We sing, rejoice

We tell the tales

We laugh and cry

We love one more day

- from In Uthenera, a traditional Elvhen song

Free Marches, 9:39 Dragon

Idhren and Tainan had been living together for only a few weeks and were still working out the finer details of the situation. The aravel was a mess. Neither of them had very many possessions, but it was still proving a struggle to get them all sorted in a way both of them could agree on. Everywhere that Idhren looked there were arrowheads and bits of fletching, bundles of sticks and lengths of bowstring. His attempts at compiling it all into a single location were met with confused stares, as though Tainan didn't understand why it was necessary. One of the herbs that Idhren needed for his potions made Tainan sneeze when they were around it too frequently and they were still trying to figure out which one. Their clothes kept getting mixed up, which Idhren could not figure out for the life of him considering they were so different in size and style.

It was while hunting through all the mess that Tainan stumbled upon the very few remnants of Tevinter that Idhren still clung to.

"Hello, what's this?" they asked, plucking a thin leather bound book from one of the small cabinets that lined the aravel's wall. Before Idhren could even look to see what they were talking about Tainan flipped the book open and began leafing through the pages.

"Be careful with that!" Idhren snapped, lunging forward to snatch the book out of his lover's hands.

Tainan was so startled for a moment that they didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," they murmured eventually.

Idhren looked down at the book, smoothed his hands over the cover. How stupid that he was still so attached to this thing. "No, I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"That book must be pretty important," Tainan observed, and didn't seem at all offended by Idhren's outburst.

Not really. Not in the grand scheme of things. By now Idhren should have just thrown it away and gotten on with his life, instead of continuing to let the wound fester. "It's stupid," he said. Tainan didn't reply, but flopped backward onto the pile of furs and blankets that constituted their bed, expression unreadable. Idhren was never able to tell what went on in Tainan's head (neither, apparently, could anyone else) and wondered if he ever would. The hunter always acted so different from what Idhren expected, so different from what he was used to. The silence stretched between them, not awkward or uncomfortable, but weighted with expectation. When Idhren finally couldn't stand it anymore he spoke. "I wrote it."

Tainan's head shot up, eyes wide and bright. "You wrote it?" They scrambled upright into a sitting position again, "You wrote a book?"

Idhren felt even more embarrassed in the face of Tainan's boundless enthusiasm. How did he explain what the book meant to him, though? How it was both his greatest pride and his greatest shame. A picture of the naïve idiot he had been back them. "I wrote it," he confirmed quietly. "But he… the magister I worked for stole it."

"Stole it?" Tainan asked in confusion. "But it's right there. You stole it back?"

Of course Tainan didn't understand, couldn't understand. Intellectual property was not a concept that existed in their world. Frustrated with himself and filled with the renewed bitterness of old wounds, Idhren held the book out to Tainan delicately, torn, as always, between destroying the thing and keeping it safe. "Look at the name on the cover."

Tainan took the book with great care, holding it almost reverently, and stared down at the cover, face twisted in concentration. It was a cruel thing to ask. Tainan could barely write their own name, but Idhren couldn't bear to look at that cover. "L—Lih… Lin-us," the hunter sounded out slowly, working over each letter. "Sa—Ka! Kan-id-… Canid-ee… Canidius! Linus Canidius!" they finished triumphantly, momentarily proud before remembering what this was about and sobering again. "That's the magister, isn't it?"

Idhren nodded, "I wrote it, but everyone thinks he did."

"Because his name is on it?" Tainan asked.

Again Idhren nodded. "I should just get rid of it," he mumbled. "It's stupid that I'm still holding onto it."

"No it's not," Tainan protested. "Idhren, you wrote a book! That's amazing! You should be proud of it."

"I am," Idhren argued. "I am proud, but I also hate it. I hate looking at it and having to be reminded every time of what a naïve idiot I was back then. I hate having to see his name instead of my own."

For a moment, Tainan was silent. Their expression shifted into one Idhren recognized as meaning they were in deep concentration. Lips pursed and brow furrowed, but Idhren couldn't tell what the hunter was thinking so hard about.

