Salvation - Book One

Prologue

I stare at the blank piece of parchment in front of me and for the life of me, I don't know how to write what I need to say to my husband. I glance at the bed and he is fast asleep. It is nearly midnight and all is quite. I turn, once again to my blank piece of parchment. My throat closes and a single tear rolls down my cheek and splatters onto the parchment. I pick up my feathered pen...To my husband...

And I pause... I pause to reflect back on the last three years of my life...

Chapter One

Darktown

“So you are quite willing to enlist the assistance of a mage we know nothing about, Marian?” asks Carver.

I sigh in exasperation and whirl around to face him. The resentment is evident in his blue eyes and he puffs out his chest like a little boy who is preparing for an argument. I step away from him and nearly tread on Aveline’s foot. She sidesteps me and I stumble, but I am able to steady myself. I assess my surroundings and I can’t help scrunching my nose in disgust. We are in Darktown – home to many refugees – and there is a distinct smell of human waste on the air and there is also a yellow mist wafting up from the mines deep below us. I glance at Aveline who is shaking her head in annoyance. She always has to intervene when my brother and I are at each other’s throats and today is no different. I fold my arms and lift my chin defiantly at him. He is seven years younger than me but that doesn’t mean he can intimidate me.

“What is to you, Carver? If you don’t want to be here, then you are most welcome to leave,” I mutter. I cannot hide my irritation and exasperation, and I let him know by rolling my eyes at him.

“Mmm...You would like that, wouldn’t you, Sister?” he replies.

“Yes...I would actually, but we are here, so you might as well tag along or hide in my shadow if you so wish,” I reply.

I turn away from him, and nearly bump into Varric who is trying his best not to laugh. He is a dwarf, with light brown eyes that are full of humour and light brown hair and the one thing that stands out, is that he carries a crossbow named Bianca. I want to laugh at the memory of him telling us her name when we first met him on our way out of Bartrand’s Office about a week ago. Since then, he has become an invaluable companion because he knows what is going on in Kirkwall and he knows where to find employment and as far as I and he was concerned, he is the eyes and ears of Kirkwall.

“So, Marian, are we going to see if we can find him? Lirene said we should look for the lit lanterns,” he politely reminds me although there is in humour in his eyes.

“I haven’t forgotten,” I murmur as I move away from them. I crane my neck to see if there are any lit lanterns in the distance and I notice one.

“Over there,” I murmur.

I turn back to them and pull my sleeves down to hide my scars. Scars I inflicted on myself to fuel my blood magic. A decision I didn’t take lightly. I find I cannot meet their gazes. They are all aware that I use blood magic, but I never openly admitted it. I was twenty two at the time. My father died and I was coping with his loss that consumed me. I figured blood magic would be the answer so one evening, I disappeared into a barn not from our home in Lothering and I slit my wrists. I made no deal with a demon, but the relief I felt was so empowering and as my blood rose in a haze around me, I felt alive. I shake my head to rid myself of the memory. It was a decision I was coming to regret with each passing day.

“Mari?” says Aveline as she touches my arm.

“Um...Yes...I...Let’s keep moving,” I murmur distractedly.

