, her mouth as dry as if she had just ate a handful of sand. "So, do you… ah, forget it. I have a meeting to go to." As she walked toward the door, she stopped, sensing his presence right behind her. Since when is he so stealthy?

"Do I what?" he said quickly. "Really have an appointment with her?"

"No… no, I was going to ask if you have," she paused, no way out of this one. "Are you going to see her?" The look on her face was… intriguing. Was she jealous?

"I've never lied to you, Finola, about anything, personal or otherwise." He didn't want to be dishonest with her, but at that moment, he wasn't sure if the truth would be helpful, or hurtful. "I do plan to see her tomorrow."

"Well, be careful then," she said, a flash of indignation lit in her eyes. "Don't let her near your face with anything sharp."

"If you asked me to, I would gladly change my plans to spend time with you."

"Ha! Far be it for me to interfere with your needs, Bran."

A hint of regret surfaced at the displeasure he saw in her gaze. Then again, she hadn't shown any interest in him lately. He moved to block her departure. She stiffened and tried to step to the left, but he just grinned and stepped to his right. He left her no choice but to go in the opposite direction again.

"It's just a way to pass the time, Fin. Your company would be far more desirable."

Blowing out an exasperated breath, she yanked the door open, craning her neck to look at him over her shoulder. "Too bad for you then." The door slammed shut.

Bran's fingers came to rest on his chin, scratching thoughtfully. "A very interesting reaction," he said to himself. "I shall have to think on this."

"I killed Anders." Bran could hardly believe what he was hearing. "I killed my friend, my healer, in cold blood."

"You… you did?" He sighed. Letting her continue would be agonizing for him, but he knew she needed to free the pent up emotions causing her to shudder. "Fin, you had no other choice."

"Didn't I? I could've let him go, let him find his own way and face up to his crimes. But they all demanded blood. Sebastian shouted at me to kill him, Fenris too, and Anders just sat there, on a fucking crate, staring. He wouldn't even look at me. He said he knew he had to die and that he was grateful it would be me killing him. Grateful! Maker, Bran, it was surreal."

"Many defenseless people were killed by his actions," he asserted. "Blood for blood. It is the way of the people."

"Maybe so, but I didn't hear anyone else offering to do it." Her trembling hand came up in the space between them, and she stared at it. "I had the knife in my hand and he told me to just get it over with. I looked at it, and it was as if I were seeing the hand of a demon. You know what I said to him?"

"Fin, you don't have to relive this. Let me make you some tea and get you into a hot tub."

"Too much for you? It was for me."

"No, no." He moved a little a closer, allowing his thigh to touch hers, hoping his closeness was somehow comforting. "Tell me."

"I stabbed him in the back, like he was a recreant soldier fleeing the field. I couldn't even say his name. I only said 'sorry', like I'd accidentally stepped on his toe or spilled his drink."

"I know you have real reasons to cause you to feel this way, but your actions were the result of an apostate gone mad. One guilty man paid for the lives of the innocents who were turned to dust in that explosion. There is no fault in your actions."

She continued, his words not making sense in her mind yet. "I can't even tell you how many mages and templars I killed. It's all a blur, a gory, disgusting blur. Orsino turned into this… thing, with the arms and legs of innocent mages sticking out of it, a giant ball of limbs and blood. And Meredith… Maker, I felt as crazy as she was."

"I'm so sorry, Finola. I wish… Maker, I wish anyone but you had to experience those things."

Still staring blankly, she continued. "When I left the courtyard, people were cheering, like it was some kind of victory. Sebastian, Varric, and even Aveline were slapping each other on the back. I suppose they were just happy to get out alive, but… I couldn't stand to be near them anymore. I just kept walking." She looked at Bran. "I'm sorry to bother you with all this."

"I would never feel put upon by you, of all people." A gentle hand came to rest on her arm. "The blast from the Chantry shook my house, and I thought you might have been hurt, or worse. I'm glad you came to me, for my own selfish reasons, I suppose."

"The Maker's wrath will come down on me. I know it, Bran. I'm practically guaranteed a spot in the Void now, next to demons and darkspawn," she sighed. "Maybe that's where I belong."

