"Fenris. Fenris."
Fenris jolted awake, hands scrabbling for his sword from pure instinct. A hand on his shoulder tightened, bringing him to his senses.
Nyssa's face loomed in from the darkness, illuminated by the odd greenish light of the barrier. There were purple shadows under hir eyes, and hir dark brows furrowed.
"Something triggered my ward," zie whispered. "We have to leave."
Fenris grimaced. He was stiff after hours of leaning against the hard wall of the shrine, and he'd managed to somehow trap his arms in the woollen folds of his cloak. Nyssa freed him in a few sharp tugs and pulled him to his feet.
"Come on," zie whispered. "I found another way out deeper in the shrine."
"I thought you were resting," Fenris said, as zie led him past their dying campfire.
"I was."
There were three corridors at the back of the shrine—one half-collapsed and the other two pitch black. Nyssa extended hir hand and a ball of light sprang into being on hir fingertips.
"This way," zie said, and approached the furthest tunnel on the left. "I woke up when someone tripped the ward I set. I sent a wisp to find another way out and then I woke you."
Fenris didn't bother asking what a wisp was. "Tevinters?"
"I don't know. It was something big enough to be human, so I'm not taking any chances."
They walked in near-darkness and silence for what seemed like an hour, though it was more likely only a few minutes had passed. There was no sound from behind them, and no sound from ahead save for their quiet footsteps.
Then Nyssa paused. The light brightened, revealing a wall ahead covered in shining tiles—a mosaic wall similar to ancient elven ruins Fenris had once seen just outside Qarinus. The figure was hard to discern, but he caught the outline of a figure with delicate ears and outstretched wings. Zie pressed the cluster of tiles over the figure's heart, and the wall slid to one side. Fresh night air rushed over them.
They heard voices almost immediately after leaving the shrine. Instinctively Fenris dropped into a crouch and pulled Nyssa behind a crumbling wall. After a moment he chanced a look over the top: a flash of dancing lights among the trees, and a shout that was unmistakably in Tevene.
"Bounty hunters," he reported. "They must have been following the altus and his men."
Another shout, closer this time, and he caught the words incaensor and rattus. Nyssa's mage light winked out of existence, leaving hir no more than an outline in the darkness. They froze in place, breaths quick and shallow.
"Search there!"
The command was in Tevene, followed by slow, crunching footsteps so loud they blocked out the sounds of the night. Fenris reached out and drew Nyssa to him, wrapping an arm around hir. His hand found hirs in the darkness. Another footstep, a wash of faint light over their hiding place, and Nyssa turned hir face into his shoulder.
They waited, barely breathing, quivering with pent-up adrenaline. The itch to strike at them grew with every agonising second that passed, but Fenris fought the urge with clenched fists and gritted teeth. He wasn't alone anymore, he reminded himself. It was one thing to risk his own life by killing these slavers, but it was another to risk hirs.
Finally the light began to fade and the footsteps moved away. They remained there until all was silent and dark once again. Only then did Nyssa lift hir head, hands buried in his cloak.
"Is this what it's like to be hunted?" zie asked.
Fenris nodded. The adrenaline began to ease out of him, leaving him tired and aching all of a sudden.
Nyssa rose to hir knees and pulled hirself upright so zie could see over the crumbling wall. Zie remained there for several minutes, staring into the darkness. Then zie looked down, meeting his eyes, hir lips pressed into a hard line.
"Let's return to the shrine," zie said. "And tomorrow, you can teach me how to fight them."
Fenris awoke at dawn inside the shrine, lying on the ground wrapped in his cloak and blankets. After the bounty hunters moved on he and Nyssa had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, with the barrier and the ward their only protections. The ward would warn them of any intruders, Nyssa had reassured him, and this time he trusted in the magic. They would never have evaded the Tevinters if it hadn't worked.
Nyssa was nowhere to be seen when he awoke. The magic barrier had been taken down, allowing sunlight to stream through the shrine entrance. Outside were a few crumbling walls like the one they'd hidden behind the night before, and a tall tree with massive spreading branches at the far end of the clearing.
Fenris shucked his shirt and boots, stretched, and began to practice his sword forms. As he worked he began to relax, his muscles loosening and warming with each fluid movement. Quick footsteps reached his ears a few minutes later, and Nyssa appeared at the shrine entrance.
"Oh, don't stop on my account," zie said, as he paused. "I was just enjoying the show."
Fenris laughed, lowered his sword and paused to look at hir in the morning sunshine.
