Chapter SIXTY-TWO
A/N: Lyric credits to Shawn Mullins, "Rock-a-bye"
Aria and Isabela sat together at the bar, finishing tankards of mead. Aria swiped at her upper lip, whisking away the foam and sighing.
"Alright, Isabela. What is it you had to show me?" she said, turning to the dusky rogue.
"Well, it's going to take most of the afternoon and some of the evening. Are you up for that?" Isabela's expression was earnest and pleading. She wouldn't be taking no for an answer, even if it meant she had to beg. Her pride was something she didn't easily part with in cases not involving lusty conquests—and the fact that she was willing to let go of it to have Aria's presence for the day alerted Aria to the severity of the situation. Whatever it was, it was important to Isabela. For all the pirate's flaws, Aria still loved her dearly.
"Fenris has Tristan. He and Varric are... Drafting a will," Aria replied, checking her daggers and adjusting her bracers. She hailed Corff and he immediately strode over. "Corff, be a dear and send another round up to Varric's, would you? Oh—and have Norah give Varric and Fenris a message."
"Sure thing, Hawke. What's the message?" he asked, producing a small pad of parchment and a charcoal implement. He looked expectantly at Hawke, waiting.
"Tell him that I've gone to run some important errands with Isabela to the Coast and we'll be back for supper," Aria said, placing a sovereign on the bar and sliding it to him for his trouble. She waited while he finished scribbling and he nodded when he was done.
Aria and Isabela left together, heading out toward the Wounded Coast. Isabela was practically skipping as they went, her hazel eyes sparkling with merriment. Her mirth was infectious and Aria couldn't help giggling at the rogue's antics.
"Are you going to tell me what this is all about, or make me guess?" Aria queried after they'd cleared the gates and were well up the path. They passed one of Aveline's patrols on the way, hailing the guards merrily.
"You'll never guess. But I'll have you try anyway," Isabela chortled, squealing and clapping her hands. "Give us a guess."
Aria sighed. "You met someone and want me to meet him—or her—and give you my blessing?"
Isabela arched an eyebrow. "That's actually not far off, but no."
"Hmm," Aria murmured. "You stole another ancient, culturally important artifact, this time from the Tevinters?"
Isabela bit her lip and giggled, dancing ahead a few paces and spinning. "No, no treachery this time. No theft."
"You freed another boatload of slaves and now we've got to get them out of Kirkwall?" Aria asked, jogging to catch up again.
"Again, very close, but not quite," Isabela laughed, grabbing Aria's hand and dragging her at a frenetic pace up the next rise in the trail. They took an offshoot that brought them closer to the sea.
"How... You're eloping with a freed slave!" Aria cried, almost losing her footing when Isabela abruptly stopped at the bottom of the next hill.
"Oh no. I'm not about copying the exploits of others for attention," Isabela quipped good-naturedly. "Besides, you've already done that."
"We didn't elope. We were married, right in the middle of Lowtown, for everyone to witness," Aria snarled, laughter lacing her undertone. "What—what are you doing?" Her voice went up an octave in alarm as the other rogue produced a scarf and held it out.
"It's a surprise," Isabela squealed. "Now c'mere. Don't want you ruining it."
Before Aria could respond, Isabela darted behind her and had the scarf over her eyes. She tied it with the easy mastery of one much used to making quick knots, and caught up Aria's hand in hers once more.
"Isabela-" Aria started to protest.
"Shhh, Aria. Just step up. You saw the incline. I'll guide you," Isabela interrupted, excitement bubbling through her voice.
Aria stumbled and Isabela steadied her. They continued on for several minutes up the incline and down the other side. Isabela's excitement was so potent, Aria could almost feel it as a buzzing hum of electricity in the pirate's touch. She led Aria on for a few more moments until Aria could feel the spray of the sea on her face and hear the crashing of waves against the Wounded Coast's rocky shores directly in front of her.
"I can't wait to show you. You're going to just... Oh, I've been dying to share this but couldn't until now," Isabela gushed as they went on.
"This had better be good," Aria replied. "I haven't ever even let Fenris blindfold me before."
