"The excavation is going to be slow, Lieutenant. There was a mountain of snow dropped on top of it."

"Yes, Commander. I will remind them."

"Let them know that if they care that much about results and clearing the land, they can pitch in and help with the effort."

"I will, ser," the lieutenant said, saluting Cullen with a pound of a fist on his chest and scurrying off. Lapin had to turn to the side to avoid the man as he walked through the doorway of Cullen's office.

"Inquisitor," the commander said in a soft voice, eyes down on a report before they were sharp and on him. "Sorry—I know. Lapin. What can I do for you?"

Lapin glanced around out the door, then back at the commander, arching a brow. "You're clearing Haven?"

"We're certainly attempting to. Most of Haven's residents have taken up here, but Fereldan wants a memorial—a village there too, at the very least. It has a long history."

"It's a good idea," the elf said with a nod. "Let them rebuild."

"Exactly. A place for a pilgrimage," Cullen said in an approving tone, nodding. "Are you simply checking in, or are you here to save me from paperwork?"

Lapin smirked. "Need a break, Commander?"

"I wouldn't altogether mind a distraction for a while," he conceded. "Maybe we can play another game of chess?"

"You'll have to remind me of the rules," Lapin said as an agreement, and they started heading outdoors. "I'm sure a few more games and you won't have to do that."

Cullen chuckled as he settled down into his seat, tweaking the pieces into their places. "I forget its not as second nature to most people as it is to me. You've really never played before?"

"I'd heard of it, but no, I've never played myself before we did," he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Cullen matched his movements, but he had a beard to scratch.

They sat for a while and played a game, and then another. Halfway through this game, a messenger came and they had to pause for a while. Lapin assured Cullen it was fine, and went to procure some snacks. He strolled down the stairs with a light hum, heading directly for the kitchens.

They were hot, as they always were, but the elves there grinned at seeing him, and he stayed for a while to chat with them as they cooked and baked, sampling food (for the good of the Inquisition of course) before he got a bin of goodies to take back with him to the Commander. He paused on his way out at the tavern for some milk, and soon he was climbing up the stairs carefully.

"You are playing chess?" Came a lovely yet deep voice, and he peered around the milk bottle to see Cassandra, looking like she just got done with a workout.

"The Commander is teaching me," Lapin said in his defense, setting down the snacks and the bottles of milk on the side of the chess board. "I'm afraid I have no eye for strategy."

"You give yourself too little credit," she said, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes as wind whipped across her skin. "One would hope that the commander of our armies would be good at strategy and tactics, if only in a little board game."

"'Little' she says," Cullen scoffed, returning and settling back into his chair. He spotted the snacks and popped open his little bottle of milk. "Chess teaches you how to think, Seeker. For a warrior his blade needs to be as sharp as his mind." He paused. "Or his arrows."

Cassandra smiled a little, her eyes still closed and her head back as she relaxed. "Its still a game, Cullen."

"And there's nothing wrong with that," Cullen replied, peering over at the bin that Lapin had brought. "What did you get?"

Lapin popped the top of the bin and revealed an assortment of hand pies—savory and sweet.

"Maker's breath—if you were a woman I would kiss you right now."

"I don't think Lapin cares either way," Cassandra said in a quiet tone. Lapin laughed softly.

"A fine jest," he said, but his tone was a little dry. "Care for a hand-pie, Cass?" Cullen had already taken one, and it was half gone, his cheek full as he chewed and considered the board at the same time. He was doing his best to ignore that 'joke.' He didn't want to think about it.

"Perhaps… just one," she said, and was almost a blur as she was over next to them, carefully picking out two. "These seem to have… stuck together," she said in a low tone, taking a bite as she walked away, presumably to bathe.

They were silent for a few minutes as they played and snacked. "I'm fine with being friends," Cullen said suddenly, and Lapin paused in his chewing, eyebrows raised. "I know she was just joking. I just wanted to assure you that I'm fine. With us being friends, that is."

Lapin swallowed, and then smirked a little. "I'm fine with it too," he said simply. "Was there any doubt in that?"

"You did ask me, back in Haven, do you remember?"

"I remember how uncomfortable I made you."

"Right, well. I was, for a while. Then I decided to take it as a compliment and save the village. I figured that if I died, at least knowing the Herald found me attractive might earn me a ticket to the Maker's side." He was smirking now.

"I'm actually unsure if I know of anyone who finds you unattractive, Commander. Even Sera can't admit to it." Lapin took a long drink of his milk, licking his lips afterwards. "In any case, you can't blame me for asking."