Four days it had been and until then, he hadn't noticed how high hir cheekbones were, or the dark hazel of hir eyes. There was a little scar at the corner of hir mouth he hadn't noticed before. What it would feel like under his lips, he wondered idly, then paused. Where the hell had that come from?
"You...look well," he said, if only to distract from the embarrassed heat rising in his cheeks. "What are those?"
Nyssa glanced at the linen bundle gathered in hir hands. "Oh, they're deep mushrooms. If I find them in the forest I'll usually sell them in the city."
Fenris eyed the luminescent stalks warily. "Are they...edible?"
"No, they'll rot your insides." Nyssa gestured to the shrine with a flick of hir head. "If you're hungry, there's food in my pack."
Fenris retrieved hir pack and found the bread they'd bought in Hambleton, and stood watching the tree while he ate.
"It reminds me of a vhenadahl," Nyssa said, after zie packed away the mushrooms and joined him. "Like the one in Halamshiral."
"The alienage elves used to paint theirs in Kirkwall," Fenris said. "It seems a waste of effort."
"To you, perhaps."
Fenris shrugged and took a bite of his bread, looking upward, and spotted a branch thick enough to work as a practice weapon. If he could climb up and cut it down, he could fashion one each.
"I could use your opinion," he said, touching hir on the shoulder. "How difficult would it be to climb that tree?"
Nyssa wandered over to the tree and ran a hand over its gnarled trunk, then slowly circled the base.
"Not difficult. I could climb it in a few seconds."
"Not you," Fenris said. "Me. You're still healing."
Nyssa gave him a withering look, backed up a few steps and broke into a run at the tree. Zie leaped for the lowest hanging branch and pulled hirself up with a grunt of effort, though without any apparent pain. Zie climbed with an impressive dexterity and speed, bare hands and feet finding knots in the trunk and swinging hirself into the higher branches.
"See?" zie called down, leaning over a thickened branch. "Totally healed."
"Please take care not to fall," Fenris said with a frown. "I don't know how to set broken bones."
Nyssa laughed. "I'm Dalish, Fenris. I've never fallen out of a tree in my life."
At his direction zie cut down the branch he had spotted earlier, then watched from hir perch in the tree as Fenris stripped the leaves and chopped it in equal halves. Then zie descended, landing lightly on the grass, and watched him whittle the wood down to blunt practice staves.
"You know I've had some combat training before, right?" zie said.
Fenris didn't look up or answer until he had finished the first staff.
"You have combat magic," he said finally. "You rely too heavily on it. You were lucky not to be killed yesterday."
"The combat magic comes from combat training," Nyssa shot back, copying his emphasis. Zie leaned the stick against the tree and raked hir dark hair back into a messy knot, and Fenris returned his attention to shaping his own practice staff. There was a rustle of fabric and movement in his peripheral vision; he glanced up to see hir undoing hir belt, and stopped so suddenly he nearly cut his finger.
"What are you doing?"
Nyssa unwound the sash and scarf tied around hir waist, and heat rose in his cheeks.
"Nyssa?"
"Losing a few layers," zie said, and looked up with a smirk. "Am I distracting you?"
The clasp of hir tunic came free and zie pulled it over hir head in one swift movement, discarding it in the pile of clothes underneath the tree. With great difficulty Fenris returned to his whittling, though he glanced up long enough to catch a glimpse of Nyssa pulling hir shirt over hir head.
"Maker give me strength," he said under his breath.
Nyssa turned, stripped down to hir leggings and breastband. "What was that?"
"Nothing," Fenris managed, and put aside his knife. He dared a glance at hir and let his eyes wander across the curve of hir shoulders, and down the line of muscle on hir abdomen. How he had managed to survive the last three days by barely noticing these things, he had no idea. Now it was all he could think about.
"Something on your mind?" Nyssa asked.
Fenris shook his head, ears burning at hir knowing smile, and moved forward. His stick swung slowly in an opening strike. Nyssa dodged out of the way, laughing.
"I was teasing about the combat magic!" zie said, and blocked the second blow. "Promise! I will bow to your superior ways, oh elvhen blademaster—ah-ah!"
"Turn and face me," Fenris said sharply, as zie darted away from his strike again. "There will be times when you won't be able to run."
"Aw, you're no fun."
"I take this seriously." He struck at hir again, slowly, and zie blocked with a glancing blow. "So should you. If you know how to defend yourself properly, it could save your life."
"You sound like my Keeper," Nyssa grumbled.
Zie had been telling the truth about hir combat training. Zie did have some basic understanding of how to block and defend using a staff, but zie was clearly out of practice and hir stance was a little off-balance.