I wander ahead of them, ever aware of them speaking in low tones about me and everyone I pass, eyes me with great suspicion. I am beginning to think it was a mistake coming here in search of a Grey Warden who may choose not to assist me. The thought saddens me because I am in great need of someone’s assistance. Not just for sovereigns. I need someone to heal and soothe me and I thought it would be unlikely finding anyone remotely like that because who in their right mind could ever love a blood mage such as myself? I hang my head in shame and deep sorrow. I don’t notice where I am going until I notice a wooden door. I slowly raise my eyes. There are in fact two doors and above each of them are two lit lanterns. I smile at the oddly comforting feeling they exude and my heart gives an excited flutter. The man – Anders – in there could very well be the one I am looking for. I give myself a mental shake... I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I glance behind me and they have just ascended the stairs. Carver is as sullen as a little boy and Aveline is as stern as the Reverend Mother back in Lothering. The only friendly and relaxed face is Varric. He gives me an encouraging smile. He is the only one who doesn’t make me feel as if I have committed a crime unlike my brother and sometimes my Mother who has not forgiven me for the tragic death of my younger sibling – Bethany. I give myself another mental shake and as I am about to open the door, Aveline reaches for my arm. I turn towards her. The concern is evident in her eyes and it takes all my willpower not to throw my arms around her. In spite of being stern, she is the only person I trust enough to speak to. I told her months ago what I did. She was furious at first, but she came to understand and now at this stage of our friendship, I always went to her if I needed to speak about my current situation and the problems I have back at Gamlen’s house with my brother and mother. I spent many nights at the Barracks bunking down with her and the rest of the guardsman. I gaze into her eyes and I quickly look away. There is so much concern and it is all for me.

“Hey,” she murmurs. “We really don’t have to do this, Mari. If you would rather think about it first, then do so.”

I vehemently shake my head. “I don’t have much choice.”

“There is always a choice, Mari. You just have to find it and make the right decision,” she says.

“He is our only hope, Aveline, otherwise we might as well pull out of this expedition,” I whisper.

She releases my arm and gives me an encouraging smile. “Whatever you decide, I will stand by you.”

I nod my thanks and I take a deep breath. I rest my hand on the wooden door knob. I glance at her again and she gives me another encouraging smile. I manage to return her smile, but it doesn’t feel genuine. I turn the door knob and to my surprise, it turns easily and the door swings open and the first thing I notice is the smell of Lyrium...and there is something else, but I cannot place my finger on it. I hesitantly enter the room and I quickly look around. I notice five small makeshift cots that have seen better days. There is also a desk against the right wall covered with papers and books and towards the back of the room, there is another wooden door. I assume it leads to a bedroom or something like that. I look around a second time and for the first time I notice a distinct humming sound. I know that sound all too well. It is the sound of a mage in action and I follow the sound. I hold my breath at the sight I see – a man not older than me is surrounded in a blue energy. It pulsates around him and his hands are glowing brightly – the same blue as the energy I noticed earlier. I look at his hands as he moves them along the young boy’s body. I hear the distinct crack of bone mending itself, but what catches my eye – as I trail my gaze up towards his face – is the deep concentration on his face, whilst he heals the young boy. I take the opportunity to study him – he has light brown hair. I realise by his hands that he is smaller than my brother. I travel my eyes from his hands up his forearms to his biceps – he is a strong man and I can imagine being held in them. I squash that thought immediately. Unfortunately, I cannot clearly see his face, but in front of me, he falters briefly, shoulders drooping. I realise he is tiring. I step further into the room just as he turns away. I watch the young boy open his eyes. He looks confused and disorientated and a woman – his mother, I assume – embraces him.

“My boy...Thank the Maker,” she murmurs.

“Mother?” he says softly.

“Thank the Maker,” she murmurs as she helps him to his feet.

I notice another man and I realise it is the boy’s Father. He approaches the mage who is leaning heavily against the wall with his back to us. He briefly acknowledges the man. The man moves away and joins his wife and son. I study the back of this mage and he appears fairly strongly. His chest is broad and his hips are narrow. To me it looks like the perfect male body. My gaze lingers on his buttocks and butterflies flutter in my stomach. Something catches my eye – he moves and closes his hand over his staff – a steel staff with a blue globe at the top – which I only noticed now and he whips around, holding both his hands in a defensive stance. I step back. I don’t bother hiding my alarm. He looks ready to attack us. I search his face and I rest my gaze on the gentlest pair of light brown eyes I have ever seen, yet I can’t help noticing a blue tinge around the irises or the fact that blue wisps of energy are floating from his fingers – which are slender – in tendrils. He quietly assesses me and from where I am standing, it appears he wants to smile. His face is beautiful, yet there is something else as if he is hiding something. He wouldn’t be the only one. I smile at the thought, but that smile is wiped off my face as soon as he steps forward.