"Don't you dare say that, Fin. Nothing could be further from the truth."

She shook her head. "Varric once told me only the virtuous die young."

"Then we shall both live forever."

A small laugh escaped her. "Speak for yourself, Wyndham."

He wanted to say everything would be all right, but platitudes never helped before. A foolish thought ran through his head, the image of a mage casting a spell so he could magically absorb Finola's torment. "I can't honestly say that I know how you feel, but I want to help in any way I can. If you want to cry, or scream, or even hit me, go right ahead."

"I don't have the strength to lift my hands, tempted as I am to beat you."

He smiled at that. It was a good sign she wasn't lost to her grief yet. "Maybe you should rest, sleep. Do you want to be alone? I can go fix you something to eat, or-"

"No!" she cut him off, tightening her grip on his hand. "Don't leave me, Bran. I don't even feel like crying. I'm just so fucking tired."

"Come closer then. Rest your head on me." She tried to smile at him, but even her lips refused to move. Curling up next to him, she nestled closer and put her head down on his chest, pleased to breathe in the sandalwood scent on his shirt. With calming strokes, he smoothed his hand down her hair and she entwined her fingers in his other hand.

"You're so good to me. I don't deserve a friend like you, Bran."

Within moments, he heard her soft purring and felt her breaths become shallow as she drifted to sleep.

"Yes, you do." He pressed a soft kiss to her head, whispering. "It is I who is undeserving of you, my beloved Finola."

He heard a loud knock and the door flung open before Bran could reach it. He couldn't catch his breath and clear his head fast enough to discern what the look on her face meant, but judging by her enthusiasm, he knew she had a plan. Finola lunged for him, throwing her arms around his neck, and pulling him to her.

The lips crushing his were secondary to the groping hands that tore at his shirt and squeezed his backside with bruising force. Before he knew what had come over him, the love he always felt when near her washed over him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and gave in to the hot assault on his mouth.

She was content to kiss and hold him, standing in the middle of his foyer, occupying her mind and her mouth to keep from crying. The last few days seemed a blur to her now: the jovial banter with Sebastian, the frustration, the loneliness she felt as he rode away. She tried to push aside the reminders of every yesterday, to live solely in the moment. It was dangerous, probably a mistake. But she wanted to make this night the most perfect mistake she had ever made.

The tension mounted and their pulses raced. Soon, she realized what they were doing was not nearly enough. She stopped to breathe, and think.

"Well, I don't think I have ever had a finer greeting than that, Fin."

"I want you. Now. Take me to your bed." Her voice was low and insistent, and Bran saw the desire smoldering in her eyes.

His nose wrinkled and he stepped back, the smell of ale on her breath not a pleasant one. "Were you drinking with blood mages? I'm quite certain you're possessed by a demon at the moment."

"What? Bran, I'm asking you to… to, you know… have sex with me. Why are you acting so blasé?"

"You're drunk."

"You'd bed one of your trollops if they were drunk. And I'm not drunk, damn it!"

"You are not like them. And you are drunk. So no matter how much I'd like to have my way with you, I will not take advantage of this situation."

"I'm not so drunk that I'm confused about what I want, and I want you."

"And Vael? Where is he?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Gone north for a while, the stupid ass."

"I see. So you're looking for a substitute tonight."

"After all your overtures, when I am finally agreeable to sleeping with you, you won't take me? Why don't you want me?"

"Oh, Finola, I want you. Maker knows I've wanted you for years, but what you're asking…." He almost stuttered, cursing himself silently for the slight crack in his voice. "I would prefer you were sober, as well as willing. This… this would be a mistake."

"Kiss me again and then we'll see if it's a mistake. If it feels wrong to you, I'll… go home."

"You're tempting me, woman, and… Damn it, Finola! I will not sleep with you, not tonight. If you still feel the same way tomorrow, come back to me… sober."

Her expression went from expectant to dejected within a few seconds "Can't I at least stay here? I can't bear going home to that lonely house tonight."

"I'd prefer you to stay here when you have your wits about you."

"I have my wits, you idiot!"

"Not all of them, I'm afraid." He stepped back further and looked her. "You're a mess, my dear. Not only drunk but… a little grimy as well."

