The explosion and the roar that follows it sound like an avalanche. A torrent of mud and debris just to the south of his current position, and it's enough to momentarily distract Illario from slitting the throat of the undead monstrosity trying to eviscerate the refugee child from the horse farm. He could curse Dennet's stubbornness, passed on to his children who had opted not to leave their horses and druffalo - until it was almost too late.

The little one is screaming and crying as he grabs her up, shields her as best he can with his larger frame, and frantically looks about the ruins of Calenhad's Foothold—but it's free from Blight, and the majority of the Darkspawn are rushing down the hill, which gives him precious seconds.

"You'll be just fine, bambina." He says as he tucks her closer into his chest before he makes the desperate charge across the open space towards the only structurally sound tower. Darkspawn grab for them, but force of will keeps him going- before he launches himself up onto a ledge and catches it with his fingers. He's hauled himself up walls one-handed before, but not with the added weight of the child and for a moment he isn't sure his grip will hold- but then with a scrabble of feet finding holds in the ancient stones, they're up. Feet move fast across the narrow ledge, until he can clamber up onto another tier of stonework, up to the very top of the tower. Both he and the girl toss themselves behind the ruined battlements just as a projectile catches him in the thigh. Not an arrow, just a piece of the tower one of the big ogres has slung in their direction.

It takes him a moment to breathe around the pain of it, drawing the girl up to him again and murmuring some reassurance, before he sits up and looks towards the source of the explosion, expecting to see a horde of undead and darkspawn spilling out of the mountainside. But that isn't what he sees at all.

Jim. His Jim. Here. Even though Illario told him to stay away. He could curse him, watching and unable to do anything as Jim launches himself from his perch, crashing into one of the biggest darkspawn and stabbing that ogre in the face.

Illario almost feels the impact as the howling monster throws Jim to the ground. The world seems to stop, not moving for several long minutes, although it's probably less than a second because Jim is moving, getting to his feet.

"Get up, get away amore, come on, come on-" He repeats under his breath, but then there's the child's sharp, terrified cry from behind them, and he wheels around to see a darkspawn appear over the ruined battlements. There's no more time to watch Jim. Illario moves, a long, wicked dagger in hand, as he moves to put himself between his charge and the darkspawn, slicing at limbs and faces, taking a wicked pleasure when they shriek and drop down onto their brethren below.

The first wave, never more than a couple at a time, he can deal with, but it doesn't stay that way. Soon, there are half a dozen, and he feels the exhaustion in his limbs begin to slow him down. He knows he doesn't have many options left. And the Crow emblem remains pinned to his armour, a pretty decoration with a dark purpose.

He doesn't even have to debate the choice. Fingers move across the metal, the wings as sharp as the blade in his hand, scoring through skin and into the pads of his fingers, old magic stirring with the taste of his blood, freely given, and he feels the power in his life-force begin to gather in his hand. Half a heartbeat more, the tiny fog of blood pulses in his hand, full of raw power and like a true mage might throw fire, Illario throws the energy forward, knocking the darkspawn off the tower with a yell.

It won't keep them away, but it gives him half a second more to breathe, look over his shoulder, and find Jim in the chaos.

Jim is coming. He's running swift as the finest of horses, sure of foot like a halla as he reaches the ruins of the keep, but Illario can't watch. It's all he can do to keep fighting.

A rusted blade slices across his arm, biting into the flesh and scoring deep. Blood rises up, soaking his sleeve and the leather armour above before it too turns into s faint haze around Illario. The darkspawn pulls its mishapen arm back to try to land a killing blow, bht the fog of blood surges forward like a spear, plunges through the creature's chest and sends gore flying.

Illario pants for breath, but he can't stop. Not yet. If Jim can get just a little closer he can habd off the child and then he doesn't matter. So he turns, dealing with the next dark spawn and the next, but the numbers are dwindling. They might make it out of this.

As Jim is dropped, Illario rushes in, making sure that Darkspawn is dead and falling away, or at least doing his best to do so. Under his olive skin, Illario's pale with exhaustion, the smell of blood lingering on him. As well as the gore from fallen darkspawn. But that doesn't stop him from immediately leaning into Jim, his own breathing laboured and his heart hammering wildly.

"I told you not to come. Thank you for ignoring me." He manages to slip into the narrow space between them and then tips his forehead into Jim's shoulder, just for a brief second, assuring himself that Jim is real.

