Fenris slept better than he had in weeks.
It could have been the roof over his head, or the meal of something more substantial than cheap stew. More likely it was knowing he had, at least for now, managed to evade the Tevinters.
The clearing was quiet when he awoke and went outside. The air was crisp; the sun too low yet to peek through the trees. The scent of woodsmoke hung around the smouldering remains of the campfire—and something else; something sharp and old that made his blood quicken all of a sudden.
Nyssa lay rolled in hir cloak by the fire; zie didn't stir as Fenris walked past. A quick glance at hir sleeping form saw a barely visible shimmer catching the dim light. Some sort of ward, he guessed, which would trip if he approached too close. Far from being insulted, he was pleased. He didn't think hir fool enough to be so vulnerable around a complete stranger.
There was a shallow stream just past the first line of trees, only a few feet from the camp. Fenris splashed his face, filled his waterskin and sat watching the water run for a long moment.
By the time he returned to the clearing, Nyssa was awake and prodding the fire back up. Zie smiled at him.
"How did you sleep?"
"Fine," Fenris said, a little awkwardly, and accepted a steaming clay mug from hir. "What is this?"
"Just tea." Zie looked amused. "Did you think I might poison you?"
Fenris shrugged, and took a long sip. The tea was bitter and bracing, and warmed him all the way down to his toes.
"I spoke to my mentor," Nyssa said, and passed over half a loaf of bread. "About your markings. He gave me a suggestion on how your abilities might be restored."
Fenris didn't bother asking how they could have communicated over such a distance; the answer was obvious. "Restored?"
"Yes."
Zie reached into hir backpack and carefully retrieved a rolled up cloth. Fenris sensed the lyrium before he saw its muted glow through the linen. He was on his feet in a flash, the bread dropped in the dirt.
"No!"
Nyssa's hands hovered over the vial of lyrium. Fenris caught the flash of fear in hir eyes; the shuddering breaths as hir chest quickly rose and fell.
He hadn't meant to raise his voice so loud, but the hum of the lyrium filled his ears, driving his memory back to a place it had not been in a long time. No place had been left untouched by the stain of his old master's hands; the markings tingled and burned like lines of fire across his body, responding to the substance.
Hir gaze flicked to his sword almost unconsciously, but zie put aside the vial and stood, hands outstretched.
"Ir abelas," zie said. "Tel'enfenim."
"I don't know what that means," Fenris growled, but he didn't move.
Zie stopped short of touching him, hands curling back into hir chest. "It means I'm sorry, and I should have known better. You already told me your markings were made of lyrium; I should have known its proximity may have caused you pain."
His hands relaxed, the tension leaving his shoulders.
Nyssa sat down, slowly, gaze fixed on him. As Fenris watched, zie wrapped the vial and placed it in hir pack. Then zie stood, kicking dirt over the fire to smother it, and retrieved hir staff.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"You seem unsettled," Nyssa replied mattter-of-factly. "I don't want to cause you more distress, and I...don't feel safe now. So it is best we part ways."
Hir staff began to shrink in size until it was no bigger than a twig. Zie tucked it into hir sash, and suddenly became no more than what zie appeared to be: a simple elven traveller.
"So you are leaving," Fenris said. The disappointment he felt came at a surprise, but he masked it behind biting sarcasm. "More fool me for expecting more of a mage."
"If you cannot control yourself, I can't be sure of my own safety," Nyssa said evenly, though hir eyes narrowed. "I don't fault your distrust of magic, but I can't end my life spitted on your sword. I won't."
With that note of finality, zie turned and left.
It took perhaps five minutes for Fenris to change his mind, and two minutes into that he was already following after hir.
His memories of life before his markings had not returned despite the years that had passed. He had only his sister's account of how he'd fought for them in exchange for hers and their mother's freedom. Would he have fought as hard knowing she was a mage? Had he known of her magic at all? As Leto, he might have. As Fenris, he would forever distrust magic and the stain it had left on him.