“I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation. Why...do...you...threaten...it?”

His voice is soft and very Fereldan, yet there is a note of warning that says please-don’t-come-any-closer. I take another step back for fear that he might shoot fire and ice at me and I don’t understand why he should feel so threatened. I was not going to harm him... I am a blood mage. I close my eyes and I ignore that unwelcome thought. I re-open them and search his face for any sign of aggression, but all I see is fear...mingled with curiosity. Summoning my courage, I take a deep breath and step closer to him. He does not waiver his stance and again I want to smile. He looks ridiculous but the warning in his eyes is pretty clear.

“I...I mean you no harm...I would just like to speak to you,” I say slowly, softly and to my relief, his lips curl into a small smile.

He lowers his staff and loses his defensive stance. I take courage from that and I close the distance between us, but he holds up his hands and I come to a standstill. I search his face again and I notice dark circles around his eyes. It makes me frown. It looks as if he hasn’t slept properly in months and I wonder why. He offers me another smile and it reaches his eyes and it warms my heart. My first instinct is to close the distance completely and embrace him. He looks like he needs a lot of loving. I shake my head at myself. I don’t know him, yet for some inexplicable reason, I want him to be mine, but that thought is pushed to the back of my mind as soon as Varric pushes in front of me. I roll my eyes in annoyance and exasperation.

“Rumour has it you were once a Grey Warden...We are wondering if you perhaps know of a way?” he asks in his booming voice.

Anders folds his arms across his chest and raises an eyebrow. “Why? Did the Wardens send you to bring me back? If they did I am not going... They made me get rid of my cat, Ser Pounce-a-lot. He hated the Deep Roads.”

I cannot hide my smile from him this time. He has a soft spot for cats, of all creatures. Why not a Mabari Hound or something similar? My heart softens a bit more and I push past the dwarf, not caring if he stumbles. I stand in front of Anders and look him straight in the eye. He appears surprised, but he lowers his eyes to my wrists and I gulp. My sleeves have ridden up exposing the fresh scars from our recent tussle with a few thugs in Lowtown two nights ago. I quickly pull my sleeves down, take a step back and stand tall in defiance. I narrow my eyes. Is he going to judge me like so many others? Is he going to turn his back on me? Why am I even thinking like this? Maker only knows. He raises his eyes and gently probes my eyes and relief washes over me when I notice no fear in his eyes. All I see is curiosity...and concern. I offer him a smile that he returns enthusiastically and I relax completely.

I chuckle. “You had a cat in the Deep Roads?”

“So you find that amusing, don’t you?” he murmurs. “I guess you didn’t expect to hear that from an ex Grey Warden.”

I am almost certain he is laughing at me and my chuckle gets lost somewhere in my throat. We stare at each, summing up each other and for no reason at all, I blush.

“No...It’s unexpected, that I won’t deny,” I reply and his eyes sparkle with humour.

He is laughing at me, the bastard. He grins at me as if reading my thoughts and my blush deepens and that is when I feel it. I cannot break eye contact with him as the air between and around us sizzles and crackles. He feels it to because a slow blush spreads across his cheeks. He quickly clears his throat.

“What is your name?” he asks and just like that, the moment is gone and it leaves my quite breathless.

“I...I am Marian Amell-Hawke. Mari to my close friends...and family,” I reply.

He closes the distance between us and before I realise what is happening, he reaches for my hand. He gently squeezes it and that gesture sends my nerves tingling all the way along my spine and...I take a deep breath as a strange sensation in the pit of my stomach implodes warming me from the inside out and in its wake, leaves me aching and yearning for far more.

