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Ameridan squinted up as streamer of light cut across his face. Someone had partially tugged aside the divided oilcloth acting as a makeshift door and stood silhouetted by the afternoon sun at the rough entrance of the arboreal cabin. The elaborate treehouse was Ameridan’s temporary quarters, until the Inquisition sorted out what to do with such a lively and politically inconvenient person as himself.
“Aneth ara,” he said. He lounged on a well-padded Avvar couch, pillows stacked behind him, an untidy pile of books on the floor next to him. Over his chapped fingers he half-shut the thick book of Orlesian history he’d been tearing through for the past few hours to regard his guest. A great deal, both tragic and triumphant, had occurred in Thedas while he was away, trapped in a deep dark cave, not awake, not asleep. Learning about it could wait a few more moments.
“Ah, aneth ara. Glad to see you’re awake.” The newcomer inclined her head a little, then the flap was pushed aside fully.
Though not one of the healers who helped tend to his recovery, the elven woman looked familiar. Rich clothing, which apparently was odd for an elf of this time; not young, but not old either, slender and fit, and wearing a world-weary but expectant expression.
Ah, now he remembered. When they met in the cave, she had on a full set of armor, a pair of long daggers at her back, hair bound up severely, every inch of her dripping in enchantments, and not a little blood. Currently, she wore a long velvety green tunic, wrapped at the waist with a gold scarf and soft riding trousers underneath. Her hair fell past her shoulders in long blonde waves. The Inquisitor looked comfortable, and very beautiful.
Ameridan wished she’d have sent word ahead. Luckily he had on a proper robe and not the plain linen convalescent’s gown the healers put him in while he was unconscious. He could be weak as a new calf and still retain his dignity—Telana would have teased him and called him vain, if she were here. He still had trouble believing he existed in a world without her in it.
“Of course, my lady. The potions your mages have been dosing me with could bring back Andraste from the fire.” The resident spirit had visited him, too, and protected his dreams. He could remember little about what they spoke of, however.
“Good,” chuckled the Inquisitor.
After looking around the room, her steps so light she made almost no sound, she took a rickety camp chair from the trophy cluttered wall. In what looked like the same smooth motion, she opened it and nimbly sat down next to him. So this was not to be a quick, casual visit.
“You can thank our Madame de Fer for such powerful restoratives. She was the Empress’ personal enchanter and First Enchanter at Montsimmard. I expect Vivienne knows all of the ways magic can hurt someone as well as heal them.” A powerful ally, it seemed, and the one responsible for keeping him alive. He'd have to send a letter of thanks.
Ameridan raised an eyebrow as their eyes met now that they were on the same level. This close he noticed thin scars which marked her cheek and forehead. She had lines from the sun and from laughing, and the beginnings of crows feet. Closer to his age than he thought, give or take eight hundred years. No vallaslin dedicating her to a god, like his to Dirthamen, though he'd heard she was Dalish. Many things had changed, it was just one of many questions for later.
“Perhaps one day I will have the pleasure of making her acquaintance,” he said. He might not feel all that affable, but he could attempt to put on a good face.
His saviors had proved absent since he’d arrived here, though he felt the effects of their constant movements in the vicinity—chatter among the support personnel, reports and requests for weapons, potions, rations overheard outside his cabin at all hours. The Inquisition, then and now, never truly slept. Comforting, to have that sort of familiarity to latch onto.
“I regret that you haven’t. You were unconscious and the situation with the Avvar clans needed tending to. I wanted to stay with you, but my advisors are very persuasive.” An uncertain smile lit her face.
“Don’t trouble yourself too much over my predicament, Inquisitor. Oddly enough I’m in a position to understand the breadth of your responsibilities—and, suffice to say, I’ve a great deal to catch up on.” He nodded at his book, and her expression shifted to a different shade of concern.
She put her hand out to touch his forearm lightly. “Please, call me Lucia. We’ve the same title, I should hope we can speak as equals.”