"I wasn't trying to," he assured the elf, considering the board between them. They were silent for a few more minutes, and it seemed to Lapin that Cullen was dragging out his inevitable win. "I'm not entirely opposed to the idea."

"I'm sorry—what?"

Cullen decidedly avoided the elf's eyes. "I don't know. I've never given it much thought before, I suppose, never really thought about romance at all. And then I see you and Dorian, and you're happy. It makes me consider—makes me want something like that."

Lapin laughed a little, leaning down over the board to catch Cullen's eyes. "You'll find someone Cullen. We won't be at war forever." He paused, having made the Commander smile, and leaned back into his chair. "Have you considered Cassandra?"

"For what?" Cullen wondered bluntly, before his cheeks went pink. "No! I mean, no—I haven't—I don't—"

"It was just a question, Cullen," Lapin said softly, picking out a sweet handpie. "I think that you two would mesh well together." Cullen ran a hand through his hair with a soft sigh.

"We're friends, Inquisitor. Close friends perhaps, but nothing more. I don't intend it to be."

He shrugged, biting into the pie. "A lot can happen in a few years. I'm sure you'll find someone."

"You have too much faith in my abilities; I'm not like Dorian. When I go to talk to a woman, the words just don't seem to come out right."

Lapin chewed thoughtfully, watching him. "You seem to have no issues with the advisors or my inner circle."

"Well… no. Except for Vivienne at times. Her views on Templars are very traditional, and I find that slightly off-putting, actually. I get so used to mages simply disliking me because of who I used to be." He shifted a piece forward with a slide of his finger. "And besides, when its about the Inquisition, work, its different than on a personal level. Throw me into a den of she-wolves and I guarantee I won't come out looking like a knight."

Lapin laughed easily. "Why is it so much different?"

"They look at you with those eyes. You must have seen it; you talk to Leliana about her work and they are cold, cunning, and calculating. You ask her about her nug, and they get soft, and the words flow out of her almost without a filter. Two sides of the same coin that altogether makes me nervous."

"I wasn't aware you and Leliana were close."

"We met during the Blight, actually, when she was traveling with the Hero of Ferelden. We've kept in touch as much as I do with anyone, though I am pretty sure she was keeping tabs on me while I was in Kirkwall." He frowned a little as he thought about it. "I have my suspicions that she is the reason Cassandra decided to recruit me there."

"She must've made quite the impression on you," Lapin said carefully.

"She was just a Sister back then, not Sister Nightingale. She was different, a Bard. And, what's more, the Hero of Ferelden trusted her and looked for her input, even when she didn't need it. Looking back, I'm glad that they did. That place was a mess."

Silence followed this for a minute. "And no I don't see myself with her, either."

Lapin grinned. "I never suggested that," he said, sighing as he looked at the board. "She scares me a little actually."

"She what?" Cullen laughed, covering up his mouth as he had just taken a drink of milk. "She scares you?" He wondered once he had recovered his voice. "I thought you weren't afraid of anything."

"Did Dorian tell you that?" Lapin wondered, looking at Cullen appraisingly. "He loves telling lies about me."

"He might have," he replied non-commitingly. "So… our Spymaster scares you."

"Have you spoken with her about the Chantry?"

"A bit," Cullen said, sounding hesitant.

"Recently?" Their eyes met, and Cullen cleared his throat. Lapin took that as a no. "She feels like people should be forced to an epiphany within the Chantry—to be forced to embrace the different races, that all mages should be free."

"By itself, that doesn't sound all too bad."

"Well, no. The principle behind it is solid. I'd like to see more of my own people exposed to the Chant, and I know that dwarves have some interest in it as well. However…" He leaned back a little, running a hand through his short hair. A habit he had picked up from Cullen, actually. "Forcing people to accept it? And you saw what happened when the mages got their freedom all at once."

"I did. What do you think about that?"

Lapin was quiet for a moment, and he looked out over the hold. "I'm… not sure. Part of me says, 'that could be really bad,' and this other part of me says, 'we need academies, like in Tevinter.' No matter what happens, its clear that it needs to change. Mages need to be taught so that they're safe, and should be given the option to study if they wish to, leave and have a normal family life, serve in the armies and as healers… how much different would the world be if that happened? Would it be for the better?"

"I actually agree with you. I saw how it was in Kirkwall, and I never want to see that happen again. Confining mages solves nothing, and just breeds resentment. But at the same time, I don't want an Imperium. Mages shouldn't be second citizens, but also they can't make everyone else secondary, either."