She managed a slight chuckle as her anger began to wane. "Then draw me a bath and afterward we can get down to business."

"Finola, what has come over you? As you say, I've made my interest in you apparent for several years. What has changed that you'd seek to fall into my arms all of a sudden?"

"I just want some… I want to be close to someone, to experience what it's like." She had wanted to be coy, but it wasn't working. Closing her eyes, she let out a breath, trying to relax. "You want me. I want you. What's the problem?"

"What's the problem?" he repeated in disbelief. He shook his head. "The problem is I want you for more than one night. I want you every night."

"Come on, just take me now, take me and claim my innocence. Please, you owe me this favor."

"I owe you? How is that?"

"I've kept your secrets. I'm sure Cullen would be interested to know of particular information you've leaked to your whores in the throes of passion." She was grasping at straws now, aware she was probably the only person in Kirkwall to know his secrets, but that didn't stop her. "Not to mention your association with a certain mage at the Circle," she said, her lips set into a slight frown.

"You don't actually want to play this game with me, do you? Remember, Champion, I've kept the skeletons in your closet buried too." She must be drunk to say this to me.

"Oh, fine. Look, Bran, I'm offering myself to you, free of charge… as well as disease. Wouldn't it be nice to be with a woman in your own bed, no vermin to crawl out in the dark and scuttle across your sheets?"

"Your seduction skills are rather rusty, my dear." He reached into a pocket and unfurled a piece of parchment. A small green leaf was folded in half and he handed it to her. "Here, chew this. Your breath could knock over a dragon."

"Please, Bran," she begged, popping the mint in her mouth. "I don't want to be a pure, virginal woman any longer. I'm pathetic, never having lain with a man before… at my age!"

"And you want me to be your first? Tonight? No, that is out of the question."

She made a face and crossed her arms. "…such bullshit," she cursed under her breath. "Suddenly you're a gentleman? That's a shame. Now you'll never know what it feels like to lie in my arms, naked against my flesh." She spun around to head for the door and stumbled over her foot.

He grabbed her by the arm, steadying her, his eyes boring into hers. "That is not say I don't want to feel you in my arms, naked or otherwise."

"What are you saying then?" she asked, pulling away. "You would want to… kiss me and hold me and nothing more?"

"Perhaps. Or we could test the waters. When was the last time you were intimate with a man?" Biting her lip, she looked away. "That long? Well, I could be convinced to… help you with the frustration you must be experiencing."

"And you'd like nothing in return? That's crazy."

"I'm not so self-absorbed that I can't handle a little frustration if I pleasured you and got nothing in return."

"What do you have in mind?" she asked innocently, looking over his shoulder at nothing in particular.

With his hands, he reached out to palm her cheeks, his fingers demanding she look at him, and she obeyed. "Have you had someone use their mouth on you, bringing to the edge with mere flicks of a tongue?"

"No, I… I haven't. That seems… unsanitary."

"It's not at all," he laughed. "Believe me, Fin, once you've had the best, you may not even want to have sex. Most women seem to prefer my methods, and I'm sure my skills will not disappoint you either."

"And if I agree to this, where would you want me? Positioned, that is... I mean in what room! Ach, I'm going to stop talking now."

A devilish grin crossed his face. Bran was enjoying her fretfulness far too much. He took her hand in his. "Finola, do not worry so much. It's all perfectly natural, as well as fun. Come. We'll go to my bed chambers where it's private and warm."

"No, I… I'm not sure I can." She dropped to the couch. "Maker, I'm so pitiful. I don't know what I'm thinking anymore. I come here and lead you on, acting knowledgeable and ready for such things and… I'm just a bungling fool," she said dropping her face into her hands.

"Finola, do not be ashamed, not with me. We don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with. Your company is pleasant enough."

"No wonder you go to the Rose."

"What do you mean?" he asked, giving her a dubious look that made her want to sink through the floor.

"It's easy. No one there cares what you've done before or what you indulge in while you're there." Pouting a little, she swiped at an unruly lock of hair.

"I've never judged your lack of experience. In fact, I think it's rather admirable, waiting for the right person to share yourself with, even though I don't agree with your choice of men."

