Met by Chance
The fog was so thick he couldn't even see his own hand. Anders huddled deeper into his hiding place behind a crippled bush, doing his best to keep quiet. His heart was beating so loudly he was sure the Templars could hear it. They were very close, the clinking sound of their armour amplified in the ghostly silence surrounding them.
There was a rattling noise, and one of them cursed violently. "Blighted mageling! Why does he have to hide out in the Wilds, of all places?"
Anders recognized Ser Gareth's voice and a shiver travelled down his spine. Gareth had been the one to return him to the Tower after his last failed attempt to flee. And his actions then had made it abundantly clear what he thought about runaway mages.
"He must be close. His phylactery is glowing like a firefly." A different, younger voice. Anders wasn't sure who it belonged to.
"Fat lot of good this is doing us in this peasouper." Gareth snorted. "For all we know, we could be standing right on top of him. I say we call it a night and head back to Lothering."
"But, Ser-"
"Don't 'but Ser' me, lad." Gareth sounded gruff. "There's a decent inn in the village, if I recall correctly. We can get a warm dinner and a good night's sleep, while the mage stumbles through the dark. If he's really that close, we'll easily catch up with him in the morning. And who knows..." Anders could hear the smirk in his voice. "Maybe the wolves and the witches will get to him before we do and save us the trouble of dragging him back to the Tower again."
The voices got more distant. Anders didn't dare move, straining his ears. When he was sure they were really gone, he allowed himself a long, deep sigh. Relief washed over him. One more night. One more chance to get away. Though, really, he thought bitterly, Gareth had been right. It was just as likely he wouldn't even live to see the morning.
Two hours later, this scenario had become even more likely. His stolen clothes were torn in several places, he was exhausted and miserable, and he had no idea whatsoever where he was going. When he reached a little copse, he took a moment to catch his breath, leaning against a tall young birch. And froze in position.
The wolf seemed to have appeared from thin air, sitting on its haunches only three or four paces from him, watching him with its bright yellow eyes. It was a large animal with a thick, bushy coat, looking well-fed and healthy. Anders swallowed. So this is it. This was what they would tell his parents. Eaten by a wolf on his fifth attempt to escape from the Circle Tower. Serves him right for being incorrigible.
The wolf got up slowly and bared its teeth at him. He gathered all his courage and raised his right hand, aiming a winter's grasp at the creature. The wolf seemed surprised, but it evaded the attack with a graceful roll and a brief yelp. Anders cursed under his breath, expecting the beast to charge, but it just retreated a few careful steps, cocking its broad head to watch him attentively.
One more chance. He chose a lightning bolt this time. Once more, the creature sidestepped it neatly, but this time it disappeared, slinking off between the trees. He exhaled slowly, wondering if he should allow himself to feel triumphant, but just then a twig cracked and the branches opposite him parted.
The girl who stepped into the clearing didn't look like anyone he'd ever seen - her clothes, for one thing, if you could call the few flimsy strips of leather clothes. Her raven-black hair was piled in a topknot on her head, and her large eyes had an exotic slant. He realized he was gaping and closed his mouth.
"What are you doing out here in the Wilds? 'Tis no place for soft townsfolk like you." Her voice was deep and rich, and she sounded... different, in a way he couldn't quite place. "Well?"
He took a deep breath. Something in the way she was looking at him told him that none of his usual ingenious cover stories would work here. Besides, there was still a faint aura of magic surrounding his hand.
"My name is Anders. I'm a mage on the run."
She raised an eyebrow at this, but motioned for him to go on.
"The Templars are hard on my heels," he elaborated. "I thought I could lose them out here, but it's hopeless. All I managed was to get lost myself."
She inclined her head a little, as if she was listening to something he couldn't hear. "So you've run away from their Tower?" There was a world of contempt in her voice at the last word. "Why would you do that? I thought you lot preferred to be safe and warm."
He ground his teeth. "Not all of us. And who are you, if I may ask? Are you Chasind?"
Fine lines of amusement appeared around her eyes. "Not Chasind, no. Just as well for you, really. They eat the flesh of their enemies, you know. You have nothing to fear from me." She turned to go. "Well, I wish you luck."
He almost panicked. "Wait! Won't you help me? Please?"
She shrugged without bothering to look at him. "Why should I?"
"We could help each other." It was a feeble attempt and he wasn't surprised when she laughed.
"How could you possibly help me?" She raised a hand and casually flicked a finger. A warm, glowing light appeared at her fingertips, lighting a path through the mist. "I'm quite capable of getting along by myself."
She's a mage! Hope welled up inside him. Suddenly he knew how to get to her. "Wait. I could teach you some of my spells."
