The room they rented must have been vacant for a reason, because nobody else in their right mind would have wanted to spend a night in a place smelling faintly of mould and burnt bread. If nothing else the bed was clean and free of vermin, and Fenris had slept in worse places. So had Nyssa, if hir lack of complaint was any indication. There was even a wash basin, if no modesty screen. Fenris sat near the fireplace with his back turned, and silently Nyssa filled the basin and used a tattered sponge to wipe away the dust from the road.
"I have been considering," he said into the quiet, as he sharpened his sword.
Behind him came the sound of water rippling in the basin.
"Mmhm?"
"You mentioned restoring the lyrium in my markings." Fenris paused to run a thumb over his sword, testing the keen edge of the blade, and tried to keep his tone casual. "Can you remove it entirely?"
Nyssa was silent for a moment. Then the water splashed again, followed by a soft sigh.
"I don't think I can."
The answer wasn't unexpected, but he was still disappointed. He covered it up with a shrug zie couldn't see, packed away his whetstone and pulled up a chair by the fire.
"I'll leave the water," Nyssa said.
Fenris glanced over his shoulder without thinking, but all he saw was a flash of a half-bared shoulder and dark curls. Quickly he turned around, muttering his thanks, and grimaced as his hands began to tingle.
The ache in his markings never entirely abated, but repetitive motions like sharpening his sword made it worse. The discomfort gave him a restless energy that made him want to pace, but the rustle of fabric told him Nyssa was dressing. Instead he laid his hands on his lap, palms up, and endured.
A touch on his shoulder made him jump. Nyssa moved into his field of view, dressed in a simple shirt and leggings. Gone was the voluminous cloak; hir unbound hair fell over hir shoulders, and hir face was scrubbed free of dirt. The shirt, although loose, showed the shape of hir body.
Longing hit him like a blow to the chest, trapping the breath in his throat.
"Sorry," zie said. "I didn't mean to startle you."
It took Fenris a moment to focus on the little ceramic jar zie held. The words jumbled together on his tongue for a moment before he found his voice.
"What is that?"
"You seem in pain." Zie reached behind hir and pulled up a chair, balanced the jar on hir knee and extended hir hand. "If it's your joints, this will probably help. Give me your hand."
For once Fenris didn't feel like arguing. He extended his hand slowly and let hir fingers curl around his wrist, drawing his hand to lay on hir thigh. Zie spread the salve across his palm, pressing a firm thumb into the meat of his hand and the base of his joints.
It did hurt at first, though it was by no means the worst pain he'd ever felt. Then as zie turned his hand over and pressed the salve into his knuckles, the stiffness began to melt away under hir touch.
"They're not like tattoos," Nyssa observed, as zie traced a fingernail over the lines on his hand. "The markings are raised, almost like scar tissue."
"And that's...different from a tattoo?"
"Well, yes." A black curl fell out of place across Nyssa's forehead; zie blew on it to dislodge the wayward strands. "Tattoos are made with ink and sharp tools. Once the skin heals it's smooth."
His free hand moved before he realised what he was doing, winding the curl around one finger and tucking it behind hir ear. His thumb wandered over hir cheekbone, over the delicate red lines of hir vallaslin.
"You're right," he murmured.
He half expected hir to pull away. Instead zie remained still, his hand in hirs.
The vallaslin began under each eye and curved gently across hir forehead, where the lines took on the shape of spreading branches like a tree stripped of its leaves. The design was almost perfectly symmetrical, Fenris observed, and intricate. It would have taken a steady hand and long hours of pain to create such a tattoo.
"Fenris," zie murmured, as his thumb traced the shape of hir lips.
"Yes?"
To his disappointment Nyssa pulled back; slowly, as if reluctant. The colour was high on hir cheekbones.
"May I—" zie stopped, drew a deep breath and continued. "May I see the rest of your markings?"
The moment passed. Disappointed, but trying to conceal it, Fenris stood and flexed his hands. The salve smelled foul, but it was certainly effective in loosening his joints, and the pain had mostly dissipated. Wordlessly he shucked his shirt and tossed it onto the chair.
Nyssa's eyes widened, though he didn't flatter himself at the reason. The lyrium markings covered him from shoulder to shoulder, down his arms and abdomen and disappearing past his leggings. He had become used to them over the years, and he was used to others' reactions to them.
"Creators," Nyssa said, frowning. "There really is no place they left untouched, is there?"
"There are a few," Fenris replied; he couldn't help smirking as Nyssa laughed.
