As this chapter was nearly half-written at the time I got to doing the dialogue for the next Ever After chapter, I just decided to go along with my mood and finish this. I doubt the next chapter will come this soon, because I have to come up with a good idea for it first.

No timeskip this time – this is a continuation of the storyline from the previous chapter, where Anders and Surana accidentally blew up a rat. Think of it as a Walking Bomb spell gone horribly, horribly wrong – that was the general idea. Since Anders is a Spirit Healer, I thought of giving Surana the opposite specialization, but that would require death magic, which sort of didn't suit the story's direction. So the magic she talks about is spirit magic, which is sort of the antithesis of physical healing.

Yep, stretching it a bit, but so what?

As this is a continuation of the previous scene, the chapter is a little bit shorter, but I couldn't expand it too much more without making it seem like I'm dragging stuff on. There will be another timeskip in the next one and I'm planning to bring a few more characters into this – starting with everyone's favorite batshit insane templar, Cullen. Jowan will show up too, though I can't say when, and Greagoir and Irving will be making their due reappearances.

o.O.o

Three

o.O.o

It took them hours to get all the rat bits out of the corridor. So long, in fact, that by the time they were done, the tale of their sudden escapade had already spread through the tower.

Neither of them was spared the humiliation of walking to fetch clean things from their rooms while still covered from head to toe in grime. The general response were whispers, especially due to the fact that the two of them made a point of not associating with one another, if they could help it and now, their outfits matched perfectly – the evidence of their cooperated felony.

They refrained from talking to one another throughout the ordeal, because an argument wouldn't have made the cleaning any easier. But afterwards, when they were actually allowed to exit the tower, words couldn't be kept back – at least not for Anders, who still remembered the outside rather well.

It was sundown, almost, and they would soon be ushered back into the confines of their prison, but it was amazing nonetheless. Their silent warden of a templar could have been part of the furniture, for all he cared; they were outside, in the open air. Even being accompanied by Surana couldn't dampen his good mood right now.

"This is amazing!"

"I had no idea you found rat intestines so fascinating."

No, seriously, it couldn't. But it was very strange, the way she seemed more focused on trying to get the grime out of the robes she would certainly never wear again than on the grass, the water and the distant sky.

"You're being stupid again. It really doesn't become you." They were both clean now, but Anders imagined that he'd never be able to look at a rat again. Assuming they wouldn't flock to him after this, of course; the smell was the most difficult part of the cleaning. "I mean the lake! Look just over there; I can see the buildings there from this side!"

"I don't want to see it." Surana scrubbed the fabric harder, her eyes determinedly fixed on the water.

Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't guessed that she was loonier than the usual mage, but this was downright crazy. Next thing she'd say was that her father was a nug and her mother the evil twin of the Empress of Orlais.

Which wasn't that much of a hard thing to imagine, really.

"Why? Don't tell me you actually like the tower so much." Anders didn't like being ignored. Being ignored made him cranky, and when he was cranky, he prodded people. He would have been more biting in his retort if the faint rustle of fabric didn't remind him of the ever-watchful Bucket Brigade that was watching their every step even now. He scoffed, shaking his head. Between their fashion sense and the elf's so-called common sense, he didn't know which was worse. "If I didn't know how good they can swim even with those buckets, I'd try my chances right now."

At least the elf would talk when he shocked her enough; like now, when her head snapped into attention like a squirrel that caught the warning smell of falcon poo somewhere nearby. "Shh! Don't talk like that, or they'll hear."

"You can't be squeamish after having a rat blown up on your face without problems." Anders sat down near her, relishing in the feel of grass under his fingers. The dirt as well; he preferred the faintly moist softness to cold stone.

Cold. That was what the tower was. Blue was cold.

Surana's glare was downright frosty.

"And where would you go even if you got away?" she demanded. The ever-proper Miss Priss had actually thought of these things? Wonders never ceased! "You don't have any money and you're dressed like a mage."

Funnily, mage wouldn't be the first thing he'd guess if he was a commoner who came across a person dressed as the two of them were. Add to this his treasured earring, non-military haircut and boyish handsomeness… well, there were those who could get the wrong idea.

"I don't intend to have a giant ESCAPED MAGE HERE, COME AND ARREST ME sign on my head." Surana looked a little alarmed now, almost as if he had caught her doing something he might have thought of doing. By the elf's standards, that was something. "Besides, there are always ways of getting what you need."