"I know how to fix it," Tainan said finally. Turning quickly, they rummaged through another drawer, digging around through the junk inside, then slammed that drawer closed and pulled open another one. "Ah-ha!" the hunter exclaimed happily, and pulled from within that drawer a thin bladed knife. Idhren immediately recognized it as the one Tainan used for fletching arrows. Smiling, Tainan turned back to Idhren and held the book carefully in his off hand. "Do you trust me?"

Idhren looked at Tainan's hands, at the knife and the book. "What are you going to do?" he asked nervously.

"I'm going to take his name off the cover," Tainan explained, "And then we can put yours there instead."

Idhren continued to stare at the book and the knife. Take his name off. Idhren was against defacing books on principle but this left him feeling conflicted. The printing on the cover was embossed into the leather binding; the only way to take it off would be to cut it away. Could Idhren live with that? More importantly, could he continue living with this shadow hanging over him? "Alright," he agreed, still hesitant.

Tainan flashed him a reassuring smile and set to work. Setting the book down on the floor, they hunched over it and held the knife delicately. Idhren watched with bated breath as his lover pressed the blade into the leather binding. Tainan carved carefully around the magister's name and then picked at the underside of the leather until it all lifted away, a thin rectangle of scratched cardstock the only thing that was left behind. "There," Tainan smiled in satisfaction. They admired their handiwork for a moment, and then handed the book over to Idhren. "Now you can write your own name in the space there and we can pretend it always said that."

Except that it would forever be blatantly obvious that it hadn't always said that. Despite that, it did feel better, not having to see Canidius' name attached to his work anymore. "You always know what to do to make me feel better," Idhren murmured. "I wish I knew how to repay you."

"You don't have to repay me," Tainan assured him. "I like seeing you happy."

"It can't really be that simple," Idhren looked up from the book again and met his lover's gaze, "Can it?"

"Why shouldn't it be?" Tainan asked. "I know that Tevinter fucked you up," they commented, tapping their forehead to elaborate, "And that sometimes you're still figuring out how to be you, not the person Tevinter wanted you to be. I want to help. Because I like the real you."

Idhren smiled, "I like him, too."

"You should," Tainan nodded sagely, "He's much more fun than the other guy."

"Is that so?" Idhren laughed. "In what way?"

Tainan hummed thoughtfully. "The real Idhren laughs more," they pointed out. "And he likes to fight. And he likes to curse. And he's smarter than everyone else and not afraid to show it. I like that part best."

Tainan knew him well, Idhren realized, though that wasn't a surprise. "You like it when I mouth off?"

"I like everything you do with your mouth," Tainan smirked.

Idhren flushed, "Shut up," he muttered, shoving the hunter away from him. He turned away to find something to write with.

"That's Tevinter Idhren talking, I know it," Tainan teased, crawling across the floor after him. "I think real Idhren likes using his mouth as much as I do."

"You incorrigible degenerate," Idhren complained, face burning hotter.

"Oh, big words," Tainan chuckled. The hunter rested their chin on Idhren's shoulder, watching him dig through their belongings for quill and ink. "Tell me more."

"Insufferable," Idhren added. He finally managed to find a serviceable quill and a half-empty jar of ink. "And please at least try to keep this place organized. It's not that difficult."

"Waste of time," Tainan muttered.

Idhren rolled his eyes. "Spending ten minutes looking for everything because you moved it is a waste of time," he complained. Very carefully he set the inkpot on the floor and unscrewed the lid. Now that he thought about it, his initial concern about defacing the book was unfounded. The inside was already full of annotations and scribbled notes, corrections and thoughts about his theories over time. The one place that Canidius couldn't get at his work.

"Idhren Lavellan," Tainan said quietly as they watched Idhren sharpen the quill and dip it in the ink. "No, that's not good enough. What's your father's name?"

"Cyrus, why?" Idhren asked with a curious frown.

"Idhren Cyrus Lavellan," Tainan tested the name on their tongue, and then smiled. "Yeah, I like that. Sounds much more fancy."

