When Yixing awoke, as he inevitably did with sweat-slicked hair, muscles aching, and gashes across both legs and his shoulder blade, he was disoriented. But only for a moment. He shook his head and lifted himself from the cold, matted ground. The spot where he lay was marked as by a beast ten times his regular size. There were scorch marks along one end, and the scent of decay from flesh wounds and blood splatter hung cloyingly in the air. Several trees had not survived Yixing's descent either. Their upturned roots and shattered bark lay across the ground, knocking over a few more trees on their way down. All in all, it wasn't a bad landing. Not Yixing's best, but certainly not his worst. And he had at least the satisfaction that the other dragon had crashed down farther to the north in a much worse shape than he.

It hurt, sometimes, to be the arbiter of such a beautiful creature's death, one whose existence he had the privilege to share and experience. Nevertheless, he had done what he must.

Yixing hobbled slowly out of the open, hissing as he went. A soft inspection of his shoulder showed fresh blood still oozing from the wound. He sniffed the air, taking measure of where he might be and setting that against what he remembered before last going down. South of the river, farther to the west. Not an ideal location in his current state, not if he wanted to make it back to the party. He was alone, on foot, and . At least he could heal, although his body, always weak after such a transformation, would take awhile to recuperate. His best bet would be to find a human settlement and either steal or obtain by pity some supplies to get him through the next few days.

A soft snow had begun to fall. The flakes melted against his overheated skin, but he would not be immune to the cold forever.

He walked barefoot in an easterly direction for hours. He passed a small shack laid bare to the elements and, guessing it was somebody's summer hunting cabin, helped himself to a few things. Armed with some clothes and a sack of dried fruits and meat, he marched on.

Barely an hour after this, he felt a strange presence.

Yixing was being followed, and it felt so funny that he already knew by whom.

Rather than let the merry, leisurely chase last any longer, he stopped at the nearest fallen log and sat himself down to wait. Chuckling, he put one ankle over the other knee and siphoned through his small bag of food for something to chew on. The steps of the follower crunched closer in the snow. Yixing's footsteps would be easy to trail, but he knew this stranger could have done that without them.

"How curious," he said when the figure stood before him, "that I see you in person, after all this time, right at this moment."

The stranger murmured mirthlessly. He did not speak.

"How did you find me?" continued Yixing.

This time, the man snorted. "Tales of two dragons fighting over the Dales? That's such an uncommon occurrence, it wouldn't take much deducing, to know you were one of them."

His voice was high, familiar and yet not. It was the voice of a boy Yixing had partially raised, turned man who was a stranger and his enemy. Yixing raised his head and leered across the snowy path.

"Come to care for me in my injuries? Or perhaps you're here to help put me down? I hear dragon hunting is all the rage now in Orlais, not that many brave, foolish adventurers actually live so long to write songs about it. You on the other hand, you have some skill, surely."

"I can carry a tune, if that's what you mean to imply?"

The man chuckled. Yixing went back to rustling through his bag and choosing another delectable morsel to chew on, he ignored his enemy where he sat down on the log, legs astride with some distance between them.

"You must know, Yixing, what I've come to ask you."

Without looking up, Yixing replied, "I do, and I have no answers for you."

Humorlessly, the man sighed. "You should know me better than that. I can tell when you're lying."

"Then you should also be able to tell when I mean what I say. Go away, Xiumin. This venture has nothing to do with you."

Leveling his head, Yixing stared the man he hadn't seen in the flesh for almost ten years. Whether those years had been kind of harsh to Xiumin, he couldn't tell. The mage was skilled at sorcery, at illusions. His skin was as smooth as when he was a boy, when Yixing had held him on his lap and spoke to him about magic. Xiumin had been his best pupil, better than his older brothers, better too than his younger brother Minseok. Yixing had recognized in him that spark of ambition, and he'd nurtured it, coddled Xiumin, persuaded himself that under great tutelage Xiumin would harness it for good.

"Now, now, Yixing. We both know you're too old and wise to think I could turn the other cheek right now," said the man. "Not when there's so much to gain."