With that, a knot untangled inside his chest. The irritation and resentment at being left alone to deal with this new and confusing world, made itself known to him. Ameridan bit back his anger before he said something he’d regret. She seemed earnest—and Maker forgive him—even soul-exhausted he wasn’t immune to a pretty woman looking near starry-eyed at him. She’d only come back later and more determined to befriend him. If he had to live on, perhaps letting her do so wasn’t the worst idea.
“As you like, Lucia. Call me Ameridan.” A wave of exhaustion passed over him as he said it, though he tried not to waver. The book felt too heavy in his hand and then he couldn’t help but to let it fall. It landed splayed between them with a light thud against the rough hewn boards.
He’d been ready back there in that cave, the moment he realized, the moment he knew everything of his world was gone, all dust. Holding the stasis spell for so long consumed all of his power, and these young people were strong enough to take on the mantle, finish the job…
Lucia plucked the battered volume up from the floor and set it on the low table next to him. “Should I get the healer? You look pale. Dorian said that such severe mana depletion is usually lethal. We were lucky to get to you when we did.”
Lucky.
“No, no, it’s fine. This visit isn’t just so you can check up on me. You want to talk about what happened back there, and probably the future, too.” He should have told her to go, but wrestling with this alone wasn't helping him.
“Well, yes. I mean, if you feel up to it.” She still had a worry line creasing her forehead.
He fixed her with a grim expression, letting his pleasant façade fall. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. The gods and our Maker have decided I am still needed, though they must have known how desolate it would leave me. Spending eight-hundred years in a frozen cave, even in stasis, it let the frost seep in. My magic is too weak at the moment to warm me, unless I wish to pass out in the attempt. I’ve never in my life felt so feeble and helpless and alone.” Despite the thick furs and the crackling fire built up in the pit at the center of the round room, an unnatural chill permeated his flesh.
Lucia shook her head. “Creators. I’m sorry, I didn’t think past getting you out of that cave alive.”
The worst part about it was that he understood completely. Were their places changed he wouldn’t have left her to bleed to death any more than she could have left him to burn out.
“And why would you?” he said, his voice harsh, grief boiling up behind his words. “Forgive me, I’ve had a difficult week. My family is dead. I have no home, no country, nothing of the world I knew. All that I fought for seems pointless.” A pang of loss struck him again, at voicing it, and his throat grew so tight he had to look away from her.
“It wasn’t pointless. You did as much as anyone could. So many more people would have died if not for you and your partner and your friends. Anything I can do to help you, please tell me. If you want privacy and solitude, Ameridan, you will have it. If you wish to continue to serve, there are people who want to work with you. I— If you ever need to talk, I can clear my schedule at a moment’s notice.”
The uncertainty in her stammered last offer didn’t go over his head, but he did believe from her tone she meant it. Such a generous offer of time for someone she scarcely knew.
He sighed, letting his chin fall to his chest then looked at her sidelong. “Ma serannas. If you’re anything like me, Lucia, you know I must keep moving, always doing, always meddling, dredging out darkness into the daylight. With a promise like that, I won’t take it easy on you for keeping me here.”
Her smile came back. “If you’re anything like me, ma falon, even in a normal situation you take to being an invalid about as well as a child having a sweet stolen out of their hand. Don’t push yourself too hard just yet.”
He snorted, and managed a sad grin. She was right enough about that. Ameridan had spent his life protecting people from the maleficar and demons and other sinister things threatening their world. Not a quiet or dull moment if he could help it.
“I was able to walk around the room today, you know. There’ll be no stopping me from trying the lift tomorrow and stalking into the wilderness.”
When they’d moved him the first time after he’d awoken a few days ago, he’d seen that the current Inquisition’s engineers had devised an ingenious system of walkways, platforms and pulleys. These made travel through the dense forest, from here to the brushy ground and from jagged hill to hill much, much easier.
Lucia rolled her shoulders back in a stretch, as if she was contemplating a walk herself. “If you want to, be my guest, but I promise the food is better up here.”