It did, Idhren had to agree. Nobles loved to give their children multiple names. The Dalish generally did not, but used a parent's name and the clan name to identify with when the need arose. Idhren Cyrus Lavellan. He had never been very close with his father, but he liked the idea of holding on to some small part of his family. "You've still never told me your proper name," Idhren commented as he began very carefully to write his name into the now-empty square on the cover.

Tainan sighed a long suffering sigh. "Because it's so embarrassing."

"Tell me," Idhren pleaded teasingly. "I know Tainan is short for something, tell me what it is."

Tainan groaned. "Just ask the Keeper."

"I want to hear it from you," Idhren protested. "Besides, that's rude."

"Ugh, fine," Tainan huffed like a petulant teenager. "If you really must know, my full and proper given name is Tarasyl'inan."

"Tarasyl'inan," Idhren repeated, rolling the sound around on his tongue and smiling to himself. "It's pretty."

"It's long," Tainan complained.

"Does it mean something?" Idhren asked curiously. He thought he recognized the words used, but his grasp on Elvhen was still somewhat shaky and translated literally it didn't make much sense.

"Eyes like the sky," Tainan recited by rote, and then shrugged. "Or something like that. It's very poetic but not very creative."

It was accurate, at least. Tainan's eyes were an incredibly vivid blue-green, enhanced by the deep green vallaslin on their cheeks. "I think it's very nice. My name doesn't mean anything."

"So what?" Tainan shrugged, "Who cares if anyone's name means anything? It means you, and that should be good enough."

The thought gave Idhren pause. Not that he had ever disliked his name, but it wasn't something he'd ever considered before. 'It means you'. Completely unique to him alone. "You say some very wise things sometimes," he mused.

"Don't tell anyone," Tainan replied. "Wait," they frowned, watching as Idhren finished writing his name on the book. "Is that how you spell your name? Why does it have a 'D'? That's not how that sounds. Your name is ITH-ren, not ID-ren."

Idhren actually laughed as he waited for the ink to dry. Tainan's confusion was genuine, and understandable, but their reaction more than a little over the top. "When in front of an 'H'," Idhren explained patiently, "'D' can sometimes sound like that, too."

"Well that's stupid," Tainan complained. "Letters should only make one sound."

"Then we would need a lot more letters," Idhren replied.

Tainan groaned and pulled away from Idhren, "No, that's just as bad," they sighed. "There's no winning."

Idhren set the book aside carefully so the ink wouldn't smudge and turned around to face Tainan. "Reading isn't so difficult if you have a lot of practice," he said. "If you wanted, I could help you." It was the least he could do after all that Tainan had done for him.

"What use to I have for reading?" Tainan asked in reply. "You're the smart one."

"You never know," Idhren shrugged, "Someday you might want to read a book. We could read one together." And actually that sounded really nice, now that the idea occurred to him. To curl up with Tainan somewhere warm and comfortable and read. But Idhren had only brought a few books from Tevinter and all of them were academic. "Next time we're near a city I could go pick up something. Something easy and that you'd like. Like an adventure story?"

Curiously, Tainan watched Idhren's eager expression as he spoke. "You'd really like that, wouldn't you?" they asked. Idhren was a little embarrassed to admit it, but nodded. "Alright then," Tainan agreed, "Next time we're near a city you can go find a book. Just make sure it's a good one."

Idhren beamed, excited despite himself. "I wouldn't bring you anything but the best."

Idhren never ended up having a chance to buy a book.

Winter hit the Free Marches early and hard.

Idhren imagined that all southern winters were bad winters compared to what he was used to, but everyone kept saying this one was even worse than normal. And Idhren was inclined to believe them. Because when the first snow had fallen that year it was no gentle, beautiful dusting of white like his first had been. No, this year it buried the camp almost overnight in a layer of snow that reached nearly to Idhren's knees.

As soon as they were able the clan moved north-west toward Nevarra. A stone's throw from the border; as though national borders meant anything to the Dalish. But also, Idhren was uncomfortably aware, only a few days travel from Tevinter. Here the weather was still cooler than Idhren was used to, but they were unlikely to be threatened by another sudden blizzard.