“I am very pleased to meet you, Marian Amell-Hawke,” he murmurs, enunciating every syllable in such a way that leaves me breathless and it increases my yearning. So much so, it is almost painful, but in a pleasant way. He gently massages my knuckles and his touch does several things to me. My heart rate escalates. My blush deepens and more than anything I want to be anywhere, except here. Even the Hanged Man sounds tempting for a change. I want to release his hand, but he has entwined our fingers. I glance at them and it looks and feels...right. The way he is holding my hand as if I am the most precious gift in the world. He continues massaging my knuckles with his thumb. It makes me wonder what else he can do with his thumb. I force myself to meet his gaze and his eyes are beautiful. They are soulful and gentle and I realise that he will never harm me intentionally or otherwise. I trust him. I don’t know him, yet I trust him. I take another deep breath and gently disentangle my hand from his warm one. I don’t realise the loss of warmth until that moment. I am tempted to reach for his hand again, but I take a discreet step away from him.

“So, you had a cat in the Deep Roads? What happened to him?” I ask, amused.

“Hey, he was no ordinary cat. He was a gift from a friend, a noble beast. A genlock almost ripped him in half once. He swatted the bugger on the nose. He drew blood too,” he replies as he puffs out his chest in what I can only assume is pride.

I want to laugh and I do. Without really realising what I am doing, I close the distance between us and I reach for his hands. He takes in a small breath of air and slowly exhales. He pulls me that bit closer and again, I feel it, that same crackling and sizzling of the air around us.

“He definitely sounds like no ordinary cat. A noble beast, that’s for sure. What happened to him?”

He looks away from me and releases my hands. I notice the sadness in his eyes and it makes me want to reach out to him, but he has just folded his arms and my thoughts of reaching out for him, for his hands that made me feel so safe and warm not two seconds ago, disappears.

“The Wardens thought he made me too soft, so I gave him to a good friend of mine in Amaranthine,” he replies and I frown.

I don’t bother hiding it. Is that why he came here? To this Maker-forsaken city? To this city where I don’t feel safe because of all the templars roaming about? I find that I cannot believe him. There must be more to it and I am going to find out.

“Is that why you came to Kirkwall? To flee the Wardens?” I skeptically ask, folding my arms. He steps back, affronted and perhaps offended. I instantly regret my words.

“Because I certainly don’t want to be here...” I murmur.

I catch Carver’s eye and he is scowling...as usual, yet I detect animosity in his stance and that should come as no surprise either. He resents me for what I am. He resents me for landing us in this dump as he so politely told me a couple of months ago after I quit working for the Red Iron Mercenaries. I lost the taste for killing innocent people and I was paid pittance for my efforts. I confronted their leader, Meeran, and he flat out refused to pay me more, so I walked out. Carver recently left for maker knows what reason. I did not care. All I care about is this expedition and it is everything to me. It is the only way I can give my Mother the home and life she deserves. Carver does not agree with me, but then he never agrees with me on anything. I break my gaze with him and I focus my attention on Anders who is frowning. He obviously noticed something pass between my brother and me

“Anders?” I prompt and his jaw drops.

“You...You know who I am?” he murmurs.

“Oh...Yes...Of course I know who you are. Lirene said you were an excellent healer and she told us where to find you,” I reply.

He smiles. “Of course she told you and it must have been easy to convince her because you are Fereldan.”

“I laugh. Yes, I grew up in Ferelden...” I don’t finish my sentence. The memories are too painful and I look away from him lest he sees my tears that are slowly falling. I want to be alone with my thoughts and I turn away from him and a pair of arms wraps themselves around me. I gaze up and into the concerned green eyes of Aveline.

“Mari?” she murmurs. I shake my head and quickly wipe my tears with the corner of my sleeves.

“I will be fine,” I murmur. I sigh and take a few deep breaths.

“Just...Relax,” she murmurs.

“I am trying... It doesn’t help that he keeps scowling at me,” I murmur, motioning to my brother who is as impassive as ever. No sign of emotion whatsoever on his face except for the perpetual scowl.