Usually he barely tolerated being the subject of scrutiny. Only Isabela's teasing curiosity had put him at ease, and he felt oddly self-conscious with Nyssa's eyes upon him now. He forced himself to stand still as zie examined the markings on his forearms.
"I see," Nyssa murmured, and pressed hir thumbs into either side of his skin. Fenris flinched, and zie paused. "I'm sorry. Did that hurt?"
"It's fine," he said. "What do you see?"
"They're raised. Almost like...like canals, I suppose, to allow the lyrium to be channelled through them." Nyssa looked up at him, and he could clearly see the anger in hir eyes. "From the looks of it, Danarius carved furrows into your flesh. I hope he perished in the Void."
"If such a place exists, no doubt he did," Fenris said grimly. Nyssa moved behind him to examine the markings on his back. Hir gentle touch on his spine made him shiver. "Nyssa—"
"Mmm."
"Did I offend you? When I—just before—"
"What? No, of course not." A hand trailed over his hip as zie circled back around. "I'm just...pre-occupied. I wasn't offended."
His breathing quickened at hir hand on his abdomen. To conceal it Fenris asked, "Are mage healers common among the Dalish?"
"Keepers know a little healing magic." Nyssa's hand slid up his torso, coming to rest on his chest. "Herbalists are far more common amongst. I learned some of those skills when I was still with my clan. I also studied with Rivaini seers for a short while."
That made him frown. Isabela had told him a little of the Rivaini hedge witches who communed with spirits, allowing themselves to become possessed. Such magic was well outside Chantry restrictions.
"Do you not fear attracting demons?"
"No." Hir hand traced a line from his neck to his chin, but Fenris was too pre-occupied with his thoughts to react. "I'm no more at risk of demonic possession than you are."
"That remains to be seen," Fenris said.
Nyssa shrugged. "If you say so." Zie stepped back, looked him over once more and added, "I can restore the power to your markings."
Fenris swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "You can?"
"Yes. But—it would take some time to complete, and may trigger memories of the ritual you endured. If it worries you, I can ensure you feel no pain from it."
Fenris sighed. "It's not the pain that concerns me."
How could he explain in a way zie would understand? Though the pain was all he remembered, there was the chance recreating the ritual could cause him to react; and react violently at that. It could put hir in harm's way, and it was the thought of harming hir, even unintentionally, that gave him pause. The idea of Nyssa fearing him was unpleasant.
"We shall see in the morning," he said, and retrieved his shirt. "For now, we should sleep."
"You didn't," Nyssa said.
Fenris grinned at hir amazed expression. "I was there. Hawke said, 'looks like the Duke...has fallen from grace.'"
They were two hours outside of Hambleton now, leaving quietly at dawn and continuing down the road to Ostwick. Fenris would have been bored, traveling on his own with nothing to occupy his mind. With Nyssa he had the opportunity to speak of his adventures in Kirkwall, of which there were many. Zie had an appreciation for comedic timing that would have appealed to Hawke's sense of humour, he thought, and so he had regaled hir with the tale of their encounter with Duke Prosper de Montfort. He was a poor imitator of Hawke's bantering manner, but Nyssa seemed to find it amusing regardless.
"I heard Orlesian parties get wild, but clandestine meetings with the Qunari seems excessive," zie said as they walked. "Even for them."
"De Montfort was a strange human," Fenris said, absently, for his attention was caught up in watching Nyssa smile. In the sun zie looked radiant, almost glowing, and he was feeling less and less wary of hir by the minute. Perhaps that was foolish of him: beauty was certainly no indicator of goodness or virtue. Yet so far, Nyssa had given him no cause to suspect hir. It helped that, unlike the other mages he'd known, zie didn't waste breath on insisting zie was 'not like' other mages.
"Fenris," Nyssa said quite suddenly, in a tone that banished all the thoughts wandering through his head, and Fenris glanced up. Mist gathered on the road ahead, touching the waiting figures with the soft glow of morning sunlight. He recognised the familiar silhouette of Tevinter-style armour and scowled. Nyssa may have been different from the mages he'd known before, but the Tevinters behaved exactly as he predicted.
There was no avoiding the blockade. A dozen fully armoured Tevinter soldiers stood between them and the road beyond. With them was a familiar mage barely out of boyhood, wearing an arrogant sneer.
"You," Fenris hissed.
"You know him?" Nyssa murmured.
"I know his face. He's an altus; a noble-born mage. His father is a magister." Fenris spit to the side, ignoring the other elf's raised eyebrow. "Vishante kaffas."