"Your staff is not unlike my blade," Fenris said, after zie shifted into the first defensive form.
Nyssa wrinkled hir nose, then moved to the second defensive form. "What do you mean?"
"It would be easier to show you, if I may," he said, and zie nodded.
Fenris dropped his stick and circled around so he stood behind hir, and if zie had been wearing a shirt he wouldn't have seen the scar that now marred hir shoulder blade and arm. Healing magic had knitted the flesh together, but it couldn't entirely reverse the damage. The mark showed up brown-pink against hir flesh—a reminder that he had failed to protect hir from harm.
Without thinking he ran thumb across the rough tissue, and hir breath hitched. Zie straightened, the top of hir head brushing his chin, almost close enough to feel the warmth of hir skin against his naked chest.
His whole body ached to pull hir against him, to kiss hir face and throat and taste hir on his tongue. The scent of hir hair filled his nose—clean smoke and embrium, sweet and a little acrid. It didn't make resisting any easier.
"Your staff sacrifices some flexibility for a greater reach and defense," he said, covering hir hands with his. He adjusted hir grip and encouraged hir to move the staff in a slow twist, guiding hir through the next defensive form. "You already use these movements to cast your spells, but you can use the staff itself as a weapon if you need to."
Nyssa moved within his space, hands flexing under his palms. Then zie lowered the staff and turned hir head to look him in the eye. Slowly hir gaze trailed down, lashes curving against hir cheek, and fixed on his mouth. Zie was so close he could see hir throat move when zie swallowed, and a tremour ran through hir when he leaned a little closer.
"Who taught you this stuff?" Nyssa asked, a little shakily, as his hand rose to cup hir cheek.
Fenris paused, heat flooding his face. "What?"
To his disappointment zie stepped back a little, out of his reach. "Did you learn it in Tevinter?"
"Yes." The moment passed; he let go of hir and bent to retrieve his practice stick. "I spent some time with the Fog Warriors on Seheron."
Years since fleeing Seheron, and he still couldn't get the sour taste of shame out of his mouth. He was grateful that Nyssa didn't press for more detail, and instead moved into another defensive form. A few feet of distance helped to calm and ground himself again.
"Good," he said as zie demonstrated the last defensive form. He stepped back to observe hir stance, then brought up his stick in an overhead swing. "Now to put those skills to the test—"
Nyssa blocked his strike just barely, wincing. "Hey!"
Fenris ignored hir. "Good. Pay attention to your opponent's stance; where their weight shifts. And always be prepared for the unexpected. Go back into the first form."
They circled each other. Fenris noted with interest how Nyssa's breathing calmed and deepened, but the intensity of hir gaze increased. Zie watched his every move, poised like a serpent about to strike, and he wondered how much zie had learned before leaving hir clan. For all their faults, the Dalish often made fine warriors.
Fenris lunged, his stick swung in a wide arc, and Nyssa danced out of the way.
"Nyssa," he growled. "Stand your ground."
Zie fell back, mouth set in a firm line, and returned the blow. He deflected it.
"You're far more agile than you have any right to be," Nyssa panted as zie twisted, missing the edge of his stick by an inch. "Wielding a bloody great big sword like that—"
"My blade is not heavy," Fenris replied, voice rough from his laboured breathing. "Only long."
Their sticks met with a sharp clack, and Nyssa twisted, hir shoulder slamming into his. Caught off guard, Fenris staggered; zie grabbed his stick and hooked hir leg around his, trying to pull him off-balance. Without thinking he shoved hir back, and abruptly dropped the stick as zie fell with a sharp cry. Hir expression twisted into a grimace.
Fenris tossed aside the stick and dropped to his knees by hir side.
"Nyssa, are you hurt?"
Hir eyes snapped open, and quick as a flash zie rose, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Fenris barely had time to react before zie threw a leg over his hip and flipped them both.
He landed on his back in the grass with an undignified grunt. Nyssa grabbed his wrist and pinned it. The other hand came up to his throat, and Fenris stilled at the feeling of a blade against his skin.
"Didn't expect that, did you?" zie breathed against his cheek, and he let out a surprised bark of laughter. Nyssa sat up, one palm pressed against his bare chest, pinning him to the grass, and flipped hir dagger idly in hir free hand. "I win."
"That's not how it works," Fenris grumbled, without any real heat. He made no move to extricate himself, only curl his fingers in the grass beside him.
