A warm wind blew from the north the day they left Denerim, though the land remained crystallized and hoary as they trudged along the North Road. Neria tried her best to spend a part of the day travelling in armour, though her body loathed accomodating it for more than a few hours. When they rested the second night, Morrigan met Neria in the early morn, providing her with a salve to ease the tension.
"Why you insist on donning that, 'tis beyond me."
"It better protects me..." Neria closed her eyes, sitting in the warm lee of Morrigan's tent as her fellow mage rubbed the salve along her shoulders. "I learned something in the forest."
"Did you now."
"Ancient elven magic. I... I think it lets me channel my magic into physical strength."
Morrigan pulled Neria's chemise back up, and the elf quickly tied the front at her neck.
"And how did you learn this?"
"A life gem... there... was a mage inside."
"Why did you never mention this previously?"
Neria's cheeks coloured as she sat on her knees and pulled a leather jerkin on. Throwing on a woollen mantle, her arms disappeared beneath it. She stuck her face down into the fur lining, concealing her breath to try and keep her warmth. The humid wind seemed to bite through everything. "I did not think it pertinent."
"Go," Morrigan jeered and shooed the elf off, "Let me see it tomorrow morning."
The ground underfoot was half-frozen and muddy, the surrounding hills barren and dry. No doubt cattle had once roamed it, but the state of the grasses showed that it had long stopped being even a meagrely fertile place to roam. Passing Sten on her way back to the fire, Neria almost stopped as she saw what appeared to be a cookie disappear into his mouth. He didn't meet her gaze, and tilting her head quizzically, she hurried to accept a cup offered by Leiliana.
"Some tea before we go."
Huddled alongside the bard, Neria sighed over the steam, closing her eyes and soaking in the warmth that radiated off it. Despite the gloves on her hands, they were stiff and cold, but the tea offered a brief reprieve.
"What I wouldn't give to feel the sun," Leiliana sighed, looking at the bleak, overcast sky.
"Sun usually just means it'll be colder, in my experience." Alistair tied up his tent, before using it as a cushion from the half-frozen ground.
"In Orlais, there are only a few days in Haring where it gets so cold."
"And this isn't even that cold," Alistair murmured, lips disappearing over the edge of his cup. "Though usually the snows don't come for a few weeks yet."
"Wonderful," Neria replied, pulling the edges of her mantle closer to keep out the breeze. The bottom of it brushed the ground. She relished the still warmth a few moments more before rising to go don her cold armour.
Alistair followed soon after, and she turned as he inspected her work. He adjusted a few straps and Neria bit her lip as he said, "Getting better every day." He grinned as she pulled her mantle back overtop. "When I started wearing armour at the monastery, there were inspections each morning. And the Knight-Commander wasn't nearly as lenient as I am."
Neria rolled her shoulder, hand at her side, "It doesn't pinch here anymore."
"It shouldn't if you wear it right. Least you had this fitted," He moved with her as she collapsed her tent.
"You - you know you don't have to do this."
"Oh - right," Alistair flushed at the apples of his cheeks, "I'll just... go take care of something else..."
"Thank you - for helping with the armour, I mean. I can do the tent on my own," she grinned, and he gave an odd wave before gathering up their gear to throw on Bodahn's cart.
It wasn't midday before they came upon one of the battlefields from the civil war. The snow clung in boot prints and the dead had been left in the ruined pasture.
"I never imagined it would be so bad," Alistair said as they walked with care over the battered ground. They paused as he stooped, flapping some loose linen that was half frozen to the ground.
"White River…" he sighed and walked further before he skirted sideways and motioned, "And Arl Howe's standard. Destroying any of our allies."
"I don't like it here," Neria whispered.
"We can't just leave them here," Leiliana said.
"They're frozen to the ground – and how many dozens are here?"
Hand to her breast, Leiliana looked injured, "How could they just leave their dead?"
Breath huffing visibly in the air, Neria shivered and shook her head, pushing on. The rest followed, spread out in silence.