He had been half-expecting this; he'd left a trail of bodies from Kirkwall to Markham, not all of them as neatly disposed of as per his last encounter. It was inevitable they would catch up with him eventually. He had hoped to be far from Ostwick—and Nyssa—by then.
"Ready to yield, slave?" the altus called.
Nyssa glanced at Fenris. "What should we do?"
"Fight," he said grimly. "Otherwise, we will be taken as slaves."
He drew the sword from the scabbard on his back and watched Nyssa pull the shrunken staff from hir sash. It twisted and stretched like a living vine until it reached full size, its green crystal glowing in time with hir heartbeat.
"An incaensor!" the altus said, and Fenris stiffened in fury. "Do not damage her. She will fetch a finder's fee."
"What are you doing?" Fenris said as Nyssa stepped forward, but zie shrugged him off. There was a cold fury in hir eyes as zie stared at the altus. Then zie smiled, and struck the ground with the butt of hir staff.
The road split apart, trees splintering and earth cracking with a terrible groan. Several of the soldiers cried out as the ground opened up underneath them in a great fissure, and the altus stumbled and fell, barely scrambling away from the edge. The soldiers' screams were muffled by the earth swallowing them whole and resealing itself, as if it had never come apart.
There was a moment of stunned silence, broken only by Fenris's laugh.
"You owe your gifts to our people, shemlen," Nyssa said. "Best you not forget it."
The altus got to his feet and retrieved his staff, red-faced with rage. He shouted a command in Tevene, and what remained of the soldiers advanced.
"Impressive," Fenris said under his breath, as zie stepped back.
"I thought you didn't like magic," zie replied cheekily. Goosebumps rolled across his flesh as zie called power to hir fingertips.
"Magic has its uses. I would be a fool if I refused to see that."
A shimmering barrier sprung up around them both.
"You can handle them, can't you?" Nyssa said.
Fenris scoffed. "Of course I can. I've been slaughtering dogs like these for years."
"Even so, keep the barrier. Wouldn't want to damage that handsome face."
A spell glanced off the magic shield with an odd ringing sound, and Nyssa stepped forward to engage the altus.
Fenris's smirk turned into a snarl when one soldier surged forward, his flail clattering uselessly against the barrier. He wrenched the weapon from the man's hands and shattered his skull with his answering strike. Another he slashed across the chest and sent flying with a kick. He didn't bother checking to see if they'd died.
"Fenris!"
Nyssa's warning cry prompted him to duck as a sword whistled by, close enough to shave a few hairs off his head. Fenris turned and punched his fist through the soldier's torso without thinking.
"Kaffas!" he cursed as hot pain stabbed through his fingers.
"Fenris!"
Hir voice was tinged with panic, Fenris realised too late. He tore his hand free of the dying man and looked around wildly. What remained of the altus's party were dead or dying; blood spattered across the road like gruesome brushstrokes on a canvas. One soldier remained, picking his way through the churned, bloody mud and stepping over the altus's smoking corpse. He headed straight for Nyssa, who faced him with a grim expression on hir flushed, sweaty face.
"That's right, slave," the soldier said, as zie let the staff fall. "Give up and I won't skewer you like the little rabbit you are."
"Oh, fuck you," Nyssa said, and drew the little knife on hir belt.
"Nyssa!"
The other elf glanced at him, just for a split second—and the soldier lunged forward. Nyssa stumbled, hir knife flying up to block the attack; zie screamed as the blade cut deep, blood splattering the ground.
Fenris used the last of his strength to leap forward, almost slipping in the mud as he rammed into the soldier. The man fell, cursing; his next words became a gurgle as Fenris ran him through.
He allowed himself only one moment to rest, chest heaving as he bent double. The squelch of mud roused him enough to look up, only to see Nyssa using hir staff to climb unsteadily to hir feet, cloak wet with fresh blood.
"No," Fenris said, and went to hir. "Don't move. Let me see."
"It's fine, Fenris, I'm—"
He followed the smears of blood on hir cloak and found a great slash across hir back, deep enough to part skin and underlying muscle. As he watched, the bleeding began to slow.
"Stop it," he said sharply, as Nyssa took a deep, shuddering breath. "Stop using your magic. You'll exhaust yourself."
He dispatched the few dying Tevinters while Nyssa watched, leaning on hir staff for support. The soldiers had very little on them besides some gold pieces and rations. If there had been anything on the altus it would be ash by now. Nyssa's spell had burned him to a charred husk, and he crumbled as Fenris kicked him over.