“He’s a tit, Mari, and besides, Anders,” she says. At the mention of his name, I turn around. He is frowning and there is utmost concern in his eyes and I instinctively move towards him.

“I...I apologise. Where were we?”

“Yes...You say that like it is a small thing...Yes, I am here because there is no Warden outpost, no Darkspawn and a whole host of refugees to blend in with and some reasons of my own,” he replies. Reasons of his own? What does he mean?

“But I thought...Well, I was led to believe that joining the Wardens was for life,” I murmur.

“That is the common misconception. It is not for life unless you choose it to be so, however, that is only partly true. The hopelessly tainted by the Darkspawn and plagued by nightmares about the Archdemon parts don’t go away, but it turns out that if you hide well, you don’t have to wear the uniforms or go to the parties,” he replies, amused and I laugh and to my surprise, he laughs with me and I instantly feel better. I decide to tell him why I am here because it is going to come up, regardless.

“Anders, I am part of an expedition into the Deep Roads. Any information or assistance you could provide us, will be useful,” I say.

He frowns. “Why does a beautiful woman such as you want to venture into the Deep Roads?” he asks and my heart sinks. Why should he care? I turn away from him and glare at Varric.

“You told me he would help...He does not want to. Is there no other way?” I am close to tears and I am frustrated. He promised he would be our answer and now crushing disappointment sweeps through me.

“I really thought he would help. This is obviously a waste of time... Let’s go back to the tavern and clear our heads over a couple of tankards of mead... Perhaps we can find another way,” he suggests. I glance at Aveline who is once again watching me with concern and this time, I don’t care. I launch myself into her arms.

“You know where there is a will there is a way, Mari...Perhaps Varric is right. Perhaps we all need to clear our heads and get drunk with it,” she says.

“I would like to see you get drunk,” I murmur as I shrug free of her arms. “Let’s go.”

I hang back while the others go on ahead. The temptation to turn around is overwhelming, but I straighten myself, fling my shoulders back and follow them, but as I am about to exit into Darktown, a warm hand closes over my wrist. I gasp – the tingle I feel is overwhelming. I want to turn around and kiss him senseless.

“Wait,” he says softly. I slowly turn around as he closes the door, separating me from my companions and I glare at him. He has no right. I attempt freeing my wrist, but he tightens his hold, however it is not painful...It is strangely soothing and a great sense of calm washes over me.

“For what?” I snap. If he appears surprised, he doesn’t show it. Instead he smiles at me. The bastard smiles at me and I want to scream out my frustration, instead, I roll my eyes.

“You look extremely attractive when you do that,” he says. I cannot believe what I have just heard. I gape at him. Words seemed to have failed me, but a warm glow spreads through me and I know I am going to blush and I do. My ears are burning as are my cheeks, and I attempt to break eye contact with him, but I simply cannot. His eyes are flickering with emotion...Some intense emotion and there is also conflict in them. He lets out a soft sigh.

“I did not mean to upset you, a while ago and I apologise. It was not my intention, but I have a suggestion. How about a favour for a favour? You help me and I will help you. Does that perhaps sound like a fair deal?”

“I...Anders... Help my expedition reach the Deep Roads and I will do whatever you need,” I reply without really thinking about what he has on offer.

“Mmm...You offer your assistance freely, without asking for my terms...” he murmurs as he gazes into my eyes. “What if I was asking for the Knight-Commander’s head on a spike?”

My eyes widen and then I smile. “I might consider that, but is that what you ask?”

“Really, now? You decide,” he replies as he gently releases my arm. I step away from him and pull my sleeve all the way over my hands and I fold my arms.

“Somehow I hear a but in there,” I comment. He smiles at me and folds his arms to.

“Well, I do have a map of the depths in this area, but there is a price...” he says.

“And what might that be?”

“Would you like to bring them in? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or uneasy,” he suggests. I am surprised by his concern. I vehemently shake my head. I want to be alone with him and I have wanted that since I walked in half-an-hour ago. I am not about to bring them in so that they can bombard the man. He seems to understand because he points to his desk.