Perhaps, he thought, it would be easier to let his abilities fail. He could not become what he once was—not the least because he had no idea who he was before. But he could be more now than simply property for greedy slavers to fight over.
But then again…
It had always given him a perverse pleasure to think of how Danarius, like all magisters, would rue the day he granted an elven slave the power to wreak havoc upon the Imperium. And he had sworn once years ago, that no slaver would ever be safe from him. He would make it so.
It took little effort to find Nyssa's path back through the forest. The road between Markham and Ostwick was down to well-trodden dirt this far away from either city, and like most rural highways it was mostly deserted. It was a straight road that stretched out for the next fifty miles, and Nyssa had not travelled far. It took only moments to catch up to hir.
"Nyssa, wait!"
Zie turned, hand flying to hir sash. Fenris stopped and held his hands out in a 'peace' gesture.
"It would have been easy to leave me to my fate," he began.
Nyssa relaxed slightly, though continued to watch him with a suspicious expression.
"Go on," zie said, after a moment had passed in silence.
Fenris paused to catch his breath and gather his words.
"You chose not to do that," he continued haltingly. "And—not many people would risk their lives to help another when there is no profit in it."
The sound of hoofbeats reached their ears as a carriage crested the horizon. Nyssa shot a glance in its direction, then back to Fenris. A little smile deepened the dimples in hir cheeks.
"I'm not most people," zie said wryly.
"I am beginning to see that."
The ground began to rumble under their feet. Without thinking Fenris jerked forward and lifted the other elf bodily, swinging hir off the road—seconds before the carriage rushed past with its driver whipping the horses frantically. He caught a few curse words on the wind before they disappeared over the hill.
Nyssa blinked up at him like a startled owl. This close, he could see the flecks of gold in hir dark green eyes, and light freckles on hir tawny skin. Hir hair was more burnished brown in sunlight than black, Fenris noticed absently, and the fingers that clutched his arms were stronger than he would have thought.
Then the moment passed, and they stepped away from each other.
"I-um—"
Nyssa paused, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"There was a family on the boat from Antiva City to Wycome," zie said. "An elven family. They had a little boy. He went overboard one day, and I saved him using my magic. His parents turned me in to the templars when we docked at Wycome."
Fenris frowned. "After the boy owes you his life?"
Nyssa shrugged. "Many people fear mages now, especially after Kirkwall. It's not without reason. But even so, what sort of person would let a child die on the off-chance his parents may or may not have them arrested?"
"I'm not a child," Fenris replied. "But your point is made. I find myself in need of your assistance, and you have my word I will not betray you to the templars—provided you harm no-one who has not attacked you first."
Nyssa shuffled back and forth, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on hir belt.
"What about the slavers?" zie asked after a moment.
"I will seek them out when my abilities are restored."
Zie nodded, brows furrowing. "Then I will come with you."
Fenris hesitated. "I cannot pay you."
"I didn't ask for money." Nyssa turned and began to walk, and for once Fenris didn't see fit to argue.
"Here."
Fenris blinked at the orange root vegetable that filled his field of vision, then to Nyssa. "What is it?"
"It's a sweet potato," zie said, eyebrows raised. "Our people call it the qumaris. Not to be confused with Qunaris."
He took the proffered knife and vegetable and began to peel it.
"Not even a smile? Alright."
"I witnessed the Qunari invasion of Kirkwall three years ago," Fenris said without looking up. "It was no laughing matter."
Nyssa sprinkled a handful of herbs over the steaming pot on the fire, leaned in and breathed deeply.
"Peel it and cut into pieces for me," zie said. "This soup will be thin, but it will fill us well enough. I'll replenish my supplies in the next town over."
Fenris grunted in assent, then started as the knife nicked his thumb. The blade was honed to a keen edge; an odd thing for a simple paring knife.
"Did you hurt yourself?" Nyssa asked as he held the cut finger to his mouth. "Here, let me take a look."
He shook his head, and zie shrugged. "Suit yourself. A question, though...is it true the Qunari withdrew their soldiers after the Champion of Kirkwall beat the Arishok in a duel?"