"You don't even know what you're getting into," said Yixing. Gone was his casual conversation. His voice now was stone cold and threatening. Xiumin ignored both.

"I know about the well and I know they carry the key, Yixing. It would be kinder on them if you let me in on this, before someone gets hurt."

"As if you care about that," Yixing snapped.

"Are you saying I don't care about the life of my brother?" Xiumin mimicked offense, but there was a sneer across his face that belied it. "I only wanted him to stay out of my way. It was his own fault for trying to scour for my whereabouts."

"So you sent a troop of templars to take him down?" Yixing raised an eyebrow.

Xiumin scoffed. "Templars are so finicky, sending one measly soldier. It's no wonder apostates have been running circles around that Order for centuries. Never trust a templar. Never trust a mage. The world would be a much more defined place if everyone just came to their senses and realized that. Not that I care for order."

"Not that you care about the world either," said Yixing. "The only thing you care about is you, and the rest of us be damned. Is that why you killed your family? Were they in the way? Were they hindering your progress as the foremost maleficar in Thedas?"

A flash of anger passed through Xiumin's eyes, then stayed there to burn. Yixing had expected such a reaction. He expected even for Xiumin to combust and fight him right there with either words or magic. Instead, to his surprise, Xiumin said nothing until his face resumed an air of calmness. The wind caught at his hair. He looked for a moment like his younger, kinder self. In fact, he looked like Minseok. The resemblance between the two of them was eerily disturbing. Two gifted mages, the pride of Yixing's tutelage, and yet they'd turned out so differently. If only Yixing had seen it and not blinded himself, not just to Xiumin's strange morbid inclinations, but to Yixing's own ego. He'd fully believed he was training the brightest of the next generation of sorcerers, cultivating a legacy that would at least live out beyond his expectations.

In that, it turned out he was correct. Xiumin surpassed everything Yixing had hoped for. And then some.

"You'll always blame me for that... accident, won't you?" joked Xiumin, a scathing, acid tone beneath his smile.

"You may call it that," said Yixing, "but we all know it was an accident that might have been prevented."

"Preventable indeed, maybe if you'd only shared all your knowledge with me like I asked."

Yixing still remembered that chilling day. Had he stayed and given in to Xiumin's whims, he might have been there to stop the experiment going awry. Then again, if he had not taken a gangly, teenage Minseok with him on an excursion, then that boy too might have died along with this parents and siblings.

By the time he returned there was nothing left of the house except for their charred remains, fires burning still in all corners. The planks of the roof had fallen down, the whole valley smelled like death and the sinister aftertaste of foul magic. Xiumin's body was the only one not accounted for, and Yixing knew at that very moment that his trust in the boy had been misplaced.

"Why do you never age, Yixing?" asked Xiumin, interrupting his memories.

"Age?" asked Yixing innocently. "What is age anyways? Is that what you're after then? Immortality? Surely even you must know that such a thing does not, cannot exist."

"Not infinitely, to be sure," mused Xiumin. "Of course... maybe if I-"

"No."

Xiumin sighed, and once again he took on the appearance of the boy Yixing had known and doted on. He reclined backwards on the log with his hands supporting him, legs still astride and bouncing gently. Yixing wondered how many men and women Xiumin had come to fool in recent years. Did he have a following? A coven of mages like him? He must have made some powerful allies at least, if their time in Orzammar had been anything to tell by: dwarven lordlings, perhaps human princes, or rogue elves long grown immune to the sway of their clans. The art of magic was largely guarded in all parts of Thedas, not just by the Chantry and their lock-up of all mages. Dalish clans also protected their secrets, as well as their young mages by limiting the number of practitioners per clan and keeping great oversight. And while apostate families mostly ran free, few mages were technically alone for the entirety of their lives.

The wind shifted sending another cool blast of snow sideways across the path. Yixing brushed some of the melting snowflakes off his face and dusted more from his hair. He flexed his shoulder blades, happy to feel that they were back to their proper shape and no longer aching. If Xiumin intended to fight him...

"You know where it is, Yixing. I know it."