“And the company, too, I expect.” The monster infested jungle just outside wasn’t the worst environment he’d had to endure, but it certainly sat near the top of the five on the list.
He heard her chuckle, and the wavering light of the fire seemed to fade for a while.
Then he was opening his eyes to the shadows in the room having grown deep with night, dancing with the firelight. On the short table next to him, near his book, sat a mug of something still slightly steaming and herbal. Next to it lay a folded slip of parchment, which had another note scratched out on the backside.
He picked it up and unfolding it, felt the corner of his mouth tip up.
You fell asleep, falon. I’ll stop by in the morning and we can break our fast together. Nehn’al somniar.
-Lucia
He glared at the lantern by the bed to reignite it, and managed not to pass out. A good sign, though he wouldn’t tell the healer he was already doing magic.
Settling back into the downy furs and fat cushions, he thumbed to the part in his book he left off at. The telling of the third Blight and the slaying of Toth at Hunter Fell in 3:25 Towers, a hundred years after the fall of the Dales. Trade tongue had shifted somewhat, but he’d muddled through the vocabulary without too much assistance. The scholars here were eager to share their knowledge, but he’d needed the time alone to think and to heal.
Lucia said if he needed solitude she’d find it for him, but the thought of seeing a friendly face in the morning… Well, he didn’t think that would be necessary.
When the Inquisition’s business concluded in the Frostback Basin a week later, riding out, Lucia couldn’t help but feel wistful. Thanks to Ameridan, she knew now which parts of her legacy as Inquisitor might have value for the future, and how easily so many of the things she had done would simply be erased by time. It tempered her expectations for her role now that Corypheus was dealt with, and also put sharp focus on certain truths—
Foremost that she had developed the most ridiculous crush on Ameridan and had absolutely no idea what to do about it. Likely a side-effect of spending every free moment she had visiting with him, because it was true, he had no one and nothing but the gods.
The man was mourning not just the loss of his entire world, but his wife of many years, his best friends, and trying to learn about everything he needed to know to live in this age. An attempt to insert herself into his life in any fashion, outside of being friendly and kind and supportive until he had some distance from what had happened, was out of the question.
Lucia pulled him out of that cave not thinking through the consequences. She was responsible for him and his well being. To her it was clear he needed a friend and an ally more than anything.
This didn’t change the fact that part of her simply ignited when he was near. Mostly her face, and hiding her blushes became increasingly difficult the more time they spent together. She’d taken charge of getting him up to speed on the politics of the day, the names of places and people, she couldn’t just abandon him over something so silly.
If Ameridan noticed her increasing distress around him, Lucia wasn’t certain. Her friends certainly did. First, Sera made a crack about her always visiting his cabin, and then on the road Vivienne ambushed her.
“He won’t be in mourning forever, darling. Make certain you’re in a good position to have his attention—he seems the sort to need a great deal of it,” said Vivienne, over dinner in her tent after they camped that evening.
Lucia nearly spit out her tea. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Our elder Inquisitor was wearing a full suit of golden and crimson armor when we met him. Also, I noticed a fear enchantment worked into the fabric. The matching helm was found in a bog, and even corroded by centuries of muck it is scarcely less conspicuous. He wants to be noticed, feared… adored.”
Lucia’s fighting style required that she blend in or become invisible, better to backstab or fling a hidden blade. Thus, her field garb looked subtle and muted in color. Almost every mage she’d ever known had a tendency toward flashy or elaborate clothing. A bit like those little orange lizards in the Western Approach which were brightly colored to let you know they were poisonous.
“Vivienne, I’m not sure why you’re bringing this up.” She ran her finger around the rim of the teacup, irritated because she hated that it was so obvious why.
