At first it seemed purely spur of the moment. Everyone was happy about the Hakkonite camps being cleared out along the river bank - it was natural to celebrate. But later, as Lace mulled it over, she realized that no other good news had been greeted with dancing. Then one of the scouts commented on passing, "It's funny the Inquisitor encouraged Wall and I to get folk dancing, but then Her Worship didn't join in." and Lace began to get very suspicious.

When someone produced a fiddle and someone else a flute, the Inquisitor materialized next to Lace. She was watching some of the scouts start a circle dance, her arms crossed in bemusement.

"You ought to join them," the Inquisitor said, "I hear you're quite good at dancing."

"What? I- yes, I like to think I am," Lace stammered, flattered that the Inquisitor knew so much about her.

"Your Professor seems to need your assistance," the Inquisitor commented lightly, nodding across the way at Bram. He was watching the dance with his typically enraptured expression.

"He always needs my assistance," Lace sighed with an attempt at exasperation. But the Inquisitor seemed to notice her little smile. Damn. The Inquisitor smiled too. "Go on then, rescue the poor man." When Lace opened her mouth to speak, the Inquisitor threatened with a devious smirk, "Or I shall call him over and tell him you're an expert on old folk dances."

Lace regarded the Inquisitor with a mixture of respect at her directness and outrage that she would dare. "You're-! You're terrible, uh, Your Worship," she added awkwardly. The Inquisitor just laughed.

"So I'm told. Now shoo. Before I start to make things embarrassing."

This was utterly ridiculous… but the Inquisitor seemed serious, and Lace enjoyed embarrassing situations as much as the next person, so off she went.

"Ah, Lace- er, Lady Harding! I was hoping I'd find you!" Bram exclaimed happily, as though he'd actually been doing anything.

"Want me to teach you?" Lace asked, gesturing towards the dancers. She could feel the Inquisitor's gaze on the back of her head.

Bram's face lit up, mostly with his adorably academic interest in learning new societal events (as he'd once called them, to her laughter). But she could not help but notice the flush of his cheeks, the way his hands seemed to move without thinking to hold each other. He was nervous.

Excellent. His awkwardness would cover hers.

Maker, she lo- really liked the feel of his hand in hers.

The Inquisitor stayed behind to speak further with the chief, which fortunately allowed Bram a moment to speak privately with Lace. However, as soon as she realized he was looking at her, she smirked and asked, "So are you going to demand everyone call you Skald now?"

That was far from his primary concern, so he could only manage the briefest of chuckle.

"Ah, no. Lady Harding-" She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, but had long since given up trying to get him to call her Scout. "I… it seems unfair to use the term 'prayer', as I am hardly religious enough. Yet I can well imagine resorting to it while…" His nervously wandering eyes caught her confused gaze, and he cleared his throat. "I will be praying for your safe return, Lace," he whispered, unsure how she would react to him using her given name in so public a setting.

But she did not sigh, or smack his arm, or walk away in anger. She just smiled, small and sweet. "That's awfully nice of you, Kenric."

That he could not bear. Despite his lifelong training in etiquette, he stopped dead in his tracks and snatched up her hands.

"Please, Bram ," he urged gently. His actions appeared to have surprised her as much as they had him. Her lovely eyebrows were raised, her mouth open to respond.

"... I'll be careful, don't worry. I do this kind of stuff all the time," she said quietly.

Lace walked behind the Inquisitor's party as they entered the gates, because now was a time for legends, not the small people behind the scenes. So she was neither surprised nor displeased when the chorus of greetings were directed solely towards the Inquisitor. No one deserved them more than her.

But then she heard a familiar voice cry, "Lady Harding!" and she couldn't help but smile. For a change he was standing up on the tree platform, but that still allowed him plenty of stairs to stumble on as he tripped his way over. It was just as well; it gave her time to wipe some of the blood off.

"Lady Harding," Kenric- Bram repeated with relief as he neared her. She expected him to continue on - effusively, as he'd say - but instead he just threw himself to his knees and snatched her hand. Before she - and very likely he - could realize what was happening, he held her hand with both of his and firmly pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"Lady Harding, I am so glad you're alright," he murmured in that adorable brogue of his.

"Told you I'd be fine."

It wouldn't be quite right to say he followed her like a puppy for the rest of the night. But somehow, when the dancing started again, there he was by her side. Nervously and awkwardly asking if she might teach him the dances. Lace felt there was no better way to spend the evening.