"I don't," Yixing repeated.

"And if you did," scoffed Xiumin, "you wouldn't tell me?"

"My dear lad, as I've said before, I have no idea where this place you speak of may lie. I am barely even familiar with the legend, and trust me, Xiumin, it is a legend indeed. Unproven, unfounded, its whereabouts totally unknown."

Only part of what he said was a lie. Xiumin seemed to have guessed this already.

"So you won't tell me..."

"Nope."

"Then I guess I'll have to try my luck elsewhere. You won't mind, surely. You're on your way to meet them again now, aren't you? Shall I tag along? See if anyone else is more willing to cough up their thoughts?"

Yixing grinned. Of all the people who could possibly know about this supposed, probably-never-existed mystical well in the first, Kyungsoo would be the last person to ever speak of it. And that's if he knew it at all. Who knew what secrets he possessed in the depths of his blackening mind. Somehow he had put together enough clues to find himself on the right track, but did he know the final destination? Had someone told him? Did he harbor knowledge even more impossible than the only route through the Deep Roads? One couldn't really tell. Whether he knew great wisdom or secrets, or only a glimmer of truth, he was still untrustworthy, and thus Yixing's main haste for returning to the party to keep an eye on the man. The dying were so often unpredictable...

"You're distracted, Yixing."

"Am I?" He spared a soft laugh and a smile.

"Yes, and that's worrisome for I don't think you quite understand the gravity of this situation."

"Is it so grave, Xiumin?"

The other mage's eyes narrowed menacingly like slits. A less elf than Yixing would not play so obviously with fire, but Yixing was no mere elf, and no mere mage. Even allowing for the intervening years since he had taught Xiumin, Yixing had centuries on the young mage, and power like few even knew. He smiled back at Xiumin, bravely inviting destruction he knew the other could never accomplish. Xiumin stared back, a contest of wills. That was all Xiumin would likely win, temporarily.

Finally, the mage snorted and looked away.

"Fine, then. Keep your secrets. But know that I still have other means at my disposal. You might be able to fend me off, but would the others be so strong? Would Minseok, if I threatened him enough? Would... Luhan?" Xiumin faked a yawn as Yixing sat up a little straighter. "A very nice, handsome templar, don't you think? Quite approachable actually, as I've already discovered."

He laughed, and Yixing did not interrupt him. His mind was instead turning, all the gears in his brain seeking Xiumin's intentions.

"You think that templar really, truly trusts Minseok? How long do you think that trust will last, when they yet hide things from each other?"

Yixing stood up and sneered at him. "Go," he said, making his voice as calm as he possibly could.

Xiumin's eyebrows went up.

"I said, go. Get out of here, scheme how you will, Xiumin, but never forget that I am watching you."

Then, pleasantly, Yixing his heels and started to walk away. He heard nothing from behind him. Not a shift of the log, no footsteps either following him or walking away. Xiumin would let him have the last word, but Yixing was too cautious to think this was the last time they'd meet. No, Yixing had things to attend and people to see. And no doubt, Xiumin would find him again when it suited his own purposes. It was just up to Yixing now to see him fail.

Since daybreak, they had been on the move, Suho didn't know where. At this point, he wasn't even sure they had a destination at all other than Minseok- with Luhan hesitantly agreeing- declaring they should head southwest.

The snow had yet to stop falling. It was now piling upon the ground and for every hour they trudged through it, Suho hated it more. He'd spent most of his life underground, never having to worry about what fell from the sky, but here he was now trampling through snow that was up to his ankles, and in some places even more.

Jongdae walked beside him, small comfort that was now. To be sure, the assassin-turned-Sehun's guard never let Suho stumble in the snow. He was always there with a hand to the dwarf's elbow, encouraging him each step of the way. But nobody, not least Suho, could think of the man in the same way as he had before. It was hard to reorient yourself to the thought of Jongdae lying to them all this time. The only true wonder was that Suho had ever trusted a man like him who from the beginning had been at least somewhat honest about his profession. An assassin? Suho had come somehow to... like an assassin? Still, knowing more to the story now, it rankled. And Suho wasn't the only one to think so.