“It seems you’re infatuated with our Lord Ameridan. It’s quite adorable watching you dance around him, my dear. I’m bringing this up, because we both understand one part of what he’s going through. When I lost Bastien it took me some time to even consider I could look at another in the same way. You told me you had qualms about starting a new relationship even years after your husband died, but you took that step nonetheless.” The enchanter sipped her tea delicately, waiting for her to balk. Lucia didn't even want to think about her last attempt at romance.
“And it went poorly. I don't know why this is happening. I’m not eager to rush into anything—I’ve barely known him for a month! But when I’m near him it’s like being starving and at the same fire as a great big stack of honey cakes.” Lucia covered her face with her hands and ran them down her cheeks in exasperation.
Giving Lucia a warmer smile than the practiced one she used on most people, Vivienne set down her cup and laughed. “The heart wants what it wants. Darling, I believe even if there are challenges ahead, you deserve something gratifying for all of your efforts. Consider giving him a practical gift to start, then he’ll know you are keeping him in mind.”
“A gift?” Lucia almost scowled—she was a grown woman and she knew how courting worked—and Ameridan was not a thing she could have or not have. It was true though that her comrades were often the recipients of useful gifts—arms, armor, items with protective enchantments, it certainly wouldn’t appear strange or presumptuous. Ameridan had made clear his intent to return to the field of combat eventually if he could.
“Perhaps you could give him something made of Hakkon’s remains. Its hide was a lovely blue. And it would have sentimental value.”
Lucia let her scowl fully form. “That would be more ostentatious than his old armor. Not to mention I doubt he wants to look at anything regarding Hakkon ever again.”
Vivienne smiled placidly and arched an eyebrow at her. “A simple suggestion, my dear. I’m sure you can have your armorers get his measurements off of the old set.”
“His measurements. Oh Creators, why are you like this?” All she could think about now was how wonderfully broad his shoulders were, and that he stood almost a head taller than her, and how nice his thick silver hair looked when it lay down around his ears instead of a topknot. She bowed her head in her hands, admitting defeat.
Vivienne gave as close to an unrestrained laugh as Lucia had ever heard from her, until Lucia was laughing, too, and shortly after excused herself from the tent.
By the end of the next day, Lucia handed off to a messenger plans for a commission to her head smith and her arcanist. They were to create a full suit of enchanted mage armor out of the ice dragon’s hide, all of the beast’s useful parts currently on a wagon headed north. Harritt and Dagna’s work was always impeccable, and she trusted them to keep it secret who it was for. Most importantly she wanted it enchanted to protect the wearer against magically induced cold, which ice dragon hide was excellent for. If she couldn’t embrace him, she could at least give him something to keep him warm.
The armor would take some time to complete, and the matter of finding Ameridan a safe place to stay while he continued to get his bearings still needed addressing.
On the way back to Skyhold, she started making arrangements with Josephine via messenger to quietly purchase and staff a small chateau outside Halamshiral for him. When she told him about it, however, she could see it would likely sit empty most of the time.
Searching the entirety of Suledin Keep—where her party was staying while she caught up with several weeks worth of correspondence which hadn’t made it all of the way south—she eventually found Ameridan splayed out on his back on one of the white stone battlements. Sunning himself like a cat, he seemed oblivious to the rest of the world. While they were in the cold of the Basin, summer arrived most welcome in Orlais. The unnatural snow melted away, all but disappeared from everywhere but the tallest peaks and now the rocky hills were green and lush except where red lyrium growths marred the view.
He turned his head, startled slightly, not hearing her approach until she was nearly next to him. Sometimes she forgot to make a little noise to give her friends a chance to see her coming.
“Telana and I, we used to lay up here at all hours watching the stars. I’m glad parts of this place survived.” He sounded sleepy, and she noticed a book splayed next to him. She'd read that one too, a book of human customs meant for young nobles entering polite society. Josephine had given it to her as a primer before they visited the Winter Palace, and it was as dull as it was useful for understanding Orlesians.
Lucia nodded in agreement, having spent more time here than most of her other bases of operations due to having to help Baron Desjardins manage the red lyrium cleanup. Truthfully, she liked Suledin better than Skyhold, once some maintenance was done, though it still needed a roof over the main keep. Even roofless and half-crumbled, when under the stars, the keep looked like it was more of the Fade than of this world.