The campsite that Istimaethoriel had deemed acceptable for long-term stay was on the north banks of the Minanter River. It was the closest Idhren had been to his homeland since leaving. Too close for comfort. He distracted himself from that fact by assisting the clan in any way he could. There were aravels that needed repair after so long on the road, supplies to be replenished, children to be comforted.

The clan easily fell into a familiar, peaceful rhythm after settling in. But they had been there only a week when that peace was shattered.

"Keeper!"

The scream pierced through the camp, high and panicked. It drew both Istimaethoriel and Idhren's attention immediately, as well as anyone else within earshot. A pair of hunters came running through the camp. One of them was Tainan. And they were both spattered with blood.

"What's happened?" the keeper asked before Idhren could even process the sight. His eyes ran over every patch of blood on Tainan's leathers, searching for an injury and, blessedly, finding none.

"Slavers."

That got Idhren's attention. His gaze whipped away from Tainan and settled on the other hunter; Falos was a young man, vallaslin only a year old.

"I don't know how they snuck up on us," Tainan explained urgently, but Idhren was having difficulty concentrating. Slave traders. Here. Deep in Idhren's chest a familiar twinge of bitter, quiet fury sparked to life. That familiar slow, smoldering rage began to boil up, that feeling he had thought he'd left behind in Tevinter.

"They took Aeryth," Falos blurted out. He was obviously distressed, and with good reason. Idhren had seen the slave markets in Tevinter. The captured elves chained or caged like animals. He heard what Valora had been through.

"There were too many of them," Tainan continued, ignoring the interruption, "We had to run, but they'll find our trail eventually."

"We have to go back for her," Falos argued.

"First we must ensure the clan's safety," Istimaethoriel interjected. Falos made to argue again, but she cut him off with a gesture. "You are injured," she observed, and for the first time Idhren noticed the way that Falos was awkwardly holding his left arm, cradling it close to his body, "Go find Elera, she will tend to you." Falos looked ready to argue, but the stern expression on the Keeper's face held him back. Pursing his lips, the hunter nodded and brushed past her. "Tainan," she continued once the other hunter was gone, "How many did you see?"

"Five men attacked us," Tainan answered easily.

Istimaethoriel frowned in concern. "They will have trackers. Idhren, we need to move the clan immediately. The children and the halla must be protected. Leave the aravels if we must, they can be rebuilt."

"Of course," Idhren agreed. People were more important than things. He didn't want to see any of the people here subjected to the sort of depravity he knew Tevinter was capable of.

"Good, then you will go with them, take all those who cannot fight and the watchmen and follow the river east."

"You're sending me away?" Idhren interrupted in shock.

It broke Istimaethoriel's concentration and she looked down at him, frowning. "The clan must be protected," she reasoned.

"And who will go after the slavers? Who will rescue Aeryth?" Idhren asked. He did not know the girl well, only in passing, but no one deserved what those men would do to her. Or what Tevinter would do to her.

"Several of the scouts will stay behind to ensure we are not followed," the Keeper assured him.

"Let me stay with them," Idhren said urgently. "Please. Let me fight."

Istimaethoriel's face was stern, closed off, her posture stiff and tense. So unlike the calm, openness that she usually wore. "That is not your place."

"I thought a Keeper's place was to protect the clan," Idhren argued. "You and Elera can go with the People. Let me stay and fight. We can save Aeryth. We can stop these people from taking anyone else!"

"Is that truly your only intention?" Istimaethoriel asked slowly, "Or are you seeking revenge?"

The question gave Idhren pause. This group of slavers, they were undoubtedly all strangers. None of them had hurt Idhren personally. But they contributed to the system. Tevinter was broken, corrupt. A cesspit of power mongering and egotism driven by men and women so secure and proud in their power they would never honestly consider changing. The meritocracy was a joke. How you were born was how you lived and died. Idhren would always be a slave. He did not need personal revenge on these slave traders, but he loathed what they represented with every fiber of his being: the system that had done its damndest to see Idhren's will broken and ground into the dust. The system that had watched his family die and cast them away as though they were nothing, that took Valora from her home through lies and fear mongering and got away with it because even here in the south no one cared about elves.

