Title: Snow and Ice
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Sexual content, minor language, violence, blood, use of alcohol
Summary: Once upon a time, a maleficar had stopped the blight. Afterwards, she'd left for the colder North, leaving love for a life of loneliness and wandering. No one was to look for her. So why was Alistair calling her back? Zev/Surana
Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Review please.
Chapter 11
"My lady," Theron greeted pleasantly as she limped towards him on the training grounds. His eyes took in the battered state of the mage. Her arm was cast in a sling. That collar looked fit to choke her, and a bloody line in the shape of teeth cut through her bottom lip. Wynne had done well in healing the mage's broken leg, but Elda was still hobbled. Without magic, she was vulnerable but not unprotected. Four guards marched with her, whether to guard or monitor, he had no idea. Zevran was hovering in the background, clearly expressing his disapproval with tense body language and not so subtle glares in Theron's direction.
"Theron," she inclined her head. "Zevran and I are about to leave for the Circle of Magi. I was wondering if you might like to come along. With bandits and everything, we'll need all the soldiers we can get."
Theron appeared pleased but surprised. "I am honored, but I have seen the guards you've collected. Quite a bunch. They should prove efficient in handling bandits or darkspawn. Why do you need my help?"
Truthfully? She didn't. With the four guards, two knights, and Zevran traveling with her, she needed no one else to take up space and food. However, after the night before when she was a whimpering, broken mass, she felt a sense of connection between them. They had much in common after all, birthplace to begin with. Love for the Dalish and service to the king. When she couldn't trust Zevran to watch her back or the men under his command, she needed someone to rely on. Theron was that unfortunate soul, though he'd yet to prove his loyalty at all. What she felt was strange and unreasonable, but she felt it all the same. "You are Dalish, and you know the woods well. I am as much a prisoner as a companion in this group. They will not listen to me."
"So you need a guide?" he asked, smiling slightly.
Zevran interceded before she could reply. "The lady requests your presence, Dhairi, and you will come with us regardless of why. Gather your things and meet us in the throne room in ten minutes." He marched away. Theron straightened up and saluted his back dutifully. The Dalish picked up his bow from the ground. She marveled at it.
"That...is a beautiful bow," she breathed, eyes widening slightly. Pitch black in color, the wood arched thick and strong. Several symbols and carvings were pressed deep within the bow, reminding her of Master Varathorn's work. She had never learned to shoot a bow herself—she was far too impatient, and Leliana simply never shut up—but she could recognize a beautiful piece of art when called upon.
Theron glanced vaguely at it and laughed. "Truly, it is. My mother was Master Crafter of our clan. She did amazing things with very poor materials."
"But that is ironbark," she protested. "Not poor at all."
"No," he shook his head and held the bow closer to her. "See the indentations? This is oak, unfortunately. It was the first bow she ever made for me, but I was teased quite a bit because it was of poor quality. So she dyed the bark and heated it to strengthen the wood."
"Your mother did this with oak? Even Master Varathorn in the Brecilian forest was not so talented," she said. Theron's eyebrows furrowed.
"But what of your own master?" he asked, finding it curious that she would bring up a different clan's crafter instead of her own.
She hesitated. "I-I truly do not know. I was taken to the tower at a young age when my family visited Denerim to resupply our clan. I remember very little of my clan..."
One of the guards behind her spoke up. He had a rough voice, black mustache poking out from under his helmet. "My lady, perhaps this isn't entirely appropriate. The commander-"
"Silence," she snapped. "I do not belong to your commander any more than he belongs to me. Should I desire to have a conversation with this man, then I will do so. You have taken away my freedom and my ability to do magic. You will not take away the last bit of entertainment I have left." She said the words with such a finality that the man, clearly older than her, was struck silent. He nodded once in understanding, shifting a bit on his feet, completely uncomfortable.
Theron chuckled lightly, slinging the bow across his back. "As cute as you are, standing there defending our conversation, I best go pack before the commander jumps down my throat. If you will excuse me," he bowed lightly, mirth dancing in his too green eyes and then walked away.
She wrinkled her nose. "Cute?"