“You may sit,” he murmurs.

“No thanks... So what is your price?” I ask, cutting to the chase.

He smirks. “Well, the reason I came to Kirkwall was to aid a friend, a mage, a prisoner in the wretched Gallows. The templars learned of my plans to free him. Help me bring them safely past them and you shall have your maps.”

“Tell me about your friend,” I prompt and for a brief moment, pain flickers across his face, but it disappears just as quickly, leaving me wondering if I imagined it.

“His name is Karl Theckla. He was sent here from Ferelden when Kirkwall’s Circle required new talent. His last letter said the Knight-Commander was turning the Circle into a prison. Mages are locked in their cells, refused appearances at courts, made tranquil for the slightest crimes. I told him I would come,” he explains. I search his face for any further information, but all I notice is that same flicker of pain and I wonder if Karl was more than just a friend once before. The thought does not please me one bit. He reaches for my hand and I give it to him willingly and I entwine our fingers. He leans towards me and I catch a faint smell of Lyrium and I also smell wood and grass and I feel heart sore. He smells of home and I cannot stop myself from leaning towards him. He is close, I feel his breath on my lips and his smell intensifies. I instinctively curl my hand around some of his clothing. His shirt is so soft and warm in my hand and I flatten my hand against his chest. He slowly exhales. I close my eyes, expecting his kiss...and it comes. It is tentative, curious, teasing and it feels so right and before it goes any further, he breaks off the kiss, leaving me bereft and weak at the knees. I stumble and lean heavily against the door. My heart is thumping loudly and the blood is rushing to my head, making me feel quite faint. I close my eyes and will myself to calm down and I do. I open my eyes and notice that he has seated himself at his desk. I approach him and I notice he has loosened two buttons of his shirt. He is affected as I am, and I stop a good few feet away from him.

“Are these accusations true?”

“Yes...Ask any mage in Kirkwall. Over a dozen of them were made tranquil last year. The more people you ask, the worse the rumours become,” he replies just as huskily and it sends tingles through me. I step that much closer. I want to feel him again.

“What do the templars know of your plans?”

“I...I don’t know. I had been exchanging notes with Karl through a maidservant in the Gallows. Then the letters stopped coming,” he replies. He can’t look at me either. Oh yes, he is very affected, but that doesn’t prevent me from reaching for his hand that is resting on his desk. He looks up at me and then at the door at the far end of his clinic. He makes a decision, stands and leads me into what is his bedroom. It is untidy. The bed isn’t made. The sheets are twisted as if he had a bad night’s sleep. I glance at him and the circles seem that more noticeable now that he has lit a lantern. He realises I am watching him, because he turns towards me.

“I apologise for the mess, but I don’t have time to clean up after myself. I have too many patients and my day seems never-ending and to make matters worse, I don’t sleep too well,” he murmurs and he proceeds to tidy up his room. I cannot wait for him to tell me to sit, but where would I sit anyway? The bed is the only option and maker knows what is going to happen if I should sit, but I find that I don’t care and I set about making his bed. I remove the sheets and give them a good shake.

“You don’t have to this, you know,” he murmurs. I glance at him, leaning against the door. He has an amused look on his face.

“I know...I want to. I can’t have you sleeping on this,” I reply.

“Why should it be of any concern to you?” he asks. I decide to ignore his question as I quickly tuck in his sheets. I fluff his pillows and one in particular catches my eye. It is embroidered with a floral pattern and the flowers look very similar to Andraste’s Grace – blue flowers found only in Ferelden and they are my favourite.

“My Mother made this for me when I was a boy,” he murmurs as he plucks it out of my hands.

“It’s beautiful, Anders. Are those-?”