She stopped in her tracks, slowly turning until she was facing him. "And what kind of spells would that be?"
She was doing her best to sound blasé, but Anders wasn't fooled. He knew he had her interest. "I'm good at anything to do with electricity, and I'm a decent healer." Ignoring her disdainful sniffle, he went on, pressing his advantage. "Can you take me safely through the Wilds?"
A slow smile spread across her haughty features. "More safely than you think." She ignored his extended hand, but she nodded once. "Alright. We have a deal. My name is Morrigan."
Morrigan deliberately set a brisk pace. If the mage couldn't keep up with her, she wouldn't waste her time on him. Yet for all his soft looks, he appeared to have strong legs. And he certainly wasn't too breathless to drown her in a constant stream of chatter. A pity, really.
When she told him they would make camp and get a few hours of sleep, he looked back nervously. "Are you sure? The Templars-"
She almost smiled at his concern. "You don't need to worry about them. They won't find you out here."
"But you don't understand!" He looked really agitated now. "They have my phylactery. They can track me down wherever I go."
She didn't bother to hide her contempt for their feeble attempt at blood magic. "Not here, trust me. My mother's magic is strong in these parts. Their phylactery won't help them in the Wilds."
"Your mother-" He gave her another worried look. "Who is she?"
"Flemeth. You may know her as the Witch of the Wilds." The ironic inflection at the pronunciation of her mother's title had become second nature to her by now. He picked up on it right away, though, judging from the way his eyes narrowed briefly. You're not as stupid as you look.
"A witch. So you and your mother have hidden from the Templars all your lives? You are apostates? And no one ever caught up with you?" He sounded sceptical.
Morrigan shrugged. "That word is meaningless to me. But yes, we are safe here. The few mage hunters who make it out into the Wilds never return home."
She built a small fire and shared her meagre provisions with him. Tomorrow she would have to hunt. She doubted he'd be any good at it. This better be worth it.
"So tell me about those spells of yours," she said aloud. "Show me."
His face lit up at her words and he sat down close to her, a little too close for her liking, but it made sense if he wanted to show her the right hand movements. "Are you familiar with frost magic?"
She nodded, her curiosity tickled. At a wave of her hand, a small bush a few yards away was covered in ice. He gave an approving nod and raised both hands, keeping them well away from his body. A cone of frost burst from them, freezing everything solid almost up until the tree line, several yards away. Involuntarily, she gasped.
He grinned smugly, but then proceeded to show her the spell mechanics with astonishing patience. He's done this before, taught others, explained how it works. She wasn't sure she could have done as well in his place. Before long, she could work the spell herself, getting more confident with each attempt.
"Let's try a healing spell now." His cheeks looked flushed, whether from enthusiasm or from the firelight, it was hard to tell. "Come on." He made a face. "I have plenty of bruises and scratches we can practise on."
He took her hand and gently moulded her fingers into the right position. His grip felt nice, warm and strong, but when she tried to copy the spell, she failed miserably. They attempted it several times, but then he broke off with a shrug.
"You seem to have no talent for healing." He waved off her incipient protest. "It's not unusual. Few people do."
"But I'm good with herbs." Morrigan tried not to sound petulant, but it was hard. Magic had always come easily to her.
"Not the same thing." He shook his head. "Come on. I'm really tired now."
He lay back and cast a quick spell on his sore feet. To her surprise, he added another one in her direction. She opened her mouth to tell him off, but it was a pleasant feeling, warm and relaxed, and she decided to let it go. For now.
The fire burned down quickly and it turned pitch dark. She was almost asleep when he spoke again. "Have you always lived in the Wilds? Never thought about leaving?"
She sighed. "I left the Wilds several times, to learn more about the world of men. But I always returned eventually."
"Why?" His tone was friendly and innocuous, but then he went on. "A beautiful girl like you-"
There we go. Took him long enough to work up the courage. It was always the same. Not that she minded men looking at her that way, but she had hoped he would be more interested in his safety than in her body.
"'Tis no business of yours." It came out harsher than she had intended and she relented, opting for a safer topic. "You are full of questions, Circle boy. Why don't you tell me about your Tower? I've always been curious about it."
He made a bitter noise in his throat. "The Tower? There's not a lot to tell. A bunch of mages, locked up, with the Templars ready to turn them Tranquil whenever they step out of line."
She shrugged, even though it was too dark for him to see. "If they give up their freedom as easily as that, it seems only fitting."
"I didn't give it up!" There was genuine anger in his voice now. "I wouldn't be here if I had."