Nyssa leaned down. Sweat dampened the hair at hir temples, hir cheeks were flushed and hir eyes bright. Hir thighs pressed his sides, commanding all of his focus. Zie could feel it, no doubt; the way his body responded to hir. He could just as easily turn the tides now—zie had dropped hir guard completely, and it wouldn't take much effort to disarm hir.
"Do you yield?" Nyssa asked softly, and leaned in closer. Dappled sunlight and shadows moved across hir face in a lazy procession.
This was foolish, nonsensical, and it would lead to nothing but trouble. Fenris knew this and yet—and yet, he couldn't stop himself from wanting to bring hir closer, for wanting to feel hir. For wanting hir. He reached up and buried his fingers in hir tunic, drawing hir down until hir lips were a hairsbreadth away. The dagger slipped through hir slackened fingers and hir breath quickened, eyes lidded and lips parted.
And then he was kissing hir finally; finally.
Nyssa made a muffled sound against his mouth, hir hands sliding up his chest. Gentle fingers wound into his hair, then zie was pulling back, breaking the kiss. Hir eyelashes fluttered, breath ghosting over his skin, and he was suddenly aware of hir weight on his body. Every inch of their skin pressed together, warm and clammy, but after the brief moment of closeness such space between them felt like miles. A breeze washed over them, ruffling their hair, and the sudden contrast of warm and cold was almost like an electric shock.
A moment of self-doubt cut through his thundering pulse, then turned into anxiety as he searched hir face. If he had misinterpreted hir interest—
"Nyssa," he said hoarsely, I…"
Then hir mouth was back on his again, kissing him eagerly with hir hands fisting in his hair. Hir ragged sigh sent heat surging through him. Fenris gripped hir thighs firmly and lifted, rolling them both into the grass with limbs entwined, and kissed hir until they were both breathless.
I should be more guarded, Fenris thought. It was how he had survived thus far. The ache in his chest stole all reason, demanding he pull hir closer and savour hir softness and warmth. Hir tongue slipped into his mouth, teeth scraping his bottom lip, and he groaned. Hir fingers trailed down his neck and over his markings.
His markings. Fenris sighed inwardly. The problem with his markings would not go away. Losing himself in Nyssa's embrace would not make it so, and would only prolong the inevitable.
Nyssa's fingers curled on his chest. Hir teeth tugged gently on his bottom lip, encouraging him to open his mouth, but he didn't respond. After a moment zie pulled back.
"Fenris?"
It was ironic that he had this flash of insight only after he had completely dropped his guard, but he couldn't ignore it any longer.
"Is everything alright?"
"Yes," Fenris said. His voice sounded strange to his own ears.
Nyssa frowned. Hir pupils were blown wide, lips and cheeks reddened, but zie stared at him with confusion and concern. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No. You're—it's fine." Fenris took a deep breath. "I...realise this may be strange timing, but I am ready to fix my markings."
"Right now?" zie asked, with a reluctant expression. Hir hair spread on the grass like a halo; idly he wound his fingers in hir curls and leaned down to kiss hir again.
"Not yet," he murmured against hir mouth. "But as soon as you can, if you are still willing."
"Of course I am." Zie gazed up at him, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, and the sweetness of hir smile made something not-quite-comfortable bloom in his chest. "You only needed to ask."
Nyssa rose up to kiss him again, and he sank down into hir embrace with a grateful sigh.
The day Fenris received his markings was the only thing he remembered from his previous life. Even then, he remembered it only in sensations: numbness in his hands; the sting of sweat in his eyes; the erratic pounding of his heart. Foremost in his mind was the white-hot agony that wiped away all reason, all memory.
This time with Nyssa it was different. This time he lay on a blanket with his head pillowed on his arms, free of pain and fear, while lyrium floated above their heads in a cloud of vapour. Hir voice weaved around him, ebbing in and out of his mind. It could have been a song or a chant, and the words were in elven.
Nyssa moved into his field of view, leaning down to smooth back his hair.
"Are you feeling alright? Do you need to stop?"
Fenris shook his head. He was unsure how many hours it had been since Nyssa began the task of replacing the lyrium within his markings, but only the occasional memories of the ritual disturbed him from his half-awake state.
"Turn onto your back," Nyssa said, and he obeyed. His body relaxed into the blankets as he watched the lyrium swirl in bright colours above his head.
"Were you singing?" he asked, as zie worked.
Nyssa laughed softly. "I'm surprised you heard me. It's a children's song. A lullaby, actually. My mother used to sing it to me."
"It sounded familiar."
"Perhaps you heard it in the city," zie said, head bent over his chest. "Or in Tevinter."
