He found a cure for the Calling.

Hopefully, at least. It hasn't been long enough for him to decide whether or not this cure will be permanent. However, if not, they found a way to offset it for a while. That's something, after years of searching, and thank the Maker for it. Had they not found it, Elrich would not be here. He would have heard the voices; he would have had nightmares. He would be trudging underground, where it is dank and dry, and dusty, ready to face death with his sword in his hand and his Warden armour weighing heavy on his old shoulders, tired from how many times he's carried the world on them. Instead, the world around him is wet, wild, and white, and he's certain, as he climbs the side of the mountain, that he's caught in the worst snowstorm Thedas has ever seen.

Better than being caught in the middle of a horde of darkspawn, at least.

He shields his eyes from the snow with a raised arm and glances around. The weather has been unrelenting his entire trek upwards and, were he not so intent on arriving at his destination within the day, he would have turned back to the ruins of Haven by now. He can't, though. He's already been put this off long enough - longer than he'd like. She's going to be surprised how many wrinkles he has. How sickly he looks. How weak.

Can anyone blame him, though?

Instead of giving up and turning tail – he's not the type of man to do that, often or at all - he takes refuge behind a collapsed tree to get out of the storm, swinging his pack down from his shoulder and rifling through it for his waterskin. He uncaps it and takes a long swig, looking around once more. Not that it's any use – there's nothing around him but trees and rocks and… well… more trees and more rocks. The only reason he knows he's going in the right direction is that his thighs hurt like they've each been shot with an arrow and he feels like his feet and toes are going to fall off.

Well, maybe he can just thank the cold for that.

He's not used to this weather anymore. His old Ferelden bones have forgotten what it's

like to live through the heavy winters – even if they didn't get too much of it in Highever.

He's become so accustomed to the heat of the Anderfels and Antiva and the Orlesian deserts that even just a few sprinkles of snow on his way through the foothills of the

Frostbacks a couple of days ago sent him shivering so harshly he had to sleep with three layers of clothes and an extra two blankets those nights. He's re-adjusted to it by now, but a blizzard of this strength isn't normal for anyone. It shouldn't be, at least. It

probably is for Morrigan and Kieran, considering how many Maker damned years they've lived up here. He takes a deep breath and another sip of water then closes his eyes and leans back against the trunk of the tree.

Just a couple more hours, he thinks. A couple more hours and then he'll see her.

He can't remember the last time he saw her. It was years ago, of course, but he can't remember how many exactly. The last few years have bled into one another, between searching for a cure for the Calling and everything that happened – that's been happening, he supposes – with the Wardens. He was much younger when they last saw each other – she was, too. He can still picture the way she looked when they first met in his mind, clear as day. He doesn't know what she'll look like anymore. Just as beautiful and as strong as she used to be, of course. He just can't think of all the things about her that have changed. It'll be little things that'll surprise him most. She's probably gone grey.

The thought makes him chuckle. She'll look good with grey hair, but if he tells her that, she'll probably turn her nose up at him and bat him off of her and make him do the washing for the rest of the day. Or maybe she'll blush and change the subject so he doesn't get to see that he flustered her. Or maybe, he thinks with a smile, if he's lucky, she'll respond differently…

Once Kieran is asleep, of course. Maker, just thinking about Kieran makes a knot of guilt tighten in Elrich's stomach. He wishes every day that he could have been there to see Kieran grows up. He doesn't know what he'll look like, either. The last time he saw his son, he was only a child… he'll be going on nineteen years old, now. Elrich was around that age when the Blight started when he first became a Warden…

He'll make it up to them, he thinks, for being gone so long. He'll let them go to sleep early some nights while he cleans up the dishes after dinner, or wakes up before them in the morning to prepare breakfast – whatever they can scrounge up this high in the mountains, at least. It's been a while since he's done something like that – prepare breakfast. Do the dishes.

Perhaps he's never done that he thinks upon reflection. He never had to do that as a child, and he certainly never had to do that with the Wardens. Maybe on the road furing the Blight, but… well, he was much younger then, and probably passed it off to Leliana or Alistair more often than not while he packed up their camp in the morning or patched up his wounds at night. It'll be nice to do something simple, he thinks, now that he has the time.

He sticks his waterskin back in his pack and stands up. He's trembling, but it's just because of the cold. It shouldn't be too much farther, now, at least according to the instructions she gave him with her last raven all those months ago. He doesn't suspect they had any time to move. It doesn't matter, though – even if they're gone, he'll find them again. Truth be told, he'd walk to the Black City and back for Morrigan. He feels like he's already done it.

Now he just has to make it home.

