Thank you so much to Bear Mage, Wicked Lullaby (I hope your computer gets fixed), Arquise, Fallon-Idalia, Spadequeen and Kira Tamarion for your wonderful reviews! You guys are always fantastic!

The world as he knew it spun around him.

Fenris stared at the wreath – no, the crown – in his hands as the memory ended but did not disappear or fade from his mind's eye. His eyes fluttered shut as he grasped onto the memory with everything he had, and relived every detail distinctively, drawing it out and allowing himself the pleasure of indulging in such a thing. He focused on the words, the voices, the touch and feel, the mood and atmosphere of the memory.

It was a beautiful gift, that he could remember this now, and he knew it.

He vaguely heard Astoria preparing dinner for a few minutes before her footsteps approached and he felt a feather-light touch on his shoulder. He snapped back to attention and looked at her, eyes wide with fascination.

They shared this memory now. He could remember marrying her. This realization seemed to validate him and Astoria in his own eyes. He didn't feel so foolish anymore in following her into Minrathous. He tried to force a smile as he looked at her in a new light.

She held a glass of wine out to him, which he took with unsteady hands and put the crown down on his lap.

"I..." he considered telling her all that he had seen, but then thought against it, at least for the time being. He needed time to process, to decide what it meant for him. "Thank you."

She smiled and turned away, going back to the dinner preparations. Fenris sighed sadly, his fingers trailing softly over the crown of flowers and ribbons, before taking a long and much-needed sip of the wine and shifting his gaze to Astoria.

She had rolled up her leathers, revealing her smooth calves and her gloves were discarded on the table. Her brown curls were tied up in a messy bun, exposing the soft skin of her neck.

She began swaying on her feet as she started to hum a song, so quiet that it could have been mistaken for something else – chatter in the house at the base of the farm, birds singing in the forest. Her head rocked on her shoulders as she hummed what he imagined was a beautiful song while she chopped carrots. There was something so domestic, so calming about this that he wished he had lived a life like this.

They were in a building which only they were inhabiting as if it were their own home. It rested on top of a gently sloping hill overlooking a beautiful farm. Here he was, for the first time with the woman whom he actually remembered marrying, and she was making dinner and he was sipping wine, sitting on a bed. Anyone from the outside looking in would think they didn't have a care in the world.

This felt so right for him, like a piece of him was being put in its long-lost place.

Fenris finished his wine quickly and placed the glass gently on the ground before putting the crown on the bed beside him. He wondered whose bed he was sitting on – was it Varania's once, or perhaps his mother's?

He stretched, once on his feet, and stepped silently towards her. A loose strand of her hair fell down her back, the top of which was exposed and tanned from the blazing summer sun.

Once directly behind her, Fenris put his palms carefully, tentatively on her shoulders. She went tense under his unexpected touch, but didn't turn to face him or ask him what under-all-that-was-good-and-holy-by-the-Maker he was doing.

Fenris skimmed his palms lightly down her arms to her elbows, bowing his head slightly to better smell her lavender scented hair. He took his hands from her elbows and put them lightly on her hips. He pressed his cheek gently to the side of her head and shut his eyes, breathing in her feminine, floral smell.

They stood like that for a few moments before Astoria seemed to relax under his unusual touch, going back to her food preparation while he stayed there with his hands on her hips, watching.

He wanted to ask her about the memory, talk about it in detail, but he was amazed to have that image of his old self. He needed time to reflect on it, to decide if it was something he wanted to share. He remembered hugging Varania, even, telling her that he loved her.

How would he kill her now, if he saw her in Minrathous?

He had promised so many things to Astoria, he had made those vows, in front of his own mother. His mother, oh, now she had a personality and a face, and a nice voice and a warm embrace to match his idea of her.

Fenris had a lot to consider, and he knew he couldn't do it in front of her.

"Astoria, may I look at your... drawings?"

"Of course." She stepped out of his light grasp and rifled through her pack and handed it to him, also giving him the rest of the bottle of wine. He smiled upon seeing two more bottles on the table beside her.

"I'll be outside," he said quietly, stepping away from her and turning away. He certainly had a lot to think about.

Fenris sat against the barn, watching the sun set towards the west, dipping low into the blazing sky. The fields were golden under the beautiful light, with only the sound of birds and roosters far in the distance to disturb the warm, humid afternoon.

