Chapter SIXTY-ONE

Aria had never been happier to see the red-headed warrioress in her life. Aveline and Donnic stopped by the Amell-Hawke estate on their way back to the barracks, fresh off the boat from Ferelden. Varric, Anders, Merrill, and Isabela were already at the estate, having dinner with Aria, Fenris, Tristan, and the house staff.

"Aveline! Donnic! Maker, I'm beyond happy to see you!" Aria greeted them at the door, having answered it as Sandal, Bodahn, and Orana were still in the kitchen. "Do come in, we're just about to have supper."

"Hawke!" Aveline laughed, engulfing the smaller woman in a bear hug. "The guards on the docks had nothing but wonderful things to say about your brief tenure. I knew I could count on you!"

"Bah, don't mention it. I'm all too happy to give you back the post," Aria chortled, reaching for Donnic as Aveline released her. "C'mere, you lout," she growled, vigorously hugging her friend.

"Hawke," Donnic cheerily stated. "Glad to see the city didn't burn down."

Aria strode with them toward the dining room, an arm around each of their waists as she walked betwixt them. "It almost did. I had to put down a potential mage rebellion, Grand Cleric Elthina had to get involved, and many of the nobles are pushing me to petition for Viscount because Meredith has worked every last of their nerves."

"What?!" Aveline gasped. Aria noted that the woman's skin was a couple shades darker and healthier looking. Her green eyes sparkled, and the worry lines that had been constantly present were much relaxed. She wore her hair completely down and was dressed in a fashionably modest mossy green sundress that showed off her quite muscular legs. She wore calf-high booties that were black suede. Donnic was also casually dressed in black trousers and a noble-looking gray button down shirt. He wore his guard boots, but the trousers mostly covered them. He too looked to be much more relaxed and happy.

"Mmmhmm. Oh, and it was Seneschal Brann's idea," Aria continued, nonchalantly. "He's quite taken with Fenris and I at this point."

Donnic and Aveline exchanged an incredulous look. "Maker's breath, Hawke. You and the Seneschal are getting along now?" Donnic asked, dumbfounded.

"Oh yes. I expect we'll be invited to his galas and he's already sent us a fruit basket as thanks," Aria chortled, pointing to said basket centered at the dining table as they made their way through the large double doors into the modest dining hall.

"Aveline! Donnic!" Varric called as they entered. Everyone stood and raucously welcomed their friends back.

"Good to see you all!" Aveline chortled as they took their seats.

"Come come, tell us—are you a plus one yet?" Varric wasted no time getting to the good stuff.

Aria almost choked on the mead she'd just sipped. Isabela guffawed. Anders looked smug. Fenris smiled wolfishly at Donnic, who returned the same. Merrill looked hapless.

"Plus one?" the elven mage innocently asked.

"We don't know yet," Aveline curtly replied, blush tinging her cheeks.

"We'll see," Donnic laughed, kissing his wife on the cheek. "What's for supper?"

Orana, Bodahn, and Sandal joined them, bringing in trays laden with roasted pheasant and beef, beds of greens, caramelized carrots, and freshly baked loaves of sweet bread. Everyone waited until the three had been seated before heartily digging in to the feast before them.

"So what's this I hear the nobles are pushing Hawke to take the Viscount seat?" Aveline asked once they'd all had a few bites.

"Oh, Hawke put Meredith in her place when Orsino was protesting the treatment of the mages. Right in the square, in front of the Maker, Grand Cleric, and half of Hightown," Varric seized the moment to relay the city's latest, biggest gossip.

"They had it out in the square, here, in Hightown?" Aveline gaped at Hawke. "No wonder the Grand Cleric got involved!"

"Meredith's got it out for Hawke, now," Varric continued. "But I've heard there's dissent even amongst the templars. Some of them say the Knight-Commander is off her head. Like, crazy paranoid. The mages are starting to push back, and there's talk that the templars might turn on Meredith as well."

"I can attest to that," Anders darkly added. "There are templars aiding in the underground now. They fear that Meredith's going mad. She has been making mages tranquil who passed their harrowing but who dare defy her. Some say she is just as bad as Alrik."

Aria and Fenris shared a worried look and their gazes both flicked to where Tristan sat in his high chair, sampling some of Orana's fantastic sweet bread. A rebellion would plunge the city into civil war. Bethany would likely be involved and would be used as a pawn to control Aria. And it would likely hit Hightown; placing Tristan in grave danger. Aria tore her gaze from her beautiful son and looked at Varric.