"I won't tell if you won't," Isabela chortled.
Isabela stopped abruptly then, and whatever retort Aria had intended to make died on her lips. Isabela moved behind her friend and deftly untied the knot. She still held the scarf in front of Aria's eyes for a moment, her voice an exhilarated whisper at Aria's ear.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Don't keep us in suspense," Aria giggled, lifting a foot when it suddenly grew cool, and she realized they were standing at the edge of the water.
Isabela tore the blindfold away and Aria blinked to refocus her eyes. Before them was the Waking Sea, its waves calmly lapping and sparkling like green, blue, and white crystal under the midday sun. But that was not what Isabela had wanted to show her. Before them, about a hundred yards out, was a beautiful clipper ship. It was anchored in a deep cove, sheltering it from view and close enough to Kirkwall that it could unload, but wouldn't have to declare to the Harbor Master. A pirate's cove. A smuggler's cove.
Aria gasped at the sight, stumbling forward a few paces into the surf as if drawn to the ship. Its bow was adorned with the head of a screaming bird of prey, its wings folded back on either side of the ship in ornately carved beauty. The ship was painted black, its heavily lacquered points glinting in the sunlight. Its sails were currently down and Aria found herself yearning to know their color and what emblem might fly upon them. Several men scurried about the decks.
"I can't... Is this... But how... I..." Aria stuttered, turning back to Isabela for an explanation, her words currently failing her.
"I commissioned her build over a year ago. She arrived last week. She hasn't made her maiden voyage yet, however I was hoping that voyage could be a freedom run," Isabela softly stated, slipping her arm through Aria's and leading her to the little rowboat that was anchored about twenty feet from them.
"What's her name?" Aria breathlessly asked as she sat in the boat and Isabela pushed it further off into the surf. They both took up oars once Isabela had vaulted herself in.
"She hasn't got one yet. I was... I was saving that honour for you," Isabela smiled, grunting as they rowed together towards the ship. She adjusted the rudder and Aria kept rowing while she steered.
"Oh, I don't know if that's a good idea," Aria said after a few moments, breathing heavily. She could fight all day but... Rowing a boat against strong currents was a whole together different type of workout. Now she understood why Isabela's upper body was so magnificent. She made a note to make this more of a routine for herself.
"She'll tell you, you just have to listen," Isabela replied, her expression serene. "Wait until we're aboard."
It was quite the experience to see the woman in her element. She shifted from the cocky, sharp-tongued, lusty temptress into a confident, relaxed, noble commander as soon as her feet hit the water. Aria smiled at this and said no more, needing her breath to finish rowing them out to the new ship.
After about twenty minutes, they bumped up against the clipper and Isabela hailed one of the crew members. They lowered ropes which Isabela tied to each end, and the small craft was hauled aboard the larger. Isabela helped Aria out of the rowboat and onto the ship's decks. Aria made to step out with her left foot, but Isabela swatted her thigh.
"Always board with your right foot first," she said, and Aria did as she was bid. "Come on, let's give you the tour," Isabela excitedly giggled, hauling Aria aft towards the bridge. A middle-aged man stood at the wheel and bowed theatrically as Isabela approached. She returned the bow and gestured the man over. He secured the wheel with a rope and bounded over to them.
"Aria, meet my new first mate, Alifair Rossleigh. Ali, this is the Champion of Kirkwall, Aria Hawke," Isabela introduced them.
Aria gripped forearms with the sailor, nearly losing her footing as the ship listed with the gentle rolling waves in the cove. Alifair steadied her, a toothy grin flashing two gold teeth lighting his lips. Aria laughed and thanked him for keeping her standing.
"Hasn't got sealegs yet, eh, Cap'n?" Alifair commented, handing Aria to Isabela.
"She'll learn quickly," Isabela retorted, leading Aria to the stairs to the port side of the bridge.
"What was your last ship's name?" Aria asked as they made their way across the main deck.
"The Siren's Call. She was a beauty. Much like this one," Isabela answered, checking the rigging on one of the three main masts. She smiled at the deckhand that came up then and complimented him on his work.
