A big thanks to csorciere, NoMadKa, rubicante59, and to those who are following and/or favorite this story. Your feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

A special thanks to my wonderful beta, Kira Tamarion ;) Please head over to her profile and read her amazing stories, you will not regret.

Waves of inspirations came to visit me as I wrote this chapter, and here it is the result. I hope you're enjoying Aaron, and his confused mind. I know I am! ;)

Reviews and critiques are always welcome!

Chapter 3

Sebastian led his hand to his throat and it came away bloody. He mumbled something under his breath, and looked at Varric.

"How long do I have to stay here?"

"As long as it's necessary," Varric replied flatly. He turned to Fayne who was pacing, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was as if she couldn't hear and see him – she was disconnected from reality. And the dwarf didn't blame her – after all, it was not every day that a ghost from the past came back to haunt you – or in Fayne's case – to hunt her.

Her stomach twisted in knots, her mind awash with memories of Aaron. Hawke didn't know what to make of this, but if someone had the answers, it would be Sebastian. She turned her eyes to him.

The archer was sitting on a chair, dreading what the assassin's look implied. He vaguely wished he had never made this contract with Aaron. Now he had two dangerous would-be-enemies to deal with – Fayne and Aaron. But his thoughts were rapidly cut off by Fayne's glare. This woman was gorgeous, but truly dangerous. Under her gaze he moved uncomfortably in his seat.

"Why did Aaron send you? What does he want?" Fayne asked, walking back and forth, but without breaking contact with the rogue's blue spheres. Her arms crossed and a smoldering menace burning within her green eyes.

"I think he wants you, my lady. He -"

Fayne narrowed her eyes at him, holding his tongue. "Impossible." She put her hands on her hips, her expression doubtful. "Either you're too stupid to understand his motives or you're lying."

"Trust me, my lady. I'm not lying. This man would draw the blood of a thousand men, just to keep you… safe."

Fayne laughed bitterly at what she thought to be another lie coming from Sebastian's lips. "Safe? Such charity from Aaron requires a celebration, yes?"

The archer didn't understand the reason for her sarcastic words. "This man threatened to kill me if I touched you. He said you were... too precious."

Fayne paused in her tracks; sarcasm gave way to confusion. This... this was not what she expected to hear. "No..." She shook her head, disbelieving. The rogue believed this to be a trick, a game that Aaron was playing with her. But...what if it wasn't? As Sebastian's words sank in, part of her wanted to believe them. She wanted to believe that could still be a ray of love inside Aaron. Fayne stepped back as a myriad thoughts whirled in her mind.

Varric moved closer to Fayne when he noticed her expression change. "You don't believe him?"

"What he's saying it's... impossible. Years ago Aaron promised to kill me over this... stupid thing," she whispered, glancing at Sebastian to make sure he couldn't hear them.

Varric spoke softly, "I think it's very clear he's not very good at lying. Did it ever occur to you that he may be speaking the truth? And why does he want to kill you, anyway?"

"It's a long story," Fayne replied. She took a deep breath, after she realized that she was having trouble breathing. Then, she glanced doubtfully at Sebastian.

"I need to know everything Aaron told you. Every word. And if I sense that you're lying -"

"You'll kill me. I get it." Sebastian replied, already holding up his hands in defense like he did when the nimble, wicked assassin pricked his throat with her razor sharp dagger.

The assassin narrowed her shimmering eyes. "Good." She drew up a chair and took a seat, her elbows on her knees. "Start talking."

Sebastian swallowed hard, before attempting to speak. "A few weeks ago, Aaron told me to come to Kirkwall to look for you. He said he wanted to know everything about your new life – "

"So he sent you to spy on me," Fayne immediately said.

He hesitated, then he came to the realization that 'spy' was indeed the appropriate word, though he never actually considered himself one. "Yes, my lady," he replied conciliatorily.

"Why?" Fayne pressed.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "He just told me he needed to know everything about you. Though he warned me not to touch you."

The assassin cocked her head. "Not to touch me? In what way?"

"In… every way, my lady."

"Did he say why?"

"Because you were too precious."

The assassin considered his words for a moment. They sank in slowly, striking close to her heart. "And where is Aaron?" Fayne asked after a long pause.