"As long as Meredith still follows Elthina's command, we will be fine," Aria said, though her voice wasn't as full of confidence as she had intended.

"I hope you're right, Birdie," Varric dubiously stated, sending a forkful of pheasant into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully and watched the rest of the companions, his eyes keen for details.

"The guard stands with Hawke," Donnic stated, and Aveline nodded in agreement. "You've shown time and again that you've got this city's best interests at heart, and it obviously hasn't gone unnoticed."

"I don't want the title. I don't want to lead," Aria softly stated, stabbing half-heartedly at the greens on her plate. She reached for the tankard of mead and drank deeply.

"But that's why you'd be good at it, Hawke," Aveline pressed. "You already have the nobility and the guard's backing. From what I've heard, the Grand Cleric would also be agreeable to the idea. And you'd no doubt have the mages as well."

"I said no, Aveline. Look at what happened to Dumar. They used his son as a catspaw and look what happened. If I didn't have a family, I'd consider it. But I'm quite content to just keep the status quo as far as my position in this city goes," Aria said with a note of finality. "Plus, you're forgetting—Meredith has my sister. There's no telling what she would do to leverage me were I to take on the position, and she'd undoubtedly harm Bethany any chance she got, or worse—drag Tristan into it. No more talk of this. I forbid it. Now, how are Izzy and Alistair doing? And Teyrn Cousland?"

Aveline shook her head in frustration but remained silent. Donnic answered the questions for her. "They're all doing quite well. Teyrn Cousland regaled us with the story of his daring and rather lucky escape from the attack Arl Howe made on his estate at the beginning of the Blight. Seems the family was able to pass for refugees from the Wilds and they hid in Orzammar until King Alistair finished dealing with Loghain. Apparently, he had been gravely wounded, but met a healer on the road who saved his life. King Endrin kept them at one of his topside estates and no one was any the wiser."

"I had never heard that," Aria said, intrigued. "Didn't he lose a son to Howe's treachery?"

"Indeed he did," Donnic gravely stated, washing down his cut of beef with a draught of mead. "His second oldest."

"And what of Alistair and Izzy?" Aria pressed.

Aveline's frustrated ire with Hawke had subsided enough. "They were lovely! Gave us an update on Flemeth. Apparently she was sighted in Orlais."

"That witch gets around," Fenris tersely commented.

"Asha'bellanar could be anywhere, at any time," Merrill said, shivering and looking around the room as if afraid the mere spoken name of the witch could summon her.

"Izzy is quite taken with you, Hawke," Donnic said, a playful smile on his lips. "And she said that she fully expects you and Fenris to bring Tristan to them soon."

Aria and Fenris both smiled at this. "Izzy is a wonderful person," Aria chimed.

"We sparred with their guard. Not as disciplined as my guard, but a few of their rogues had some interesting and familiar tricks," Aveline playfully stated, the accusation blatantly leveled at Aria.

"What can I say? When you're good, you're emulated," Aria laughed.

"Ah, Izzy," Isabela wistfully stated. "She's a natural I taught her to duel."

"She said as much," Donnic chuckled.

"Merrill—she asked after you as well," Aveline said then, turning her gaze to the elf.

"Oh? I'm surprised—we didn't get on well," Merrill bitterly replied, taking a long drink of the mead in front of her.

"She actually had a favor to ask," Aveline continued, ignoring the elf's sudden turn of temper.

"Of course," Merrill stated dryly.

"She was asking about an artifact the Keeper had, one she had used while staving off the taint before Izzy was committed to the Wardens. Do you know if the Keeper has it?" Aveline plunged on.

"The Keeper has it," Merrill tersely said.

"Is there any way you could acquire it and send it to Izzy? She'd really like if you brought it in person," Aveline diplomatically stated, seeming to finally pick up on the mage's obvious discomfort.

"I don't know where the clan is. They've likely moved on by now. I can try and find out, but I highly doubt the Keeper would give it to me. It is more likely that Hawke could retrieve it," Merrill snapped. She sat very straight in her seat and had placed her hands in her lap, her gaze balefully cast on her plate. "If you'll excuse me, I've lost my appetite."

"Merrill, no, please—stay," Aria protested, casting a glare at Aveline for her imprudence. Merrill didn't get testy about much but everyone supposedly knew not to talk about the clan around her anymore as it was quite the sore spot. And mentioning the acquisition of artifacts when it was well known that Hawke had kept the arulin'holm from Merrill... Well it was almost mean.