"You never told us," said Luhan one time, "about how you came to be Sehun's protector."

"I didn't?" Jongdae shrugged, smug smile lighting up his face. They were all stopped for a noonday snack.

"You didn't." The templar's glare wasn't as menacing as it might have been. Suho noticed, however, that Luhan had mellowed out quite a bit in recent weeks. At this point, it seemed like a friendly interrogation for no other reason than that everybody was bored and they had nothing else to talk about, except the obvious (which was how they were going to find Sehun and again and why Minseok thought they should even bother) which nobody mentioned outright.

Kris looked mildly interested in Jongdae's answer. Tao's ears were turned eagerly in their direction, as any source of talk or gossip piqued his curiosity. Minseok did not contribute, either verbally or by his expression, but Suho knew he would be listening attentively. The mage stood beside Kyungsoo, that strange tainted man that Suho for some reason, could not even begin to like or trust. He had grown stronger since Minseok set a series of healing spells over his body, but he moved too stiffly for a man his age, and while he rarely spoke now, he was always paying attention. His eyes, shadowed beneath his hood, looked to the ground, but his lips wrestled together under the bite of his teeth. Suho shivered and determined to ignore him. Jongdae, oblivious to all of this, laughed softly and began his short narrative.

"What's there to really tell? You all know I was a failed Crow assassin. Too many rules, too much ceremony. I've been a freelancer of some reknown for a couple years. The lady, Sehun's dear mother, sent men to hire me. I spoke with her briefly, and the rest you know."

When Minseok announced this morning that their continuing aim was to find and rejoin Sehun, Jongin and the others, Jongdae had been the first to smile in agreement. His enthusiasm had grown again since then.

"So you were just to remain anonymous forever?" asked Luhan.

Jongdae nodded and readjusted his carry pack. The movement caused the glint of Jongdae's twin daggers, flashing right in Suho's line of vision. It should have scared him, but it didn't. Jongdae, for all his secrets, had lead the charge to rescue him when he was captured by the Carta. And he'd been right there beside him ever since, sometimes teasing, sometimes mocking, but always in a friendly perhaps more than friendly tone. Confusing. If Suho had one word for the assassin, it would be that.

He turned to look how the others in their party accepted Jongdae's remark. Kris has a fowl expression on his mouth. Not for the first time, he opened it now to scowl and say, "Freelancer, huh? That's just a fancy name for another mercenary. A mercenary should follow a code just the same. Honesty, that's how you win your bread."

The two mercenaries eyed each other, one warily, the only with laughter b in his eyes.

"Honest mercenaries? Tell me, Kris, are all mercenaries like you then? You've never met a dishonest one? I find that hard to believe. Half the mercenaries in all Thedas just call themselves that to earn gold and are no different than a gang of thieves."

The qunari's lips brimmed in anger. "I have never acted like a thief!"

"Oh sure, you're a qunari. You have a code. But you say you left the Qun, which is your original code. Are you not by default now making up your own?"

To Suho, a qunari over three times his height was not someone he would ever want to annoy. To Jongdae, the qunari might seem like a giant, but he showed no sign of backing down. Instead, he outright laughed before turning his back as if Kris could hurt him more more than a fly.

The qunari made only the slightest lurch of movement before Minseok stepped up.

"Enough," he said, voice b with authority. "We have no time for these childish quarrels. Kris has a code, Jongdae has a mission. The rest of us have enough morals at least, I hope, to either get along peacefully until we find the others."

He spoke with wisdom, but Jongdae turned around and smirked all the same. "And then there's you, Minseok. What's your bone in this fight, or are you just so obliging that, knowing how much Kris and I are are contracted to fulfill our missions, you will take the lead in our glorious reunification? Perhaps you have your own motives? Or perhaps Kyungsoo does...?"

The dark-robed man made no motion to enter this verbal spar. He remained still even as Luhan prickled up, right on time to defend Minseok, Suho noted.