"Sebastian is no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh, as he calls it. I'm sure I can't live up to his expectations."

"Why would you worry about that? If he truly loved you, your innocence would make no difference. In fact, I should think your virginal status would be akin to fucking Andraste herself."

She let go a chuckle despite the lingering annoyance she felt."Such blasphemy, Seneschal Bran."

"If Vael has a problem with it, and I'm sure he does not, then he isn't worthy of you." Her mouth dropped open and she began to laugh again. "And what is so funny?"

"You do realize you may have just ruined your chances."

"Fin, I want you to be happy, and it pains me to say this, but if Vael is who you want in the end, I would never stand in your way. However, that doesn't mean I won't try to change your mind now and again."

Her body ached in all the wrong places, and she couldn't shake the persistent desire to reach out and touch him. She closed her eyes, trying to pretend as if her life were ordinary and uncomplicated. But it wasn't.

"You and I have been friends a long time, Bran. Although I'm not sure how I've withstood you so long," she said, smiling. "But during all those years, I tried not to see you as a desirable man. Then… the day you gave me the tigers, you said you were the man who could take my power and choices from me, to free me." She swallowed the fear that wanted to stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. "Do you still believe you can do that?"

"More than ever."

"Show me how then," she whispered, her trembling hand reaching out to caress his cheek. "Free me, Bran."

She smiled as he framed her face with his hands, and she leaned into his palms.

Resistance was futile.

"You are so... frustrating. And beautiful."

He drew her lips closer, his eyes holding hers, allowing their breaths to mingle. As she settled her palms on his chest, she felt the pounding of his heart. He licked her bottom lip and she moaned as he parted his lips, holding her face more firmly.

She touched his tongue with the tip of hers and then withdrew a little, teasing, but searching for more. Her tongue chased his, playing and exploring until he would no longer be teased. Their tongues tangled in a heated dance so sensual her body ignited and burned. He tasted of mint, and his warmth radiated onto her. She melted into his embrace.

Probing deeper, he claimed her mouth with urgency and drew her closer, demanding more. He slipped his hands under her and picked her up, settling her on his lap.

"You're giving in, abandoning your fears," he whispered, and covered her mouth with a sweet kiss.

"I am." With her nose next to his cheek, she inhaled, drawing in the heady scent of sandalwood and musk.

With each beat of her heart, and every stroke of his tongue, she slid further back on the couch, his body pressing her down. He groaned, and dimly she realized he was as affected as she was. His mouth was delicious, pouring warmth into her. She drifted, dizzy with a fiery passion as he explored her mouth. He withdrew the barest breath away, and she sighed in disappointment, but he immediately placed his lips on her jawbone and nipped at her skin.

She jerked with surprise and delight. Her breathing sped up as his mouth moved to her ear, where he traced delicate whorls with his tongue. Her hands came up to grab his head, fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, held him tighter.

His head spun, his senses filled with her. Perfection.

Lips parted and foreheads rested together as they panted. Arousal had flushed his face, and when he lifted his head, she shivered at the lust in his eyes.

He took her hand in his, drawing it to his face. Her eyes widened as he kissed each fingertip. Slowly, he took a finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around, nipping with his teeth. Her eyes fluttered as a moan escaped her lips.

"Tell me something about yourself, Fin, something no one else knows," he said, his voice even and cool even though she could see the lust in his eyes.

"Right now?"

"Indulge me," he said with a disarming smile.

"…your timing, Bran," she sighed. "But I'm the frustrating one, right?" Smirking as she shook her head, she stared off for a moment. "Well, I suppose I can tell you this one thing." Her eyes narrowed on him.

"I'll not laugh, if that's what you're worried about."

"You'd better not," she threatened with a jab to his arm. "Well, when I was younger, I thought the sun and the moon were the same thing." For a moment, she waited for a laugh, but it never came. "I believed the moon was the sun when its fire had gone out at night."

"How adorable," he drawled. "But that is not so surprising, Fin. Unless the facts have only dawned on you recently."

She punched his arm. "I was… well, I'll just say I believed that up until a shamefully late age."

"And how did you learn the truth?"

"My brother, Carver. He teased me for days, told all of the other children. It was horrible. I hated him for that. I…."