"Thank you for the lovely dinner, Hawke. As always, you're a gracious host. But I really must be going," Merrill mechanically dismissed Hawke's plea. She nodded to everyone and took her leave out the back entrance that led to Darktown.

Aria sighed. "Aveline... You know she hates talking about the clan."

"I was asked a favor and I delivered," Aveline succinctly replied.

"Yes but sometimes, you lack tact. If you're unsure, please ask me and I'll gladly deal with Merrill," Aria kindly stated.

Aveline took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Of course, Aria. I'll apologize to her when I go on patrol in the morning."

It was a surprising olive branch and Aria was at first quite unsure what to make of it. Aveline never deferred to Hawke. Indeed, she often took great pleasure in ordering her around, heaping responsibility on her, and chastising her for doing too little. Aria decided to take her own advice and employ tact—and not talk about the issue any further this evening.

"So," Varric interjected, seeking to reset the tone of the evening. "Who's up for Wicked Grace?"

"Can't. Promised," Donnic ruefully stated.

"Oh one game night won't hurt, I suppose. As long as it's here and not at the bloody Hanged Man," Aveline conceded.

"I think the Void just froze over," Aria stifled a cough and took a drink of her mead. Varric and Fenris regarded the red-headed woman in stark disbelief.

"I've decided that perhaps I would be happier myself if I didn't... If I didn't try to control everything. And if something relatively harmless makes Donnic happy, well, why should I interfere?" Aveline reasonably stated.

"My, my. Your time in Ferelden has brought about quite the change in attitude. I'm not complaining. I think you will find you will be much happier, yourself," Aria agreed.

"Here, here!" Varric stated, lifting his glass in toast.

They all lifted their glasses and moved together to clink the rims. They each drank heartily and Orana and Bodahn cleared the dinner plates to make way for dessert. Orana had made her signature decadent chocolate cake, of which Isabela was quite fond. After they'd finished that, Varric, Fenris, Isabela, Donnic, Anders, and Aria retreated to the study for the game while Orana took Tristan to bed. He had zonked out at the end of dinner with a full belly. Aveline indicated that she was exhausted and she headed to the barracks after imparting a quite lengthy and uncharacteristically heated kiss on her husband.

"Well, well," Isabela purred once the captain was gone. "Seems like that time away was just what the big girl needed."

"We both did. It was an excellent suggestion, Hawke," Donnic agreed as he dealt the first hand. Aria held up her hand in polite refusal when he attempted to deal her in. She didn't like to play—she just liked to watch.

"Sometimes you just need to... Wipe the slate," Aria replied, getting up to fetch a couple bottles of bourbon from the liquor shelf. She looked back at the party, gesturing to the liquor cabinet to see if anyone else wanted anything different.

Isabela watched her and said, "That Antivan wine, if you please, Aria."

Aria obliged and fetched a wine glass along with the rocks. She poured everyone a round and slid their glasses to them, except for Isabela's. She leaned across the table and daintily handed the long-stemmed, gold-rimmed glass to her. Isabela took an appreciative sip.

"Mmm, thanks, Hawke."

"Quite welcome," Aria good-naturedly replied. Varric tipped his glass at Hawke before he took a sip and Fenris, Donnic, and Anders followed suit.

"So, do you think those virility potions worked?" Anders queried, now that they were in less than polite company. It was Anders's first attempt at those particular types of potions and he had vested interest in their effectiveness.

"We'll see. I certainly feel more...potent, if I may be so bold," Donnic laughed, arranging the cards in his hand. He leaned back when he caught Isabela stretching and sneakily trying to catch a glimpse of his cards. She smiled wickedly at him and winked.

"I'm surprised Hawke isn't on baby number two," Isabela chimed in, casting a saucy glance at Fenris. It was her turn to lead in the game so she tossed down a card.

Anders grumbled from next to her and tossed a lower card. Varric also tossed a low card, as did Fenris. Donnic tossed the high card and took the round. He led with a low card, and Varric took the next round before anyone said anything else.

"I don't think now would be a good time to get pregnant. At least not for me, anyway," Aria said from her seat on the dais. She finished her bourbon and poured a glass of the same wine Isabela had preferred, then returned to the dais.

"So you've been... Taking precautionary measures?" Donnic asked.

"Yes. Anders is good at providing fertility and non-fertility when needed," Aria laughed.

