"Wake up, lethallin."
The crackle of dry wood mingled with the muffled stillness of fresh snow, and those sounds met a young man as he awoke. His hair was the color of light copper, messy and knotted from a long time without brush or comb. There were curls within curls, creating a rough mane of hair that glinted in the light of the small, crackling fire. The palms of his hands rested against a cool, rocky floor, the stone smooth from years of snow and wind. He pushed himself up using his hands, sitting upright, leaning his back against the wall behind him. Pain split his side, and he winced, placing his right hand against bare skin that was covered in goose pimples from the cold. He felt muscle under his palm, tense and tight like a cramp.
He looked down and saw that the skin above his ribs was dark purple and yellow - an ugly but healing bruise. It went nearly all the way down his side. He exhaled shakily and looked around with cautious green eyes. The light from the fire caught his eye as it was reflected by a smooth, pale head, quite unlike his own. Something about it seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it until the voice spoke again.
"You slept for a long time, lethallin. I was worried you would never wake." In the dim light of the small fire, he could make out high cheekbones, an immaculate bald head, and distinctive pointed ears on the man who sat opposite him.
"Solas?" asked the red-headed young man, his voice cautious and uncertain.
"Yes, Inquisitor. I see your sight does not fail you. I feared it was taken from you. When I rescued you, you were… confused, to say the least. You did not recognize me."
The young man sighed and adjusted his seating, his leather shoes scraping against the floor. Wind howled just outside the mouth of the cave, biting and dangerous. The elf got up and draped a druffalo skin over the red-headed young man, who tightened it around his bare skin. It was then that he noticed that his teeth were chattering. The fire had kept him warm while he slept, but now it was not enough to keep the frostbite from him. "Where are we?" he asked, his voice still soft and hushed.
Solas took a wooden bowl and helped the Inquisitor drink from it. Brisk, cold water soothed his aching throat, chasing away the dry cracks. "We are in the Frostbacks," he replied. He set the bowl aside, letting it dry by the warmth of the fire. "About twenty miles south of Skyhold. Do you remember how you got here?" he asked.
"Sort of, yes. I remember ruins, overrun by many years' worth of vegetation. The sky was grey. I was lying near an archway that was cracked down the middle. Someone came over to me and helped me up. That was you, wasn't it?" he asked Solas, looking him in the eye for the first time since he awoke. The elf nodded somberly.
"You were in a bad way, lethallin. I did not recognize you until I brought you back to my camp and cleaned your wounds. You faded in and out of consciousness. I feared you would not last the night. I called on the aid of spirits to heal you, although there was little I could do but pray. I stayed with you through the night. When dawn came, and I saw that you were still alive, I knew you would make the journey here. I hope you are not sore from the ride."
"Ride?" he asked, confused, and then looked to the back of the cave. A hart was tied up, feeding on a pile of sparse grasses that grew up in the mountains. "Ah. Ride."
Solas chuckled - a rare thing. "We have been here for nearly a week. The ruins were not a safe place in which to linger. I could feel evil spirits pressing against the Veil during the night. I was surprised that they did not break through. The Veil is very weak there."
"They looked familiar. Where did you find me?" he asked, shifting yet again. His side twinged in pain, and he winced, drawing in a sharp breath through his teeth. Solas moved to help, but the Inquisitor shook his head, and so he stayed where he was.
"Ostagar," he replied, inspecting the bandages on the Inquisitor's arms and chest. "It was a place of great death and noble sacrifice. Do you remember what happened there?" he asked.
"King Cailan and Duncan died there. Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden nearly died at the Tower of Ishal. I remember the stories. I'm not surprised the Veil was weak there."
Solas nodded. "I had gone there to make sure demons had not taken it over. Finding you was a surprise, to put it mildly." Solas hesitated. A question lingered in the air between the two men, unasked and unanswered. "Inquisitor-"
"Please, Solas. There's no need to be formal here. I do have a name, you know," he said as his eyes turned to the snow-covered wasteland outside.
"As you wish," he replied with a bow of the head. He joined the Inquisitor in watching the mountains, silence falling within the cave. It was quite some time before either of them spoke again.
"What will happen to me when I'm recovered?" asked Jason. The sudden question did not startle Solas.
"I assume you wish to return to Skyhold?" he asked, turning to look at the man beside him.
"I do, but…" his voice trailed off, and he paused for a moment before continuing. "I assume things have changed since I… left. I do not wish to frighten anyone with my return. If I am to go back, I want to do it without alerting the entire Inquisition."
Solas nodded, smiling tentatively. "That would be most wise, Inquisitor. You are correct. Much has changed in your absence. I shall send word to Leliana to have you brought in with utmost discretion. Should your friends be told?"
"No," Jason replied quickly. "No. It's best to not let them know. No doubt they have done their mourning and moved on. Let's let them believe that I am still missing or dead."
"As you wish. The letter will take some time to arrive. Might I suggest that you rest in the meantime?" offered Solas. Jason did not object to the notion.
Solas began to stoke the fire, placing dry logs in the pit to build it back up. The warmth seeped into Jason's bones, expelling the chill that had settled in despite the blanket around his shoulders. He winced slightly as he lay back down on the bedroll below him, his ribs aching. A bandage was around his chest and upper abdomen. He did not wish to see how he looked underneath.
The days did not last long in the mountains, and as the sun set below the western peaks and night settled upon the land, Jason felt himself slip into sleep that was anything but peaceful.