He could sense another confession on the tip of her tongue. "Go on, Fin."

"I think I hated him right up until the moment he died. Carver was often cruel to me, poking fun at my height, and calling me names like 'beanpole'. I was rather awkward as a young girl. Graceless," she said, looking down at her hands twisting in her lap. "Carver was very popular with the others. A born leader. Children followed him everywhere, acted on his every command, even if they knew they would get into trouble." A small smile came to her lips. "Sometimes Bethany would launch a little fireball at him, and he'd leave me alone for a couple days, but then he'd be right back at it." Her head jerked up. "And I was the older sister! It was… humiliating. When he died, I didn't even cry. It was poetic justice in my mind. I wanted to laugh at his rotten luck, but my mother was so overwrought. I know she blamed me, right up until she died too."

Sitting in silence as she rubbed her eyes, Bran's heart broke for her, imagining Finola as a gawky young girl, the target of hurtful barbs. "I hope you kicked his ass a few times when you were older."

"Only a few," she said, despondently. "Anyway, I think… I still hate him, even now. What does that make me, hm?"

"Human," he said softly. "But you need to let the blame go, Fin."

"Easier said than done." She straightened and looked into his eyes. "Well, now you know two of my secrets. I guess you're feeling pretty smug about now."

"Not smug," he said. "Just pleased you've confided in me. I know you trust me now."

Eying him with vague irritation, she murmured, "I never said I didn't."

"You never said you did either. So believe me when I say having sex tonight would be a mistake."

"I don't agree, but neither will I argue with you."

"Good. You may stay here tonight if you like. I have a lovely bedchamber with a balcony overlooking the courtyard. You can watch the sun rise in the morning. I'll be in my room next door."

"Stay with me, Bran? Please?"

He eyed her, tilting his head as he considered. "You must promise not to tempt me with your charms."

"Charms," she said, looking away. She pulled off her shoes and wiggled her toes. "More like sophomoric fumbles."

"Endearing all the same." He stared at her wistfully and she froze, her emotions growing stronger as Bran reached for her hand. Fingers entwining with his, he didn't miss the shiver that caused her hand to tremble. "Follow me."

"Why hasn't anyone caught you and married you yet?" she asked as she paced next to him.

"I'm not so easily caught. Besides, I have no intention of marrying any time soon."

"No? That's unfortunate, Bran. I wish you were happier, living in that so called state of wedded bliss everyone talks about. Does it exist, I wonder?"

"It does."

"Oh, I… I'm sorry. I forgot you were married before." Her eyes went to his somber face as he gazed past her. She stepped forward, her movement catching his attention. "Can't you find it once again then?"

"Someday, perhaps. We shall see," he said as he led her through the hall. "It's late, and you look as tired as I feel." He stopped in front of an open door. "This is it." He watched her as she stepped into the room, her mouth slightly agape.

"It's lovely, Bran." Surprised by the feminine decoration and style, she turned to him with a quizzical expression. "Did you decorate yourself?"

"Of course not. This chamber was my wife's leisure activity room. She read and sewed in here, arranged flowers, sometimes until late in the night. I'd often find her asleep on the bed, her limbs half on and half off, clothes in a disarray. Then I'd carry her out…." he trailed off, his gaze distant.

"Oh," she whispered softly. "Are you sure you want me to sleep here? I don't want you to be… uncomfortable."

"She would've liked you, I think." Finola looked at his shoulder simply because she needed something to do, and she flicked an imaginary speck away. "Don't worry, Finola, I'm fine. I have fond memories of this room, but they are just that. Memories."

"If you say so." She watched Bran walk toward a large armoire standing against the wall.

He pulled out a drawer and grabbed a long nightshirt, tossing it to her. "You may wear this tonight. You can change behind that screen," he said, pointing across the room.

In silence, she disappeared behind the screen, and his mind reeled with thoughts of her nakedness. The light from the wall sconce illuminated the room, her silhouette on the panel bathed in muted shadows, and he could just about make out the contours of her body. Maker's breath, she'll be my undoing.

Prancing out from behind the screen, Finola skipped to the bed and threw herself upon it with a bounce. "Oh! It's so soft and squishy!"