"I don't know if I want her to have a second child," Fenris agreed. "Seeing the pain she went through with Tristan... It was almost more than I could bear." He took the round and led with a high card.

"Sod it," Varric snarled, tossing out a low card and drawing from the pile.

"I agree with them. With tensions being what they are, I don't think anyone in Kirkwall should be conceiving. With of course, the exception of you and Aveline," Anders stated, throwing a higher card than Fenris's and taking the hand. He led with a low card and drew.

"No offense taken," Donnic kindly said. "We've been trying for so long, and I have a feeling it would get Aveline to stop being so damned... Involved in everything. She takes everything so personally. But she's been working really hard on her tendency to be a control freak. It's been... Much nicer. I think she means it when she says she's happier."

"I can definitely see a difference already," Aria said. "She even looks younger. What a difference the week off made!"

"It was nice," Donnic agreed. "She was... A lot happier in Denerim than I've ever seen her in Kirkwall. I'm thinking that if things do in fact go to pot here, we'll likely leave. If the templars and mages go to war, it'll be the end of Kirkwall anyway."

Anders's expression grew dark at this and he looked surreptitiously between Aria and Fenris. Isabela openly observed Anders's mood change and used it to her advantage. She took the hand while he was distracted.

"I don't want to have to start all over again," Aria softly stated, more to herself than anyone else.

"But if you do have to, you'll be far better off than the last time," Anders helpfully commented.

"This is true. But I worked so hard for this—this place, this corner of this city. It meant so much to mother. It's...the last home my family has left."

"It is just a place," Fenris stated, agreeing with Anders. "And I've often wanted to leave, myself. Especially now that the templars are circling Tristan like buzzards waiting for the kill."

"What?!" Donnic, Anders, and Isabela said in unison.

"Hawke, is he telling the truth?" Varric asked, looking between Fenris and Aria.

"He is. Ser Cullen was instructed to make the threat this past week," Aria confided, not wanting them to blame the messenger—she was certain Cullen hadn't enjoyed delivering the threat. "But I don't want that to be common knowledge. There are nobles who do support Meredith, and they will use any excuse to give her leverage. If Tristan so much as waves a hand and a leaf moves, it could be enough reason for them to take him."

"Over my cold, dead tits!" Isabela snapped.

"My sentiments exactly," Aria venomously agreed.

"Hawke, that's serious," Varric needlessly stated, dealing the next round. Nobody bothered to look at their cards.

"You think we don't know?" Fenris retorted, draining his bourbon from the rock glass. He looked to Aria, who grabbed the glass and refilled it. She topped off the rest of the bourbon glasses as well, and refilled both her and Isabela's wine glasses.

"May I relay that to Aveline? Perhaps the guard could help," Donnic asked, his expression serious as well.

"Yes," Aria simply stated. "We would greatly appreciate that."

"In the meantime, I would be careful taking him out in public," Varric said. "Too many sharks circling, and there's blood in the water."

"What if you sent him away?" Anders quietly asked, keeping his eyes down for the moment while Aria and Fenris contemplated the question.

"No!" Fenris spat. "He stays with us! There's no safer place for him-"

"Think about it, Fenris," Anders interrupted. "This city is on the verge of civil war—one which could be potentially devastating. You don't know when it will happen, you don't know how it will happen. It could happen tomorrow, and it could mean all of our lives get taken in one fell swoop. But if you sent him away... He could be leagues away from the danger and no one would be any the wiser."

"What are you talking about?" Aria asked, horrified.

"Spill, Blondie," Varric darkly stated.

Donnic and Isabela leaned forward, their expressions interested and grave.

Anders continued, "We could stage an accident. Make the city think that something horrible happened to him and he is gone. Meanwhile, stage a mock funeral and grieve. Tristan is sent far away, well out of harm. You have many allies abroad who I'm no doubt certain would gladly keep him safe."

"No," Aria and Fenris said in unison. Tears formed in the corners of Aria's eyes and her heart raced at the thought of her son being gone from her. Fenris stood and went to her, cradling her to him on the dais while he glared at Anders.

"Actually, Birdie, Elf—I think Blondie's got a point," Varric haltingly said. "When the shit gets real here, and it will, ooooh, it will—do you really want him here for it? And you're gonna need to get Sunshine out. How are you going to be able to save her when you're worried about a helpless baby?"