"We need to get the Bambina out of here," Illario says, scooping up the little girl, trying and failing to ignore the way he wobbles as he picks her up or the wave of nausea that follows. I... you might need to carry her."

He can hear Harding and Neve below making short work of the remaining darkspawn, and he has never ever been so glad for Jim's friends. They're going to survive this.

Jim does look like some hero of old, bloody and bruised but solid and victorious against his enemies, a rock that Illario wants to cling to. And then they both seem to relax and some of the tension of the fight eases away. But it doesn't fade entirely because he still has the little one to protect, there's something inside him that makes him desperately want to keep hold of her until he can pass her back to her family. Oh Meirda, he hopes they're still alive.

Illario's well aware of how bloody he is, covered in gore and the moment Jim touches him, he wants to break down. Lean into him and possibly cry a little bit. But he can't. The little one needs to know its okay. And Jim doesn't need to think things are worse than they are.

"I... I'll take her. We'll just go down slow." He says, shifting her in his arms a little and tucking her closer into his chest. "I'm alright, amore. Just tired. We need to get Bambina safe."

He offers Jim a smile to try and back that up, not sure if he pulls it of.

Illario moves towards the edge of the tower, looking for a safe way down when he only has one arm and a limited amount of energy left. But the ruined wall offers a few options now they aren't being pursued by darkspawn.

The potion helps. It eases some of the immediate pain, pulls together the bloody abrasions on his hands and up his arms, and starts to work on the bruises that would be forming over the next few hours. It doesn't do much against the exhaustion or the crash after the adrenaline rush, but that's fine. Illario is used to that, he can work through it and come out the other side. He wishes he didn't feel sick to his stomach along with it.

Cecilia, for her part, looks between the so-called sword, back to Jim, and then to Illario, and seems to want to say that's not a sword but thinks better of it. Any knife is a weapon, and she seems to decide she'd rather have it than not. With dirty hands - mud, nothing worse- she reaches out to take it solemnly, holding onto it tightly.

"My Pa told me about the Hero of Fereldan. He was a Warden, and his husband was from Ant-ee-va. Did he send you?"

"No bambina, Jim sent himself. He's like the hero of Ferelden, getting rid of the darkspawn and helping the Inquisitor. You've heard of the Inquisitor, haven't you?" Illario says, scooping up the child again and continuing to talk to her, distracting her from the climb down and the corpses of darkspawn that litter the ruined tower. Stories of Jim and the Inquisitor's adventures seem to work for that purpose, and Illario, despite his exhaustion, looks a little surprised at how well the attempt to distract Cecilia has gone.

But once they're out of the worst of it, and he can feel his legs wobbling, he has to stop, lean against the wall and look at Jim, eyes full of apology. The potion helped, but he's still struggling. That's not right, he knows that much, but it's not the focus right now.

"I think Warden Jim can tell you the rest of that story. You go with him bambina."

"It's doing your best that's important." Illario says, "Sometimes it takes a little while to realise what that is." Illario once thought that seducing nobles and politicians was the peak of his career, until he got his hands on the position of First Talon. He knows now that's never going to happen, and he's strangely happier for it. And, even if he says so himself, doing better work.

Up to a point, of course. Today has been a bit of a shambles. He's lucky, so lucky, that Jim is as stubborn as they come, or he's not sure he'd have been able to get the little girl out alive. With Jim, Neve and Harding, their chances are much better. The bambina's chances are better.

He laughs a little shakily when Jim tries to get him to climb on his back. His fingers move to stroke over the other man's side and tug a little for his attention, and once Jim looks back at him, Illario's voice drops so the others don't hear.

"You could barely carry me to bed that first time, amore moi, do you remember?" He says, voice full of fondness, and wraps an arm around Jim's shoulders instead. "You certainly can't carry me across the whole of the Heartlands. Just let me lean on you a bit."

It will help. He can do this. He's sure he can. He just hurts, inside more than out, a sickness filling him that freezes him to the core and sets fire in his veins all at once. He doesn't even need to look at the cuts in the leather of his armour to see the darkening of his veins beneath his skin.

"Head for the Eluvian, then once we reach the Cross Roads, you will have to- you will have to remind me which is the one for Lavendel."

Illario always assumed he'd have children at some point. Caterina wanted the line continued, Lucanis had never been inclined towards having a relationship. If Caterina ordered him to, he'd probably get married, but having children might be a step too far. But Illario? It was almost a given. And yet, she'd only ever tired to arrange a marriage once, and when it had fallen though? Never bothered again.