Her mount was a beautiful creature. She had a lacquer shined coat, black as midnight and short-haired. The mane was long, falling straight and clean as if someone had just brushed it. Tall and sleek, the horse carried an air of pride that forced a smile on Elda's face. Zevran was patting the horse's muzzle. "I thought you might like her," he said, clearly proud of himself for doing a job well done. Elda couldn't help it. She started forward and pressed her palm against the creature's nose.
"What is her name?" she asked in awe.
"Andraste," Zevran grinned.
She frowned at him. "You don't think that's mocking human religion just a little?"
"I never said it wasn't," he shrugged, leaving Andraste and mounting his own chestnut stallion. "It's definitely mocking human religion when I say it. Though it was Leliana who named her..."
"Leliana named a horse Andraste?" repeated Elda with disbelief. "That's strange, even for her. She's dangerously religious."
"Maybe she worships the horse, too," a voice drawled in her ear. Theron appeared from nowhere with a pair of reins in his hand. Carefully, he drew it up over Andraste's head and handed the reins to Elda. He eyed her curiously. "You don't wear robes on long trips, mage?"
While she had been packing for the long journey, Elda's eye had caught the distinct shine of her Juggernaut armor. Though she hadn't worn armor in a very long time—the silverite metal and lyrium embedded in the surface tended to shine too much in the snow—she missed the feel of its coolness on her flesh. And it had felt like coming home when she put it on. "I'm trained to wear armor, so don't worry. Besides, I can't use magic with this collar on. I might as well have some extra padding."
"Commander, you're not going to take it off?" Theron asked, surprised.
Zevran irritably shook his head. "She's dangerous. Don't get too cozy. She'll slit your throat in your sleep."
She bared her teeth in a feral smile. "I'm saving that for you."
Game to play, he replied, "Mi amora, you may sneak into my tent any time you wish, with or without a dagger."
Before she could reply, someone very small threw his or her arms about her waist. She whirled around, smiling, and hoisted Rinna into her arms. She kissed the child's cheek. With Elda under constant supervision, Leliana had been watching her daughter nearly all hours of the day. That meant that Rinna smelled of Orlesian spices and wore fine silks. She was also clean, and her breath was of cherries and peaches. Rinna touched the armor in wonder.
"Momma, where are your robes?"
"I told you I was going on a trip today, remember?" she said, turning around and letting Rinna pet Andraste's gorgeous coat. "I used to wear my armor when I went on trips before."
Rinna buried her tiny fingers into the horse's fur. "Why can't I go with you?"
"It's too dangerous," Elda answered. Leliana hand something her hands, a bit of leather she was toying with. The mage raised her eyebrows when she approached.
"Turn around," Leliana ordered lightly, mirth dancing in her shining eyes. Elda did. She felt her hair being gathered back, fingers running through it. The bard had a soft touch that didn't quite pull on the sensitive strands. When Leliana retreated, a few strands fell in front of Elda's face. "Much better. That is the Elda we all know and love."
"I seem to recall she was not quite so violent then," Zevran quipped. "And...daughterless."
The foolish idea to reply with, "so were you" was quickly squashed in her mind. Instead, she wrinkled her nose. "As far as you know."
"The Circle will hurt you, Momma," Rinna said suddenly, putting her fingers on the vial of blood hanging around Elda's neck.
Elda glanced at her daughter. "Don't be silly," she said. "I won't be hurt."
"But the templars hurt mages."
"No, no, sweetie," Elda corrected, putting her finger against Rinna's lips. "Hush now. I said templars hunt mages. And I am a grey warden. They won't hunt or hurt me." Hugging her daughter tightly, she set the tiny elf on the ground. Then, she kissed flaxen hair. Leliana watched a certain sadness come over her friend. Never had Elda left Rinna anywhere before. To be all alone, absent that tiny voice and warm body, was a strange feeling. "Be good for Leliana, okay? I'll be back in soon."
"How soon?" Rinna asked, fingers squeezing around the metal gauntlets at Elda's wrist. Curiously, her eyes were rather shiny.
"Two days to get there. Two days to get back," said Zevran helpfully.
"Four days, honey. It'll be okay. Leliana will take care of you."
"I don't want you to go," wailed her daughter. "I have nightmares."
"I'm sorry. It's too dangerous," Elda said seriously. "You'll have plenty to do. Leliana is going to teach you so many things."
"My lady, we must go," Theron said. Zevran hushed him.