Fenris and Aria looked at Varric, then at each other. Aria was still fighting it, but she could see Fenris considering it. He had been giving the child's plight a lot of thought, worried about his child's fate if he was in fact a mage. He had a 50% chance at being one, given his parentage. And also, given the current political climate in this city... The Gallows was no place for a baby, mage or otherwise. The rumors coming out about how Meredith was pressing the mages and Orsino's stunt a few days ago... Fenris hating being afraid, and he was scared to death for his son.

"I think you should consider it, too," Donnic quietly agreed.

Aria looked to Isabela, who was the only one yet to weigh in. She nodded solemnly at the other rogue and took a drink.

"How could we do that? If Meredith ever suspected it, she'd have scouts out looking for him in no time," Aria gushed. "Her paranoia would peak, and she'd come after us. She'd find a way to implicate us in something, and it'd be our heads."

"Not if Aveline and I could help it," Donnic offered.

"Blondie, I take it you had a plan?" Varric said, turning abruptly to the mage.

"It was just a thought I had. I haven't thought of anything beyond it, no."

Varric turned to Fenris and Aria. "Let me see what I can work out. Get back to me tomorrow evening and I'll have a plan."

Aria and Fenris both nodded and Fenris returned to his seat at the table. Aria half-heartedly listened while they went back to bantering and bickering over the game for the next hour or so. She watched the flames in the hearth while refilling her wine glass several times, contemplating a life without Tristan, thinking of ways to make him safe, either with or without her and Fenris. She could send him to King Alistair. He'd no doubt be safe there, but it would be obvious when a baby disappeared from Kirkwall and suddenly the King has a baby in his possession, the exact same age and description. If anyone disappeared from their normal party, it would raise suspicion as well. So she couldn't send away Isabela with her son. That would be too obvious. Aria was at a loss and hoped that Varric would have an answer.

Aria was vaguely aware of Donnic and Varric leaving when Isabela joined her on the dais and Fenris went up to check on Tristan. Anders left out the back way to Darktown without a word to Aria, and she hadn't seen him leave. It kind of hurt her feelings.

"I know... It must hurt to think about," Isabela softly said, pouring more wine into Aria's glass and refilling her own.

"I don't know if I can do it. I've already lost one son. I can't lose another. But... You're all right. If he stays, with things sliding into the Void the way they are here, and the threats being cautiously made..." She swallowed the sob that threatened to rise in her throat with a wash of wine.

" Varric will figure it out. It's what he does," Isabela confidently stated, offering the rim of her glass to Aria in toast.

Aria clinked her rim against it and took another drink. She was beginning to feel tired, heavy, and dizzy from all the wine she'd consumed this evening. Isabela draped her arm over the other rogue's shoulders and squeezed gently, resting her head just under Aria's chin, her other hand holding the wine glass rested easily in her lap.

"What times to be alive," the former ship captain ruefully stated.

"What times indeed," Aria agreed, hugging Isabela back.

They sat in silence that way for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts and each thankful for the presence of the other.

"I never thought I'd have a friend like you, Hawke," Isabela quietly stated, sitting back upright to look into Aria's eyes.

"Nor I you."

"If you were to ask me to take him and disappear, I'd gladly do it. And I'd happily protect him until you and Fenris could claim him again. I just want you to know that," Isabela somberly said.

"I believe you would. And I thank you. Hopefully it will not come to that," Aria replied, hugging the other rogue again.

Isabela returned the hug, then heroically drained the remaining wine in her glass. "Well, my friend, it is off to bed for me."

They helped each other stand and embraced again as Fenris came back into the room.

"Good night, Aria. We'll figure this out."

"Good night, Isabela. Be safe on your way home."

Isabela leaned forward and kissed Aria's cheek. She hugged Fenris before she departed and Aria heard Bodahn slide the siege bar into place after the other rogue. Aria and Fenris made their way up to their chambers, Fenris helping steady Aria as the effects of her night's drinking caught up to her. Bodahn extinguished the lamps after them and bade them good night.

Once inside their room, Aria saw that Fenris had prepared a bath. He'd used one of her favorite scents in the thick foam—from the exotic, cool, sweet smelling flowers he'd left for Bethany to craft into soaps for her, what felt like eons ago. He wordlessly undressed her, his hands gentle, his movements slow, loving, lavishing praise upon her skin with every touch. When she stood naked before him, he guided her hands in removing his clothes, and her fingers deftly undid the buttons. She felt a thrill take her pulse every time their skin touched and warmth pooled in her abdomen as her pulse quickened. She wanted desperately to lose herself in him, to have him get lost in her. They could take each other's pain away with the caress of fingers on bare skin, lips conversing without uttering words.