Then, suddenly, something akin to a smile – or a release from constipated tension, at least – passed through the elf's eyes, snuffed out the moment she noticed it. "You're actually not as high-nosed as you'd like to be. Huh."

High-nosed? Him? He was the soul of modesty when necessary! And, of course, his nose was narrow, not high.

Certainly not knob-like and all squishy like hers.

"Leave the backhanded compliments to the pros, all right?"

But apparently Surana had decided that listening to him would only provoke further arguments, so she chose not to. In fact, she actually diverted the conversation from the dangerous waters and deigned it fit to speak to him in a civil manner.

"I would try to find a Dalish clan. I read that their Keepers have magic of their own. And there's no stigma for using it." she said, her voice ending on a quiet note. The words were almost wistful and sincere. Anders didn't want to know these things about the elf. It was much easier to believe she was simply the stuck-up, self-distancing teacher's pet. It was weird thinking of her as an actual person with feelings.

"And everyone thinks you elves have it worse. Figures you'd still get the benefits."

Then a thought struck him, almost like the time when he had been actually studying (shocking, he knew) and a random apprentice had decided that the best way of cataloguing books was throwing them around randomly until he found which one he was looking for next. Anders had gotten away from that with mild punishment; the apprentice had ended up with his robes electric pink.

"Why don't you want to see the shore, then?"

"Because I know that, in a few hours, I'll be lying in my bed in a door-less tower, unlikely to leave it for many years." Strangely, when the elf wasn't trying to pretend she was mature, her voice got a little coarser and a lot more sincere. "But I don't like seeing what I can't have."

Well, obviously, no one did, but Anders tended to think of it as temporary deprivation, which could be remedied with enough skill and dexterity.

"You're such a downer." Surana didn't even glare at him, which was kind of odd. "Is the tower better than an alienage?"

Why was he asking these things? He didn't want to know these things, not least of all because he already knew the answer. Maker, even Surana looked at him as if a rat in templar uniform had taken residence in his hair to give them a premiere of his latest accordion concert while accompanying a mime playing out Andraste's life-story.

"Is a gilded cage better than penniless freedom?" Surana obviously didn't understand the concept of a rhetorical question. "In this case… in this case, yes."

"I preferred Denerim's slums. They can never get the fish quite right here." The elf was looking at him strangely, even more than a moment ago. Anders wanted nothing more than to wipe that self-righteousness off her face, but now, finally given the opportunity, here was none present. "Do you think there are any fish in the lake?"

The always sardonic twitching of the elf's lips was back, so the time to check the sky for flying pigs hadn't yet arrived. "Wouldn't you be the expert on that?"

"No, they tore me away from Toto the Trout, my one true love, before we could get married." Not that he ever intended to go for anything less than carp or tuna. He had standards, after all. And- hey, wait, she- "You remembered that?"

"Such a spectacular entrance was worthy of remembering." Surana said simply, giving the hem of her robe another good scrub. She actually wasn't half-bad at getting all the blood out, even though her hands looked clammy and pasty from the water's low temperature. "Besides, that was my only punishment until now."

"Obviously, I bring out the best in you. There aren't any rods nearby anyway… and I'm not sure anything we could get out would end up edible." Not that he was certain he really wanted to know what lurked in the deep. For one thing, he had always tried to push away the thoughts of where the contents of all the toilets vanished to. Or maybe there was a special contingent of mages that were schooled in the mystical ways of tower clean up. "So what can you actually do, besides making rats explode?"

"You'll never forget that, will you?"

"I'd very much like to, since I still have to wear these clothes later on." He definitely didn't want to sit anywhere near her in class from now on; not that he did anyway, fortunately. "You won't, ah, try to make my brain explode to hide the evidence, will you?"

For a moment, Surana looked as if he had stumbled across her deepest, darkest stash of secrets and it turned out to be the most saccharine little pony doll ever to see the life of day. But apparently, the more embarrassing part of her secret was now out, so she actually took time to ponder the question and answered truthfully.

"I can mimic some of the things the templars can do to us." Obviously, she was dumbing down the explanation for him, but altered this approach before Anders could point this out with a sufficiently biting witticism. She just had to keep making these inconveniences for him; it was really rather annoying. "No … it's them who are mimicking. Anyway, the point is, it's about what you can't see."