Their house is in a deep, vast valley. Though it is still snowing, most of it is blocked by thick trees on both sides of the path upwards, and beneath the white dusting is a needle-covered ground. There's a sign near the entrance to the clearing telling visitors or trespassers to turn around and keep away, and Elrich can't help but smile. He suspects he is the only person who has never listened to the sign. (He's also probably the only person who has ever seen it.) He pulls his back higher up on his shoulders and pulls down his hood, moving forward past the trees into the valley.

It's a small shack. No, not a shack. It's the remnants of an old guard tower of some kind – guarding what, he doesn't know – with a shack of wooden logs built against one side of it. He hurries towards it, glancing around for any traps. He wouldn't blame her for setting any up. He suspects the wildlife up here is particularly ferocious. They must not get a lot to eat.

If they haven't already eaten each other.

Elrich doesn't know what to do. Should he knock on the door? Swing it open? Should he

wait outside for her to see him?

Thankfully, he doesn't have to.

"Elrich?" Morrigan stands in the doorway to the hut, drawing her cloak down. "Is that you?"

"Yes, my love," Elrich replies, striding closer before taking her in his arms. "It's me."

It's warmly lit inside. No one could ever guess that it was a small shack in the mountains if they just saw the interior – it's far too cramped and cosy to belong in the middle of nowhere. Some bushels of dried herbs hang from the windowsills, and others are nestled in the bottom of small jars lining several feet of heavy wooden shells. There is a lantern or lit candle every few inches. He suspects the flames are made from Morrigan's magic. They're certainly stronger than any fire he's ever seen or made himself, anyway.

Beneath the guard tower in the cellar is a large expanse of earth and soil where sparse vegetable and fruit plants grow and blossom into crops for the two of them to eat. Morrigan's room is on the highest floor of the guard tower, with a bed and walls draped in luxurious cloths and blankets he doesn't know how she brought all the way up into the mountains; Kieran's bedroom, smaller with plenty of drawings and books inside, is below it.

She approached him warily at first upon his arrival, and he assumed perhaps she thought he was some sort of trick of the light. Then she welcomed him with open arms, kissed him sweeter than he ever imagined either of them could kiss and after plenty of good-natured fussing about his unsatisfactory winter travelling clothes, she finally led him inside to see Kieran.

Kieran was at Elrich's knees last time he saw his son – now he's half a head taller than him. "Father!" Kieran exclaimed upon seeing Elrich in the doorway, hurrying over. "I thought that perhaps because of the snow, you would be delayed…"

"And put off seeing you a moment longer?" Elrich smiled up at his son. "Never."

Kieran leaned forward and squeezed his father tight around the middle. "Welcome home, Dad."

"Thank you, pup."

After that, Morrigan and Kieran gave Elrich a tour of their house. They've been here a few years after everything that happened with the Inquisition, and they certainly have made themselves at home even though they're miles away from the nearest village or closest neighbour. A little while later when they were standing at the window, looking out at the snowstorm as it calmed to a flurry, Elrich had asked her if it was hard. "I did this all my life," Morrigan answered. "The worst thing about it was being apart from you."

"Really?"

"No," she answered teasingly, turning around in his arms to give him a cat-like smile. "It's the cold at night. I swear, not even my magic can conjure flames hot enough…"

"Mmm." Elrich pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll find a way to keep you warm."

"Oh, I don't doubt that." She pinched his bicep before he let her go. "Now, I believe you said you were going to cook dinner?"

Now, Elrich prepares stew for dinner with some game Kieran says he gathered earlier that week. Morrigan sits with her legs crossed in a chair in the corner of the room – she's pretending to read but he feels her watching him. He smiles as he prepares the meat, dicing it up into little pieces. He can feel her eyes on his back. If he had something to show off to her, to flaunt, he definitely would. Still, it can make it a little hard to concentrate on his task with her staring at him, if he's being honest, and he almost knicks his fingertips on the knife a couple of times. Once the meat is finally cut and ready to be prepared with the rest of the meal, he puts the blade down and turns to Morrigan.

"The meat is ready," he says. "Er, I think. It's been a while since I've prepared such a complicated meal…"

She laughs at him ever so slightly derisively. "You think stew is complicated?" Morrigan asks.

He blushes and laughs, shaking his head. "That's a fair point," he says. "Come, take a look."

She raises an eyebrow. "What for?"

Elrich smiles, stretching his hand out to her and fluttering his fingers when she closes her book and stands. "Will I be charged with treason for simply wanting to spend time with my love?"

"Mmm.. well that depends on whether or not you're going to ask me to finish preparing dinner if you haven't done it adequately enough," she replies.

"I won't, I won't," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the cut meat while she looked at him with just a hint of suspicion. "Just tell me if I'm doing well or not, and if I am not, I'll fix it."

He did perfectly fine. She gave him a swift kiss before abandoning him to head upstairs and grab Kieran so he can help Elrich with the rest of the preparation for their meal.