"He's in Orlais, my lady."

The assassin looked at Varric and they exchanged curious glances.

"What's he doing in Orlais?"

"I don't know. But I would say it's something of great importance. He's in Val Royeaux, and he's staying at the most expensive inn in the city. "

Hawke considered his words for a long while. Val Royeaux was the city that proudly held the heart of the Chantry – the seat of the Divine, the home of the Templars. One cannot simply be there by coincidence. And just like Sebastian said - something of great importance must be happening. The assassin turned her eyes to Sebastian's – he seemed to be telling the truth.

"What's your name, spy?"

"Sebastian Vael, my lady."

"From the Vael family," Fayne commented with arched brows.

"Y-yes, my lady, though – "

"Leave. But don't go too far. I might need your help," she replied, ignoring what words he was about to say. She had little interest in his family, and she already knew what she needed to know – their family had been brutally murdered and he had being exiled. The rogue bit her lower lip, mindfully. Everything made sense now – Aaron must have persuaded Sebastian with a promise of helping him avenge his family. He was still the same keen, cunning, artful man, clearly willing to do anything to satisfy his needs.

Sebastian nodded, and left very conciliatory, thought Hawke didn't bother to look at him.

When he was gone, Varric moved to Fayne, who dropped her gaze. The rogue was immersed in her thoughts, completely disconnected from her surroundings. The dwarf came to realize this was not the first time that she went into a trance after speaking of Aaron. It was as if his name triggered something inside her or touched a delicate, painful part inside of her life.

"Do you trust him?" Varric heard himself ask. He was referring to Sebastian.

For a moment, it seemed like Fayne couldn't hear him. Then, as if she rose from the dead, she turned to face him with a sly glare. "No. But Aaron seems to. And I will use that in my benefit."

"How?"

"Let us be patient," she replied while leaving his room.

However, Fayne was far from being patient, and Maker knew that she had no clue of what do.

The nimble rogue sat on her windowsill, her head rested on her knees. A relentless, freezing rain fell from the dark sky of Kirkwall. Thunder roared and rattled her bones. In her right hand, she toyed with her favorite dagger, while she relived her memories of Aaron. The thought of him touched a painful place inside of her; it struck close to her heart. Sebastian's words intruded.

"This man would draw the blood of a thousand men, just to keep you… safe."

"This man threatened to kill me if I touched you. He said you were... too precious."

Fayne shook those thoughts from her mind; she was a long way to even begin to understand Aaron. In retrospect, the rogue never actually understood his actions – why did he hate mages so much? Why did he hit her? There was always a cloud of mystery around him, and after all these year, it was there still there.

The assassin tried to hold herself together, though it was seemingly impossible as a little voice in the back of her head kept whispering to her that she should travel to Orlais. When she hard Vael speak so impressively of Aaron's devotion to her, there was a momentary glimpse of... love.

Fayne grunted and threw the dagger away; it landed with a sharp clatter.

The assassin left the sill of her window and began pacing through the room in a mechanical movement, like she always did when something unsettled her. With the exception of the sound of the rain pouring heavily on the streets, her room was dark and quiet. She breathed deeply. Boiling inside of her was a mysterious, restless want to see him. While there were a myriad reasons she should not got to him, she couldn't care less about them.

She stopped and stared at her reflection in the mirror, though she could barely see anything. Another bolt of lightning split the sky, and momentarily cast light on her image in the mirror. Fayne stared at her reflection; her hair tousled, wet, dripping, and her clothes soaked. The night was cold, and its freezing temperature penetrated her bones. But as she stared at her image, she realized that she was overwhelmed by the absence of something. She wasn't quite sure of what it was. She craved for anything that would make her feel alive, that would drag out of this hollow life. Perhaps a kiss, a whisper of love, a soft warm body pressed against her or simply... Aaron.

"No," Fayne grunted, making her way to her bed.

The rogue refused to accept that her heart was yearning for Aaron. After undressing, she curled up in her wooden, small bed; her arms folded under her head, and the warm, fur blankets covered her freezing body. While she attempted to sleep, the rogue vaguely wondered what Aaron was doing at the moment. But before she had the time to poison her mind with further thoughts about him, she was asleep.