Once they crossed the Hafter River, the landscape spread out into plains, letting them see for miles around. It also left them unprotected from the elements, and their night camps were brief as a result. The wind was unrelenting, the days darker and shorter. When they were finally through the expansive farmland, they made for a copse of trees, hoping to find relief.
"It is a pity we couldn't have stayed in Denerim for Feastday."
Lips cracked, Neria looked up at the bard, "What? It's Feastday?"
"How time flies, that we are already so deep in Satinalia…" Seeing Neria's disgruntled expression, Leiliana continued, "Do not fret, I have always prided myself in following the calendar proper. In the Chantry, we had to observe many auspicious days and events, you see."
"It was a good time of year in the Tower," Neria whispered, her armour clinking as she walked, "Even the templars were in better spirits."
"I can imagine," Leiliana smiled, "Let's make camp early, and I will go see what I can gather for our feast."
Everyone was relieved to stop for the day in the shelter of a copse, and the clouds broke as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Light slatted through the half-barren trees, granting a warm glow over the frigid ground.
"Am I the only one who missed that it is Feastday?" Neria gathered some branches while Alistair swung an axe into a large section of deadfall.
"I am fairly certain Sten didn't think of it either."
"That's not reassuring," Neria's cheeks blushed darker from their rosy cold.
"Or Morrigan." The axe fell again.
"Maybe I should skulk away and see if she'll take me in…"
Ualan loped amidst the trees, tongue hanging out as he chased a rodent. He almost knocked Neria over, and she muttered to herself as she deposited the branches by Zevran, who was building the fire. She sniffled a bunch before sneezing into her arm.
"You seem as accustomed to the cold as I, Warden."
"I almost miss being locked in a tower," she murmured, setting the branches alight as Zevran leant back. "Is this your first winter here?"
"Yes, I have not spent one outside of Antiva before," he sighed, "At least most of the smells are gone."
"They are not all bad smells..."
"You say that now, but truly, do you know any better? We are far from any city or darkspawn."
Neria crouched as Zevran built the fire up. "Have you fought any darkspawn?"
"On our way to… my last job as it were, we found a dead group of them." The Antivan kept his eyes on the fire. "It was…unpleasant."
"Will you go back? To Antiva, I mean…"
Zevran chuckled, "I have not thought that far, might I take that as a boon to say you plan to release me from your service?"
Eyes down, Neria said, "After the Blight would be the soonest. I… I don't want to keep anyone in servitude."
"Of course, though perhaps our kind are used to such, yes?" Zevran reclined and shifted, his heavy cloak concealing his movements. "Do you plan on returning to your Tower?"
"I will always be serving," Neria quietly said, "I will always be a Grey Warden."
There was a clunk as Bodahn plunked a cask down, and Neria stood.
"The archer miss, eh, Leiliana purchased this fine wine."
"Oh ho, so it will be Feastday after all?" Zevran licked his lips with a feline grin.
"I was the only one… won't you join us, Bodahn?"
"Thank you kindly miss, but my boy is a bit under the weather."
"Would you like me to see him? I might be able to help."
The dwarf waved in dismissal, "Aw no need, it's just a touch of cold. But I wouldn't feel right if I didn't stay with him."
"He's lucky to have you."
"Aye, well – maybe." Bodahn chuckled and strolled away, "Either way, have fun with your eh, festival thing."
Leiliana was able to shoot down a buck and she didn't hesitate to sing Sten's praises for skinning and dressing it. As twilight settled, the cuts were cooked over the roaring flames they gathered around, eating as the bard wove through a tale of the seas.
"And it is said that should ever a wayward captain find his way back to the straits, the demon will rise to claim and devour his soul."
"I can't imagine being at sea," Neria whispered, cupping her mulled wine close.
"Sea travel is not for the faint of heart – or stomach, truly." Zevran replied, stabbing at a potato near the coals to test it.
"Is that how you got to Ferelden?"
"Ah, yes."