"This is stupid to be arguing. Winter is coming, we're trampling around in the wilderness in the snow. Can't we just, pick a plan of action and then stick with it?"

"A plan," interrupted Jongdae, "along the lines of 'Let's follow the mage no matter what he does?'"

In another time, in another place, somewhere along the roads of the past, that might have been an innocuous question. But here, now, Luhan's face turned red, not with embarrassment but with shame.

"You know, I'm starting to like this qunari," Jongdae continued. "For all his noble talk of codes, at least we know where he stands. And, if you can take my word for it, which I admit you've no cause to do so, but at the very least I have admitted the reason I want to keep on this path. So, there are two people here who have been honest about where they stand. But what about the rest of you? Minseok, you're a wanderer. Luhan, you could do whatever you liked. Tao, well he's just following along for the fun of it, I suppose. Suho has nowhere else to go because he's not going to take off solo without an armed band to travel with. But Kyungsoo... we all know, injured though you are," and here Jongdae's eyes narrowed, "we all know how very capable you are on your own." He let those words sink in a moment as everybody looked around their little circle verifying the truth of Jongdae's words. Then he continued. "Seems to me like there are people in our midst with unspoken quests and secrets we couldn't dare to imagine."

He leveled this accusation firmly in Minseok's direction, eyes darting to Kyungsoo, then back and forth again and again.

"What aren't you telling us, Minseok, huh? Huh?"

When the mage did not answer, the tension grew and Jongdae's eyes narrowed more. "You and Kyungsoo disappeared for days together. What were you plotting? Have you always been plotting something? Together? You knew your friend Yixing was a dragon, but nobody bothered to warn us. That's not some random magic any mage can drum up. That's old magic, deep magic, and dangerous."

Still the mage was silent, but Suho found he could not look at him. He averted his eyes and stared at the snowy ground. He too had known Yixing was a dragon. He had seem him shift above the meadow before Sehun, Jongin, Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo disappeared into the burning mansion. Suho had seen what Yixing was capable of, and yet he hadn't told.

Fear, that's how he justified it. Fear that Yixing, though he hadn't in fact burned them alive, might yet turn his deadly blaze on them, on Suho. Or on Jongdae. Jongdae was kindly not bringing it up again, but still Suho was rankled by guilt. He hadn't told anybody before Yixing had shifted again, and now he felt both petrified and also like he had to get it out. He had to admit it, the secret he had known.

Instead, it came out like this. "Luhan."

All eyes turned to him. He grew even more afraid, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. The templar, most of all, looked confused. So he said his name again. "Luhan. H-he.... he knew too..."

"What?" asked a shocked Jongdae. Luhan's chin was slowly falling away from his jaw. Minseok stared at him, Kris looked at him in horror.

"Whhhat?" returned a shaky Luhan. But Suho had known. He'd known in the way Luhan hadn't reacted like the others in their panicked descent down the ruin. Instead he had the eyes of someone who had known already. They were the mirror of Suho's own. And Suho saw now in Minseok's shocked reaction, that it hadn't been Minseok who told him.

"How did you know?" Jongdae immediately pushed.

"I-I saw him that day too."

"Saw Yixing? In the meadow?"

"Y-yes."

"I don't believe you," said the assassin. "I could believe that of Suho because ever since that day he has acted terrified of Yixing. But you?"

Suho would not have believed him either. Luhan did not have the face of someone who could lie. His guilt was written plainly across his face. Suho expected Jongdae to press the issue, however it was Minseok who did it for him.

"How did you know?" demanded the mage.

Again Luhan claimed he saw him, and again the others claimed he could not have known. But the more he spoke the more his words sounded like lies. "I knew! Okay, I just knew!" he croaked finally, face bright red in light of the interrogation. Jongdae's eyes glinted, Minseok's were wide open. And Suho saw between the templar and the mage the smallest trace of a crack.

Trust, it seemed, would not come to this party so easily.

4,200 words

So, we have all that. Sorry there hasn't been any actual action or forward-moving plot, but... as you might have noticed, we have a few things to get out before the party can move on. ;)

♡ Rosie

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