"To avoid further bloodshed, yes." It had nearly cost Hawke her life, but he didn't need to tell Nyssa that.
They fell into silence again while they peeled vegetables and tossed them into the soup, along with meat—two quails zie had lured down earlier in the afternoon. Nyssa stared at the sky while zie stirred absently.
"The soup is boiling over," Fenris said pointedly, after several minutes had passed.
With a curse Nyssa scrambled to take the pot off the stove, and motioned for Fenris to pass hir the bowls. As zie dished out the soup, he found his gaze lingering on hir furrowed brow; wondering what could have occupied hir thoughts so.
As if reading his mind, zie looked up and gave him a small smile. "I was thinking about my father."
"Tell me of him," Fenris said, and raised his eyebrows when zie looked startled. "What?"
"Nothing. It's just…no-one has asked me about my family for a very long time."
Nyssa handed him a bowl of soup, then served hirself and sat, tucking the bowl between hir ankles on the ground.
"He died when I was younger," zie continued. There was a soft, faraway look in hir eyes. "He was a warrior, like you. I grew up in the Vimmark Mountains near Wildervale, in country like this. I would have been a hunter, along with my brother, if my magic hadn't…" zie paused, then shrugged. "Well, it did."
"Your hunters' quarry was more than just darkspawn, I imagine," Fenris said. The Vimmarks were notoriously dangerous for travelers; ghasts, wyverns, bandits and darkspawn made their home in the jutting cliffs and dark caves.
"If there were darkspawn, I didn't know about it. The warriors would never let them get near the camp. But they brought the occasional human into the camp—the ones who became lost traveling through the mountain pass. They usually let them go unharmed."
The distaste must have shown on his face, for Nyssa shrugged a little defensively. "Our Keeper would not allow the warriors to kill them, lest the townsfolk drive us away."
"But you would rob them of their possessions and send them back into the mountains."
"I was a child; I wasn't allowed anywhere near them." Then zie frowned, conceding the point. "But yes. It is one of our...practices I dislike, but I'll say no more on that."
And for the rest of the night they did not speak more than a few words to each other. Far from being uncomfortable, it let Fenris think.
"You like this woman."
Blinking in the sunlight, Fenris glanced down at Nyssa.
"What?"
"This Isabela. You have this look when you mention her."
"Ah."
They were on their second day on the road, halfway to Ostwick, and Nyssa had not mentioned fixing his markings, nor continued their conversation from the previous night. Instead the topic turned to places they had traveled. To hear Nyssa tell it, zie had been 'just about everywhere' in the north. For Fenris it amounted to a hasty trail south from Seheron to Kirkwall, and seven years following in the Free Marches. One could not exactly stop to enjoy the sights when you were on the run.
He'd been telling Nyssa of some of their adventures around Kirkwall with Isabela and Hawke, and it was true: he did miss Isabela for several reasons; most of all how easy she was to talk to.
"She was a friend," he said.
Nyssa cast him a sidelong glance. "Are you traveling for a reunion, perhaps?"
How could he explain the nature of his relationship with Isabela? It hadn't really been a 'relationship' in the proper sense, but that didn't make it any less important. She made him laugh and she asked nothing more of him than he was willing to give. It suited them for a time, and that time came to an end when he left Kirkwall.
Nyssa reached out and patted his arm, and the warmth of hir fingers drew him out of his thoughts.
"Don't worry," zie said. "I know what it's like to leave lovers behind, for whatever the reason."
"Have you—" began Fenris, then his mind caught up with him. He stumbled over the words, and instantly—mortifingly—his ears began to burn.
"Do you have—uh—er—"
Nyssa said nothing, only looked at him with increasing amusement. As hir smile widened, a dimple appeared in each cheek.
"If I had one," zie said, "I would be with them, and not wandering the Free Marches on my own."
He almost smiled at that.