Idhren did not want revenge for himself. He wanted revenge for every elf these slavers had taken in the past; every child torn from its mother, every woman raped, every man beaten. And he wanted salvation for all those that would be taken in the future if the slavers were not stopped now.

"You don't know what they're capable of," Idhren seethed, fists clenched at his sides. "You don't know what it's like, any of you. To be looked at like you're less than an animal, like you're worthless, stupid. To be expendable. I couldn't save my family from that, but I could save her. And I can stop them from hurting anyone else!" He was practically shouting by the end; shaking, static crackling at his fingertips.

"Idhren," Istimaethoriel said, her tone equal parts warning and sympathetic. She knew what he had been through, how could she deny him this?

"They deserve to die!" Idhren exploded before she could continue. "If we don't stop them now they'll just find another clan to destroy! I have to stop them. And I'll do it alone if I have to!"

"No you won't," Tainan interrupted.

Idhren wheeled on them, furious, "How dare you-!"

"If you go, I go," Tainan said firmly, cutting off Idhren's argument before it even started. And Idhren was stunned into silence. Tainan was on his side? He shouldn't be surprised, Tainan always stood up for him, and yet every time it happened it was still a shock.

"Tainan," Istimaethoriel warned.

"Keeper, he's right," the hunter continued. "If we get away, they'll just find some other clan or some village. They won't stop until they get what they came for."

The Keeper's face was hard and stern. She looked at the pair of them as though they were unruly children. Idhren feared she would continue to deny his request, and that Tainan would eventually cave under her authority. Instead, Istimaethoriel's resolve crumbled. She sighed heavily and her expression softened. "I cannot say that I don't want the same," she admitted. "And if you are so determined then it would be foolish to send you off alone.

"You will take with you Junnar, Ionna, Rowan, and Tallan," Istimaethoriel continued without waiting for either of them to reply, "Our most skilled hunters. I will take the rest of the clan east along the river. If you cannot defeat the slavers you are to lead them away and return to the clan only when you are certain they will not follow. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly," Idhren assured her.

Tainan fetched the rest of the hunters while Idhren collected his Tevinter-made staff, pulling it out of storage for the first time in over a year. It was a bit dusty, the blade a little dulled with time, but otherwise still in perfectly serviceable condition, and much stronger than the rough, wooden one he used here. By the time their small rescue party was ready to leave Istimaethoriel had the rest of the clan gathered and ready to move. The Dalish were always prepared for a quick departure, but there was a tenseness that hung over the camp as the people gathered up only their most necessary possessions and made to flee.

"I'll take us to where we were attacked," Tainan said as their small rescue party gathered. "From there we should be able to pick up the trail, though we might run into them before that."

Idhren felt slightly out of place among these people who knew the forest like the back of their hand, who could move through it without making a sound. But he would do his best not to get in the way, and to follow their lead. He stuck close to Tainan as they moved beyond the camp and into the surrounding woods, doing his best to emulate the hunter's soft, sure footsteps through the undergrowth.

They found the sight of the ambush easy enough, and the signs of fighting were clear even to Idhren's untrained eye. An arrow lodged in a tree, spatters of blood on the ground. From there, Rowan easily spotted a trail leading further into the woods. And most likely straight to the slavers' camp.

Over a dozen men and women milled about the clearing in which the slavers had made their base. A campfire stood in the middle, surrounded by tents and – Idhren sneered at the sight – cages. All of the slavers were armed to some extent, but the most obvious threats were three men standing guard around the edge of the camp. Thankfully, the elves had not yet been noticed as they crouched in the underbrush.

"There's Aeryth," Tainan whispered at his side, nodding in the direction of one of the cages. Idhren followed their gaze and spotted her as well. The young woman was bound and gagged, there was blood in her hair and on her clothing, but she was sitting upright against the cage bars and that was a good sign. "What's the plan?"

Were they asking him? Oh, he was sort of in charge, wasn't he? Idhren floundered. He'd never been in any kind of real battle before.

"Archers in the trees," Tallan supplied for him, voice barely audible. "Take out as many as we can before they know what's happening, then Ionna and I will move in."