“It’s in shockingly good repair considering the other ruins I’ve been to. It must have been glorious.” The Dales were littered with the memories of what their people once had.
“It still is, just in a different way.” He smiled at her and sat up with a small groan.
Lucia tried hard not to blush as she moved to sit down cross-legged next to him on the warm stone, luckily running around in the heat disguised it somewhat. She always found the view of the valley here spectacular in every direction, but today she only had eyes for him.
“What’s the word?” he asked, sensing some sort of turmoil within her.
Lucia hesitated, unsure that she should have gone ahead with this without asking him. “Well, you see… I’ve been discussing with one of my advisors about finding you a new home in the Dales.”
“Oh?”
“How it would work is that the Inquisition would pay for it, and deed it to the Montilyet family conditionally, due to certain legal restrictions regarding elves and owning property in Orlais. Ideally, it would be made fully yours once your service to the Empire is recognized by the Orlesian courts via my petition.” It sounded utterly mad now that she said it aloud, but stranger things had occurred since she’d been made Inquisitor; Celene and Briala owed her mightily.
His shift from cool curiosity to a fierce glower took her aback. “A place to shuffle me away quietly, then? Absolutely not. Save the money to pay your men or their widows.”
Lucia didn’t blame him for saying it, but it stung. “I’m not trying to—I don’t want to leave you alone, but I also don’t want to make you a target. If we’re going to make your journey known and the sacrifices you and your friends made, we have to do it right. There are people in the nobility who hate our people so much they’ll do anything to discredit us.” The vile slurs some people used against her were awful enough, she didn’t want to know what they would say about him.
Ameridan shook his head. “Perhaps my story can remain quiet for now. You’ll be spending most of your time for the foreseeable future closing the remaining rifts, yes?”
Lucia nodded, though she did have other duties, that was the one everyone called upon her for most often.
“Then, if you don’t mind, rather than sit idle in some human noble’s discarded country house, I'd like to join you out on your jaunts. I want to see how the world has changed for myself—and I’m curious how your mark works.”
“I don’t know. Many of the rifts spit out powerful demons and wraiths, and are in hard to access places. Are you sure your health has improved enough for this?” If he got hurt after all he’d been through, she knew she’d never forgive herself.
Ameridan patted her shoulder lightly in an attempt to assuage her. “It’s well enough. If my magic is a little weak I’m still a good hand at using a polearm, and am proficient at riding and small unit tactics. I also know how to appropriately deploy what I’ve been told is now called Antivan fire, in a pinch. I feel I’ll rebound faster if I’m doing something.”
“Why not take up Cassandra’s offer? Help her rebuild the Seekers instead of following me? You seem to get on well with her, and she’ll need all the help she can get.” Cassandra had made it known she wished to have the last Inquisitor’s input on what the original vision of the Seekers was and how to implement it. Soon, she'd leave for the Hunterhorn Mountains where a small enclave of the remaining Seekers had already gathered. If he went with her, he'd likely avoid combat for a while, and having some time away from him might calm the flame Lucia seemed incapable of otherwise extinguishing.
“I like Cassandra’s ideas, Lucia, but I’m not making any large decisions like helping restore an order which has gone so sideways as to be infiltrated by Promisers. First, I want to meet your Divine. I need to know more about the people I’ll be working with and for—and from the little I’ve gathered, the Chantry has cut our people out of the clergy entirely. It’s a travesty.”
Lucia remembered Cassandra’s anger at the corruption she’d discovered. Ameridan practiced a version of Andrastianism that accounted for the elven gods, too, so the suppression of their people’s part in the faith was especially galling for him. “The Chantry is making inroads on changing that, and the previous Divine restored the Canticle of Shartan to the Chant.”