They arrived in a little town named Hambleton that evening, and Fenris had to wonder why the Marchers bothered to call it a town at all. It was barely more than a few market stalls, a single road spanning the length of the town, and a bustling tavern whose lanterns were already lit.
"Even I could stand to have a roof over my head tonight," Nyssa said wearily.
Fenris shrugged. "If you have the coin for it."
Zie raised hir eyebrows. "Of course I do. I don't spend my days frolicking in the wilderness."
"Evidently you do enough," he replied dryly, "or we wouldn't have met."
Nyssa laughed, and started towards the tavern.
The place was packed with all sorts of people; humans, elves, dwarves and even a few Qunari. Miners, labourers, mercenaries, farmers; Fenris stood at the bar and watched them all carefully, tapping his fingers on the scratched, stained wood of the bar. He saw no distinctly Tevinter armour or clothing, but with the crowd and dim, smoky light, it was impossible to really tell.
Nyssa returned a few moments later, brushing past a pair of chattering dwarves, and placed hir half-empty coin purse on the bar.
"They have one room," zie said apologetically. "With one bed. There is nothing else."
Fenris hummed, then what zie said caught up to him. His ears began to burn. "Ah."
A cliche born from the type of books that made Varric famous, he thought, grimacing. The dwarf would be laughing.
"It is hot in here, isn't it?" Nyssa said conversationally, and Fenris's hand slipped on the bar.
"What?"
"You look rather flushed, is all." Zie leaned in closer, and his eyes flicked to hir mouth without realising. "Don't worry. I don't bite."
"A mage and a comedian," Fenris replied, and began to move towards an unoccupied booth. "Wonderful."
The tavern food was decent enough to justify its popularity. Being witness to Tevinter excess all his life gave Fenris a distaste for any food not relatively simple, but a hot meal was not a common occurrence for him. He enjoyed it while he could, dividing his time between scanning the tavern and watching Nyssa, who ate and drank with an air of ease that impressed him, considering the presence of two templars only a few tables away.
Eventually zie did notice his glances, and with a small sigh zie put down hir fork and said, "Alright, what is it?"
"I have been...trying to understand you," Fenris said, and hir eyebrows quirked. "No Dalish mage I know of would part from their clan unless they were forced to."
"And you know many Dalish mages, I suppose."
"I knew one. Her clan turned against her for consorting with demons and practicing blood magic."
A flash of anger passed over Nyssa's face; for a moment zie was still. Then zie picked up hir cider and took a small sip, watching him over the rim of hir mug.
"Blood magic is a good way to bring the templars down atop us," zie said evenly. "It's forbidden for a reason."
"So I have been told."
"And...not every Dalish who leaves their clan does so out of exile. Some of us are not satisfied to spend their existence wandering the mountains with a handful of our people." Nyssa paused to take a bite of hir bread. "I know what happened to the clan you're talking about. Keeper Marethari endangered the entire clan with her recklessness, and I told her First as much when I saw them last."
There was a scrape as one of the templars got up from their table, and in the dim light Fenris saw Nyssa turn pale. It was then he realised—rather foolishly—that hir easy attitude had been mostly an act. Then the other templar rose, and he heard hir breath catch in hir throat.
"There's no need to panic," he murmured, as hir shaking hands reached for hir sash. "They are leaving."
Nyssa nodded tightly. Hir gaze followed the templars as they made their way through the crowd. When the door shut behind them zie finally withdrew into hirself, shoulders slumped and gaze dropped.
"Why do you fear them so?" Fenris asked, as zie reached for hir mug. "I thought the Dalish were exempt from Chantry law."
"We were," Nyssa said bitterly, without looking up. "But since Kirkwall, every mage is now suspect. A templar could kill me right here in this tavern, and no-one would protest. Some might even celebrate it." Zie spread her hands. "After all, I'm just a filthy knife-ear, and a mage. Who would mourn me?"
There was nothing Fenris could say to that. He fell silent and watched the crowds eat and drink and talk, and imagined them roaring in appreciation as mage blood stained the floor.