He gazed at a drawing of Astoria, Sharna and Lysander. The boy was still a baby, with a thin mop of dark hair and chubby legs. He snickered at the drawing, where Lysander sat on the very table Astoria was preparing dinner on. Astoria was sniffing a glass of wine and holding a finger covered in goo out to Lysander. The baby had a thrilled expression on his face, and Sharna laughed as she looked on, an arm across Astoria's back, her hand resting on her hip as she leaned her head on Astoria's shoulder lovingly.

Fenris felt himself smiling, even laughing to himself quietly as he realized that the little boy was eating a the gooey filling of Astoria's delicious apple pie.

The love in which the two women looked at the child was almost chilling to him. He had never experienced such a thing, at least that he knew of. Varania had captured it so perfectly, and he realized that he could trust Varania's depiction of his life and the people that had been in it.

He could remember marrying Astoria.

The pure joy he felt, the pride that swelled in him like a balloon, was overwhelming and he loved every second of it. He felt his lips tugging back towards a smile as he imagined what things must have been like between them for him to be so childish and adoring with Astoria.

And then she started singing in Arcanum, the lovely sound of her voice drifting out to reach him. He had heard bards sing that very song at Danarius' parties, but the way she sang it didn't bring back any terrible memories.

Fenris hummed along very quietly to himself, because he knew the words. The song was about a seaport, a ship sailing off into the vast and open blue with the intent on exploration. It was an old song, usually accompanied by a light guitar and slow dancing.

Fenris took a long swig from the bottle of wine and folded the drawing up, moving onto the next one.

The next one was of only Lysander. He was a toddler with plump cheeks and bright, big eyes. His dark hair was beginning to grow long, or what Fenris imagined was long for a child. He was gazing at something, something next to Varania while she drew him with complete and utter fascination in his eyes. His lips formed a huge smile, revealing tiny baby teeth.

Fenris chuckled, imagining what Lysander was watching. And then Astoria came outside and put a plate of food on the ground beside him.

She laughed when she saw the drawing. "Oh, my baby."

Fenris smirked. "What is he watching?"

"Varania was making a ball of ice in her hands, with her magic. He was completely fascinated by it. Whenever he was cranky, we would just have her show him what she could do with magic and he'd be in the best mood."

A long moment passed and Astoria's smile faded. "Oh, oh – I -"

"No, it is fine."

Astoria disappeared into the barn to get her own plate of food before coming back outside with her own bottle of wine, sitting beside Fenris against the barn. In the fading sunlight, Fenris put the stack of drawings neatly back in its place and gave them it to her before turning his food to eat.

"You know, I have some of your old clothes in there. In the chest," she explained later, after their food had been finished and they sat quietly, watching the twilight spread over the countryside. Fenris was enjoying this more than he ever imagined he would. This felt so nice, to have a place that he was allowed to stay in, at least for only a few days, with Astoria, with a nice view and a supply of food. This is what Fenris had missed out on for the past ten years.

The idea made him frown, but he looked at Astoria curiously. "My clothes?"

"Yes. You wouldn't fit into them now, I'm sure, but I still have them."

"Was I not allowed to bring anything with me when I went to Danarius?" He couldn't remember having anything, but who was to say if Danarius had taken something away from him in the beginning, before the loss of his memories?

"No," Astoria said with a sad smile. "You didn't have much to begin with. But what you left behind, we kept."

He nodded. "Thank you."

He had drank most of the bottle of wine, feeling a buzz coming on from weeks of not drinking. He crossed his legs at the ankles and swirled the wine at the bottom of his glass around. Astoria groaned and got up, going around to light candles so they didn't sit in complete darkness.

By the time the stars were out, Fenris considered himself drunk, but not belligerent. Fenris never got to that point. Instead he quietly looked up at the stars, so numerous and magnificent in the countryside without a dense canopy of tree branches to block them out.

Astoria sat beside him, an arm's length away, drinking her wine and humming softly to herself as the cicadas came out to disrupt the otherwise silent night. Nighttime came alive and Fenris and Astoria were there towatch the show.

For miles in front of them, small villages glittered in the night against a patchwork of farms bathed in pale moonlight.

"I can't remember the last time I've just enjoyed scenery," Fenris declared honestly, gesturing with the hand he held the wine in. Astoria smiled, still humming and braiding her hair.

