She was at an impasse, but a pleasant one, regarding her Aeden. Pleasure had become her norm, as had bloodshed, and all the while the reality of him lingering in her life, was a gift, a balm; not for any injuries, but to all her past wounds and the emptiness of her life of isolation with her mother; and still it was a disappointment as well. She would miss these nights in his arms, his lips, their nightly couplings, his presence greeting her mornings, their camaraderie; but she was getting to a place of acceptance, a place of comfortable routine, and her emotions had balanced to the point she could once more be at peace with leaving.
She had convinced herself of a profound lie she hoped was truth. It was a brief time ,once, when it was all too clear to her what was happening here; finally she felt she had a good grasp of this 'thing' between them, she felt in control once more. A feeling of almost blissful elation filled her as she accepted this 'revelation' that would spare her the pain: He had simply gone a more subtle route to seduce her; he made her want him on as many levels as he felt he had to in order to reach that goal. He was a much more talented man than she was used to. But still - just a man. She had to admire his art... in all things, he almost had her heart in the palm of his hand... like a special little toy - or a gift. She nearly lost her balance for a moment in the grips of pleasure and a warm tent, but in the end she used her considerable powers of denial to finally break his hold on her heart (right, and her mother was a sweet old woman who lived in a shoe at the end of lollipop lane in the land of make-believe). Such a brilliant fake... so like her Aeden to be so gifted; no reason to even be angry.(Or so she hoped - She didn't want to fall in love with him, only to be parted... if only hope alone could fight gravity.)
Then came Orzamar, and all she had desperately clung to make their parting less painful, her self-denial of her own feelings and presumed delusions of him and her, were shattered.
They had all gathered in the Dwarven market, and Aeden was doing his level best to find things to purchase that would aid them from the strangest dwarf she ever saw: poor Lyrium addled little man... still, he provided her with considerable mirth.
Aeden had looked over the wares and then glanced over his shoulder at her with a look of wonder, then looked back to the dwarf (was it a toy for them to play at each other with? She was game for such things after all; but only as long as it was Aeden who was playing with her). Aeden handed over a reasonable some of gold and turned to her, his hand behind his back... so flirtatious.
"What have you there?" she asked, more than a little curious.
He brought it out from behind his back and smiled as he handed it to her: a small, bejeweled, hand-held mirror.
"A mirror?," she asked at first, how odd; and then her hand trembled as memory and sight became one, "It is the very same mirror that Flemeth smashed so long ago," she sighed in disbelief.
It had been a story she had told him, something she thought he had certainly, politely, glanced over emotionally: about how as a child, she had swiped a wealthy woman's hand mirror from her and brought it back home; much to Flemeth's disdain, and had watched it smashed before her eyes, and had been summarily chastised on the evils and weaknesses of vanity. She had not cried when she retold the tale - Had she? He had, as always, been polite, appeared to listen... but that had all been part of his game to ensnare her body, ignite her desire for him - wasn't it?
Her heart beat faster at the reemergence of that terrifying, wonderful, foreign feeling that was making itself once more known to her. Did she matter to him beyond an object of gratification? beyond a weapon? Had he listened to her? unbelievably (and yet completely believable, he was her Aeden) he remembered what to others would have been just a nod of acknowledgment on their way to her bed, and forgotten once that goal had been reached. Well he had been there, several times, and STILL he had given her a truly meaningful gift. What reason could there be for it? "You must want something in return," she asserted trying to deny to herself what she knew was all to clear... he cared about her as a woman, not a means to a selfish end... or was that it?
"Don't be silly. It is just a gift for a beautiful woman," he answered.
How very like her Aeden... she smiled, "I have never been given a gift before, not one that did not come with a price attached to it... perhaps there is yet a price to be paid, if so, it is well deserved. Thank you - truly." Yes there was a price to be paid, and it had just got a lot more costly to her.
He kissed her once more, and smiled kindly, nothing excessive, simply a loving acknowledgment of her acceptance of the gift. Still, he now made her shiver, a new feeling, she was suddenly nervous and fidgety in his presence; and yet, she wanted to be with him even more, never wanted to be parted from him without a means of finding him. Her Aeden, her friend, her...
She had a gift for him to, a very special one; it just needed a little proper 'fitting'.