“It shouldn’t need restoration. The book existed before Orlais did. That they’ve occupied our land this long is even worse. Bah, if nothing else a good fight will help me clear my head.” His eyes were full of anger, and she understood it completely. It wasn’t a raw, new thing to her, though, rather something she grew up knowing and having to temper within herself as her clan moved from place to place.
“You should have just said that,” she laughed, and sighed.
“My lady Inquisitor, please let me fight at your side,” he said.
She wanted him near, but the frustration it would entail might prove painful—just like this moment when she couldn’t let herself look at him.
“I’ll tell Josephine there’s been a change in plans.”
From their stronghold in the ruins of Suledin Keep, Ameridan rode out with Lucia’s party at the next request to deal with a Fade rift.
The Inquisition armorers had repaired and cleaned his worn suit of armor and battered staff to gleaming. When he’d shrugged into it he wondered at first if it felt lighter because of the years worth of dirt and sweat washed out. It seemed even the enchantments on it were strengthened. Lucia, he’d heard from servants and soldiers alike, took good care of her men, and her friends doubly so.
With them for this outing included a foul-mouthed archer named Sera, the Seeker, and trailing them somewhere nearby, a compassion spirit which often took the form of a gangly youth named Cole.
Lady Vivienne had gone ahead to Montsimmard to handle some issue with the circle there, and the mercenary captain was off with his unit clearing out an enclave of Venatori to the west. Ameridan gathered from offhand comments that Lucia once had several other members in her inner circle, but most had left for other endeavors. He was the only mage currently in her retinue.
None of her companions or close advisors seemed to be her lover or her partner, which he thought odd, considering her beauty and how attractive many people found such power as she wielded. He remembered the cavalcade of admirers he’d had once, not to mention the salacious rumors, some of them quite annoying and persistent. A good reason for her to keep to herself on the subject of her personal life, if true.
Following the rough map her forward scouts handed off, it would take a day to reach the isolated ridge where the rift lay. As reported, the land here looked rocky and inhospitable, the grey stone streaked with rust and thatched with ferns and tall grasses which were tough to cut through. The watery ravines between the ridges were infested with beasts, and they needed to keep their eyes open for wyverns and phoenixes. The rift itself, glowing in the air and spitting green sparks from the Fade, seemed to have produced nothing more than a few minor terrors.
The spindly demons had the aspect of putrid, grasping vines, and could slither in and out of the ground, which while annoying was manageable, as they greatly disliked the spirit magic he flung their way. Ameridan disliked how quickly he became exhausted, but the others seemed to be keeping an eye on him. Cassandra pulled one of the things away from him once, and Sera stole his kill only to thumb her nose at him. Brat.
Once engaged, the party moved with great precision, as if they’d done this dance many times. When a second wave tried to form, Lucia called them to attack the wavering areas in the Veil where the rift unbalanced the air, pushing the demons back to the Fade before they could fully come through. A sound strategy, though he wished his reserves weren't nearly tapped, as he could only stabilize one area while the others were barely breaking a sweat.
As soon as they had the demons dealt with, Lucia activated her mark and a beam shot out of it, miraculously stitching up the sky. Truly remarkable to see, but asking to study it might come off rude. He expected that she likely had already had her hand poked and prodded by many other mages. Ameridan decided he would ask his scholar friends if someone had written a treatise about it. Professor Kenric always gave good recommendations.
The moment Lucia broke the glowing thread of her binding mark, she turned sharply. Ameridan only had time to register her throwing a dagger in his direction, and he dove for the ground.
Behind him came a bellowing screech as a wyvern reared its injured head. He hadn’t noticed it slither down the hill at all. Any closer and it would have had it’s venomous teeth in him. Rolling behind leafy cover, he managed to cast a freezing spell on the rearing beast, while Sera’s fleet arrows came in behind to pierce it’s other eye and neck. Mortally wounded, the monster bellowed and coiled and flopped and then lay still.