Well, she obviously disliked the templars, that much was clear. But then she just had to go back to dumbing things down when it was finally starting to make sense.

Anders was quite used to this kind of talk, which meant that there was only one thing to do.

"Yes, an explanation more thorough there never was." Surana just didn't have the good sense to acknowledge the deep artistic value of rolling one's eyes at obvious nonsense. "I now understand absolutely everything."

Oddly, though, the elf didn't even snipe back as she usually did, nor did she bristle and explain things to him in indignation. Her robe was nearly clean now, but she gave it one or two good scrubs to make certain. In fact, she seemed very much intent on scrubbing all the color from it in an effort to make it pristine.

An overachiever, of course.

She shivered, icy water dripping from her hands and finally managed a nearly accusatory glance.

"It's getting cold out here; are you done yet?"

"I'm waiting for you, slowpoke!" Anders huffed, his pride somewhat wounded. He had finished ages ago!

Honestly, there was a difference between forced ignorance and downright obliviousness. His robe was still a little blotchy with water stains, but it was clean of blood and guts. The cheap soap they had been given managed to easily eclipse the deathly scent of entrails, but Anders entirely certain this was an improvement. One shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, especially considering how far out of their prison this little escapade had gotten them, but…

Well, if he had to choose between smelling like an exploded rat and smelling like lavender flowers…

It just wasn't a choice any man his age should have to make!

Not that Surana would know anything about this dilemma or appreciate it, seeing as she was still something of a girl. And it would have been most odd to have her either laugh at him or, more likely, be deemed frivolous by a creature whose very nature should have been just that.

Elves were weird.

"Aren't girls supposed to be good at this kind of thing?" It was a cheap, childish jab, tailored to provoke a reaction spun of the same silk. Anders went for it with stubbornness entirely proportional to his momentary lack of amusement.

From any other female, this would have no doubt have earned him squeals of indignation and a very easily borne clobbering. The fun thing about Surana was that she could project all this emotion with a single glare if she tried hard enough.

She was trying now. It was working, too.

"I guess I'm not much of a girl, then." And then she shrugged, as if this actually wasn't a big deal at all. Of course, the Death Glare of Doom was hinting somewhat at a different sentiment.

Anders had the good sense to be just the slightest bit intimidated while in the presence of a large body of water. At least while the elf was still in possession of two clammy, wet hands that were squeezing the water out of her robe as if she'd like nothing more than to wring someone's neck. And since the templar watching over them didn't seem to have any kind of neck under all that armor…

Well, it was relatively easy to draw some relatively unpleasant conclusions from that.

Aside from that, his ear had begun itching. That was definitely evidence of some evil plot afoot.

"Eh, you know I didn't mean it like that."

"Like what?" Surana made a wonderful show of not looking at him. What a healthy way of dealing with problems this was, making certain that they were so thoroughly ignored. "What I care about is being as good a mage as I can be."

Anders finally noticed that the elf's hands were both pale and reddened, as if frostbitten. She had actually done all that work…

"Why aren't you using magic, then?"

He was actually almost horrified by the very idea of doing that kind of manual task without any hint of a spell. Ever since he had learned that he had magic, Anders tried his best to do whatever he could with its aid. After all, if magic was indeed supposed to serve man, then why shouldn't it serve him to cook his dinner or wash his smallclothes? It stood to reason and he was (well, used to be) as good and devout a little Andrastian as an orphan and petty thief could be.

The elf looked at him with eyes wider than the gaps between the pieces of the broken bridge to Kinoch Hold.

"We're not supposed to!"

Yet obviously, she was panicking over the fact that she had done all that work without having to go through it at all. Were it not for how utterly frostbitten her hands looked, Anders would have abandoned all semblance of dignity and started rolling in the grass, laughing. Of course, his robes had already been red that day, so what was a little green? After all, a little color never hurt anybody and mages were the prime example of that.

That self-righteous bastard Irving would at least have a counter-candidate in the next elections for First Enchanter. How was that done, anyway?

"Senior Enchanter-"

"Said the cleanup has to be magic-free." Now that her hands were out of sight, Anders felt something warm pooling near his heart. Maybe close to his spleen, he guessed – he wasn't a healer yet. Anyway, it wasn't bits of the rat anymore, so there was only one possible answer.