"Oh, oh!" Leiliana started, floating to her things to gather a bundle. "It is not much but I bet once you try it, it will be the best thing you have ever tasted." The bard sat and snapped something apart in the low light.
"What is it?" Alistair accepted another mug of wine from Neria with a grin, a light flush over his nose and cheeks.
"Chocolat… there was an Orlesian merchant in the Denerim market." She passed the parchment to Sten, who took two pieces.
"Hmm. I am familiar with this."
Neria could scarce believe the brief moment when the qunari's stoic exterior lifted as he ate a bit. The mage smelled her piece before biting some off, and the dark confection snapped pleasingly. It melted blissfully on her tongue and she met Leiliana's smile.
"It was always my favourite when I was young…" Leiliana nibbled some of the treat.
The savouring silence was broken when Morrigan piped, "So, is this when we make Alistair king for the eve?"
Choking on his wine, the ex-templar sputtered, "Wh-what?"
"Tis that not the tradition? To make the village idiot ruler for a day?"
Zevran snickered and Leiliana had to cover her mouth as Alistair wiped the dark, spilt wine from his chin and went, "Ha, ha… very funny."
Eating her last bit of chocolate, Morrigan inclined her thanks to Leiliana as she got up and said, "Who said I was joking?"
As the apostate left, more wine was passed about, Sten stoic amidst the elven and human laughter and chatter. They ate the venison and savoured more of the rich sweets that Leiliana had stowed away for them. Each mote played its role in the night, and for the first in many, winter's clutch didn't seem so cold.
It was late when all but the two of them had retired, and the mulled wine was still warm in their bellies as Alistair and Neria lingered at the edge of camp on watch. Their backs to the fire, the mage looked at the sky. It was clear, and she was about to comment on the constellations when Alistair spoke.
"Here – do you know what this is?"
Neria snapped her gaping lips closed as she looked from the rose he'd placed in her hand up to Alistair. She suppressed her grin and said, "Your new weapon of choice?"
"Yes!" He took a combative stance, "See how I fell our enemies with my power of floral arrangement." He swiped through the air before lowly rumbling, "Fear my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent!"
Lightly laughing, Neria touched the petals to her lips. They were soft and cool. "Always so wily."
"You know me," Alistair grinned and looked down between them, "I picked it in Lothering… there it was, something beautiful growing amidst all that chaos. It didn't feel right leaving it there to be crushed under some darkspawn's foot."
"And you… saved it for Satinalia?"
Meeting her eyes, Alistair chuckled before his voice softened, "Maybe… but it, well… it made me think of you."
"You think I'm a gentle flower?"
"No, no, not at all…" He sighed, cheeks flushed. "Here you are, trying so hard, when you've had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden. You've taken up leading us when I just couldn't…I wanted you to know how rare and wonderful you've been through all the dark days we've encountered." He looked down again, "I know it's not been easy. I, well, wanted you to know… and have that."
Her throat thick, Neria replied, "Thank you, Alistair… that's a lovely thought."
"I don't know what I'd have done if you weren't here." He hesitantly took her hand, and the mage's chin dropped. "I've… come to care for you a great deal."
Neria tightened her fingers in his grasp, and she could tell he smiled.
"It's… not too soon for this, is it?"
The wine warmed through her and Neria escaped her shied self, light-headed as she looked up and shook her head, "No… I feel the same way."
"Right – so, so with that out of the way, I don't suppose we can just move right on to the steamy bits?"
Neria's cheeks darkened as her mouth fell open, and it was a moment before they both nervously laughed.
"I, ehm, meant because it's so cold, you know?"
Eyes down, Neria rest her forehead on Alistair's chest and poked him in the abdomen. Unguarded by armour, he almost squeaked, expression lopsided as his cloaked moved and he wrapped his arms around her.
"Good… this is good, right?"
He was warm and smelled of fire, wine and wood. Beneath it all was him, dirty and musky exertions. It was winter on the road, none of them could regularly bathe. Neria closed her eyes and whispered, "I hope so."