That was a good plan. Idhren nodded in agreement. Then an idea occurred to him. "Wait," he said, stopping them all before they could move. "Do that, but… Let me talk to them first."

"Are you mad?" Tainan hissed.

"Trust me," Idhren beseeched. "Get in position, but don't attack until my signal."

"What signal?"

Idhren hesitated a moment before answering, "When I start killing people."

The hunters were swift to get into position, three archers in the trees and two rogues on the ground with Idhren, all six of them spread around the outside of the camp. Idhren took a deep breath to steel himself and stepped into the clearing, comfortably aware of Tainan's presence in the trees at his back.

"Salve," he greeted in Tevene, drawing the attention of the entire camp with a single word. The greeting was returned with surprise, cursing, and a number of weapons pointed in his direction. Idhren did his best to remain calm, and to appear unfazed.

"Where'd you come from, elf?" a man asked, pointing a long knife in Idhren's direction as he approached slowly. "Here to join your friend?"

"Qui habet aures audiendi audiat," Idhren continued, to the great confusion of the slavers. He expected they had never met an elf who spoke Tevene. He held one hand up in a placating gesture. The other remained firm on his staff. "I'm here to negotiate."

"Negotiate?" the same man scoffed and sneered at Idhren. "We don't negotiate with elves. Unless you're gonna tell us where the rest of you lot are?"

"If you release my clansman I'll let you go peacefully," Idhren lied smoothly. It was unnerving how easily the act he had worn in Tevinter came back to him. How easy it could be to ignore the anger burning in his gut and lie with a blank face and a pleasant smile even as he wanted to rip the man apart with his bare hands.

"Will you, now?" the slaver let his eyes run up and down Idhren's form. Idhren was well aware of how unthreatening he probably looked, and he was hoping to use that to his advantage. "Bet a pretty thing like you'd fetch a nice price at the markets," the man leered, "Sell you for some magister's pet."

The tone of his voice made Idhren's skin crawl, and set the smoldering rage in his gut into an inferno. The threads of his self control snapped in an instant. "Wrong answer." Faster than any of the slavers could react, Idhren swung his staff and sent a barrage of lightning skittering outwards, arcing across the ground and hitting the three men closest to him. They fell seizing to the ground. Seconds later an arrow sprouted from the chest of another man, who could only stare at the feathered shaft in confusion before collapsing dead as another lodged into his skull. There was a scream from the edge of camp, and from the corner of his eye Idhren saw Ionna streak into the clearing, a blade in each hand and already bloody.

Idhren lost track of the others almost immediately. They were still outnumbered, though the sudden attack from all sides threw the slavers into confusion. Idhren was quick to take advantage of their disorder. He sent fire and lightning into their midst, sparking panic in several as their clothes and the tents caught fire. A woman rushed at him from the side and Idhren saw her too soon to fire off spell. The shout on her lips died in a bloody gurgle as the bladed end of his staff cut easily through her leather jerkin and into her chest. A pulse of electricity through the metal staff finished her, her lifeless corpse slipping off the blade to crumple at his feet.

Idhren's heart thundered with adrenaline, with the power flowing through him. The first time in years he hadn't been forced to hold back. And he lost himself in it; in the power, the adrenaline, and the rage, at times expending far more mana than was necessary for a spell just to watch the lightning arc farther, a barrier shine brighter, a sigil explode higher.

It was over all too soon.

Idhren found himself standing, winded, palms sweaty, not far from the center of the slaver camp with no one else to fight. Still tensed and ready, Idhren's eyes scanned the scene in search for another threat, but there was none. Most of the slavers were dead, the rest unconscious or bleeding out. The camp was in ruins, a scorched, smoldering wreck. Idhren's flames had licked even at the tree line before he remembered to smother them. At some point someone had gotten Aeryth out of that cage because it now stood empty. A moment of panic as Idhren feared the slavers had taken revenge on her during the confusion. But then he saw her, huddled in the treeline with Rowan and Ionna, and allowed himself to relax.

"Idhren!"