"True," she conceded. "But all the others-"
"It's not quite as easy as you think." Anders sighed. "The Templars keep a close watch and if they catch you again... Besides, the Circle is the only decent training a mage can get. There are teachers, laboratories, a library-"
"Books, books, books!" She snorted. "Is that all the mages do with their time there?"
"No, not all." His tone had changed at her words, the anger replaced by a suggestive drawl. "There are much nicer ways to keep busy."
And here we go again! She didn't deign to reply, her icy silence enough of an answer.
"Why don't you tell me a story?" If he was chastised, it wasn't enough to make him shut up. "Your mother must know many. Come on, indulge my curiosity."
"My mother's stories curdled my blood and haunted my dreams. You don't want to hear them." Morrigan did her best to brush him off.
But he was undaunted. "Ooooh, I'm scared. Hold me?"
"You-" Realizing there was no way she could win, she curled up with her back to him, torn between fury and amusement. Impossible!
Anders was surprised how much he enjoyed Morrigan's company. Being with her made him feel safe for the first time since he had left the Tower. But it was more than that. She had genuinely captured his interest, with her strange patterns of speech and the many secrets she kept alluding to.
For the next three days, they wandered the wilds together. When dusk approached, she'd slink off and return with a rabbit or a bird she'd hunted and they'd eat well; then he would teach her, and afterwards they would lie down in their respective bedrolls and talk for a while. Whenever he tried his customary innuendo on her, she turned cool, keeping her distance, but he didn't really mind. If anything, it was a challenge.
On the morning of the fourth day, they came across another campsite, the fire still warm in the fireplace.
Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "Chasind barbarians. Wait here."
There was a sudden whirl of energy at his side, and before he could fully grasp what happened, a hawk rose gracefully from the ground, circling twice above him before heading north. Morrigan had disappeared.
Anders was still trying to come to terms with all of this, when she showed up again several minutes later. He could hardly wait for her to land and become human again so he could ask her how she had done this. But when he saw the hawk's wings beat irregularly, his eagerness turned into worry. Only moments later, she dropped heavily onto the ground next to him, an arrow protruding from her shoulder.
"They saw me and one of them got in a good shot. But they won't bother us any more." Her face contorted with pain.
Apart from that, she was just the same girl he'd spent the past few days with. She was even fully clothed, somewhat to his disappointment. Shaking off the thought, he went down on his knees next to her and took a look at the wound. He was still debating on whether it would be wise to remove the arrow, when she pulled it out with a brief cry of pain.
"Damn it, Morrigan!" Without thinking, he pushed aside her leather top, placing a hand on her soft white skin and sending waves of healing magic into her body.
She blushed and tried to wriggle away, and he realized he had bared one of her breasts. A perfect breast. A breast he would love to get his hands on. But she needed to keep still if he wanted the healing to be successful, so he had to distract her.
"So... Can you turn into any animal you want to be?" he asked lightly.
She shook her head, still averting her face. "No. Each form must be learned anew. I can do a spider, a bear, a wolf-"
A wolf. The realization hit him like a punch to the guts. The wolf he'd met on his first night out - that had been her. The thought was sobering enough to put a serious damper on his arousal. But he couldn't help wondering...
"Can you do a cat?" The healing was finished, and he leaned back.
She huffed contemptuously. "Of course." There was another whirl of colour, almost familiar by now, and she transformed again.
Anders held his breath. Morrigan was the most gorgeous feline he'd ever seen, sleek and black and graceful, with large golden eyes. Carefully, he reached out and stroked her luscious fur. She leaned into his touch, purring. He smiled and, forgetting himself, slid his hand deeper to pet her belly. Four razor-sharp claws hooked deeply into his hand and he withdrew with a yelp. She changed back with a malicious laugh, and he swallowed.
"Where did you learn this? From your mother's grimoires?"
Morrigan seemed almost offended. "'Tis not a talent one can read about in books! You need to learn a creature's soul before you can copy it."
"Copying a soul." He shuddered. "But why would you-"
"'Twas lonely, being the only child out here in the Wilds." Her features softened. "I became an animal so I could join with the denizens of the forest, become one with them... It's beautiful."
"I see." Their eyes met, and for a moment her shields dropped and she didn't hide herself from him. He held his breath, debating on whether to reach out for her.
But before he could make up his mind, she shook her head impatiently. "All right then. Let's get it out of the way."
She didn't leave him time to think. Already she was straddling him, fiddling with his clothes. Her lips were hot on his, but her eyes were distant and wary again.
He caught her hand. "No. Not like this. If we do this, we do it properly."
Morrigan huffed irritably. "What are you saying? All men want the same thing, do they not?"
