Chapter Text
The sunlight reaching across the Frostback Mountains rode the snow-capped peaks with the intention of penetrating every possible nook and cranny. The range extended the length between the boundaries of Ferelden and the Orlesian Empire. It housed a variety of flora, fauna, and some things more unnaturally dark. In general, the thought of crossing the Frostbacks without due cause was repelled. It was a treacherous region posing the risk of rockslides, avalanches, and unexpected storms. If those conditions were not enough to thwart an adventurer, then the dangerous, biting cold might. In addition to this any path not carved out by the surface dwarf merchants were quite questionable.
The dwarves of the Merchants Guild did not ever seem to mind hauling their supplies through, but even that happened just twice per year. Aside from the occasional straggling lyrium peddler, or threatening wildlife there were few who would take up residence in the crevices of the inhospitable mountains.
In one such cave nestled high into the cold peaks there was someone who made a point to settle in. A moderately sized chamber served the purpose of “humble abode” to a young elven woman slumbering on the hard, pebbled floor.
Her slender figure lay prone on its backside. She was swaddled in threadbare, faded red wool and remained oblivious to all around her while she slept. Her hair fanned out about her head like a raven halo, and her eyes were tightly shut as though purposely trying to keep from waking. A meager fire had been lit the previous night, but had long since turned to ash. The lack of warmth from the pit, however, had done nothing to rouse her.
It was not until the rustling sound of a heavy-footed creature disturbing the brush at the cave’s opening met her tapered ears that the elf bolted upright. She was in a state of sudden awareness; the hairs on the back of her neck prickled in her alarm. Tossing the coverlet aside she rolled to her feet and snatched up a simple wood-wrought staff bearing a green stone at the clawed top. Amber eyes, wide with panic, darted to the maw of the cavern.
An angular figure, draped in a well-worn hooded cloak, emerged from the tall plants blocking the view of the world outside. Hands batted at the leaves clinging to the cloak before the figure managed to free itself. The next steps were taken toward the elven woman at a brisk pace.
“Now, now! No need for that!” A male voice spoke from the shade of the hood, hands flying up and defensively showing outward palms. “I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, I had no idea this little cavern was already occupied. Had I known, I would have knocked first. How rude of me, right? Sorry about that. Er…”
“Ar’din nuvenin na’din!” The elf replied shortly, eyes narrowing at the intruder as she stepped forward. She hoped she was as menacing as she felt. This man was a great deal taller than she, though he did not seem threatening.
Nevertheless, an apostate should never take chances.
Fight or flight instinct surged through her body, and backed into a corner she would choose to fight. With any luck the situation would never escalate that far.
“Err…” The man stumbled backwards, risking movement to pull the hood back and reveal his face to her.
A human with dusty blond hair, warm brown eyes, and stubble on an arguably handsome face, stared back at the elf mage.
“I’m not quite sure what you said, but it didn’t sound very welcoming. Look, I get the idea- you don’t want me here. I get it, and I wish I could just leave, but it is bloody cold. If I could just warm up-oh! Andraste’s knickers, could you please relax a moment?!”
The man shuffled back another few steps as the clawed end of the woman’s staff jabbed at his chest in warning. She stared him down, as though daring him to just try coming closer.
Instead, the traveler sighed, exhaustion lining his face, and he turned his hands palms up. “I’m the same as you.”
Skeptically, the elf watched as the stranger held his hands toward her. Cupping them together he raised his brows as a faint, blue glow grew from the center of them, swelling until it was the size of a wisp. Magical tendrils danced about his fingers as he gave the startled woman a knowing smile.
“What are the odds that one apostate might find another out here in the middle of nowhere? Please, I promise you have nothing to fear. I wouldn’t dare harm a fellow mage without cause.”
The magic dissipated with a small wave of his fingers. Pointing to the staff still directed at his chest, the blond man then made an earnest request.
“Mind lowering that? It’s rude to point. Unless we’re comparing size; in which case I can show you mine if you’re showing me yours.”
Lifting her gaze to the staff strapped to the man’s back the elf felt a bit foolish for not having noticed it sooner. With some reluctance she turned her own staff so that the base rested on the cave floor.
“How did you find this place?” She inquired with a slight lilt to her soft voice which suggested her origins were not of Ferelden. Slowly circling her impromptu guest, the elf tried to make sense of his presence.