"I can't either," she said. "It is beautiful here, is it not?"

"It is," he agreed. "But so close to that cesspool of a city. Why did you not move further away?"

Astoria scoffed. "Well... we stopped here because I was six months pregnant at the time, the rebellion offered to take us in if we tended to the fields." She sighed and took a quick sip of her wine, much more daintily than he had bothered to. "And... we wanted to stay near Minrathous... in case you were ever... freed."

He snorted at the irony. "And you found me in Kirkwall, months away."

She laughed bitterly. "Yes. I love how things work out like that."

He offered his hand out to her, free of the gauntlets. She dropped her warm palm into his grasp and they interlocked their fingers.

"Do you regret finding me?"

"Hmm? No, Fenris, what? No. Not at all. Not for a second." Then she chuckled. "Well, except for when you tried to strangle me."

Fenris bowed his head in shame, but he knew she was jesting.

"Oh, Fenris," she cooed, squeezing his hand.

"I'm afraid I know no other way," he admitted solemnly.

"I know. I would not fault you for it."

"Well..." he took a long breath. "Thank you, I suppose."

She hummed affirmatively and gave him a reassuring squeeze. They were silent for a few moments, listening to the far off sounds of a pack of coyotes.

"Where is my mother's grave?" He asked suddenly, his voice more somber than before. Astoria ran her thumb absentmindedly over the back of his hand.

"It's towards the forest. Would you like to go?"

"Now?"

She smiled at him faintly. Fenris sucked in a breath, unsure. Then he nodded. "Yes. Take me there."

They both rose to their feet and Astoria began to lead him away from the barn towards the forest. Fenris turned to grab his sword, but Astoria shook her head.

"No, don't worry, she's right here."

He followed her unarmed and only wielding a nearly empty bottle of wine in his free hand, the other grasping Astoria's hand. She led him away from the barn towards the treeline, his heart hammering loudly in his chest.

This was not something he had ever expected to be doing. He secretly indulged in fantasies where he would meet his family again, but he had never expected anything to actually happen. Now he was going to visit his mother's grave for the first time.

Fenris held her hand close to his thigh, partly out of his instinct for the safety of both of them.

He followed Astoria's lead quietly, both of them barefoot and stepping along over the thick grass. She led him until they were under the canopy of the first tree, and then she stopped.

"Here she is, Fenris." Astoria said softly, disentangling her fingers from his.

Before him, about five feet in front of him, was a flat stone laid out, surrounded by small purple flowers that bloomed close to the ground. Fenris stepped around where he imagined his mother lay and knelt beside the gravestone. Astoria knelt beside him quietly and watched him.

It was difficult to see in the pale silver moonlight, but he could tell there was some kind of carving on the stone as he ran his slender fingers over it, trying to avoid crushing the small flowers under his knees.

"What does it say?" He asked quietly, trying to squint in the dark unsuccessfully.

"It says, 'Here lay Sharna, devoted mother of Leto and Varania, wife of Verran. You are the gentle breeze, guided by the sun and the moon.'"

Fenris felt his heart swell to the point where he couldn't imagine how he would make it back to the barn without reducing himself to tears. His eyes welled up, but he didn't cry. He was the moon, Varania was the sun, his mother the wind. He sighed at Astoria's gentle touch on the back of his neck.

His lyrium pulsed for a brief moment, but he controlled himself and looked at the stone sorrowfully. "My... mother... is here, under the grass," he murmured, as if making this realization for the first time. He ran his fingers over the grass, its tendrils bending under his touch.

"She loved you so much. Even her... her last words, were 'tell Leto I love him.'"

Fenris swallowed and stood abruptly, like he needed to put distance between himself and the grave. "But I... I hardly remember her."

"You will, with time. Believe me when I say that... she was an admirable woman in every way. In case you were judging her based on Varania."

He gave a nod, finishing his bottle of wine. "I want to come back in the morning. Daylight."

"Of course."

They turned and left, Fenris feeling almost like a completely different man than he had that memory of the wedding changed everything, and he had no idea how to react to it.

He fell onto a bed inside, completely exhausted, and vaguely remembered asking her whose bed it was.

"It's mine, Leto," she had said with a chuckle, prying the empty wine bottle from his hands. Fenris tried watching her as she cleaned up, but he was asleep in seconds, and could not bring himself to tell her that he wasn't Leto anymore.