"Let me show you what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Maybe you know less about men's desires than you think."
Morrigan couldn't believe her ears. Arrogant Circle trickster! "I know as much of men as I need to. You will have your fun and you'll be satisfied, and then you won't bother me any longer. That's all there is to it."
He grinned and ran a gentle finger down to her breast, pushing aside the leather strip and circling her nipple, adding the tiniest tingle of electricity. She gasped, powerless to stop it. Nothing anyone had ever done to her had felt quite so good.
His grin widened. "Good? Do you want more?"
"How did you do this?" She was genuinely curious, but also determined not to let him get the upper hand.
He laughed. "This is not a lesson, my fair Morrigan. Why don't you relax and enjoy?"
"Tell me." She'd had enough. Burying her hand in his hair, she yanked his head back, making him face her, while her strong thighs held him in place.
He grimaced in pain, but at the same time his tongue darted out to lick his lips, and she could feel his arousal, straining against her belly. So you enjoy being told what to do, boy? She was certainly not averse to giving him what he wanted.
"Well?" She pulled harder on his hair, making him whimper.
"Alright, I'll show you." He took hold of her wrist and made her let go, running his fingers softly across her palm. "Feel that? Almost any elementary spell will work, if you dampen its effect like this. You only need the faintest touch of magic. Anything more would be too much."
Morrigan was fascinated. She had never considered using her magic for sex, except maybe to bend her partner's will to hers. But this was mesmerizing. Untying his shirt, she threw it off and let her hands travel over his chest. He was in reasonably good shape, and his skin felt nice and soft.
"Any spell, you said?" Taking a deep breath, she tried out her signature frost spell, careful to go slow with it.
He hissed sharply as she trailed an ice-cold hand down his stomach. "Yeah. You've got the idea." His eyes were half-closed and he was practically purring.
Slowly she circled his navel, then let her hand warm up again before unlacing his pants and wrapping her long fingers around his cock. He moaned when she began to stroke him, but when she added a hint of heat, his gasps turned more urgent, his hips arching up into her touch. This is fun!
"Your turn. There's more..." He seemed to have trouble forming a coherent sentence. "Not just your fingers."
His hands went to the fastenings of her clothes, and this time she helped him eagerly. In a matter of minutes, they were both naked and busy finding out what drew the most intense reaction from the other. Anders nearly lost it when she took him between her cool lips, then licked a hot stripe along his length. And she hardly recognized her own voice when he applied the tiny electric tingle to her core, sending sparks of pleasure deep inside her.
He did eventually fuck her, but it was almost an afterthought, not the sole focus of the act. She didn't come, of course; she had never managed without extra help, though it felt good to have him inside her. Anders didn't seem worried about it. He withdrew moments before he spent himself, and then proceeded to lick her expertly and thoroughly, until she climaxed with a hoarse cry.
Afterwards he kissed her gently. "Thank you."
Morrigan opened her mouth to return his thanks, but the words refused to pass her lips. Again, he accepted her reticence as a matter of course. They dressed quickly and continued their journey.
It took them three more days until they reached the edge of the Wilds. Three more days and three more nights, and they made love on every one of those nights. At times, it was sweet and tender, at other times rougher and more desperate. Yet he would always make a point of kissing her and thanking her at the end.
When she showed him the path to the next village, wishing him luck on his journey, he took hold of her hand. "Morrigan. I... I don't have to leave. We could stay together, you and I."
She looked at him incredulously. "You would stay here, with me? Don't you have places you wish to see, things you wish to do?"
Anders smiled. "With you, I have love, life, and liberty. What more does a man need?"
She shook her head. Men! "You don't need love. Love is a weakness. It makes one do foolish things." Ignoring the flash of hurt in his eyes she went on. "I know of no such thing as the love you dream of. I know of passion and lust, of friendship and respect. But love?"
"Yet, wouldn't it be glorious, to find the person you want to spend your life with, the one you belong to?" He sounded so wistful, so sincere that it made her smile against her will.
"Oh, Anders. I belong to no one. Certainly not to you, even though you are... passable, for a Circle mage. We had a few nights I won't easily forget, but that's all. I have no need for love." Raising his hand to her face, she briefly put her cheek against it, then breathed a kiss on his palm. "I wish you luck in finding it, if that's what you seek."
He nodded, his eyes sad, but he didn't make any further attempt to persuade her. Without another word, he turned and walked away. Morrigan watched him until he disappeared in the distance, his presence already fading to a pale memory.
Written as a present for Josie Lange for the CMDA Secret Santa fic exchange. Many thanks to zevgirl for betaing this for me.