"Perhaps." It felt almost like a memory he couldn't quite grasp.
"It's done," Nyssa said, and he began to sit up. "Slowly. You may feel dizzy."
Fenris obeyed, leaning back on his elbows. He watched hir return the lyrium to the vial and repack it into hir bag. There was not much left, and he suddenly felt guilty. Lyrium was not cheap.
"I will find a way to repay you," he said.
Nyssa shook hir head as zie washed hir hands. "No need."
"There is a need. You used most of your lyrium on me."
Zie returned to his side and dabbed at his forehead with a damp cloth, wiping away sweat and traces of lyrium dust.
"You saved my life," zie said. "That means something to me. A bit of lyrium is nothing in return."
Fenris frowned. It seemed inadequate somehow, but he suspected arguing about it was pointless.
"How do you feel?"
"Strange," he said truthfully.
"A good strange or bad strange?"
"Good."
Hir hand lingered on his cheek, thumb rubbing in slow circles. Fenris leaned forward—but as soon as their lips touched, Nyssa pulled back.
"We shouldn't be doing this right now," zie said. When he looked puzzled zie added, "Your body needs time to rest and adjust to the new lyrium."
"I feel fine," he said. It was true he was tired, but for the first time in months he did not hurt all over. He didn't hurt at all.
A conflicted expression passed over hir face, eyes dropping to his lips again. Hir thumb brushed over his lips, tracing the shape of them like he had done with hir. He placed a kiss on the pad of hir thumb and was rewarded with a flustered little laugh.
"I shouldn't. You need time."
"Let me worry about that." Fenris wound his fingers with hirs, but zie was already pulling away, shaking hir head.
"I can't," zie muttered. Zie hastily busied hirself with cleaning up the residual lyrium on hir clothes, and Fenris tried to swallow his confusion and disappointment.
They stayed in the shrine until the next morning, then headed for Ostwick.
A little awkwardness had settled between them since their last kiss. Fenris found himself replaying it in his head, wondering if zie had changed hir mind about them. Zie had seemed enthusiastic enough the first time, but clearly something had then bothered hir enough to pull away. It was hir right to do so, but he was confused nonetheless, and glanced at hir often as they walked. Zie seemed content to walk beside him and fill the silence talking about hir life growing up in a Dalish clan.
Fenris had never been impressed with the Dalish, knowing how they viewed elves living under human rule. He'd seen and heard of Dalish who proclaimed themselves as 'true' elves while the people they could have helped suffered and died under the yoke of countries like Tevinter. We are the last of the elvhen, and never shall we submit, they would say, as if grubbing in the forests was somehow a noble act of resistance. He said as much to Nyssa, and was surprised when zie agreed.
"I used to think being Dalish set me apart from other elves," zie explained, when he questioned hir on it. "As if my mere existence was somehow more true and noble. But we're no more than exiles, and our numbers are diminishing year after year. Our problems don't simply disappear because we're Dalish."
"To hear the Dalish tell it, you live an idyllic life."
Nyssa hesitated, and gave him a sidelong glance. "I'm not ashamed to be Dalish, if you're wondering. But I'm not blind. We could learn more from our cousins in the cities, and we could do more, if we weren't so bloody stubborn."
They rounded the crest of a small hill, and suddenly there was the city of Ostwick sprawled below, hazy with smoke and ringed by its famous double walls of near-impenetrable stone.
"Impressive," Fenris said. "An army could besiege those walls for months and barely make a scratch."
"They were built to withstand gaatlok," Nyssa replied, pointing to the harbour. "See the pillars sticking out of the water? They can raise a gate to hamper any incoming enemy ships."
"The Free Marchers learned their lesson," Fenris said, and began to wind his cloak around his shoulders. "We should conceal ourselves as much as possible, in case we are recognised."
"Wearing a hood is just one big sign that says 'I'm suspicious', though. You know that, don't you?"
With an exasperated sigh Fenris started off down the hill, forcing Nyssa to hurry after him. There was a small crowd queueing at the gates; merchants, travelers, farmers and workers from the fields. The two of them were given barely a glance before being waved past by weary-looking city guards.
A woman carrying a large vase on her head jostled Nyssa; Fenris grabbed hir hand and pulled hir close.
"We should check the alienage," he said in a low voice as they shuffled along with the crowd. "Most slavers look for captives there. Missing elves are rarely of any consequence to the city guard."
Nyssa's jaw tightened, but zie nodded.
"They will regret the day they set foot in Ostwick," zie said, and Fenris grinned. "Shall we?"