"We must leave," he said.
He half-expected Nyssa to argue about the risk of disease and danger to travellers, but zie only nodded wearily.
"I caught a glimpse of some kind of ruins off the road," zie said, "only a few yards from here. We can shelter in there for the moment."
"Lean on me; it will be quicker. No protests," he added, as Nyssa opened hir mouth to argue. "As a mage you should know better than to over-exert yourself."
"The altus was a little tough," zie said wryly, and leaned against his side. Together they limped off the road and into the trees.
Behind an overgrown tangle of trees and vines they found a half-collapsed shrine, built into the side of a small hill. It was closer to the ambush site than Fenris would have liked, but trying to put more distance between them right now was a pointless endeavour. They were both dangerously exhausted—he was familiar enough with the feeling after years of being on the run.
"This will do," Fenris said curtly as they crossed the threshold. Nyssa let hir bag drop and made a sweeping gesture with hir hand, then another. As he watched, a shimmering barrier appeared over the entrance. The sunlight that beamed through was dappled and yellow-green, but there was enough light to see by. Zie leaned against the wall heavily and coughed, hir shoulders shaking.
"Nyssa, stop."
"I was done anyway," Nyssa said, and unwound the cloak from hir shoulders. Zie spread it out and sank to hir knees with a sigh.
"Rest," Fenris said, as he began to build a fire.
"I can't," zie replied faintly. "I need to stitch this wound."
Zie reached for the clasp on hir tunic, then froze, gasping. Teeth gritted, zie tried again.
"Stop. You're only hurting yourself more."
Fenris retrieved hir pack and rummaged through it, ignoring hir huff of protest. He pulled out the same roll of leather he'd seen a few days ago when zie had cut him from the Tevinter's corpse. Inside in its own pocket was a roll of thread and a wicked-looking curved needle.
"I hope you know how to suture," Nyssa said.
"I know enough."
He had done this only once before in truth, in the Deep Roads nearly eight years ago, when Hawke's healing potions ran out and all they had was a suture kit much like this. There had certainly been enough scars between them, and it almost made Fenris wish for Anders' presence. Almost.
Underneath the cloak zie wore layers of light clothing; a green tunic clasped at the neck and a linen shirt. Both had been cut by the sword, but the shirt was fraying and stuck to hir skin with dried blood.
"I'll have to cut this," Fenris said.
"Do it. I have a spare."
The wound was not as deep as he initially thought, to his relief. The blade had caught hir on the shoulder and bit into the muscle over hir shoulder blade, petering out near hir spine. He cleaned the wound with water and stitched it as best he could. Nyssa was silent while he worked.
"May I…?" Fenris asked, and gave a quick tug on the knotted fabric of hir breast-band. Nyssa nodded.
"That feels better," zie murmured, when he loosened the knot. "Running around while you've bound yourself flat isn't exactly comfortable."
"Then why do it?"
Nyssa shrugged, then winced as the movement pulled at the stitches. "Most humans think if you look like a woman, you must be one. And if you're a woman, the world is not always a safe place. I prefer to travel unmolested."
"I understand," Fenris said, and tied off the thread. "It is done."
The sutures were clumsy and rough, but they held together the cut well enough. Zie would heal it when hir strength returned.
Slowly Nyssa lowered hir body to the ground, rolled on hir back, then winced.
"Bad idea," zie said, and began to roll onto hir side. Fenris's gaze flicked to the line of red pigment on hir neck, and followed it down to hir collarbones and chest. Some of the tattoo was concealed by hir breastband, but it appeared a perfect mirror of the tattoo on hir forehead.
"They don't glow like yours," Nyssa said with a soft laugh.
"Ah—forgive me. I should not be staring."
"It's alright," zie said, and rested hir head on hir pack. "You can look as much as you want."
"We will stay here and rest a day or two," Fenris continued, ignoring the burning of his cheeks and ears. "I will take the first watch. And when you are healed, I will teach you how to fight."
"Excuse me?"
"Just as I said."
Nyssa opened hir mouth to protest, scowling...then paused, sighed and shook hir head.
Zie lay down to rest, leaving Fenris to clean his blade and keep watch. He was nervous in this place. He knew well how easily demons and other vermin found their way into dark, forgotten places, and he could not completely trust in Nyssa's magic ward.
Tired as he was, he could not sleep. His thoughts kept returning to what awaited him at Ostwick, and over and over he asked himself a single question: would he ever cease to be hunted?