Nan starts fussing with Arya's ankle as soon as they make camp, bony fingers poking and prodding. Arya hisses, fingers curling in the furs on the bedroll.
"Christ, Nan, you could be a little more gentle," she complains. Nan looks up at her, a wry grin on her face.
"I don't have to help at all, girl. I have to find out how bad you've managed to hurt yourself, jumping out of that window like a damned fool," she retorts. Arya looks up at Lysander pleading, but he only flashes her a grin across the fire, poking at the flames with a stick. She gives him a pout in return.
"I'd have a lot worse that a sprained ankle if Howe's men had found me in the castle, Nan," Arya reminds, trying to keep her ankle as still as possible. Nan's shredded Lysander's spare shirt, there's a potion boiling over the fire, and Arya thinks Nan's got a good shot at fixing this without magic, but damn if doesn't hurt.
"Probably. But the point is that you need to sit still and let me work," Nan tells her, so Arya bites her lip and leans back. Lysander gets up from his place by the fire and slides in behind her, propping her up in his lap. He reaches up, brushing the hair out of her eyes. She gives him a faint smile that turns into a grimace again at another particularly sharp prod from Nan's fingers.
"So, what are you going to do? Just use the shirt scraps as a brace?" she asks, peering down at Nan. Dusk is well on it's way and the flickering shadows of the fire doesn't make it much easier to see what the woman is doing.
"That's right. The potion up there should help with the pain as well as speed up the healing process. It'll hold you over until we can get another mage to look at it, and the bindings should keep you from worsening the injury," she tells her. She leans back for a moment, stretching, before she bends back over Arya's ankle, gathering the strips of the t-shirt.
"You know, she had to do this for me all the time when I was little," Lysander tells her, shifting so his mouth is right next to her ear. A small shudder runs down her spine as his breath ghosts over her neck, but his voice is distracting enough to keep her focused on him.
"Tell me a story," she says, looking up at him, firelight dancing across his face. He smiles, leaning down to kiss her forehead, before he settles into to tell her about when he was a boy and the world was big and bright and full of hope.
Leliana and the others arrive in Denerim as night falls over the city. Eliza leads the group towards the palace, where warm food and warm baths and soft beds await. Sten takes up the rear, guarding them from anything they might happen to run into, and the rest of their party is interspersed between the two. Anders walks with Wynne, their shoulders brushing in case he stumbles. "It's beautiful," he breathes, tilting his head back to take in the city.
"You made it to Denerim the last time you escaped," Wynne reminds him, a fond smile on her face. She'd never really known Anders during the Circle- he was a young rebel and she was older and more responsible, but the man was determined to a fault. He'd insisted they move out when they did, whether he was ready or not, because he was tired of the silhouette of the Circle Tower hovering over his shoulder.
"I was still a wanted man, then. It's different, seeing it when you're a free man," he tells her. The city stretches for as far as he can see on all sides- they're getting close to the palace.
"You aren't completely free. You just belong to the Wardens now," Wynne reminds him. His wonder is a little infectious, though, and Wynne remembers the first time she'd been granted permission to leave the Circle.
"I trust them not to imprison me," Anders says, a wry grin on his face. He runs a hand through his limp hair, still dull from a year in solitary confinement. But he's free, now, and the Circle will never be able to do this to him again.
Morrigan meets them at a crossroads, sitting on the back of a black mare.
"Morrigan!" Arya yells, nearly falling off the horse in her haste to dismount. The witch laughs, sliding off of her own mount and reaching out, pulling Arya off the horse and into a hug.
"It's so good to see you again. Are you all right? I felt it when you hurt your ankle," she says, concern shining in her golden eyes.
"I'm okay, it's just a sprain. God, it was only a few days, but it feels like it's been forever since I've seen you," she says, cupping Morrigan's face in her hands. Morrigan gives her a soft smile.
"It does indeed. If you're injured, though, we should hurry back to the palace. Wynne and the others arrived last night, not long after sundown, so she should be able to fix you back up," she says. Arya nods, turning back to Lysander with a grin.
"Well, you owe me ten coppers. There's someone that doesn't want our heads for this little journey," she says. He rolls his eyes.
"And what about Cailan and Anora? I'm sure they want to skin us alive for this," he says.
"Actually, I believe they'll just be glad you've returned. They've been worried, but I don't think they're going to be angry at you," Morrigan says. Arya lets out a heavy breath, leaning against Morrigan to keep the weight off her sprained ankle.
"Thank fucking Christ. You hear that, Lysander? That's two silvers you owe me," she says, but the look on her face is nothing but relief.
"Yeah, yeah, kitten, you'll get your money. I suppose we shouldn't keep them waiting any longer, though," Lysander says. Morrigan boosts Arya up on her own horse, swinging up behind her.
"Then let us be off," the witch says, spurring the horse onwards before anyone can say anything. Nan's laughter follows them as Lysander nudges his horse into following.
Morrigan stops the horses just long enough to dismount fifteen minutes before they reach the palace.
"What are you doing?" Arya asks, shifting nervously.
"Going back to the palace. I'll go ahead of you, so things are ready for you," she answers.
"Wait," Arya says, reaching out and grabbing Morrigan's wrist. She turns, tilting her face up at her.
She leans down, moving her hand to Morrigan's cheek to coax her into standing on her tiptoes. She presses a kiss to Morrigan's lips, resting their foreheads together for a second. Morrigan curls her fingers around Arya's wrist.
Arya pulls back before Nan can fuss at them. "Thank you, Morrigan. For everything," she says, and the witch gives her a fond smile, reaching up to brush a lock of hair behind Arya's ear.