Glee. Unhidden, unabashed Schadenfreude, even though Surana's almost hysterical expression had something to do with it, no doubt. It was what a pigeon would look like if it wrestled with a cat for a few grains of corn and came out on top. In short, Anders was probably having the time of his life, even though he didn't yet know it.

"Washing this stuff out of our clothes doesn't count. Besides, do you have any idea what might be in this water?" Anders wasn't an overly superstitious person, but he wasn't willing to dismiss the rumors that Lake Calenhad was filled with all sorts of creepy crawlies that helped prevent mages from getting across. He grabbed the half-dry robe from Surana, who let it go weakly. Oddly, it was almost squeaky clean. Well, she was a girl, all right. "You have to purify it before you rinse the soap off, otherwise you'll just be getting the grime back into the fabric!"

"I-I know that!" Anders thought he could be forgiven for giving this statement the benefit of doubt. The elf wore the same expression as a headless chicken would, if it could indeed make an expression.

Not that he had ever tried to test that theory, or anything.

"Obviously." Her rubbing her hands together in an attempt to scrape together some heat was in no way incriminating. "You weren't kidding about not caring about being anything else than a good mage."

He could never quite tell when the brim of her patience would be reached and the elf would switch from her annoying but bearable shrinking violet persona – which reared its ugly head very scarcely, thank the Maker, because it made her seem almost human. Elven. Whatever.

Once that weakened just a little bit, the usual Surana sucker-punched it into oblivion or simply sent it cowering into a corner with nothing more than a fierce glare.

Long story short, these changes, however occasional, were always swifter than the eye could see.

"And here I thought you were attached to your dirt." The elf glanced at his own clean-but-wet robes with mild distaste; Anders could tell that she was more upset about the fact that he had achieved the same amount of work with less than half her effort than anything else. "You don't even give it a fond farewell."

Blows like this were the lowest of the low.

There was a very simple reason for that. Any way he could snark right back at her with a degrading statement was cancelled out by the fact she was an elf. Not only would he then come up as the pettiest of idiots, he would also very easily back himself into a corner. There were thousands of ways how Surana could drive her point home like a stake through his heart in one triumphant move if he went for the racist angle.

Also, it wouldn't be any fun, because both of them expected the other to go for the cheap shots. Part of the fun was trying to find a means of avoiding the easy shots. Which, admittedly, wasn't always easy.

Of course, sometimes it was.

"Well, why don't you do it in my stead?" Anders grinned in a fashion that would have unsettled anyone yet in possession of their money pouches.

No doubt Surana had some kind of ingenious response prepared for that, such as asking just what in Andraste's secret granny panties this was supposed to mean. However, considering the circumstances, she could be forgiven for trading that doubtless unsurpassable feat of eloquence for a much simpler expression of her feelings.

"Wha-?" she shrieked, her voice much closer to Anders' usual interpretation of its tone than usual. Considering the circumstances, this wasn't entirely unnatural.

The circumstances could be explained in a very simple series of motions.

One, find a partner to perform this experiment, large body of water optional. Two, position yourself near your partner. Three, depending on what side of theirs you're standing at, raise one hand. Then, finally, on the count of three, directly apply sufficient force and pressure on the test subject to topple them over and into the water.

Note to would-be testers: check whether the landing zone in the water is deeper than two feet beforehand to avoid injury, unless you really dislike the testee.

But if you've read up till this point, then… well…

Surana toppled over into the lake, splashing it everywhere in her rather clumsy attempt to get up. If the water wasn't really shallow (yet enough to cushion her fall) she would have no doubt started drowning.

When she managed to get to her feet and regain her balance, she looked much more like a half-delirious banshee than any water creature.

Her hair had come undone from its bindings, water dripping from the thick, darkened strands. Anders had had the good grace not to allow her clean robes to drop into the darkness too. But her current clothing hadn't escaped such a fate; damp and cold and dripping, it clung to her tightly, seemingly too big for her small form.

But her face was red and if her eyes could kill (or shoot fireballs), then she and the templar would by then be roasting him for dinner.

"There; all cleaned up now." Aside from the fact that the robes had already been clean, that is.

