Chapter Text
After running for three days straight, Suga is glad that the Circle of Ferelden was a tower. Having to go up and down it several times, he had managed to get fit enough to keep up the rythm of his escape.
Suga stops for the first time after he had escaped, and he is under a huge tree. He’s not sure where he is, probably somewhere near Redcliffe, if he has gone South. If he has gone North, then he’s probably near Highever. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t gone West, since he doesn’t see the Frostback mountains.
His legs give out the moment they stop running. They ache, his arms hurt, his chest falls and raises at a high pace, his breath trying to return normal without much success. He’s a mess, from head to toe. He hasn’t eaten or drunk or rested at all, trying to distance himself as much as he could from the Tower. Three days had been all that his body had to offer him. His throat is hoarse, his stomach is litterally eating him from the inside, he has blisters on his feet that hurt like mad, his bladder his about to explode and he’s pretty sure he’s about to pass out from exhaustation.
Suga smiles through all that, enjoying the feeling of newborn grass under his numb fingers, the sun shines through the leaves of the tree he’s lying under of, warming his sweaty skin, he takes a deep breath, diving in the scent of nature (he has no name for what he smells, not yet), he listens to the croaking of grasshoppers. Since his body has given up, he can’t do much except letting his senses overwhelm him.
He had been brought to the Circle at the age of nine, when his magic had manifested, ten years before. Suga had found a baby crow in his father’s farm, and had healed him with magic. He had shown to his parents how good he had been, and before he had knew it, he was locked into a prison of stone and water. His mentor had put him on the path of the Spirit Healer, for he had a natural talent for communicating with spirits and bind them to his will. Aside for that, he had been pretty average at all other schools of magic. At age seventeen, he had passed his Harrowing, and then had been in charge of studies about Spirits.
Then, he had messed up.
His curiosity got the best of him, and while experimenting he had summoned a Spirit of Wisdom, that had been immediately turned into a Pride Demon. He had managed to avoid possession, but the same couldn’t be said of his assistant. The Templars immediately declared that he had tried to perform blood magic, and they sentenced him to Tranquility.
He had had none of it, and chose instead of throwing himself out of the Tower. Out of sheer luck, he had survived the jump, and managed to swim to the border of the lake, with the help of what little Creation Magic he had mastered.
The Templar had, of course, started an all out hunt for him. Suga had felt their breath on his neck for a whole day, but he eventually lost them.
He bursts out a laugh, covering his face with his arm, even though the movement seems to take all his energy.
“I’m so dead” he mutters between a laugh and the other. Time three days, the Templars will be in Denerim, they will take his phylactery, and they’ll track him in no time.
He could try and escape, but escape where? The only place where he could have lived without the fear of Templars was Tevinter, and they would have caught him even before he had crossed the Orlesian border.
Suga’s laugh breaks into a sob, as he curls on himself. 'I’m so dead' he thinks again, the realization becoming more and more real. 'I’m so dead and the worst is that I deserve it', he thinks as another sob escapes him. He sees again the Pride demon possessing his assistant - he won’t say her name, if he did that, it would be even more real - he sees her face melting into a mask of pain and horror, he sees the Templar blade percing through her chest, Suga sees her falling on the ground, a silent question on her unrecognizible face. He digs his fingers in his scalp, hoping for the image to go away.
Suga finally slaps his face, trying to calm down. He needs to calm down. Giving in on dispair wouldn’t have helped anyone. He could grieve and feel like shit later. Sure, he is as good as dead, his survival instinct murmurs to him, but he has to posticipate his departure from the world for as long as possible, and eventually he has to put up a fight.
His breath evens, and he’s again the master of his own body. It might be uselees - it is useless - but he has to keep living for as long as he can. Suga can’t really say why he has to keep living, but he gets up, trembling limbs and all.
A list of what he has to do start taking form in his mind. He has to find shelter, find something to drink and eat, and possibly change clothes, since his Circle robe is dirty, torn, and recognisaible. He also needs to find something that he can use as a weapon, and if he does find a shelter he needs to make it a fortress full of traps. When Templars will come, he’ll need to try and kill them by being smart, since he can’t by being agressive. He gags a little at the thought of killing someone, or is it because of hunger, he’s not sure.