"What happened? Truly?" Aria queried. They continued to the next mast, Isabela inspecting it with a knowledgeable eye.
Isabela sighed. "I made some bad decisions. She wouldn't have gone down otherwise. But it's bad luck to talk of such things while aboard. Best save those questions for the Hanged Man, eh?"
Aria nodded and followed Isabela around the top deck of the ship. Isabela pointed out the fine craftsmanship of the masts and sails, explaining the rigging, and introducing Aria to the rest of the crew. While the sails were currently stowed, Isabela said they were a fine cream color and imbued with lyrium for protection. Aria inspected the fine falcon head that served as the ship's prow once they reached the bow. The feathers on the wings that wrapped back around the bow were finely carved in painstaking detail. Aria stood there a moment, her head resting against the crest of the starboard wing, listening to the soft crash of the waves. She thought about what Isabela had said about naming the ship and decided to take the advice literally. She listened. Hard.
When they returned the to bridge, they descended the stairs on the starboard side together into a hall. At the end of the hallway closest to them stood an ornate ebony door with gold hinges and a gold door handle. A golden plate rested at its center, about two feet from the top. In scrawling, pretty letters it read "Captain".
Isabela shouldered the door open after using an ornate gold key to unlock it. They went in together. At the center of the captain's cabin was a large table, secured to the deck by ornate cast iron manacles. In the center of that, a topographical map of Thedas was painstakingly carved in ebony. Rich red and purple tapestries hung from the cabin's numerous stained-glass windows. The polished hardwood floor was lacquered in onyx, the same as the rest of the ship. A cast-iron stove was mounted on black stones near the opulent ebony four-poster bed that was secured to the port side wall. Beneath the stove was a cast iron tray with elevated sides to collect any errant coals that may fall.
"What do you think of her?" Isabela asked as she snatched a decanter full of amber liquid from one of the cupboards. She grabbed two rock glasses and poured a drink for each of them.
"She's absolutely stunning," Aria breathed, accepting the drink with a polite bow of her head.
"Isn't she?" Isabela wistfully sighed, looking about the cabin. "Has she told you her name?"
"The Siren's Return," Aria whispered after a few silent moments, sipping the bourbon from her glass.
At this, Isabela's face split in a wide, toothy grin. She laughed and downed her entire drink, wincing as the burn hit her throat. Aria returned the grin. Isabela's former ship had been the Siren's Call. Being as the high-seas temptress was back at it now, it only seemed to fit. That, and knowing how superstitious sailors were, a ship with "Return" in its name might always make it back to safe harbor.
They finished their drinks and departed the ship, making their way quickly back to shore in the little rowboat. Aria stopped at the top of the first rise they climbed on their way back to Kirkwall and looked back at the marvelous ship. It gently rocked in the cove, a glittering onyx gem in the wash of sapphire around it. A sadness hit her then. Isabela was a Captain again—which meant she wouldn't be staying in Kirkwall for much longer. She turned and found the rogue watching her, her chameleon-esque eyes unnaturally bright.
"Aria, I don't want to go, but..."
Aria smiled and wrapped her arm around the pirate's shoulders, leading the way back to Kirkwall. "Don't. You have your reasons. You're happiest out there. And it's high time you returned."
They traveled in companionable silence the rest of the way, arm in arm. Aria loved Isabela like a sister. She trusted her. She knew her. She was the closest friend Aria had in Kirkwall and she had no doubt that the friendship they had would span the length of their lives. The sheer absurdity that the Champion of Kirkwall, an upstanding, morally superior title, was so deeply and personally connected with the most dangerous female blackguard of the sea...
"What?" Isabela laughed at the expression on Aria's face.
Aria giggled. "We're a case study in the theory of opposites attracting."
"What do you mean?" the Captain asked.
"I'm the Champion. You're a notorious lawbreaker. The irony..."
At this, Isabela laughed heartily. "I think it's because we both just love irony."
They had reached the gates then and a woman's voice called from behind them. "Cousin! Hold, Cousin! Wait for me!"
Aria turned and saw Charade jogging up the path. Isabela regarded the woman suspiciously and looked to Aria.
