One of Leliana's agents led them from the markets to apartments the Nightingale kept on the edge of the University grounds. Its entrance was hidden behind a garden trellis, and when they reached the upper floors they could see the White Spire too. The rest of the skyline was consumed by the ornate roofs and balconies of the city. Potted flowers, manicured ivy, and pruned trees. Dishonest, hidden faces wherever they looked.

Lavellan's crossed arms tightened as Cassandra vented her worries about the Chantry, the bruised grand cleric in the square, and the most worrisome Lord Seeker. The words rolled off Lavellan, her own thoughts taking precendence. The city displaced her from the comfort of her skin, torn out of the world she knew with greater intensity now than she ever had been in Haven. The words 'foreigner' and 'savage' were meant to deride, but confined in these walls and so far from anything natural, they were closer to what she wanted to be. If she ever blended in with them…

"Herald?"

Lavellan sighed. "To me it isn't up for debate. The templars made their stance clear, they spat on us while the mages extended a hand in peace."

"The mages are responsible for the suffering we work to undo in the Hinterlands!"

"As are the templars, Seeker," Solas said from where he stood in the doorway to the drawing room. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Or is that detail one you are content to ignore?"

A sound rumbled in Cassandra's throat.

"The Lord Seeker publicly undermined the Inquisition." Lavellan turned from the window and unknotted her arms. "That isn't a quality I want in an ally, and I don't see how the templars will help with the Breach."

"I'm not getting involved in this shit." Varric stood up from where he sat with a clutch of letters. "I've had enough mages and templars to last a lifetime. So if you excuse me, I have some contacts to drop in on."

Lavellan strummed her fingers low on her throat and watched him go.

"Magic is what we require. It is what your mark needs to magnify its power," Solas said. "I am certain of it."

She opened her palm, the mark there easily lighting with a thought. It still felt foreign, though its hunger had faded. "What makes you say that?"

"Were you a mage, the sensation would be familiar. It is different, but of the same force. It is magic. No doubt Cassandra can feel it well enough, given her training."

Cassandra's lips were a line before she said, "It is."

"Thus mages will amplify its power, rather than be dampened or nullified by a templar's bumbling."

"Something to discuss further in Haven." Lavellan's closed fist rubbed her fingers into the mark, feeling the power therein warp and muffle, quieted for now. She paced past the window and looked out at the city again. Her eyes wandered beyond the apartments to where a distinct wall was in the distance; the alienage. The words in the market and the looks cast her way… that was where she should be, shouldn't she. The thought brought a sudden palpitation in her chest. The copper plated ceiling felt oppressively close, the walls too narrow, and she scarce noticed running into a side table as she moved. "Damn it."

Cassandra raised a brow, moving to pick up the table and book that had been upon it. "Something on your mind."

Lavellan scrunched her shoulders and she shook her head. "So Madame de Fer's salon this evening, you're sending me alone?"

"Yes."

Lavellan shook her head again. "Great. What's a salon? What's the point?"

"A party," Solas offered, and his brow knit as he regarded her. "No doubt she will entertain guests so as to be seen with you. Politicking."

"She is the court enchanter and First Enchanter of the Circle in Montsimmard."

"Wouldn't you be better suited to this, Cassandra?" Lavellan's hand crept up the side of her neck, until finally she brought them both down to her hips. "You're right hand of the Divine. People do know that I am Dalish, don't they? Or is that another inconvenience that hasn't been spread along, unlike the holy title that's been thrust upon me."

Cassandra bristled. "They're aware. And if not, they will be when they see you."

"Yes," Lavellan huffed. "The ears give me away, don't they?"

"I will ride north with you to the chateau."

"What about you, Solas?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to ride with me too, or stay here and sleep?"

His eyes narrowed briefly, brow easily swayed to his expressions. A smile ghosted over his lips before smoothing away. "Did you require my presence, or do I have the option?"