The moon was mounting the sky in Val Royeaux.

Aaron was seated at the edge of his bed, staring profoundly at the cityscape. Orlais' beauty seemed to be stuck in his mind, and he could no longer remember Ferelden's landscapes, trees, birds or anything. The only thing remotely related to Ferelden he managed to remember was Fayne.

His toned, slightly bronze chest was bathed in the dim moonlight. His mind was alive with thoughts about Fayne. No letters have arrived from Sebastian, making him wonder briefly if the archer had succeeded in his task or if he betrayed him. Yet the latter didn't come as a surprise – Sebastian was weak.

A knock on the door drew him from his thoughts.

"It is Carmen, monsieur," a soft voice replied from the other side. Carmen was the servant that brought his food, washed his clothes, and watched him with utter lust-filled eyes. She was also an elf.

Aaron heaved a rueful sigh. "Come in."

The girl opened the door and peeked innocently at him. In her hands, she carried a bottle of Orlesian wine, as well as his diner. In the plate seemed to be eggs, smashed potatoes, carrots, sprouts and a delicious roasted chicken.

Aaron forced a smile, and rose up.

Carmen almost dropped the content of her hands when he saw him bare-chested looking tantalizingly handsome. She sized him up, with an unmasked impish desire in her eyes. Her gaze stopped at the loose, linen trousers that hung from his lean hips. Immediately, her infatuation spread within her. Maker, looking at this man must be a sin!

It took a while before she was able to speak.

"I-I brought you something to eat. And drink," she said, flashing the bottle in front of him. But the girl didn't receive an enthusiastic response. Aaron merely gave her a melancholic smile that matched the sadness that seemed a constant presence in his glimmering blue eyes, eyes in which she could easily drown.

"You look sad," she commented, crossing the room, and laying down his dinner on a small table. When she turned to look at him, Aaron was glaring at her with cold eyes, sending a freezing shiver down her spine. There seemed to be a smoldering anger burning within him.

Her voice was anything but steady. "I-I'm sorry, monsieur. I didn't mean to disrespect you."

Aaron did not reply immediately. He watched her warily, like he always did. Then, "No. I'm the one who should apologize. "Please," Aaron motioned for her to sit. He watched her with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

Carmen took a seat on his bed, and Aaron did likewise, though careful not to be too close to her.

"I guess I should thank you for bringing me dinner," he muttered.

"Oh," she waved a hand. "It's no bother, really. You always seem so... distant, so I thought I should bring you something warm. Orlais is a beautiful country; you should go out and explore what this city has to offer. A man like you wouldn't have problems having fun."

Her hazel orbs were shining, and there was a whisper of a grin on her lips. Aaron narrowed his eyes – it was a reflex movement - and studied the girl pointedly. Evidently, she knew something he didn't, and she clearly had ulterior reasons for being in his room.

"Thank you, Carmen. That's... nice of you," he replied, flatly.

The elf was not pleased by the lack of warmth in his tone. He was cold, eerie, and distant, like his mind seemed to be flooded with things in the past rather than the present. But amidst all that isolation, he was still utterly handsome – even more, to the elf. He was in his own bubble, struggling with something she could not identify. Aaron was enrapturing, handsome, dangerous, skilled but... sad. Yes, Carmen remarked to herself, feeling victorious – Aaron was sad and unhappy, almost as if his life was bitter and there was nothing he could do to sweeten it.

"I'm sorry, but... Don't you like my presence?" She asked innocently, her voice filled with the sweetness and warmness of a girl so young and...beautiful, in her own way, though her beauty was nothing compared to Fayne's enrapturing eyes, shimmering white-blonde hair or her full, round, red lips. Carmen had a round, somewhat pretty face, a pug nose, and her cheeks were slightly freckled. Her lips, thin and small, and her voice had to be the most annoying sound he had ever listened to.

Aaron looked at her, and she stared back at him, pleadingly.

"We barely know each other, Carmen. I can't say if I like your presence or not," he said. But in truth, Aaron did know the answer – and yes, he disliked her presence – not in a personal way, but solely because she wasn't Fayne.