“Andraste’s Grace? Yes. They were...are my Mother’s favourite. I wouldn’t know anymore,” he murmurs as he places it back on his bed. I frown at his comment, but decide now is not the time to ask him personal questions. I think back to what we were actually discussing and the pain I noticed in his eyes at the mention of Karl comes flooding back.

“Anders, this friend of yours... Karl...He is-?” I let my question hang.

“Ex lover, Mari,” he murmurs. He glances quickly at me. “Marian...” he corrects himself. I shake my head.

“I prefer Mari, to be quite honest... Ex lover, you say?”

He sits on the bed and points to the spot next to him. I sit, resting my hands on my thighs, but he reaches for my hand and entwines our fingers.

“Thank you for making my bed... It has not seen a woman’s touch in...I don't think it has ever seen a woman's touch,” he whispers.

“I...I really...It’s a pleasure,” I whisper.

“You asked about Karl... We were lovers for six months,” he hastily explains.

“What happened?”

“He was transferred from the Fereldan Circle to the Circle here,” he replies.

“Mmm...Tell me, how do you intend breaking him out of the Gallows?” I ask as I pick lint off his sleeve. My sleeves have ridden up again and I hope he doesn’t notice, but he does.

“I hope it won’t come to that. I am to meet him in the Chantry tonight. Maker willing, he will be there, alone, but if there are templars with him, I swear, I will free him, whatever the cost,” he replies and for a brief moment, his eyes flash blue, but it passes as soon as he turns my wrist towards him and for no reason, tears trickle down my cheeks. He is too close to me. He gently thumbs my wrist and the intensity and gentleness of his touch frightens me.

“Anders...Please...Please...Don’t,” I murmur. He gazes at me, saying nothing and he pushes my sleeves all the way past my elbows. I don’t look because I know what he will find and that is very fine scars from all the cuts I inflicted on myself to fuel my magic. The most recent being the ones on my wrists.

“Hey, please look at me,” he murmurs. I look at him and in his eyes is a tenderness I have never known...or seen. Not even my Mother looks at me in this way. She looks at me with fear in her eyes and my brother is an arse who only cares about himself.

“Mmm...You know, you really have beautiful skin,” he murmurs. I gape at him in surprise. The last thing I expected was a compliment.

“I...I don’t...How can I? Just look,” I whisper as I look at my arms. My scars are gone and I quickly look at him and before I realise it, I wrap my arms around him.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“I won’t ask why you have chosen this path, but what I want to ask you is if there are any others,” he whispers as he gently pushes me away.

“All over and please don’t ask me too explain. The memory still haunts me,” I murmur.

“I promise not to ask you until you tell me otherwise,” he says softly and to my surprise, he pulls me back into his arms. I feel safe for a brief moment and then I gently extricate myself out of his warm embrace. I stand and wander towards the door. I turn around and lean against it, folding my arms across my chest.

“So, you want to make your friend an apostate?”

“That is such a weighted term, Marian...Yes, Andraste said that magic must serve man, not rule over him, but I have yet to find a mage who wants to rule anything. It goes against no will of the Maker for mages to lives as free as other men,” he replies and I am surprised at the passion in his voice. He feels strongly about the way we are treated. I feel much the same.

“Hey, I feel forcing mages into servitude is not the way to prevent the rise of another Imperium,” I say and the surprise is evident in his eyes. He was obviously not expecting that answer, but that is how I feel. Locking us up is not the answer.

“Well, that is not the response I usually get. Most people end up arguing with me... Perhaps we will work together better than expected,” he murmurs. I push myself away from the door and I reach for his hands and I pull him to his feet. I am surprised by my own strength and we bump heads.

“Ouch,” he yelps as he stumbles backwards, and I reach out for him again, but I stumble and we collapse onto his bed with me on top of him and I laugh. This is ridiculous. I gaze at him from under my lashes and he is furiously massaging his forehead.

“Whatever next?” I murmur.