"Not required, but always welcomed." Lavellan rifled her hands over her head, moving again and almost kicking a chaise lounge in her harried movement. "It's really up to you, but I have to get out of here."

.

.

.

It was dark by the time Taliah Lavellan came down the steps of the Duke de Ghislain's chateau, head swimming from champagne and stomach as tight as her shoulders. The Inquisition wanted allies. And so she was puppeted in front of the humans while they tittered and drank, eyes dark behind masks and her in mail and dust from the road. Free sky stretched above the manicured lawn and gardens that followed the lane out of the chateau, and she stopped and turned her face up to it. The wind ruffled her hair and she could smell water and leaves, the sounds of Val Royeaux proper far enough away to be insignificant. Even the salon seemed far away. The stars were coming out, the last vestiges of day cooling on the horizon.

Cassandra rose from where she honed her sword when she saw Lavellan. Solas merely opened his eyes from where he sat in a meditative posture at the roadside. They were on the horses in a few moments more, riding on the dark road back into the dense corridors of the city. Cassandra led the way, while she and Solas rode side-by-side.

"Do you know much about the Circles, Solas?"

"I have never seen one, nor would I want to."

Lavellan kept her voice low. "They feel driven by fear. I think of all my Keeper was able to do for our clan. What Luthien – her first – was able to. I look at you. It seems like mages could be such a boon to everyone, but humans are so afraid of 'coulds' that they'd rather stamp it out than even try."

Solas watched her as he rode, and offered a brief nod. "Even now, so much has been lost."

"You said that spirits reflect what people do and say in this world, and that is why we see the demons. I wonder how much that fear of magic, the suffering of the mages, of everyone who's lost family to a Circle… That can't have a good effect."

"Indeed," he said

"Thank you for staying."

"Well, it seems I was able to ride with you and sleep," Solas said, a grin on his lips as he regarded her.

"I meant with the Inquisition," Lavellan chuckled.

"Ah," he said, and turned his head to the road. "I will stay, at least until the Breach has been closed."

"Was that in doubt?"

"I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces, and unlike you, I do not have a Divine mark protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating but…"

"You've done nothing but help, Solas, I won't let them use that against you."

"And how would you stop them?"

"However I had to."

Solas' eyes turned to her again now, honest surprise in his voice. "Thank you."

.

.

.

The same captain took them back across the sea, their voyage ahead of the polar opposite pair who had pledged themselves to the Inquisition's cause in Val Royeaux. Off the ship and back on shore, they took waiting horses from a camp outside the small port town , and took road back to Haven. They stopped midday when the rain finally stopped, and Lavellan was the first off her horse, breathing in the crisp air. Not a building in sight, just them and the few Inquisition soldiers and recruits that were waiting. They kept their distance, regarding her with a cautious admiration. But for now it didn't matter, there was clear air, the smell of pines and rain, and it was quiet.

"You'll grow accustomed to it," Cassandra said to Varric as he walked bow-legged and shook his feet.

"Somehow I doubt it," he murmured.

"We're stopping for a while?" Lavellan asked.

"Yes," Varric said, before Cassandra could reply.

Lavellan shrugged off her mail and stripped to her the tunic and leggings underneath. "Then I'm going for a run. Care to come? It'll help, I promise."

"What? Why are you looking at me," Varric said, and shook his head. "There's a reason I use long range weaponry."

Cassandra shook her head when Lavellan glanced her way.

"Then what about you?" She took the few steps to where Solas scratched the neck of his horse.

"A run?"

"Though I understand if you can't keep up, hahren" Lavellan backpedalled barefoot through the undergrowth and between the thick trees. "Maybe it's best to rest your weary bones."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Not much of one I think," she said and smirked, turning to dart off through the trees.

Solas only stood a moment watching her backside, before he grumbled, shucked his coat, and let his feet carried him after her.

"This is why people think elves are weird," Varric muttered.

The branches flew past and Lavellan took slow breaths, running at an easy pace with long strides and sure footsteps. She glanced to see Solas a few strides back and called out, "I didn't think that would work."