He turns around, not really sure why he chooses one route instead of another, but he freezes after half a step.
Before him is a young man, probably his age. He has short spiky dark hair, tanned skin, and a firm jaw; he’s wearing heavy armor and he has a sword and a shield with him. Is the shield that chills Suga's blood in his veins. It has the Sword of Faith on it. The man is a Templar, even though he doesn’t have the armor.
Suga shrieks, and immediately tries to flee. He could have fought, he realizes as he trips on a root of the tree, but truth be told he has so little fighting experience that attacking head on would have been a dead sentence.
He hits the ground landing on his jaw, blacks out for a moment, then rolls on his back. 'I’m dead, I’m totally dead, so much for putting up a fight', his brain starts blabbing, a little fire erupting from his fingers. The fire was so pathetic that not only it couldn’t have scared any Templar, but it also should have embarassed him as an harrowed mage.
The man takes a step forward, weapons toward him. “Wait a-”
“I’m gonna kill you, you hear me? Stay away!” Suga yells, failing at being intimidating. 'Let’s see the bright side, better dead than Tranquil'.
“No need to-” the man steps forward again, and Suga waves at him his little fire, trying to escape. The Templar looks at him with exasperation. He throws away his weapons, and rises his arms. “Please, calm down! I don’t mean to harm you.” he yells, trying to surpass Suga’s incoherent screeching.
“Oh, please, you Templars always do that. You are just playing with your prey before smiting him.” Suga says, raising from the ground, hoping to buy some seconds by keeping him talking.
“Smi- I’m no Templar!” the man shouts, watching the flames that are still at Suga’s fingertips. Suga takes a deep breath, and does the only thing he can think of. He leaps forward, aiming his fingers at the man’s face. The man shouts, and jumps back.
The flames dissolve a second before licking the man’s face. Suga’s hand presses up against the warrior’s nose, and the man moans in discomfort.
If he had been a Templar, Suga thinks, he would have killed him. He lets the hand fall at his side, sighing in relief. “Thank the Maker. I thought I was dead.”
“Yeah, me too!” the man cries out, touching his own face to make sure it wasn’t burnt or something. Suga blushes a little.
“Sorry about that. Had to make sure.” he apologizes. Suga points at his shield. “That thing led me to think you were one of them.” Well, that and the fact that Templars are right now hunting him down, but he doesn’t voice that thought.
The man scratches the back of his head, then looks up and down ad Suga. “So... you are a mage, ser.”
Suga can’t help but chuckle. “What gave me away, the flames or the dress?” he points at the robes he's wearing. But the man doesn’t seem to hear him, and approaches him until Suga can feel his breath on his face.
“Listen, do you happen to know healing magic or something? My commander has been wounded and I can’t do anything about it... I tried using elfroots but I think I ended up doing worse.” the man begs him. 'Yup', Suga think, looking at the worried expression on the face of the person before him, 'he’s pretty young'.
“I happen to know some of that but...”
The man grabs his shoulders. Suga jumps at the touch. In the Circle touching wasn’t something that happened often, except maybe for those stolen moments in dark hallways. “I’m gonna pay! I don’t have much, but even if I have to give you my last copper piece I’ll-”
Suga waves at him, smiling a bit, tilting his head on the side. “Is not that. I’ve been running for days, so I’m exhausted. I don’t know how much mana I’ve left, and if that will be sufficient... But I’ll definetely try!” Suga quickly adds, as the young man’s face start to look disheartened.
The young man seems to be about to hug him, but refreins himself.
“Andraste’s mercy, you are my saviour.” he breathes, smiling from ear to ear, and Suga blushes a little, and he passes an hand though his own hair.
“I wouldn’t say something lik-” before he can finish the sentence, the young warrior is dragging him somewhere deep into the woods.
“Come this way. I’m Daichi, by the way.” he introduces himself, hurriedly.
“Sugawara, but people call me Suga.” the mage has to use all his willpower in order to not fall. The man, Daichi, smiles at him, but it doesn’t seem as sincere as the last one. His forehead is frowing, probably out of worry.
Suga prays to the Maker that first, he won’t pass out before getting there, second, that he’s not falling in a trap or something, and third, that he could be of some help to that young man.