"Glad you approve." Bran paced forward, coming to a stop at the edge of the bed, and he sat next to her, smiling at her childish giggling. "Should you ever feel the urge to make candles or embroider like a proper lady, you are welcome to pursue your domestic activities here whenever you like."

"Are you making fun of me?" she asked as she slid under the covers and pulled them up to her chin.

"Perish the thought," he said warmly. "Now, move over. I have no interest in cracking my head on this floor in the middle of the night." As she shimmied to the side, he laid down on top of the covers.

"Aren't you going to come under here with me? It's nice and warm," she sang.

"Promise to behave?" She nodded, a shameless smile on her lips. "Promise?"

"By the Maker. Yes, I promise. Sheesh!" Bran flipped the edge of the comforter over and made to slip under. "Aren't you going to take off your shirt?"

"Hm. I suppose."

As he pulled his shirt over his head, her eyes widened. Finola had assumed he was in good condition judging by the feel of his body when they embraced. She never imagined his arms and shoulders to be as taut as they were, his muscles lean and hard.

"You're gawking at me, Fin."

"Oh, I just had no idea you were so… well-developed."

"Yes, we diplomatic types do tend to be rather feeble and pale. But I have some pursuits requiring moderate strength and endurance. I thought you knew that."

"I guess I never thought about it. I know you ride and sometimes go hawking. But still, Bran. You have an impressive physique."

A smug grin appeared, one eyebrow raised. "Should you decide you'd like to see more of my endowments tomorrow, I will humbly oblige."

Her hands crept out from under the covers and smoothed across his chest. "Bran," she whispered. "Kiss me again. Just a kiss."

"One kiss?" Her wrists were pinned with rapid speed, her back fully pressed against the mattress. Bran loomed over her with a cocky grin as he saw the desire on her face. "It will be a kiss you will never forget."

His hot breath caressed her cheek, and she couldn't help the small smile as he leaned in and captured her lips. She melted into the kiss, feeling his arms go around her and holding her close. Every thought she had vanished as his body pressed on top of her own. His seductive kisses made her groan wantonly, a sound he had once thought he would never hear.

She laid her head on his shoulder, hoping he wouldn't mind. He didn't. In fact, he enjoyed her warm breath on his shoulder. As he held her tightly, she looked up at him wide-eyed, and he looked back at her with the same expression. Running his hands along her hips, he examined her face, and he could see the fatigue, the utter exhaustion as she struggled to stay awake. He thought he'd better make a move soon.

Her nightshirt was scrunched up at her waist, and her breasts heaved with what he could only assume was a strong desire, coupled with that damn fatigue. With caution, he slowly lifted his hand and squeezed her breast through the fabric of her nightgown.

"Oh, my… what…?" she whispered. Was she talking in her sleep?

"Yes?" he breathed in her ear, amused.

She didn't answer, but moaned. Maker, but he loved the mewls and whimpers he heard as he pinched her nipples. He slid his hands down to stroke her, and not even a slight protest came from her lips.

"Touch me, Bran… please," she said with hooded, sleepy eyes. She heard him take a deep breath when he touched her, his fingers gliding along her supple skin. She arched under his caress, and he moved closer to his goal. Finding her more than damp, he slid a finger inside her, and she buried her face in his shoulder to muffle a cry. Her leg trembled against his, and she felt his smile on her cheek. He slipped another finger into her, and she bucked up, wanting more. Needing more.

She moaned, but was silenced by forceful lips on hers. Deep into the kiss, another finger joined the rest, and he twisted them. A deep, ragged hum went from her mouth to his, sending shivers through him. Squirming a little, a pleasant sensation bloomed in her stomach as he pumped his fingers in and out. Increasing his speed, she thrust against his hand with a loud moan. He stopped and withdrew his fingers, giving her a worried look.

"Are you all right?" Despite the pure lust held in her eyes, he waited. "Shall I make you come then?"

"Mmph… you'd better."

One finger, and then a second, filled her, which brought forth little gasps from her lips. He watched in silent delight as she responded to his touch, jerking her hips against his hand. He was tempted to slow down, to have her beg, but thought better to leave that entertainment for another time.