A wicked little grin curled up her lips. "Then maybe we should get to know each other." She slid her bottom, very suggestively, bringing her body close to him. His smell was rich and fresh; it was a mixture of soap, and leather.

For the first time in a very long time, he moved uncomfortably in his seat. His thoughts spun in a many different ways. He looked at her; she was very slim and small – unlike him. And she was so different than Fayne – in every aspect of the word. "What do you want, Carmen? He asked, and anger still burned in his eyes.

The girl blushed when she realized he understood perfectly the meaning of her words. Carmen knew she was far from being considered stunningly beautiful, yet she couldn't understand the motives that would drive a man to refuse a woman when she was so temptingly willing to open her legs for him. Was he refusing her? She couldn't follow him.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," she excused herself. "I'm just saying that I would like to know you better."

The girl, ever so innocently, moved her lips towards his. She vaguely wondered what they tasted like, right before she tasted them. Her tongue thoroughly explored his – his mouth was so deliciously good and wet. The elf thought it utterly marvelous as she drank him in and explored every inch of his mouth. Their tongues tangled in an exotic, passionate dance. Adrenaline was coursing through her body, her skin tingled, and all of her deep muscles were contracting. This man tastes like a forbidden fruit. She pulled away just a little so that she could bite at his so inviting lower lip. A guttural, strained groan rose from the depths of his lungs, but when the girl went right back at him – something was wrong.

Carmen's eyelids fluttered open to see the perpetually mysterious man. His eyes were open, even alert, and his strong hand clasped her fragile neck.

"A-Aaron?" What're you doing?" The girl asked alarmed.

"Stop," Aaron warned her with fury in his stormy, eyes. "What do you want of me, Carmen? And for your sake, don't play games with me."

Carmen reached for the hand that was grasping her neck, only to realize he was showing no signs of releasing her so soon. "I want... I hate seeing you so sad, so nonchalant - "

"My sadness is my own business, not yours," he said harshly.

"I want to sleep with you, don't you see it?" Carmen barked, as if she had risen from the dead. "Maker, I want to take you to places darker that the darkness itself! I want to feel you deep – "

"Stop!" Aaron warned, his wide eyes and voice were so relentless and sharp that they rattled her bones. The elf gulped slightly, rooted in fear, having realized that his grip was making the process of breathing and swallowing more difficult. He released her neck, when he noticed she was seeking air.

He swiftly rose, and began to pace through the room. He bit his lip where Carmen had nibbled it, and frowned. He appeared to be deep in thought. The girl watched him warily, though still mesmerized by his beauty. She just couldn't refrain from admiring his strikingly handsome looks. He ran his hands through his dark hair, and heaved a deep breath. He seemed to be struggling with something that the elf didn't understand. Sex was something one shouldn't give much thought, so why was Aaron so transfixed by this? The girl stood up, surprised that her knees were quaking like if the ground beneath her was lurching. He was still pacing through the room, and his breath hinted that he was exasperated. He appeared to have fallen into a trance. Carmen walked towards him in the steadiest manner that her quivering knees allowed, and she reached for his hand. He stopped, as if he had awakened from a deep sleep and glared at her with his bewitching blue orbs. For the first time, it occurred to her that perhaps it would be wise to leave the room and, most importantly, leave him. It was clear, though too late for her own good, that this was a man no one should defy.

Carmen was about to speak, when he spoke over her. "You don't want this. I'm not your type, and you wouldn't want to live with the worst of me. Now leave."

"Oh, but I do want – "

He grabbed her by the wrists, holding her in place. "I. Don't. Want. You."

Carmen stared at him blankly – the statement was jarring. He doesn't want me! Then, something stirred deep inside her – rage spinning in a hundred different ways. She frowned, and her voice was colored with utter disappointment and indignation. "You – you don't want me? Why?"

"Because..." Because she wasn't Fayne, simple. "There is no need for a reason, Carmen," he replied after a long pause.

"But..." The girl couldn't even finish her sentence; she was shaken.

And Aaron... well, he didn't know what to feel. His heart was empty, and if there was a person who could fill it, it was Fayne. His moral compass was whispering in the back of his head that this was no way to treat Carmen. But then it occurred to him – when had he ever treated someone nicely? Probably Fayne, though not for long, since he' hit her. He hit her in the most dark, grim, and sad day of his life – a day where hate rose up to bury the love he felt for her.