The man shrugged his shoulders and gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m not entirely sure! I suppose you might call it dumb luck, though I was looking for a place to take shelter for a while. So maybe it was out of necessity.” His eyes followed the woman’s figure as she moved about him then stood before him once again. “I’m Anders, by the way.”
Tucking a strand of tangled black hair behind a delicately pointed ear the elf snorted softly. She didn’t ask for his name. Frankly, she didn’t care what this human was called. If he could just stumble into her home this way, by complete accident no less, then what would stop anyone else from doing the same? Granted, foot traffic was sparse in the Frostbacks, and nary a living creature ever found its way inside the cavern, but if this man was an apostate it could mean trouble.
“Where did you come from?”
Anders winced. He had hoped the subject wouldn’t come up. “You know, it’s customary to return the gesture when somebody introduces themselves.”
Sighing, visibly perturbed by the small detail of social protocol, the woman appeased him. “My name is Emeline.”
“Orlesian?” Anders kept his smile, trying to play at small talk. “I thought I detected an affect to that pretty voice. Didn’t think it sounded Ferelden. No wonder you’re hiding- I don’t think these people have forgiven the war, even after all these years.”
Emeline stared at him, her face completely deadpan. “Does it matter where I am from if you do not answer my question? It is not very fair to answer a question with another question. You are in my home.”
“Ah.” Anders bowed his head. Well. She had him there. “Right, if it must be said, then I am not from around here. Not quite.”
“Then where?” Emeline demanded, hands tightening around her twisted staff.
“The Anderfels, if you must know. That’s me…Anders of the Anderfels. Just making my way through, trying to stay out of trouble. It’s obviously going well, wouldn’t you say?” He flashed what he hoped was a charming grin. “But if it’s all the same to you, I don’t think anyone followed me. You’re the first living soul I’ve seen in a solid week. Thank Andraste you’re a looker. It’s astonishing how many ugly mugs are out in the world.”
Unmoved by the flirtatious jesting, and not thoroughly convinced that this man had no sinister plans, Emeline allowed Anders some benefit of the doubt. Nobody had passed by her cavern in the whole seven months she’d lived within it; the elf was certain the trail was aptly covered. An army of Templars, no matter how small, would have made much more noise than this one human. She heard no sign of such an approach, so she decided to trust Anders spoke the truth.
“You are just passing through?” Emeline questioned, multitasking by clearing the ash from the fire pit while keeping a staggered watch on the other mage. “And you chose to come through the Frostbacks? Nobody does such a thing.”
Anders began to pace, keeping his distance lest Emeline unexpectedly take a flying leap at him. "Funny story, that. Considering you're here. But, yes, who would do such a thing?" Coming closer, slowly, he crouched on the opposite side of the stone-ringed pit where Emeline attempted to restart a fire. The apostate woman did not hide well her frustration as she consistently failed at getting a proper spark from the flint rock.
Chuckling in amusement, Anders watched in wonder as the woman gave an exasperated groan. The glare Emeline shot him caused him to regret laughing at her.
“What’s so funny?”
“I could help you with that.” Anders gestured to the pit.
Emeline frowned, knowing she might be sitting there for Creators knew how long, and wind up too frustrated to care about starting the fire anymore. Resting back on her knees she motioned to the man to go on with his assistance.
Anders stretched his hands out, taking the tools from Emeline and began to work the flint closer to the dried kindling.
“Will you let me rest here?” He asked while he worked. “I won’t be a burden, and it wouldn’t be long.”
The start of a protest tried to pry itself from Emeline’s lips, but Anders interrupted her.
“Just for the night. Please. You have no idea how tired I am. I could use just one night’s rest. It’s the least you could do for me after I did this for you.” His cheeky smile faded into something truly desperate; his fatigue began to shadow his angular face.
Already, the cave grew warmer, pinching out the damp chill from outside. Emeline pressed her mouth into a tight, thin line, deliberating her response. Her first inclination was to kick this shem out. However, some small thought pleaded with her, arguing that the company might be nice. Emeline was apt enough in magic for self-defense if necessary. She could extinguish this mage, dispose of him, and continue her existence as though Anders had never been.
How hard could it be if he, too, couldn’t call fire by magic?
Relenting, the elf nodded. “One day. It is all I will give you. You have a place to sleep, and in the morning you must leave.”
Anders smiled, his expression sincerely lighting up his features. “That is all I ask.”