"All right," she sighed. Kissing Rinna one last time, breathing in her scent, she placed her foot in Theron's laced fingers and mounted Andraste. When Rinna made to lunge forward, Leliana caught her. Perhaps it was cruel to leave her in such a foreign place all alone, but Elda had some things she needed to do at the Circle of Magi. She had her own demons to overcome, and while she was in Ferelden it was probably best to do it. Also, she needed time alone with Zevran. Now that he knew Rinna was his daughter, it would be much more complicated to disappear when Alistair took off the collar. She also had a chance to take the key if Zevran was off guard in camp or in the tower. And surely Irving would never stand for her being collared like a dog...
She did not look back even as Rinna began screaming and crying for her mother, but Zevran was sure he saw Elda's fingernails draw blood from her palms.
She was watching, and Theron was acutely aware of it. Not long after it had grown dark and the guards had all fallen exhausted into their own sleeping bags, she had demanded that he make a fire. At first, he'd ignored her. Zevran had told him that it was a bad idea because she might still be able to manipulate the fire even with the collar on. But Theron had been pressed and begged and prodded at until at last she had put her frozen fingers on his neck and startled him. After that, he couldn't believe she was even alive. So he was working with flint and tinder to start a flame, and her electric blue eyes were locked on his moving hands. For some reason he couldn't contemplate, that made him nervous. He kept dropping the tinder and forgetting to blow on the embers. His hands were shaking, and there was sweat on his brow from constantly trying to create friction.
"Well, you're warm at least," she giggled. "Perhaps you could warm me up?" She was flirting, teasing, and it felt good.
Theron blushed. "I'm sorry, milady, but this tinder just won't catch. I think it's wet."
"Damn," she said, stomping a foot on the log in front of him and leaning over. As her armor radiated cold, she'd changed into those same black robes with a crimson sash tied around her waist. He couldn't help but think she was beautiful, standing there with the moon at her back. "If I had my magic, this could have been over in a matter of moments. Reminds me of Haven."
"Haven, miss?" he asked, curious.
"Oh, a horrible little town by the mountains. The place was buried in snow," she waved a hand.
"The place where they found Andraste's ashes? You were really there, like the stories said you were?" he seemed to be in awe.
"Yes, we found it," she grumbled. "Froze my arse off in that little town. Zevran, Morrigan, Oghren and I were about to quit because of the cold alone."
"But-so Andraste was real? Like the humans say she was?"
She gave him a droll stare. "Of course she was real. I had my hands in the madwoman's burned bones."
"But, that's incredible, milady."
Elda sneered and curled her fingers around the metal collar. "Despite being collared like a dog and being called maleficar and mage, I am the hero of Ferelden. I didn't hear Ferelden complaining about how it had been saved when the Archdemon was defeated. By magic or no, I saved this country. I did amazing things once."
"You still do amazing things, milady," said Theron, standing up.
"Yes, I fell off a roof and survived," she snorted, raising a hand to flick some hair from her eyes. Theron caught the hand, holding the frozen fingers in his own. Even being an elf as she was, his hand totally encompassed hers. Despite herself, Elda couldn't find the will to pull away. She was drowning in emerald eyes.
"You survived slaying an archdemon. You left all of Ferelden and survived for six years on your own in a frozen wasteland. And you've come back now, when we've got a problem only someone of your skill can handle," he whispered, turning her tattooed hand over in his absently.
"Theron, I'm not here by choice," she murmured.
"No," a smile tugged at his lips, "but you are here. And that means the world to people like me."
Her hand was suddenly on his leather armored chest, and she didn't know why. "People like you?"
"Your, um, admirers," he answered, eyes lidded, leaning in. His breath was hot on her mouth, tantalizingly close...
Someone cleared his throat.
Theron jumped away from her as if he had been scalded, but Elda simply tilted her head to the sky with a small smile on her lips. The moon was out in full force, casting silvery rays across the plains of her smooth, alabaster skin.
Zevran shoved a sheathed sword against Theron's chest, hard. The Dalish elf nearly stumbled backwards with the sheer force. "Meet up with Ser Henry for patrol."
Theron was confused for a moment. "My patrol isn't until dawn. With Ser Timry."
"Change of plans. Go," ordered the Crow. Theron left with only a small glance at Elda.
I originally wanted this to be five, six chapters max. -.- oops.