They had stopped playing now, as Lapin had once again lost horribly, and were lounging back in their chairs. "In any case, yes, the thought of forcing people to accept something so radical scares me. I think people will come to that conclusion on their own, especially with us as an example."

"I hope you're right," Cullen said, his eyes focusing on something behind Lapin. "Ah, it seems I've been away too long." Lapin turned and saw a messenger looking a little nervous at approaching both the commander and the Inquisitor.

"Go back to work, Cullen," he conceded. "Thanks for… schooling me in the game again."

"You'll get there, Lapin," Cullen said, standing. His knees cracked a little as he did. "We'll have to do this again, at some point."

"If you at least try to talk to some women," Lapin said, standing as well.

"I can't promise that. There's simply too much to do," he replied, and went to greet the messenger, who, if possible, looked even more scared. Lapin scooped up the empty bottles and the bin and started to head back to the kitchen to deliver them, but a maid came and took them from him with a slight bow halfway across the path.

He stood there a little awkwardly then, hand through his hair again as he looked around. He actually wasn't sure what to do, as he rarely had free time, so he decided to stride over to the stables.

Lapin had never been particularly fond of horses, or mounts in general, but he liked to look at them. He would pat them from over the gate, use them out in the field when necessary, and he was slowly warming up to the idea. Having Master Dennet as their horsemaster was certainly a plus: he had created the stables at Skyhold almost entirely from scratch, exactly to his specifications, and now the horses and other mounts pranced along in paddocks.

He wasn't surprised as he got closer that Blackwall was out at the chopping block, chopping up wood for the kitchen fires. He had a sizable stack set to the side, and as he watched, a servant came, grabbed an armful, and scurried away again. Blackwall didn't even seem to notice, swinging down his axe again. The sound sent a small chill up Lapin's spine, in a very good way.

He came and leaned against the well, watching him for a few minutes before Blackwall paused, looking at him. "Enjoying the show?" He said, his voice gruff and a little out of breath. Lapin smirked.

"A little," he said with a slight shrug. "I enjoy watching the fear you instill in the kitchen boys more, though."

"They're alright," Blackwall said, striding over to draw up the bucket for a ladle of water.

"Don't they know you're about as ferocious as a stuffed bear?"

The warden chuckled, not responding until he had drank almost half the bucket. "No, and I'd much prefer it to stay that way." Lapin made a small noise, and Blackwall chuckled, leaning against the well also. "Could you imagine that getting out to the Venatori? Lot of good I would do you then."

"Well, you would catch them off guard at least."

"Probably, but at what cost?"

Lapin chuckled a little, head tilting up to look at him. "I don't know, might be worth it to see kids climbing all over you."

"You would enjoy that, I'm sure." He replaced the bucket down the well and heaved a sigh, watching as the servant came and took another armful. "That should be enough for now."

"Are you sure? I'm pretty certain I saw some trees that need punishing."

"You'll just have to come back another day," Blackwall teased, letting out a low breath and heading to his barn. Lapin followed, and it didn't seem to surprise the warden. "Did you come by for a reason?"

"I don't know. Everyone else seems so busy. When I'm not out or dealing with issues here, I'm not sure what I should be doing."

"Well, maybe you should take up a hobby?" He suggested, patting his latest woodworking project. Lapin pondered it for a moment.

"I had actually considered asking Solas to teach me some more elven. Do you think he would?"

"I think he would enjoy that, actually, once you persuaded him to do it."

"I've never heard anyone speak as much as him. I don't understand most of it, just enough to get the general meaning. I feel inadequate."

"You have other qualities; you don't need to feel like you're not enough," Blackwall assured him, opening up a flask of juice and splashing some down. "I did hear that Sera wanted to challenge you to an archery competition." Lapin groaned, and Blackwall chuckled. "I'm actually not sure which of you is better."

"Does Sera take down large spiders from the rookery's ceiling without hurting a crow?"

"… not that I know of," Blackwall said, hesitantly.

"Exactly," Lapin said happily, rocking up on his tiptoes before back down on his heels. "Of course if I lose, I'll never hear the end of it."

"'Your breeches are too big. They're in danger of getting nicked,'" Blackwall imitated Sera, causing Lapin to laugh easily. "Go on then," he encouraged, shooing him out. "I want to bathe before supper."

Lapin took the cue and left, heading up to the Keep, taking in a deep breath of the mountain air along the way. Fresh, but with hints of the Inquisition floating on it. Home.