He smiles at me and he does something unexpected. He pulls me upwards, wraps an arm around me and rolls with me until I am trapped beneath his body. I take a deep breath. I can feel every hard place on his body and he feels so warm and comfortable. I touch his cheek. His eyes darken and he leans towards me. I curl my hand around the nape of his neck. He leans closer. My breathing hitches and my heart rate escalates. He pauses a mere inch from my lips. Just kiss me... He cups my face and he kisses me. He gently probes and I open for him. With a soft sigh, he delves into my mouth and I respond. I am surprised, but I respond... I fist my hands through his hair, locking him in place and he deepens our kiss. He rolls with me until I am straddling him and the erection I feel beneath me, forces me back to the here and now. I hastily scramble off him and I back towards the door. I must look a sight. I feel a sight. His hair is dishevelled. His eyes are bright. His cheeks are flushed and I more than likely look the same. I travel my eyes the length of his body and whenFor what? I rest them on his tented pants, my ache intensifies. I am not so naïve, although I never had any serious boyfriends as a teenager. Most of them thought I was a novelty being a mage. I have kissed a couple of times but I have never made love to a man. I shake my head and he grins. He stands and saunters towards me. I back even further into the door. He rests his hands on either side of me. I stare directly into his eyes.

“Maker...” I murmur in voice that sounds foreign to my ears and I blush. “I would help any mage in such circumstance, map or no.”

“Really? Because it appears you are trying to get onto my good side,” he says softly.

“Why? Is there a bad side?” I snap. His expression darkens and I instantly regret my words. I look away from him.

“I...I apologise...I know how that must have sounded.”

He cups my cheek and turns me towards him. “Well, let me put it simply – it is as bad as your side.”

I stare at him, trying to understand what he means. I don’t find an answer, so I grin at him and before I realise it, he has pressed himself into me and he kisses me. I sag and he wraps strong arms around my waist.

“I welcome your aid, Marian. Meet me at the Chantry tonight at ten and we will ensure that we all walk away free,” he murmurs just as he kisses me again. I cannot reply because he is seeking entrance. He is in fact demanding it and I grant him entrance. Our tongues meet and a wild dance begins. I nibble his bottom lip and he groans. I feel his hands sliding under my skirt and I moan low in my throat. I have to push him away before it goes too far, but I don’t want to. He makes me feel safe and warm. His hands are on my hips under my skirt. He hooks his fingers into my smalls. I feel his erection digging into me and, Maker help me, I want him, but common sense prevails and I turn away from him. He sighs as I rest my head on his chest. He is a head and shoulders taller than me. I place my hands on his chest and I feel the muscles tense. I look at him and he is watching me. With great reluctance, I gently push him away.

“I need to go,” I whisper.

“Please stay... I...I don’t want you to go,” he murmurs.

“I...I don’t want to go either, but I have to... My companions are probably concerned,” I murmur knowing that is far from the truth.

“Please? For a little longer?” he implores and I smile at him.

“I can’t...I will see you later...I promise,” I murmur as I duck under his arm. I fumble at his door, but it opens and I stumble out into his Clinic. I bolt for the door and step out into Darktown without a backward glance even though the pull to return to him is so great, yet I resist. I find the nearest exit and I step out into the midday sun and I take slow, deep breaths. My nerves are well and truly shattered and I need to speak to someone. I bypass home and I step into the rowdiness of the Hanged Man. I search around for familiar faces and I find them, but the person I most want to see, is not here. She has obviously returned to the Barracks. I make my way to the table and I sit down heavily in the seat next to Varric who raises a questioning eyebrow at me.

“And?” he asks.

“He needs us to assist him with a personal matter at ten tonight in the Chantry before he is willing to give us his Maps,” I reply.

“Excellent... One step in the right direction, Marian...Would you like a drink?” he asks. I nod and avoid the questioning and angry gaze of my brother. I don’t want to deal with him now, not while my emotions are jumbled up and confused. It’s a dangerous combination for a mage to feel like this. There is no telling what will happen or what I will do.