After a long while, his eyes widened in shock when he realized he was gripping the girl's wrists with more strength than was needed. Alarmed, and no longer drowned in his thoughts, he immediately released her arms. He turned his back, as if ashamed. He inhaled through his teeth.

"Leave," he ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The girl didn't move, being clearly wreathed in dread, but looked down at her wrists – they were crimson and throbbing from Aaron's grip.

"Leave, Carmen. Now."

When the girl didn't respond or move, rage rose up from the depths of his stomach, and he screamed from the top of his lungs, "Get the fuck out of here!"

Carmen winced as if she rose from the dead, and left – slowly first, then she began to run.

When the elf was gone, Aaron curled up in a, quiet corner of his room. His thoughts were slipping back to memories of Fayne. As always, they struck close to his heart. He didn't know how he had allowed himself to hit her, to leave her without an explanation or an apology. He ran his hands through his hair. He even promised to kill her! And his last words to her were stabbing at his thoughts, crushing his breath, torturing him.

He folded his arms around his body, he felt so cold without her skin or her kisses to warm him. The world looked so dark, so ungrateful, and he was forsaken and desolate. But maybe this was his punishment, biting hard on his heart, if it was, Aaron couldn't remember a more severe, bitter torture than this. And Aaron had seen many be tortured in the Circle – one more thing that kept him awake during the night.

He leaned his head against the wall, fixing some random spot in the floor, both his hands in his hair. He had been struggling with this realization for a long time, maybe even since the day he left Fayne, though throughout these years he has been fooling himself with half-truths, illusions, promises of a righteous life, and deceptions. But Aaron couldn't find the strength or the willpower to fight them back, he had fought them for too long, and now it was the time to yield, for he hadn't just lost a battle, he'd lost the war.

He heaved a rueful sigh. He'd never stopped loving Fayne – ever.

In a dark alley of the Val Royeaux's streets, a cloaked woman stood in the shadows. A hood concealed her face, and a long, lilac cloak camouflaged her clothes. The woman watched the shadows in the streets moving in a hundred different ways. Her eyes were vigilant, and her hand rested on her staff that would certainly keep her safe through the night. She knew, very well, that the city saw her with unkind eyes, much less merciful. Yet, the risks of being there would soon prove to be worthwhile. At least, it was expected to.

A shadow walking in long, quick strides was drawing near her, catching the woman's attention in just a blink. The darkness eclipsed the stranger's face, and fear rose up inside her. Immediately, her hands gripped her staff – it was a reflexive move. But her lips curled up with satisfaction when the stranger's face became clear.

"I expect you bring me good news, Carmen" the woman said, eagerly.

Carmen breathed deeply before attempting to speak. "I- Hum... Well, things didn't go as I, we, expected."

Her face grew very tight. "What went wrong?"

The girl lowered her head. "He didn't... he didn't want me," she confessed.

"Why not?" The woman asked, exasperating rising in her voice.

"I don't know. I tempted him, I kissed him... and he wouldn't have me. It was like his mind was in a different place."

"A different place, you say?" The woman asked. She remembered that her contacts had informed her that Aaron had once been in love with a woman whose hair was almost as white as snow. That woman must still be in his thoughts, the mage remarked to herself.

"You should try harder," she pressed.

"But I don't know what else to do! He almost choked me! And look at this!" She flipped back her sleeves. The mage's blue eyes widened at the sore, bruised wrists.

"He did this to you?" Her voice seemed to be so far away, as if she was losing her strength to digest this unsettling news.

Carmen solemnly nodded.

"So there is no chance that he would want to see you again?"

The elf lowered her head in response.

The mage plunged deep into thought, though careful not to show that she had ulterior motives. Regardless of the motives, Carmen had just proved herself to be useless at the task of seeing her wish fulfilled. This woman waited twenty-eight years for this day, and she had nearly expected Carmen to succeed at what she thought to be a simple task. Apparently, she would have to change the rules of her little game. Aaron's heart and this stupid thing called 'love' were hindering her plans, but it was just a matter of adjustment – she would have to plot this according to the circumstances. And, on cue, the girl whose hair was white as snow came to her mind again – maybe this girl can talk with him.