The shout startled him like a spooked halla, but it was only Tainan. The hunter dropped down from a tree to Idhren's left and raced across the blackened ground to his side. "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright," Idhren assured them. Not injured at least. "The others?"

"Not sure yet, but everyone's on their feet," Tainan replied.

"Good," Idhren breathed a sigh of relief. "We should… We should get out of here." He tried to take a step away from the carnage, but as soon as he did a wave of dizziness overcame him. Stumbling, Idhren almost fell, saved only by Tainan's quick reflexes, a hand catching his arm and lowering him gently to the ground. As the adrenaline wore off Idhren realized he was exhausted. He had expended far too much mana. It had been so long since he'd done magic like that. He was out of shape. No, he had been reckless.

"Are you alright?" Tainan asked in concern, crouching before him.

"Yes," Idhren assured them again. "Just tired. Too much magic." He felt like he could barely catch his breath. "Some lyrium would be nice right now."

"Sorry, we don't have any," Tainan said, "Doubt they did, either."

"I just need to rest for a bit," Idhren said, and tried to offer Tainan a reassuring smile. He was certain it showed just how exhausted he was, though. "I think I got a little carried away," he joked weakly.

Tainan chuckled softly. "Maybe," they agreed. "But it was amazing. I've never seen anyone do magic like that. You could have taken them all by yourself, don't think you needed us at all."

"I'm not that good," Idhren argued, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. He knew he was good, but people in Tevinter didn't spare time to compliment elves. In fact, any properly trained mage would probably scold him for his lack of control. To have overextended himself like this was a childish mistake.

"Well, I was impressed," Tainan said. When Idhren met their eyes there was a heat behind them that made him blush all the more and look away again. So Tainan liked magic. Or maybe they just liked showing off. Either way: good to know.

Filing that information away for later investigation, Idhren took in the scene around them one more time. He watched as Junnar slit the throat of the last surviving slaver, wiped the blood from his knife, and then approach where Idhren and Tainan were seated. "They're all dead," he reported.

"Good," Idhren replied. And he meant it. Good riddance. The world was better off without their kind. It wouldn't end slavery as a whole, but it would save dozens of elves from a life in chains. And that had to be good enough for him. "See if they have anything worth taking, then we should go rendezvous with the clan."

Junnar nodded curtly and left them alone again, heading off to riffle through the slavers' belongings. "Rendezvous…" Tainan tried out the word on their tongue curiously.

"It means 'meet'," Idhren sighed.

"Well why not just say that?" Tainan complained good naturedly.

That night it rained.

The small rescue party was forced to make camp alone, with little shelter other than the trees and a couple blankets scavenged from the slaver encampment. Those were tied to branches to form a weak shelter from the downpour, under which Aeryth huddled. Her ankle had been badly wretched when she was captured, and despite Istimaethoriel's additional tutelage Idhren could do no more than ease the pain and provide ice to lessen the swelling.

His magic was at least useful in building a fire, though. Drying out the wood and getting a spark to catch was not difficult, and a simple barrier arched over the flames kept the rain from putting them out.

Idhren sat beside the campfire, knees pulled up to his chest, cloak bundled around himself, and face turned up toward the sky. With his eyes closed Idhren let the raindrops fall heavy on his face, plastering his hair to his skull and numbing the tips of his ears and nose with cold.

"You'll catch your death like that," Tainan commented. The hunter was seated at his side, one knee and shoulder pressed up against Idhren's. "At least that's what the Keeper told me when I was little."

Idhren didn't reply. Didn't open his eyes. Just continued to let the rain pour down on him, soothing in its own way. As though it could wash away all the thoughts that clouded his mind.

"Hey," Tainan's voice broke through again, softer, gentler. "You alright, city boy?"

Slowly Idhren opened his eyes and tilted his head back down. "I don't know," he answered quietly.

"What's wrong?" Tainan asked.

Stalling for time, Idhren pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head to keep from getting drenched even further. He really was freezing. "In Vyrantium it rains in the summer," he murmured. "Thunderstorms." Tainan raised an eyebrow curiously, but patiently waited for Idhren to get to the point. Endlessly patient. Idhren didn't deserve them. "I loved them. I used to sit at my window at night to watch the lightning. When I was still a slave I would sneak outside to watch them. Of course I came back drenched and Alvinius knew exactly what I'd been doing. He would scold me, but he never told the magister."