Kieran has a lot of questions for his father. Understandably so.

He asks a lot of the Blight and the Wardens and then rants about his theories for several minutes before he finds another question to ask. He's a curious boy – man, Elrich reminds himself – and Morrigan treats him more gently than Elrich thought he could after everything that happened with her mother. He's a kind man, too. Elrich hopes Kieran takes after him in that way, though he supposes he hasn't been around long enough for that to ring true.

The meal is fine enough considering Elrich isn't much of a cook and they didn't include too many extra ingredients besides the meat and a couple of herbs, but he's certainly full by the end of it. After clearing the dishes away (he'll do them in a few hours before bed), he joins Morrigan and Kieran in front of the fire where they are idly lounging.

He's surprised at how relaxed they look.

Not that Morrigan doesn't deserve it. She certainly does – Kieran does, too. Elrich is just… not used to relaxation anymore. Since he became a Warden, he's felt like death has been hounding him, breathing heavily on his neck and down his armour, but now, for the first time in perhaps his whole life, he feels like he can breathe. Like he can relax.

So he does.

His limbs still ache from the journey upwards, and he nurses a cup of hot tea while Morrigan and Kieran flip through the pages of a book that they're reading and occasionally stop to point at one of the jars of herbs on the other side of the room. Elrich is having trouble following the conversation – he isn't as well-versed in this kind of thing as he'd like to be, considering poultices scraped together from things in nature have saved his hide more than once. It's nice to hear them talking, though. To hear anybody talking. He's been on his travelling for the past couple of months, and though sitting in a tavern is a similar experience, he's alone there. Here he has Morrigan. His son. Their son.

Kieran takes after Morrigan, mostly. (Her hair is much greyer than his, however.) Elrich can't find very many traces of himself in Kieran's face, though he supposes that he didn't take after his father too much, anyway, either.

And then he begins to think about his parents. They were so delighted when Fergus's son was born, and Elrich's mom loved him so much, that they were often inseparable. It was a miracle when Fergus's wife – Orianna – was finally convinced to pass the child to Eleanor to hold and take care of for an hour or so, especially when he was a baby. Elrich's parents… would have loved Kieran, too. And Elrich would have liked for his mom to teach Kieran how to use a bow and an arrow. It would have been nice to see them together on the training grounds of Castle Cousland…

"Something on your mind?" Morrigan asks, pulling Elrich from his thoughts.

"Mmm?" he replies. "No, just thinking."

"About what?"

"Nothing, pup." He says it and sounds so old to his ears – perhaps he is more like his father than he thought because the sound that comes from his throat sounds more like Bryce Cousland than it does Elrich. "Nothing, happily. I can't remember the last time I allowed myself to think about nothing..."

"I can think of several times," Morrigan teases, flashing her amber eyes at him.

"Mother!"

"I'm just teasing him," Morrigan replies when Kieran protests. "He's used to it by now, isn't that right, Elrich?"

"I certainly am," he says. "I would respond if I were not too tired."

"I know how you feel, father," Kieran responds. "I've made that journey several times myself…"

"One time he got lost in the forest following a bird," Morrigan says. "It was a pretty little thing that I pointed out to him through the kitchen window. Before I could stop him, he pulled on his boots and cloak and disappeared outside to chase it. He came back crying because he lost it among the trees…"

"I was younger then," Kieran says defensively, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It was several years ago," Morrigan concedes. "I wish I had been like that when I was younger…"

"I like you how you are," Elrich says, smiling. Morrigan smiles back at him, too, softly, and then reaches up to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.

"Me too, mother," Kieran says, nudging her shoulder and flopping his head down onto it afterwards. "I'm very tired, though."

"Go to bed," Morrigan replies, raising a hand to touch his cheek. "You've had a long day."

"I did," he responds. "We all did. But I'm happy."

"As am I," Morrigan says.

"Me, too," Elrich adds.

After they finished bidding him goodnight, Kieran disappears upstairs. Elrich stands up and sits beside Morrigan on the chair where Kieran had sat previously. She looks up at him and bats her eyelashes as he lowers a sleepy kiss to her lips.

"I'm very happy," he murmurs, cupping her cheek and tilting her head upwards so he can look into her eyes. "I'm happy to be back with you, my love."

"As am I," Morrigan repeats, though it sounds much softer and sultry, now.

She curls against him and stares into the fire as he unclips her hair and begins to run it through his fingers. It delighted him more than he can say to know that it has turned grey – it looks nice against her pale skin. He clears his throat and kisses the crown of her head, getting lost in his thoughts again.

"You're quiet," Morrigan comments, shifting to look up at him. "You're never quiet."

Elrich laughs. "I'm just thinking," he says.