Lucia’s face bore some sort of anguish when he looked back at her. He watched in shock as she stalked over in long strides to the slain wyvern, took her other dagger and with unexpected strength and force, fully cut off its head in a spray of dark blood. She then dragged the thing’s head by it’s mottled ear spines and threw it off the ridge into the ravine below. She stared after it for a long moment, and then turned to retrieve her blades.
Something had happened there that he didn’t have the context for, a sensation he’d already become tired of.
“Lucia, are you all right?” Cassandra asked, gripping her shoulder and fixing her with a concerned glare.
“Let’s get back to camp,” she replied, panting slightly, her voice flat.
Sera kicked the purple corpse. “Not even going to cut it up for wyvern steaks?”
“No, let’s go.”
Ameridan looked over to Cassandra, who continued to watch Lucia in worry. At least he wasn’t the only one puzzled for once.
The rocky hill near a rushing stream where they’d left their supplies and the horses tied to a picket line wasn’t far away, but the silence over the group made the trip seem longer.
All of their horses stayed safe at camp, because the terrain was too rugged for them. The wards he’d cast before they left kept any of the roving beasts from attacking such easy targets. The three women fell into what seemed like a routine they’d perfected, setting up for dinner, scouting the perimeter for additional threats, and tending their mounts. Ameridan helped when they would let him, but he mostly stayed on fire duty, gathering more fuel and stirring the pot while their dinner cooked.
When night fell, he took the second watch, and Lucia took the third—though after waking her, he sat with her for a while before seeking his bedroll.
“You seemed shaken earlier. Is it something you want to talk about?” Ameridan already suspected her answer, but it felt better to ask. Particularly since she’d saved his life again.
“No. Just try not to get eaten a third time.” Her face was closed and she wouldn’t look at him at all. She took out her sheathed weapons and sharpening kit and started cleaning her blood-streaked blades at the fireside.
He chuckled quietly. “I’ll do that.”
In the morning, while their other two companions did their ablutions at the stream and he saddled the horses, Lucia approached him with a small item in hand wrapped in a brown felt bag.
She held it out to him, her head tilted down, barely looking him in the eyes. “I received this a few days before we rode out, but it never seemed the right moment to give it to you.”
Taking the little parcel in his hands he could faintly feel an enchantment radiating through the felt, warm to the touch and lightweight. He opened it and drew out an amulet attached to a silver chain. The exterior was deep red polished bone engraved with lyrium-tinged runes, with a large blue dragon scale inlaid at its center. No bigger than the oval made when he pinched forefinger to thumb, but it felt powerful.
“It’s made of dragon bone—Hakkon’s bone and hide to be precise. Dagna said it was a test piece, but it should protect you from the cold, bolster your strength, and she also said it’s lucky.”
He didn’t know what to say, for he noticed then that the reason she wouldn’t look at him was because she was blushing, either embarrassed or flustered.
Oh. Usually he picked up on such things. It wasn’t an emotion he was ready to reciprocate—she seemed to know it, too, with her recent standoffishness—but he could appreciate the thought she put into the gift.
“I—I, ma serannas.” A piece of the monster which almost destroyed him, bound and forced to protect him. Poetic in a way.
“You could have died, I should have given it to you yesterday. I lost someone to a beast like that before, I couldn't bear for it to happen again.” She looked up at him her expression a mix of guilt and deep sorrow.
“Don’t worry about it, lethallan. The whole point of fighting together as a team is that we watch each other’s backs. I’m glad you have mine.” He leaned down and gave her a tentative embrace, and after a gasp of surprise she hugged him back, thank goodness. Not everyone liked a good hug, but he liked giving them out. When they both let go, he could see she had tears in her eyes.
"Ir abelas," she said.
"Now none of that. We're both going to be all right, Lucia. Give it time." She'd given him so much comfort with her presence, he could afford to return a little in kind.
Ameridan drew the chain over his head and tucked the amulet under his shirt. Magic tingled against his skin, and a warmth suffused him he hadn’t known in far too long. Perhaps some of it was even from the amulet.