"It's alright," Aria chuckled. "Put your dagger away. She really is my cousin, and she is welcome."
Isabela relaxed at this and her hand came away from the hilt of the dagger she had sheathed at her waist. They waited for the woman to catch up and went into the city together.
The air in the Hanged Man was stale and heavy as Aria sat on the dais in Varric's room. Tristan crawled around on the thick bear skin rug before her, playing with his many toys that maintained a permanent residence in the room. Varric had spoiled him. Fenris and Varric sat at the big oaken table in the center of the suite's main room, along with Donnic, Aveline, Anders, Merrill, Charade, and Isabela. Tankards and shot glasses littered the table as they all pored over maps, letters, manifests, and books. They'd all been at it for the better part of two hours.
"Maybe we could send him to the Dalish," Merrill was saying. "He's half elf. The Keeper might go for it, especially for Hawke."
"No," Aria curtly replied, a little more tersely than she had intended. "I'm sorry—I just... I don't think the Dales would accept him. No matter his parentage," Aria amended.
"He would be a pariah, this is true," Merrill said, ignoring the bite Aria's tone previously took.
"He'll be a pariah no matter where he goes if he goes without his parents," Anders sourly stated.
"You were the one that suggested it, Blondie," Varric almost sing-songed, pulling out another map.
"And tell me that it isn't true?" Anders countered.
"I still think you should get him smuggled to King Alistair. Or Teyrn Cousland," Aveline said, taking the map Varric had just grabbed as he proffered it.
"Yes, so all of Ferelden notices the sudden appearance of an obviously half-elven child," Fenris sarcastically replied.
"Cousland is no stranger to having to hide identities," Donnic helpfully stated, his arm going around his wife's shoulders in support.
"That is true," Aria chimed from the dais, redirecting Tristan away from the hearth. The child was drawn to fire and it worried her.
"Anywhere he goes in Thedas, people will know who he is. We just need... To buy some time," Aveline growled.
"And how would we even get him anywhere? A baby is going to draw attention. Ship, cart, on foot," Aria groused, finally resorting to picking up the tyke and holding him in her arms. She rocked him back and forth and he grabbed at her hair. He cooed and giggled when she leaned down to blow raspberries on his tummy.
"What if I told you I'd been saving up... And there's a ship in the harbour right now crewed by loyalists with wicked skill and tight lips?" Isabela said, having been simply observing the conversation.
They all turned to her in stunned silence. All except for Aria. She'd been there for the christening last week. Isabela had sworn her to secrecy on the matter. Aria had kept it.
"You have a ship? And you're still here?" Aveline incredulously asked.
"I've made a great many friends in this port and you all need me, admit it. It's nothing fancy, but it's well-built and it's fast," Isabela relayed. "The crew is loyal to me, and I am loyal to you. They'll do it and no one will know."
Varric laughed at this. "Well, there's the first part of your transport problem solved. But what about the next port? We can't be assured of loyalty anywhere else."
"We don't even have a timeline," Aria continued, mulling the possibility of her son at sea with Isabela for any amount of time. "There's going to be a civil war. We know this. Eventually Meredith is going to stop heeding the commands of the Grand Cleric, or Orsino is going to rally the mages. But we don't know when, and we don't know any of the circumstances that will surround it... " She handed Tristan to Fenris as the boy was reaching out for him.
"It will happen soon," Anders quietly stated. "Very soon. And you'll need to get him out of here, I'd say, within the next full cycle of the moon."
They all turned to him and Aria had a sinking feeling in her stomach.
"How do you know?" she icily asked, watching as he kept his eyes down, his staff spinning between his palms.
"Because I do, and you will not want him here when it happens. I can't... I can't give specifics, Aria. But I can tell you—the sooner he is gone from Kirkwall, the better off you all will be."
Aria and Fenris glared at him, the chill of the ferocity in their eyes could have very well lowered the temperature in the room a good ten degrees. Varric grunted and went back to looking at the map, as though a detail in an as yet untold story had just fallen into place. Merrill regarded Anders coldly, as did Isabela and Aveline.