But he'd always hoped... whoever he might end up with a family would be a possibility. Now it seems a ridiculous thing to think about as Wardens like Jim can't have children, in the middle of the world ending. All he can do is his best to look after the children that are already here.

Or ask Jim to, at least for the moment.

But all that goes out of his head when he sees water build in those sapphire eyes. It's all he can do to lean in and rest his forehead against Jim's, trying his best not to wobble and lose his balance. He needs to look like he's not hurting, he needs to keep this together. Jim and Cecilia need that.

"It's alright, amore moi. I'm alright. No tears," he explains, trying to give some comfort, running his hands over Jim's face, into his hair, marvelling at how soft and warm he feels. "I know a handsome, strong, beautiful Warden and he is the best man in the world, he'll get me where I need to go. I trust him. And maybe we'll both be Wardens, hm?"

Then if Jim does one day hear the Calling, he won't go down to the Deep Roads along. Not that Illario wasn't about to go with him. But now? It seems like fate.

"I'm alright. It just hurts. And we can't stay here. Lets get the bambina to the Lighthouse at least. Then you can find her people."

In all the months of their courting, if Illario can use such a formal word for something that has been anything but a formal or traditional courting, Jim has only once or twice let his real stubbornness shine through. There have been glimpses, little moments which could have just been called bratty (and gods forgive him, Illario has always enjoyed a brat) but nothing like this.

Perhaps that's because they've never had to deal with anything like this.

He tries to keep pace with Jim, Jim, who is used to moving quickly through this sort of terrain, learned how to do it in this very place, in fact. For Illario, between the growing pains in his limbs and the worry for the others, it's hard going. The three others at least keep pace, Cecila being carried once more, until they reach the Eluvian.

By that point, Illario is fighting to keep on his feet. Head swimming, vision hazy at the edges, he only barely feels the strange sensation of going through the mirror. The rest passes in a blur. At some point, he knows he's carried. At some point, there's another mirror. Jim's voice, a cooler, wetter wind blows against his face. It feels so good against his skin.

And then there's talking. So much talking, voices he doesn't know, and Jim. Jim is there, the shape of him indistinct but he would know his man anywhere, and he curls his fingers in with Jim's own, holding as tight as he can as another wave of pain courses through him. He can hear Jim's distress, and he hates being the cause of it.

"Amore, I-" He tries, but his voice is hoarse, and the words don't come out after a point.

Illario's limbs all feel so heavy, and every beat of his heart feels like it's pushing treacle around in his veins. Heavy, slow, thick. It hurts more in his limbs: legs and arms, hands feeling so cold they might as well be ice, but his torso and face feel like they're too close to a fire. He's felt infections like the before, poisoned blades that nicked the flesh and left him in a fever for weeks, but nothing that came on this fast od this bad.

The one thing that reassures him is that Jim is there. He can feel their fingers tangled together and hear Jim's voice.

Illario's eyes close and open again, trying to focus on the bright blond man sitting with him, and he squeezes his hand. Common seems a very difficult language to get his head around right now. The words are too cumbersome in his mouth, and his lips are too dry for the strange shapes. He slips into Antivan, words hardly more than a whisper.

"Don't be angry at them, sole moi. They're doing their best." He murmurs before a sharp stab of pain in his chest has him gasping and curling tightly onto his side. It takes a moment for him to recover and breathe through it. When he can speak again, his eyes find Jim's.

"I'll do the Joining. We'll be Wardens together. All I want is to be with you."

There's activity somewhere off to the side, people moving but his vision swims too much to focus on them, so he keeps it focused on Jim.

"Tell me what I need to do."

Illario listens as best he can works difficult to decipher but Jim is ever patient. He can tell the other man is struggling too, hurting deeply and Illario wishes he could take all that hurt away far away, and never let Jim feel it again. But it's all he can do to hold onto his hand and with all the strength he can muster, reach up to gently brush away some of the tears from his cheeks.

"Sounds disgusting amore. Worse than Ferelden acorn coffee." He jokes, trying to blink away the shadows around his vision and properly look at Jim, at the beautiful blue eyes tinged with red and the streaks of salt water in his face through the dirt of their fight through Ferelden. He can't let his man down. He can't die and leave his man hurting.

He shifts in Jim's arms fighting against the lead weight of his limbs and tries to curl closer to Jim.