When the woman's wicked mind finally found a solution, she glared at the elf. "I don't need your services, anymore."

Carmen dared to affront her. "But you need me! I'm the only girl in this city that managed to speak with him."

"Yes, and you have done a terrific job at it," the woman replied sardonically.

"If you ask me, I don't think Aaron is very fond of women. Maybe that's his problem," Carmen countered.

"But no one asked you, my dear," the woman quickly countered with a sly grin playing on her lips. "But if you ask me," she added, "I don't think you're very pretty or smart enough. Maybe that's the problem."

The elf's round face grew tight. "You're dead wrong about Aaron. He's not the kind man you think – "

The woman narrowed her eyes, much like Aaron used to do, and grabbed the elf's throat, pressing her against the wall. "Do not speak another word about him, you wench. Are we clear?"

The elf stared at the woman's fiery, blue orbs, and the way they shinned dangerously, reminded her of Aaron's. Holy shit! The girl squirmed and writhed, her breath slowly dissipated from her lungs.

The woman shot her a long, piercing gaze. "Such disrespectful words coming from an obnoxious little thing like you. Tell me, wench, do you want me to put an end to your existence? You know I can break your little neck."

The elf slightly shook her head, though she was too immobilized to make that movement more pronounced.

"Good," the mage replied with a wide, evil grin. She released her neck so suddenly that the girl fell to the floor.

"Now we just need to find this lovely snow white girl," the woman said to herself, passing by the elf with utter indifference.

Fayne was in her bed, twisting, squirming in the sheets. Her arms moved in a hundred different ways, her head bounced to the sides. This was a dance that was becoming familiar to her each night.

The rogue and Aaron were running in the woods. There was fresh blood on their faces, as well as a good amount of it dyeing their clothes crimson. She couldn't tell if it was theirs, because the goal was to run – run, and never look back. Branches exploded in every direction, scraping their faces and their limbs along their way. It was night, and the moonlight barely managed to break through the trees. They kept the pace for as long as their legs allowed, then they paused, gasping for breath. Aaron looked back to make sure no one was following them.

"I don't think anyone – "

He stopped and cocked an ear. Fayne stood at attention too, though she was more tired and exhausted than Aaron. The sound of measured footsteps coming in their way echoed faintly in their ears. Fayne and Aaron traded glances and his hand was instinctively on his sword. The rogue, however, was stripped from any cutting instrument, and she wore a thin, ivory tunic that ended at her knees, leaving her almost naked to any attack. Her legs had scratches, her lips dry, cracked and her knees quaking.

"Don't move," he warned Fayne. He drifted in every direction with keen eyes, and sharp ears, trying to discern where this foe was moving, though soon to discover that they weren't sharp enough.

Out of nowhere, a woman materialized; in her hand, a common, poorly made dagger. She charged with a bull's fury against Fayne, and before the rogue could attempt to dodge, she plunged the blade in her stomach. The thrust was deep, hard, raw and with purpose. The woman looked deeply into her eyes, grinned, and drew the blade with a frigidity that cut as deeper as the dagger. She wore a devilish expression, pronounced by a mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes. Her long, gray hair danced in line with the wind, the low moon behind her – for a moment, she resembled to a ghost.

Aaron's eyes flew wide, howling in dismay – he wasn't even given the chance to save her. Fayne blinked, and they kept their eyes on each other. A voice in his head telling, ordering, to do something, but his muscles refused to obey. The rogue closed her eyes for a beat and then her eyelids flutter open. The evidence of her impending death shown in the blood flowing from her mouth, and the spreading stain of it on her tunic. The rogue moved her hand to her stomach, sobbing and coughing, her dying breath rattled Aaron's bones.

The rogue felt that she was being pulled to a dark, unfamiliar, cold place. Darkness soon eclipsed her last ray of life, and with her last breath, she tumbled sidelong to the ground.

Aaron yelled, "No!"

Fayne bolted up in the bed screaming.

If you're all wondering who the mysterious, cloaked woman is, you'll just have to keep following my story! :D I promise you'll not regret, its a major twist, trust me.