"I agree that it will definitely be soon," Donnic said. "The templars are on edge. Knight-Captain Cullen has imparted that things are getting bad in the Circle, and that he doesn't entirely blame the mages. Coming from Cullen, who I've gotten to know rather well recently, that's a detail not to be carelessly overlooked."
Aveline and Aria nodded in unison, both familiar with the templar captain. Cullen wasn't prone to hyperbole and he was never dishonest. If he was worried... They all needed to be.
"And we need to get Bethany out, too. Maybe even at the same time," Aria mused aloud.
Varric grunted at this. "Sure, because smuggling a half-elf child celebrity was just too easy."
Aria glared at him but said nothing else. Isabela took a drink and slammed the empty tankard on the table.
"Two weeks," the dusky pirate enchantress stated firmly, wiping foam from her top lip. "We sail in two weeks. Now figure out where I'm going, Hawke. And start getting that baby ready."
"I'll take him," Charade interjected then, looking hopefully at her cousin. "He'll still be with family. Nobody knows me here. Nobody in Ferelden would know he wasn't mine. I could take him."
Aria looked to Fenris, whose head had snapped to her as soon as Charade stopped speaking. He nodded curtly. Aria turned back to Charade and nodded once in affirmation.
"We also have to come up with a plan to explain his sudden absence, before we can even get him out," Anders reasoned. "He can walk now, right?"
"Sometimes. He needs to hang on to things," Fenris answered the query. "Why?"
"We could stage a fall. Have someone waiting under the High Town bridge to catch him. I have women coming to my clinic constantly with ill babes who don't live. I could cast a glamour over one, make it look like him, hold a funeral, everything. All the while, Tristan will be safely on his way to Isabela's ship, and then out of Kirkwall," Anders said.
Aria fought the sudden urge to vomit and abruptly moved to stand next to the hearth, her back to the rest of them. Her head swam and her heart felt as though it were about to fly into a million pieces. She gripped the edge of the hearth to keep the sickening swoon from dropping her to her knees. Bile threatened to rise in her throat and she aggressively worked to keep it down.
"It's not perfect, but it could work," Varric stated after a moment of heavy silence.
Fenris held Tristan tighter and looked into his eyes. The tot seemed to sense that something serious was going on and he stared back at his father, his deep green eyes confused. He looked over at Aria, his silvery head shining in the low light of Varric's room, then back at Fenris, as if he suddenly understood what was going on. Tears formed in his eyes but he remained silent. So much like his mother, Fenris thought. Courage. Strength. Resolve. He was too young to understand but would stand up anyway.
"We'll do it," Aria said, her voice barely audible. She did not move from where she stood at the hearth. Fenris looked between Varric, Donnic, Charade, and Anders, then curtly nodded once.
"Two weeks from today, at dusk, you'll take a family stroll," Varric said, his tone that of a conspiratorial but somber plotter, "You'll allow Tristan to walk along the railing by himself. You'll try to catch him when he loses his balance, and he will fall into the rocky harbour below."
At this, Aria choked back a sob and Fenris held his son more tightly to him. Varric continued, nodding at Anders.
"Blondie, Rivaini, and Charade: You'll be below to catch him. Do whatever magic you have to do so that it looks to anyone who may be watching that the baby fell to his death. No one is to see you go under that bridge, and no one is to see you together prior to the incident. Leave the glamoured, unfortunate baby behind and leave no trace that you were there. Nothing, do you hear me? Not one shred of your presence. Not a hair, not a piece of cloth, not a footprint. No one in this Maker-damned city can even for an instant suspect that this is happening. Make sure there are witnesses to the baby's supposed death. Let someone other than one of us find him," Varric clearly stated each sentence, checking with everyone whose eyes met with his that they understood.
"Then, Isabela, you'll take the baby and Charade straight to your boat. Use a chameleon potion to hide you all. No one can see you board, not even your own crew. You have to be gone out of port within minutes of the accident, so that no one can suspect you of taking him. We'll have an elaborate good-bye party the day before all of this goes down, as you'll be off to your next adventure. You won't possibly know that Tristan tragically fell to his death until days after you make your next port; at which time, you'll make a grand showing of your grief and send your most heartfelt regards to Birdie and the elf," Varric continued at length, everyone's eyes riveted upon him.