Really, Anders could almost see that fire spell igniting; there certainly seemed to be steam coming out of Surana's ears, which were redder than ever.

"That was completely uncalled for!" Her voice was somewhere between a hiss, a scream and a shriek, creating together a sound that was pure anger and indignation.

Anders donned his best innocent expression. "You had some grime left in your hair." he reasoned politely, no matter how close to or far from the truth this might be.

It wasn't the most effective strategy when applied on the one person entirely impervious to the adorable visage that he possessed.

"You didn't have to push me into the water!"

Honestly, the yelling was getting old. For such a small thing, the elf could certainly produce a great deal of sound. Anders wondered why their watch-templar wasn't intervening or at least trying to boss them around, but he supposed that the man was just content to watch them fight as long as no attempt at an escape was made.

Or he could just be paralyzed from the shockwave of the sound. The noise must have been amplified tenfold in that ridiculous bucket on his head. Anders could almost sympathize. Almost.

"Would you have preferred I grab you by the hair and toppled you over?" There was such a thing as a gentlemanly way of shoving someone into a lake, after all. "Anyway, grime's gone now, so do that steam-dry thing and let's…"

Only then did Anders spot why exactly the elf had had problems getting up from the water. The ground closer to the water felt cooler, but the sand just off the lake was almost snow-white. There were bits of ice broken off from a much larger chunk near where the elf was standing, some dangling from her robes and melting, others drifting across the surface of the lake.

Something had frozen a good three square meters of the water to various degrees and then melted the most of it just as quickly with one rapid, shattering blast.

"Did you do that?" He didn't mean for the question to come out entirely so breathless – possibly even squeaky. But Anders couldn't help but be impressed. Not even grudgingly this time, which was a miracle in itself.

"What?" Part of the redness drained from the elf's face, mostly retreating to her cheeks as she surveyed her surroundings. Neither the cold or the discomfort of having her feet nearly literally frozen in place seemed to have much of a detrimental effect on her. "Oh, that."

"Yes, that." That unexpected and rapid and totally unimpressive surge of magic he hadn't even noticed. Merciful Maker, if she had aimed at his head…

Surana only shrugged. Just another day in her life, apparently. "Yes, I suppose." Anders rather imagined this was what someone her age would look when caught wetting the bed. "Could you, ah… keep it to yourself?"

"But that's-" Anders didn't actually even know what he should say. He wasn't good at praise for others, nor was he too keen to dish it out to anyone (especially her), but this… "I didn't even sense you powering up!"

Instead of the wide grin and self-praising look that he himself would have given in that situation, the elf actually seemed somewhat ashamed. Or, at least, someone had taught her to feign shame at this display.

So it wasn't just a one-time occurrence.

"It's… this is lack of emotional restraint on my part." But she did feel obliged to explain this properly, apparently, which was another sudden change. She was out of the water, but waited with the application of the spell she had once used on him. The water continued dripping; Surana was hesitating. She glanced at the motionless templar, but then automatically took him out of the equation. Not that he wouldn't understand, but it was simply inconsequential whether he heard or not. Greagoir knew, which was more than enough to make certain that every other templar would. "I sometimes go through these upsurges of mana that spontaneously break through whenever I feel a rapid rush of emotion."

Translation: he didn't want to see Surana when she was angry. And making her angry was potentially hazardous to his health.

The things one learned after a while.

"So… Ice Queen wasn't just a delusional moniker from bitter classmates?"

Humor was nice; humor was understandable. Make nice with the hungry God-killing Abomination, class.

"It isn't always ice, but…" Surana wasn't one for metaphors or flowery speech, but she displayed her emotions very sincerely. While the water sliding down her cheeks might have resembled tears, her gaze was hard, weary. "I've only heard that once before. They really waste time talking about stuff like that?"

She hadn't considered herself one of them – and, right now, it seemed he wasn't one of them either.

Would you like some biscuits to go with your twisted parallel dimension experience? We offer a wide range of Mildly to Incredibly Crazy flavors today…

"Well, obviously, they have to create fitting monikers for their future overlords. They're submitting a catalogue for us to pick out our favorites in a few days for our eventual showdown for Supreme Mage Overlord." The elf was looking at him oddly; she hadn't yet decided whether he was joking or not, so that was easy to deal with. "I'm still kind of torn between Anders the Amazing and Outrageously Awesome Anders."