They silently slipped into the tub together, Fenris's hands gently undoing her hair, his fingers deftly combing through any knots that had formed in the length of her tresses. He leaned forward and kissed her sweetly, pulling her body against his. When he pulled away, Aria saw the shimmer of tears in his jewel-like eyes, adding an unnatural sparkle to them in the low lamp light. He was hurting and she knew she could take it away. She had to—it was her duty, as soulmate, as lover.

She slid her hands up his chest, fingers tracing the lyrium brands on his skin all the way to his lips, marveling for the hundred-thousandth time at the beauty of them. Light swirled in markings as if they were living beings, and warmth poured from his body as he allowed her touch to chase the day's sorrow away. His breathing grew heavier as her hands slipped back down his neck, his chest, over his belly, and finally between his thighs. The evidence of his desire was there, already hard. He whimpered softly when she closed her fingers around him and his head lolled back against the edge of the tub, his eyes heavily lidded. His hips bucked slightly as she gently but firmly gripped him, stroking a deep, slow rhythm. His breath hissed between his teeth and after a moment, his own hands sought to incite her. Aria gasped when his hand found the inside of her thighs and his fingers stroked the hot knot of nerves nestled there.

Aria moved then, straddling his hips and seizing his mouth with hers. He groaned, a guttural, feral sound, when she sheathed him inside her, the movement deep and deliberate. His fingers dug into her hips, silently begging her to slow down. She obeyed, sliding her body against his in this lethargic, erotic dance.

Fenris gave himself to her. He let her steal the hurt from him with every move of her hips, every kiss she showered on his face, his lips, his neck. Her touch was everywhere, she surrounded him. He forced every thought, every worry, every vexation from his mind and just felt. He existed purely in a plane of tactile bliss, allowing her to be the aggressor, with little input from him, except to prolong this state. Aria responded as his touch commanded. Slowing the pace, driving the world away and taking its place entirely. Her teeth grazed his ear lobe and he felt her tighten hard around him when he moaned softly in response, each of their actions further inciting the other. At this rate, this would be over far too quickly. Fenris gently pushed her back, his heart nearly breaking as her body released his. She whimpered in protest and he fought to open his eyes.

Aria watched, hungrily, as he fetched the cloth draped over the side of the tub. He dispensed some of the soap into it and worked it into a lather. She smiled provocatively as he began to run the soapy cloth over her body, crushing her to him while he reached around and washed her back, their lips hungrily locked. He teased her breasts as he ran the cloth over the front of her body, and when he inexorably worked his way down to her legs, he brazenly ignored the blissful spot between her thighs and lifted her leg over the crook of his elbow, drawing the cloth down to her foot, then repeating the movement with the other leg.

When he had finished, he handed the cloth to her, neither one still hadn't uttered an actual word since they'd entered the room. Aria took it and mimicked what he had done to her, teasing him, losing herself in the bliss she incited within him. They rinsed each other with the cloth in the same fashion, and when done, Aria tossed the cloth out of reach to the floor. Fenris guided her hips over his again and swore under his breath as he entered her once more, his arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace.

Aria softly cried out against his shoulder as she took him again, her teeth finding gentle purchase in his flesh. His guttural moan spurred her into action and he forced her to go slowly. She sought his mouth with hers and they engaged in fierce liplock, battling each other. She wanted release, he wanted it to be slow. Their battle of wills finally fused and the blissful, beautiful, violent climax slammed into both of them, leaving them trembling and breathless, clinging haplessly to one another in its wake.

"I love you," Fenris whispered at last, when he could breathe normally again.

"I love you," Aria softly replied, her head on his chest, listening to the hammering of his wonderful heart.

They stayed that way for several moments, bathing in the aftermath, loathe to leave this secret, sacred place. Only when Aria involuntarily shivered from the rapid cooling of the water did they move. Fenris lifted her from the tub and they wrapped each other in an overly large bath sheet, briskly drying each other off.

They slipped under the luxurious covers once Aria had checked on Tristan one last time. Fenris drew her to him, neither one of them bothering to don their night clothes. Their hands explored each other in lazy, loving motions and when Fenris sought to incite her again, his fingers teasing between her thighs, Aria decided it was her turn to let him drive the demons away.

They made love well into the night, a rare occasion, even for them. And at last, when their desire for the other was finally sated, they slept deeply, keeping the danger out of their minds and at bay at least until the next Maker-forsaken day.