"But where will they take him? Where is the next port?" Aria quietly asked, her back still to her friends.
They all looked between each other, trying to formulate the second leg of this elaborate scheme. This is where things got tricky. A baby showing up in Denerim days after the accident would be highly suspect. It was a well-known fact that Aria and Fenris were good friends of the King of Ferelden and his elven consort. But it was less well-known that they had amiable ties with Teyrn Cousland in Highever, and the Teyrn had himself kept his own identity hidden for well over a year before resurfacing. As Varric had said before, it wasn't perfect, but it could work. Knowing that they were running out of time, Aria was desperate.
"Highever. Charade and Tristan will go to Teyrn Cousland," Aria said, finally turning to face them. "It's our best option. From there, leave it to him. He has a good network of loyalists who can help him keep Charade and Tristan concealed and he'll be able to contact us on the sly as needed."
Varric snapped his fingers, then thumped his fist on the table, and took a hearty draught from his stein. "I like it. Good plan. If need be, I can also appeal to House Tethras relatives near Highever. Teyrn Cousland is in great favor with most of the dwarven nobility, and the dwarves keep secrets like nobody's business."
"I'll need you to contact Teyrn Cousland in secret," Aria said then, returning to her seat next to Fenris and Tristan at the table. "Let him know of our plans and get a response as soon as possible. Send word tonight. Discretion is of the utmost importance."
"Indeed madam, it is," Varric agreed.
"It is late," Fenris wearily stated, handing Tristan back to his mother.
The tension in the room seemed to have dissipated considerably and Tristan cooed merrily while he played with a toy in Aria's arms.
"Go home, Birdie, Elf. We'll hammer out the rest of the details here. The less you know, the easier it will be to sell," Varric kindly stated.
They all stood and saw the small family out, then retreated back to Varric's room to hash out the fine details. Aria and Fenris walked back to High Town together, the silence pregnant between them. They didn't dare speak about anything in their recent meeting, for fear of the wrong prying ears getting this vital information. Aria decided to lighten the mood and make it appear as if they were a happy, carefree family, just on an evening stroll after having had dinner with their dearest of friends.
"I did love Isabela's new dress. I should really take her up on her offer to help me spruce up my wardrobe," Aria nonchalantly said, working to change her body language and lighten her steps.
Fenris caught on almost immediately and offered his wife a smile. "Haven't you enough dresses already?" he playfully chided, taking Tristan from her and tossing him into the air. Tristan squealed in delight and started giggling merrily when his father caught him.
"Yes, but I'm supposed to be 'high-society' now," Aria mockingly said, using air quotes. Mocking nobility was something which Aria was known to often do.
"Pah," Fenris said, handing Tristan to her. "You and I both know that's never going to happen."
A few noblewomen walked past, having no doubt heard the exchange. They glared at Aria, but smiled sweetly at Tristan. Aria smiled just as sweetly back at them, then made gruesome faces to their backs as they walked away. Tristan giggled again at this and Aria continued the faces at her son.
Fenris winked at her, and they continued their stroll in relative happy silence, arm in arm until they reached the Hawke-Amell estate. Once inside, Orana took Tristan and prepared him for bed. Aria felt guilty, as she had wanted to do it herself, but the elven girl had often done this, and Aria did not want to alert her that something might be out of place. Once Orana had disappeared up the steps, Aria and Fenris went to Aria's private study and locked the door.
"I can't do this," Aria suddenly said, throwing herself into one of the overstuffed chairs. "What if he actually does die in the fall? What if we die in the fight? Who will take care of him?"
Fenris sighed and sat next to her. "We need to have faith and believe that this will work in order to pull it off."
"I know. But when has anything ever gone to plan for us? This is...this is our son, Fenris. Our only son. Besides you, he's my reason for existing. I can't bear the thought of losing him."
"Anders will never let anything happen to him. And neither will Isabela or Charade," Fenris placated her.
"I'm...surprised to hear you say that," Aria said, throwing a suspicious glance at him.