"About what?"

He sighs and drops his arm to her waist, pulling her closer. "I want to visit Castle Cousland," he says. "With you, and Kieran. I don't know if you want to stay there – I couldn't blame you, nor would I stay there without you – but I want him to see where I grew up. And meet my brother."

"And just how long have you been thinking about this?"

He shrugs. "A long time," he finally admits. "You've built a wonderful home for the two of you here. I believe that wholeheartedly. I just… I just want to show him a part of my past from before I became a Warden. That's not the only part of me, after all…"

Morrigan purses her lips. "I think that…" She shifts upwards so that they're evenly facing-to-face. "If that is something you want, I am willing to do it for you."

"Really?" He runs a hand over her head until it comes to rest at the back of her neck. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable –"

"Nothing would make me uncomfortable if I knew it makes you happy," she replies. "When did you want to go? Soon, I presume?"

"I wish we didn't have to leave our home by itself," he says, looking around the room. He's only been here a few hours but he feels more safe and secure and happy here than he remembers feeling in his Warden armour in his Warden quarters. "I hate to think of any wildlife making a home here while we're gone and destroying all of the furniture or eating all of our food…"

"There's hardly any food to be eaten," Morrigan laughs. "For us or them. And besides, we'll lock the house up. I don't intend to never return here, after all…"

"So we can go?" Elrich asks.

"Yes," Morrigan agrees. "We can go. Soon, if that's what you'd like. We'll need several days to prepare our packs, of course – it's a long journey, but… yes, we can go."

"I love you," Elrich says softly.

"And I you," Morrigan replies. "Now, I do believe you made some promises I've been looking

forward to seeing if you could keep…"

He grins, standing up and scooping her up in his arms while she laughs. "I certainly can," he says. "I'll show you what else I've been thinking about…"

The journey to Highever is long. He feels like he passes through every season during their travels – winter in the mountains, fall in the foothills, summer in the plains and spring on the coastline… Not that he's complaining, though. There aren't any darkspawn to fight; there are plenty of flowers for Kieran to pick and sketch in his journal at night; there are plenty of nooks and crannies for Morrigan and Elrich to sneak away to when they make camp for the evening so they can giggle and make love like teenagers without terrifying their son. He feels like a new man out here in the wilderness and yet he feels like the same man he's always been – he supposes he will feel like that a lot now that he's shed his Warden duties after half a lifetime abiding by them. He feels like he did when he was much younger. Carefree, almost.

Hard to feel like that when he's becoming so old.

He's aware of it, now. Sleeping on a bedroll isn't nearly as acceptable as it used to be – at least his back and spine feel like that – and he treasures the nights they spend in an inn or a tavern or even on softer grass instead of solid, hard ground. By the time they're close to Higher, he'll be more grateful than he could ever imagine being sleeping in a bed.

A bed…

It's been so long since he's been at Castle Cousland – he visited Fergus ten or so years ago when he was in Ferelden on Warden business; besides that, they've mainly communicated through letters. Despite that, and despite how many new memories he's created since then, he remembers the layout of the castle like he still lives here and has all his life.

Fergus has fixed up several hallways and corridors and towers – the castle is in much better condition than it used to be when they were kids. Richly coloured Cousland

tapestries adorn the grey brick walls, and even though those walls are high and stately, the sun still slants on the rocky pathways and lights up the entire grounds in a soft, orange-gold glow.

Kieran just about lost his mind when they first arrived, and after a week, Elrich sometimes finds him strolling through the Castle absentmindedly, whistling as he walks and stopping in every doorway to poke his head through and look at what's inside. He's such a curious young man… Elrich is more proud of him than he can find words for.

He seems happy here, though Morrigan doesn't. She spends most of the time there in the towers practising magic and even though she's officially a guest and everyone knows she is a mage and an apostate she still feels uncomfortable during dinner, when everyone sits around the table and feasts on a full-course meal, the kind of which Elrich hasn't allowed himself to indulge in… well, a very, very long time.

On their last night in Highever, Elrich joins Morrigan in her perch inside one of the guard towers, rubbing circles into her bare shoulder with his thumb and humming a song from his childhood under his breath. "Are you excited to return home?" he asks.

"More than you know," she admits. "I'm happy to see you happy, but…"

"I understand it's been a lot," he says.

"I think I will get used to it," she continues. "The more we return. Next time, perhaps I will feel more comfortable…"

"I hope so, my love," Elrich says. "I must say… I'm looking forward to returning home, as well. I've had enough hustle and bustle for a lifetime. It will be nice to return to the peace, and the quiet…"

"I'm glad that you're here," Morrigan murmurs. "With me, again. For so long, I thought that you would never find the cure…"

"I thought so, too," he replies. "I did, however, and I couldn't be happier."