The smell of hay was always a comfort after a long day of dealing with the political side of the Inquisition. Request after request, audience after audience. Barely time enough to sneak in the small cake Sera had stolen for her from the kitchen.

She had a bedroom, sure, and a very comfy bed, and while her room was several floors above the great hall, it wasn't enough to silence the voices of those gathering and gossiping.

Lynnette accepted her duty as Inquisitor and had moments she enjoyed–it brought her back to the feeling she had as a senior enchanter at the circle–but there were times where it was a bit too much. A life of simplicity was a nice dream, and she felt closest to it when she lied on a bedroll near the stables using Blackwall's arm as a pillow.

"Any of 'em particular bastards today?" he asked her, curling his arm around her shoulder.

With a shake of her head, she sighed softly. Her fingers ran through the dark hair on his chest, slowing at the memorized strands that matched the silver at his temples.

"No," she replied. "Nothing more than the usual."

"I can tell when you're lying," he said, giving a small grin when she craned her neck to look at him. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing really," Lynnette said. "A young mage came in today. She had been with the rebels but ran off before we'd made it to Redcliffe."

Her hand traced the hard lines of his collarbones, fingertips sparking a soft purple as she released tiny bursts of her magic.

"She reminded me of one of my students," she continued. "Just in appearance. This girl was timid, quiet. My student was certainly neither. Her name was Annaby."

Blackwall gave Lynnette a soft squeeze, prompting her to continue.

"Thinking of her… it reminded me of how much I miss teaching," Lynnette explained. "I loved my apprentices. Some were a pain, of course, but I still wanted them to succeed.

"She had come from the alienage and was terrified, of course," she continued. " Kicking and screaming so much one of the Templars knocked her on the head with the pommel of his sword. I lit into the man and was immediately reprimanded.

"The Ostwick Circle may have been quiet compared to others, but we had our incidents. Annaby was the source of many," Lynnette added with a sad chuckle. "She never outgrew her kicking spirit and her voice grew louder over the years. She argued and was insubordinate, but she was a gifted apprentice. She would have been a dangerous mage."

"Would've?" Blackwall asked, his face falling as Lynnette glanced up at him.

"They didn't allow her to go through the Harrowing," she replied. "They thought she was too dangerous, too unwilling to act as the proper mage, the proper prisoner."

Lynnette sat up suddenly and grabbed forearm, giving a slight tug to bring him up with her. Her eyes shined as tears pooled along her eyelid, but it didn't seem to deter Blackwall from asking.

"What happened to her?"

"They made her tranquil."

Blackwall sucked in his bottom lip and furrowed his eyebrows. Lynnette's hand slipped into his and cradled each of his fingers.

She smiled, though it didn't meet her eyes.

"Let's get a drink."