"Anders loves you"
Aria sat up straighter in the chair, discomforted by the statement. "He did once-"
"He never stopped loving you. He never will. The fact that he gave you a warning, and time to get out—that's testament to his feelings for you. Tristan is as much a part of you as he is a part of me. Moreso a part of you in Anders's eyes. And you forget about Justice. Justice would not allow a potential mage baby harmed or claimed by the Circle if he could help it. He would die before he let any real harm come to Tristan."
Aria hadn't thought of that. She tried not to think about Anders's feelings for her anymore, as there was nothing she could do about them. She couldn't love him, but she also couldn't hate him. He loved her, this she knew. Fenris was right in this. But would he truly keep Tristan safe? Did he not also resent the fact that Tristan should have been his, if circumstances had been different? She didn't have the faith that Fenris had in Anders. Maybe he knew something she didn't. Or maybe he was right.
"You're always the more logical one of us," Aria conceded.
"You doubt Anders's feelings?"
"No. I've just... Had too much happen to ever think I'll get to enjoy happiness for long. I'm being silly."
Fenris offered her his hand as he stood. "You're not. It's understandable to think that. But, I wish that you wouldn't. This will work. It has to."
Aria took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "It has to," she repeated as she followed him out of the study and up to their bed chambers.
Orana was rocking Tristan as he drank a bottle of goat's milk and honey, and he was nearly asleep. Orana checked his diaper before taking her leave. Aria took over the feeding and rocking, singing softly to the tot.
He grew up with parents who were stars Now he feels safe Everything's gonna be alright
In High Town's hills on the boulevard
His parents threw parties
And everyone was there
They had friends like the captain,
The pirate, and a prince with chest hair
In this estate in High Town
But from where I hold him in my arms
I can tell he doesn't want me to put him down
And just before he feels the urge again to cry
I offer him a lullaby, I sing
Rockabye
Rockabye
Everything's gonna be alright
Rockabye, Rockabye...
Rockabye...
She let the last note trail off as Tristan had fallen asleep, his bottle half-finished. She fought the tears in her eyes as she gingerly set the bottle in the little icebox they kept in the room and then gently placed him in his pram. They both kissed him good night. Fenris dimmed the lamps and began to undress. Aria joined him under the downy comforter once she had finished undressing, and they lay naked together.
"It's been a long time since you sang," Fenris softly stated, running his fingers through her hair as her head rested on his chest. When she was silent, he continued. "You seem to only ever sing when you're sad."
"It's... An effective coping mechanism. My father taught me," Aria finally replied, her voice hitching. She swiped angrily at the tears that would not stop slowly coursing down her cheeks.
Fenris held her more tightly, feeling her pain as his own. "As soon as this next big battle is over, we must leave."
Aria sat up so that she could look down into his eyes. "Where will we go? Definitely not the Free Marches."
"Far from here. Ferelden. Orlais. I don't care. But far, far away from here," he softly said, his voice uncharacteristically husky as he stroked her collar bone, his hand resting protectively between her breasts. He could feel her heartbeat against his palm, her pulse spiked with anxiety. "Somewhere we can be free. Where there are no Knight-Commanders, no Viscounts, no Arashoks, no seneschals, no guard-captains, no blood mages or abominations... Somewhere we can raise our boy and maybe make more. Maybe a girl. Where we can grow old and the rest of the world can go to the Void."
"There is nothing else here for us. Once this is all over... There's no more reason to stay," Aria softly agreed, covering his hand with both of hers. "Except for Bethany."
"We will bring her with us. Maybe take her to your old home, where the daughter of Malcom Hawke will be welcomed for her gifts and revered among her kin."
Tears sprang anew to Aria's eyes at this. "You're... You're helping a fugitive mage avoid the Circle to live free?"
"Magic isn't all bad," Fenris quietly replied, his eyes downcast. "And there's nothing evil in Bethany. Bethany deserves to be free."
Aria laid back down next to him, her head on his shoulder, her fingers intertwining with his. "Did you ever think you'd say something like that?"
"No. I know the evils of magic far too well—as do you. I know the good, now, because of you. And the good is worth fighting for."