"If you want to have an alliterative name, you can't use the latter." Surana pointed out as the redness faded from her face. When she was ashen and small and pointy-eared, she didn't seem nearly as intimidating. Of course, the effectiveness of her innocent expression was magnified by the rain-soaked puppy look. She was a swift learner on that account. "That's not spelled with an A at the start."

Anders sort of wondered whether boasting this eventually would be a good thing. He imagined himself in forty or fifty years, telling a large and appropriately awed crowd that he had taught the elf that will have slaughtered the whole templar population of the tower one day (hey, one could dream) the puppy dog expression that had given her the edge in the fierce battle.

It wasn't nearly as spectacular or as funny a vision as he had imagined.

"It's the pronunciation that truly matters." Anders noted in an attempt to fume, handing her the robes to dry herself off. Of course, his motivation was to free his hands so that he could fold them to look properly righteous. "My signature on the royal decrees will be shortened, anyway."

"I see." The elf's left cheek twitched, but she didn't call back the waved-away question. She was at least a little bit amused, which was better than angry out of her mind. "Why are mine being discussed, then?"

Anders actually had this bit completely thought through, odd as it might sound.

"You'll be the leader of the temporary resistance – you know; the outwardly heroic underdogs that turn out to be selfish terrorists that want to run the country as a despotic dictatorship."

"Quite unlike your enlightened reign, I'm certain."

"Naturally." He grinned widely as the elf rubbed the dry cloth against her hair, leaving behind a mass of tangles and knots only magic could undo. "Then, we'll have a big one-on-one showdown that ends up with your surrender and a large celebration with flower garlands and fluffy bunnies that establishes the new era of peace."

Surana didn't even have to tap her fingers against her temple to convey the meaning of the brief look she cast him. "Of course. Then I, as the antagonist, have to establish our relationship. You know, to give you a reason to be heroic."

Anders didn't even manage an undignified squeak in response to the sudden swirl of movement, which was both good and bad. Good, because it would have boded ill for his future as Supreme Ruler. Bad, because it showed that his reflexes were obviously sub-par when compared to his highly inflated ego and ambition.

The series of motions could be described thusly: Surana handed him the robes back and he made the mistake of accepting them. Then, with one swift tug and sidestep on the elf's part, the boy was sent crashing head-first into the lake.

He was never, ever, ever going to tell anyone that a shrimp-sized elf had taken him by surprise in a contest raw physical strength. Especially since he did actually shriek like a girl once he hit the ice-cold water.

On the shore, steam was rising from the elf's clothes, leaving behind only warmth. But despite this rather peculiar procedure and her hair now resembling a hornet's nest more than anything, Surana looked as regal as a queen on her throne. At least for the two sentences when she impersonated a Revered Mother, something she did with no small degree of self-suppression.

"I dub thee, Anders the Aquatic, Sovereign of Sinking." she proclaimed with exaggerated hand gestures and a voice bordering on pompous. Her cheeks had dimples which even the steam rising from her clothes couldn't disguise; she was laughing. "May thy reign be moist and bubbly."

This was high treason. Moreover…

"That was so not fair!" Anders proclaimed, still sitting in the water. Somehow, it was a little bit warmer than before, but that could just be the frostbite talking.

"Was too!" And, just to drive the point home, the elf positioned the thumb of her outstretched hand to the tip of her nose and twiddled her fingers just a little as she stuck out her tongue.

The final straw was when she turned her back to the Most Supreme Mage Ruler of Awesome.

"At least dry me!"

"Something the supreme overlord can't do? Shocking!"

"I shall avenge… me!"

"Oh really? You and what army?"

"My faithful fleet of flying rainbow nugs with golden trumpets and sparkling banners!"

Laughing at him would be the first thing to become outlawed. "I'm all a-tremble, oh mighty one!"

"As you should be, Wicked Witch of the…" Something moist and plant-like was obscuring his vision. This prompted another rather undignified sound.

"Watercress?" the elf suggested. And Surana laughed and laughed and laughed as he tried to fish the tangled weed from his normally immaculate hair.

Not everything could be perfect in the world all the time.

The next day, Anders certainly had a hard time explaining what a crown-sized wreath of what appeared to be grass was doing atop all his things.