"Of course, you fool," she murmurs fondly. She checks to make sure there's nobody else watching, and then a bird is sitting where she stood. She takes off, and Arya watches for a moment before urging the horses on.
Cailan and Anora greet them at the gates. Morrigan is nowhere in sight, but Arya isn't concern. The King and the Queen are the very picture of monarchs until Arya and Lysander slide off their horses- stiff and formal, their hands clasped behind their backs and severe expressions on their faces. The second the travelers' feet touches the ground, however, they change. Cailan pulls Arya into a hug, mindful of her ankle, and breathes her in. She buries her face in the crook of his neck, and she hadn't realized she had missed him so badly until she was blinking away tears. Similarly, Anora has pulled Lysander down into a hug, tears streaking her face, before she holds him back at arm's length and checks him for injuries.
"I was so worried," Cailan breathes in her ear, and she pulls back enough to give him a watery smile.
"I'm okay. We're both okay," she says, as he presses kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her nose.
"Good. We should get you both inside, get you to a warm bath. Loghain! Come make sure their friend gets settled in!" Cailan calls out. Anora leads Lysander inside, still fussing over him, and Cailan sweeps his arm underneath Arya's knees, picking her up.
"Whoa, tiger. A little warning would be nice," she says, grinning.
"Sorry. We're all just…glad you made it back to us in one piece. I'll take you to Wynne right now, and we'll have a private bath waiting for us in your room by the time you get out, with a cart of food from the kitchens. How does that sound?" he asks, smiling down at her.
"Heavenly," she answers, and she can hear Nan around the corner, talking Loghain's ear off.
Wynne heals Arya's ankle in seconds. Cailan leans against the doorway, however, while Wynne pulls Arya into a hug before setting back to berate her.
"Next time, Miss Huskins, you need to tell people you're leaving. Cailan and Anora were beside themselves when we got here!" she scolds. Arya has the decency to look sheepish.
"Sorry, Wynne. Lysander needed me, though, and I couldn't bring myself to say no to him," she says. Wynne pulls her into another hug.
"I know, dear. I'll let you off the hook, this time. And if you need to come talk to me later, I'll be right here in my room. I'm sure this will catch up with you soon," Wynne says, squeezing her hand. Arya smiles gratefully as she slips off the bed.
"Thank you, Wynne," she says, stopping for one more hug. The mage gently nudges her towards Cailan as they break apart, and he sweeps her back up, warmth glittering in his eyes. She laughs as they round the corner.
She sinks into the bath with a groan as Cailan kneels next to the tub. Her armor is in a pile on the floor in front of the bed, discarded for the moment. She tilts her head back against the rim of the tub, sinking deeper into the water, and lets her eyes drift shut. She hadn't realized how sore her muscles were until the warmth of the water had begun to relieve them, but she was certainly feeling the recent days spent on horseback.
"So, how did you hurt your ankle?" Cailan asks, dipping a soft rag into the water before lathering it with soap. He begins to gently work at her skin, washing off the grime of travel. She opens her eyes lazily at the sensation, glancing down at his hand on her leg before relaxing again.
"I jumped out a window," she tells him. His hand travels up her stomach, and a shiver runs down her spine as she leans into the touch.
"Maker, Arya. It's a wonder you're back in one piece at all," he scolds, but his focus is on the rag in his hand.
"I had a barrier spell up. I just…didn't do it right. Besides, it was either that or let Howe's men catch us. It was a close call, and we're probably lucky we got off so easy. I'm just…really glad to be back. Everything is kind of hitting at once," she says. She lets Cailan move her limbs around as he likes, basking in the warmth of the water. She feels drained, with the days of anxiety catching up to her. Howe's scream when she burned him sits heavy in the back of her mind, too, and she knows that's going to be something she'll have to deal with. But for now, nothing exists but the warmth of the water, the flickering of the candles, and Cailan's hand gentle on her skin.
She falls asleep before he finishes washing her. He chuckles to himself when he notices, finishing up. He hefts her out of the bathtub, wrapping a towel around her and drying her off. He carries her over to the bed, slipping a pair of panties up her thighs and one of his shirts over her head. He presses a kiss to her forehead as he pulls the blankets over her. A knock at the door keeps him from climbing in with her.
Lysander is standing on the other side in his pajamas, looking a little less worse for the wear after a bath. "She's asleep," Cailan says, before he can say anything.
"I figured. I…didn't want to stay in my bed by myself," he admits, running a hand through his hair. Highever haunts him, more than he's willing to admit.
"The bed's big enough for all three of us," Cailan says, evenly. Lysander looks taken aback for moment before he strides into the room. The door shuts behind him, blocking out the light from the hallway.
"Are you sure you don't mind…sharing?" he asks. Cailan gives him a small smile.
"Not with you," he answers. Lysander shrugs and crawls into the bed. Arya curls around him immediately, slinging an arm across his chest and burrowing into his side with a soft sound. Cailan takes a moment to blow the candles out before he joins them on Arya's other side, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he settles in.
A girl stands in a world that isn't real, and the landscape shifts around her as she flickers. She can feel someone else burning under her skin, begging to get out, someone that she can't quite reconcile with herself anymore. She begins to prepare.
The ritual is dangerous and lengthy, but the girl is determined. When the smoke clears, the girl is not alone. A boy lays on the ground next to her. Both of them are more solid now, neither of them flickering, and the landscape stops shifting around them. She frantically checks for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when she finds out.
The next time they live, they enter the world together, with a promise to find each other again.
A/N: Hey everybody! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I started university, so things will probably still be slow going. That said, I want to tell you that I have a blog dedicated to this entire series. You can find it at .com. I always accept questions there, be it about the story or about anything else. As always, feel free to leave a review. I read and appreciate every single one of them.