That was one of very few untainted happy memories from Idhren's youth. But standing there in the cold rain on a warm summer night watching lightning flash across the sky was one of the only times Idhren ever felt truly free.

"The slavers," he continued thoughtfully after a long pause. "Just hearing about them made me furious. I haven't been that angry in… years." He wasn't proud of it. Regardless of whether Tainan had been impressed by the display, Idhren knew it had been childish and petty. And selfish. He had put himself, Tainan, and the rest of the hunters in danger because he couldn't control his emotions. "I… wanted them to suffer. And I wanted them to know a slave did it."

"You're not a slave anymore, Idhren," Tainan said softly.

"I know that," Idhren replied, a bit more forcefully than necessary. "But in Tevinter… Even when I was free that was all the magisters and their ilk ever saw. Liberati," he spat, "That's all I'll ever be to people like them. I spent so long hating those people I just wanted… I just wanted them to suffer like I suffered."

"Do you feel better, now they're dead?" Tainan asked.

"No," Idhren slumped, defeated, against the hunter's side. Tainan wrapped an arm around Idhren's shoulders, bundling both of them in their own cloak. "That's the worst part," Idhren mumbled, turning into the warmth of Tainan's body, "I don't feel better at all."

Tainan's arm tightened around his shoulder briefly. "I'm sorry," they murmured, "I wish I knew how to help."

"It's alright," Idhren mumbled. He couldn't expect Tainan to fix all of his problems. Maker knew the hunter had already done more than Idhren could ever repay, and mostly through the simple act of offering sympathy and understanding. Two things that his life had been sorely lacking in Tevinter. "I wish I could put it all behind me," he said. "I thought I had… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have forced you all to come, I could have gotten us all killed."

"You didn't force anyone," Tainan assured him. "No one wanted to leave Aeryth to those men."

"I was reckless," Idhren shook his head. "I put us all in danger. Just for some petty revenge that didn't even change anything. Canidius always said I was too emotional," he recalled bitterly.

"Fuck Canidius," Tainan growled with a ferocity that startled Idhren. "You're not in Tevinter anymore, Idhren, you don't have to be who they wanted you to be."

Idhren knew that. Logically, he knew that. Would he have ever taken up with someone like Tainan in Tevinter? Would he have ever met anyone like Tainan while confined to magisters' estates and libraries and brothels? Unlikely. Already he was not the same person he had been when he left. The Dalish had given him hope, and a chance to start anew. There was a freedom here that he'd never known before. But the expectations, the pressures he had lived under for his entire life, the lessons ingrained into him since birth, were not so easily brushed off. "I'm not sure I know how to be anyone else."

"Just be yourself," Tainan urged gently. "You don't have to think about it so hard."

"Be myself," Idhren repeated slowly. It sounded so simple. Canidius had wanted him to be the perfect, obedient apprentice; perfect manners, perfect diction, polite and demure and non-offensive. A pretty, mindless doll to parade around in front of his peers. And Idhren had played the part as perfectly as was demanded. He had always held back until his control was pulled so tight it finally snapped. Like today. "You think I should simply… stop caring what other people think?" Stop trying to be the perfect apprentice for Istimaethoriel, the perfect First for the clan, the perfect mage, the perfect lover. So that everyone would like him, accept him, love him.

Tevinter still held him more tightly than he was willing to admit.

"If caring makes you miserable, then yes," Tainan replied.

"How do I do that?" Idhren asked, partly to himself.

Tainan shrugged, and Idhren felt it where their bodies touched. "Not sure," the hunter admitted. "But I'll help."

End Notes: All the Dalish hunters in this scene belong to my lovely tumblr followers who graciously offered them up to me for cameo use.

Credits:
Aeryth & Ionna - aeradae
Falos - runningwolf62
Junnar - somepeoplethinkimgoodatthings
Rowan - stupendousbadasses
Tallan - dirtyhecker