Solas half-laughed.

The trees were quiet, scarce a leaf or branch cracking underfoot as they ran and her smile grew. She saw a path in the trees, elk or ram perhaps, and turned to follow the trampled brush, drawing out into full stride in the space between the trees. Each breath brought the sap scent, the moss, the damp boughs all around, and drove her legs harder. She leapt down a small bank and landed along a rocky stream, glancing to see if Solas following before she took off again.

"Do you do this at Haven?" He said it as though they sat idly and chatted.

"Yes. I've always loved it," she said, and skidded down an incline of brush, knocking rocks and moss free before grabbing a low branch and launching and ahead to the other side of the stream. "The way the air moves over me, on my face, in my hair, pushing through the wind and swept up in the breeze you make. Everything falls away. It's feeling free."

She took a deep breath and her stride never faltered. She darted up the bushed bank when she saw an opening beneath an oak and she laughed, the sound kept close by the trunks. "You're doing better than I thought you would."

"You doubted me, I am wounded."

Lavellan laughed again. "I'm sure. Don't hurt yourself just to keep up."

Solas harrumphed.

She snuck between two trees, and kicked a bit of deadfall in her tracks, leaping forward to keep going as her smirk widened.

"Is that how you treat me, da'len?" Solas' voice was false disdain.

"A slip, hahren," Lavellan called, equally stressing the word. She carried through the underbrush with only a hush of sound. "Ir abelas."

There was a familiar ripple in the Veil that brought a tug in her mark, and Solas reappeared a few meters ahead of her, midstride and still running.

"That's cheating, you bastard!"

"Tel'abelas," he called amidst a laugh. "Each must use their skills to the best of their ability."

Lavellan shook her head and strained her limbs to catch him, her eyes fallen down his thighs and calves, the muscles taut in his leggings with the strides—and ran smack into his back as he skidded to stop. Her breath was heavy, and she pulled her hands from his back as she said, "Giving up? I don't blame you."

Solas shook his head and hushed her, when a black mass some meters away rose up from where it was hunched over a berry patch. The bear's eyes turned on them, and they froze.

"Oh shit." Lavellan grabbed Solas' shoulder, and they both turned and ran, the roar of the bear on their heels. Their fleet feet carried them over deadwood and brush, faster now than before, breath coming hard on her lips. She could hear the paws of the bear crash and beat through the brush behind them.

"If we stop for a moment," Solas said from her right. "I might be able to scare it off."

"If we step for a moment, it might be able to maul us," Lavellan said. They clamoured over a fallen pine, and sprinted across the stream, feet splashing in the water. Down the streambed they ran, making headway across the pebbles. But the bear was still there. She started laughing as they ran, only making her gasps for breath worse, and soon Solas was smirking too.

Further downstream, Lavellan scrambled by some rapids and darted into the trees. She spun to stop at the base of an oak whose branches were high and strong, calling out, "Solas, here."

"No—"

"Trust me!" she called, already shimmied half way up the trunk. Swinging up onto a branch, she reached down for him as the bear lumbering up the bank. "You can cast from up here."

Solas jumped and she caught his arms to haul him up into the branches with her. They both scrambled to their feet, gasping for breath. Lavellan shrunk against the bark and fell silent as she could. The pair pressed together in the branches as the bear ran by, snout up to take in the air. Leaning into her for balance, Solas' hands moved and the bear was enveloped in ice.

"Go!"

A barrier sprung around them, and they leapt down, tumbling into the brush, and Lavellan swore again as they clamoured up and kept running. She pointed to familiar gash in a tree, and they swerved, long strides carrying them still. It was only when they heard voices that they slowed, panting and limbs singing, and saw the bear was nowhere in sight. Lavellan started laughing again, bent over with her hands on her thighs.

"Remind me," Solas said between breaths, hands on the small of his back, "To thank you for the run."

"Later?"

"Later," he laughed.