She felt her climax begin to quiver and pulse in her belly as his thumb circled and pressed. Bran whispered in her ear, "Come for me, Fin," as he felt her tightening around his fingers, and at hearing his soft command, she was swept away, flying high with release, a squeak of ecstasy on her lips.

Shaking from the power of her climax, her limbs tingled and filled with heat, her head lolling on the pillow. She was wondering if she would be able to walk, should she decide to leave, when his arms wound around her. She stayed in his embrace until she could think. Pulling away from him weakly, she smiled at the sight of his adoring face, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, before resting her head against his shoulder.

He held her as close to him as he could, reveling in the moment. "Was that… pleasing?"

Half-lidded eyes gazed back at him. "It was wonderful. Thank you," she whispered.

"It was an honor, my dear."

"…so tired." Holding her face in his hands, he kissed her one last time before she passed out.

He smiled down at the peaceful face next to him. Finola, his lover. Lover! He could think of her in those terms, at least tonight. Was it a stretch? Absolutely. But…

Fuck it. Lover it is.

Sometime during the night, she had slipped away. He woke up alone, cold, missing the warmth of her body next to his. The nightshirt she had worn was folded neatly at the foot of the bed, a scribbled note atop it.

Bran,

Contrary to what you might believe, I do not regret this night. But it was a mistake. Hate me if you must, but don't say it to my face the next time you see me.

Finola

"Ah," he sighed, putting the nightshirt to his nose. "Such a foolish woman. But I'll eat my hat if you stay away longer than a day."

The following night, a knock came at Bran's door. He glowered at it, wondering who was bothering him at such a late hour as he peered out the side window. "Well, well. As predicted," he said under his breath. He watched Finola reach out to knock again, and the thud made him jump, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands began to sweat.

Coming to his house was wrong, and there were plenty of words to describe the boundary she was leaping over, but the desire was there. It had always been there, no matter how many times she tried to fight it. "I know you're in there, Bran!"

Laying his hand on the door, he closed his eyes and could almost feel the warmth of her skin through it. In a fantastical daze, he turned the doorknob and pulled.

"May I come in?" Her gaze was enticing, even though her tone was a bit disagreeable.

He gestured with his hand and she strolled across the threshold with a confident sway in her hips. Looking him up and down, he watched as she circled him, a predatory glint in her eyes. She took one of his hands in hers, the warmth of her touch causing his heart to beat even faster.

"Why are you here?" he said, his usual complacent humor absent.

"About last night…." The distance in his eyes unnerved her. She reached out, her fingers tracing over his cheek. "You think I'm kidding now, don't you?"

"Your note…."

"... impulsive."

His fingers skimmed over the small of her back. "As always."

Her arms wrapped loosely around his waist. "I want to be yours tonight, if you still desire me." Bran's heart clenched at her words, and he kissed her lips, hard, feeling her shiver as she melted against him. "We're in agreement then?" she whispered.

"Let me see…." His hands eagerly moved under her shirt, fingertips brushing against her skin to find her breasts, teasing her hardened nipples. He let out a low growl. "It seems we are."

Her knees weakened with anticipation. Fingers tangled in his hair, her mouth opening in hungry desperation, begging for his impassioned kisses.

"Shall we?" he whispered, nipping at her ear.

She swallowed, her breathing ragged as she stared at him. With a smile, she entwined her fingers with his. "Lead the way."

A/N: Can you guess what's next? Sorry to leave it there, but the next installment should be rather long as well. Special thanks to my beta, Biff McLaughlin. She's the best of the best! Love ya, Biff!

I'd like to thank all the readers, and especially the reviewers who take the time to drop me a comment. Hugs to Biff, Brynneth, Zute, cloud1004, Jen4306, stormewolf, Anne Agnigraha, Nynuwe and daria03. I love hearing what you think, so please don't be shy. Lay it on me! I hope you are all enjoying the ride as much as I am!

I now have a lovely painting I commissioned from Breogan on deviantArt to enhance the Release from the Chains story. A link can be found on my profile as well.

breogan. deviantart. com / # / d4dbqy2

Breogan also has some amazing Fenris art, as well as Harry Potter, Star Wars, and many other realms. Do give it long look. You won't be disappointed.