"I want to live, Jim. I want to live and be with you. You let me see there could be more- a future. You are the reason I said to being me here."

He doesn't know the full story of what happened to Jim, but he knows after the Inquisition the Wardens saved him. And if they saved him, maybe Illario can be saved. He has so much more work to do, proving he can change. Unsoing the damage he's caused.

When the toxic looking mix is brought to him, when Jim props him up against his chest, Illario feels the world slip away a little more, but his heart still beat against the poison in his chest and if Fate has any sense of humour she'll let him live. He's spent too long taking the easy way out.

So he drinks. Almost retching, the foul taste and smell far worse than anything he's ever endured before but his hand is against Jim's, and he tells himself drink it, stupido.

And then the pain starts. If he thought he was hurting before, it was nothing in comparison to the fresh wave that spasms through him, through stomach and lungs, heart and head, making his fingers clench and relax and his bones feel like they're melting. Convulsing and cursing, it takes all of a few seconds for his body to simply shut down, overwhelmed and exhausted.

Then suddenly he's awake again, gasping for breath like a man half-drowned, the convulsions less intense but still rocking his body on the small cot, his fingers grasping to hold onto something.

He has no idea how long its been. Minutes, hours, days? Probably not days. Jim doesn't look like he's been in the same clothes for days and Illario notices that sort of thing. What he notices more so is how exhausted Jim is and despite the ache and the pain in his own limbs he wriggles in the narrow bed to make room.

"Up here, with me." He murmurs, his own voice cracking and breaking, but all he wants is Jim close to him.

As soon as he can he's curling into Jim's side and breathing a little easier for the familiar smell of Jim- armour, sweat, coffee, soap. It helps. Close surrounded by his love, it helps and Illario manages to work up the strength to nuzzle in.

"You did all the work, amore." He says, arms curling around Jim's middle. You rest."

Everything tense in Illario begins to unwind as soon as Jim is close. As heavy as he feels, as feverish as he knows he is, pressing up into his lover's chest to hear his heartbeat. Strong despite all the fear and worry Illario has caused him. Stress and pain. He never meant for that to happen. He never wanted to make Jim cry for him.

"Will you sleep?" He asks, eyelids already drooping again, words slurring as Antivan vowels try to slip into Common words and he has to force himself to open his eyes at Jim and wait for an answer.

"I have nightmares already, amore moi." He mutters, but once more his eyes are sliding closed and he's struggling to keep his head up, sleep closing in like a winter storm around him, dragging him down into darkness.

The nightmares are horrofic. They start the same way as always. Total darkness, the only noise is screaming and then the creak as he pries the lid of the chest up a merest fraction to peer at the world beyond his hiding place. That's normally when he sees his parents deaths and the blood soaking the cot his sister slept in. Not this time. This time the dream is interupted, flashes of monsters in the darkness and the whispering of something terrible in his mind. Beyond that there is something else, something huge and incomprehensible, calling out to him, singing for his blood.

This time when he wakes, it's crying out in panic.

It takes several moments for Illario's heartbeat to calm enough for him to have a drink, able to lift the cup to his own lips and take small sips seems such a small achievement but just that has him exhausted again. He drops back into the cot, curling into Jim's embrace and sleeps, again.

Nightmares linger, the voice that whispers to him seems so loud in his head, seems to know him, but he doesn't wake in a panic now.

What wales him is a smell. Elicious, a littl rustic, but its frying eggs and meat and mushrooms. Not the sprt of breakfast an Antivan ever eats but suddenly he's starving, his stomach growling louder than a wolf.

Jim still seems exhausted, dozing with hollow cheeks and dirty clothes on- although Illario realises he's just the same. Food first, coffee if they have it, and if he can mamage it a wash.

"Bello mio," he murmurs into Jim's ear. "I'm going to see if they have coffee. You sleep a little longer."

He sits up gingerly then, sheds the ruined shirt that had been under his armour and fingers a spare wool blanket to wrap around his shoulders and heads out in search of coffee.

Evka seems surprised to see him up, but smiles broadly and expressively.

"Hungry? I know I was after the Joining." She asks, as her husband moves things around in the pan.

"Yes but... do you have coffee? For Jim?" He asks and the couple exchange glances, and Antoine speaks up.

"Just a little, I think. Do you want to make it for him?"

Illario feels a slight heat travel up his face but he manages to confirm that, and a few minutes later he's carefully carrying two chipped cups back to their makeshift bed.