Bram had taken an interest in adopting a more active lifestyle since he'd arrived here. Though she never outright said anything, he could sense that Lace thought he was… he wasn't entirely sure what. Weak, perhaps, or simply sedentary. In any case, nothing he wanted to be, hence this morning stroll.

It was fortunate he'd adopted such a hobby, since he would have otherwise not realized in time that she was leaving. She stood by the gates, pointing at a map spread out upon a table. She stood atop a stool, which inexplicably made Bram smile.

When some of the scouts noticed his approach, they shifted away from the table, watching him. But Lace just smiled at him, and suddenly he didn't care that her companions all appeared to wish a great distance between themselves and him. They were, to a person, slowly inching away.

"Hey there, Professor, what can I do for you?" Lace asked cheerfully, leaning on her palms. Such a woman of action. She strongly resembled the illustrations of heroes of old, preparing for the final battle.

"Lady- uh, Scout Harding, are you planning an expedition?" Had Colette found some ruin and called for exploration without informing him? That would be most uncharacteristic.

"I guess you could say that. I've gotta go scout out the Exalted Marches for the Inquisitor."

"Really? I don't suppose I could accompany you? I've heard the elves had some truly fascinating buckles, but unfortunately there is such a racial bias that there is precious little research on the subject."

Lace bellowed a laugh and shook her head. "We're going to see if the place is safe for the Inquisitor , Professor. I don't think you'd fare well. I can barely keep you alive in camp."

"Well then, you shall have to regale me with your adventures. Do you suppose you could keep an eye out for any interesting artifacts as well?"

Her eyebrows tilted in and up, a picture of concern. "If I see anything I'll send it to you, but I might not be able to regale you. There was no mention of where my next posting would be."

The Exalted Marches were a very long way away. Though it was perfectly predictable that someone as talented as Lace would be called upon for greater tasks than tending a professor, Bram had always implicitly assumed she would remain here. With him.

"Ah. I… see. " Although even he had realized he held more than a professional interest in Scout Harding, Bram was surprised by the sinking sensation in his chest. There were still so many words unshared, so many thoughts and… feelings kept private.

"Don't worry, I'm sure whoever my replacement is will do a great job," she said, her smile just a little false.

"But they cannot replace you ," he sighed. If he had anything to lose now he would have been embarrassed by his directness. It was certainly unexpected by Lace; her eyebrows flattened and rose in surprise, before settling into a minute tilt of playfulness.

"Yeah, they'll have their hands full keeping you alive."

Bram shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as he tried to decide how to proceed.

"Lady Harding… when shall I see you again?"

Her fingers curled closed on the map, but she nevertheless smirked at him. "You did hear me just say you'll probably get a replacement, yes?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I won't see you." Inspiration struck. "Do you ever return to Skyhold?"

Lace gave him a look that clearly stated her complete lack of faith in his sanity. "Yes, but you don't."

"I could," Bram defended, idly adjusting his hat.

They regarded each other for a long time (or at least it felt that way to him) before she said, "That'd be an awful waste of your time. We've not many ancient buckles in Skyhold. Not that I'm aware of anyhow."

"Well, I need to submit my research, and I'm sure my parents would appreciate my socialization with the Skyhold court," he rationalized.

Lace didn't seem convinced. "I would imagine you'd be needed here."

Sighing, Bram stared through the map on the table. "Yes, you are right, of course."

Ducking her head a little to try and catch his gaze, Lace added with a smirk, "You're not much for socializing anyway."

"Well," he replied sulkily, looking up at her, "Not with most people."

Her lips smiled, but her eyes didn't crinkle at the corners like they did when she laughed. "You'll be alright, Bra- er, Professor," she amended, glancing at two scouts lost deep in a conversation near the table, "You've made friends with everyone in camp anyway. I'm sure they'll keep you alive and buried under buckles."

Being kept alive was not Bram's main concern at the moment. It was unfortunate she seemed to think it was. Endeavoring to clarify his apparent omission, Bram said, "It is our friendship for which I fear, Lady Harding."

" Scout ," she corrected idly, smirking at him through her eyelashes. After a moment's thought, she allowed, "I might be able to swing by. No promises," she added hurriedly, doubtless due to the hope Bram felt growing unbidden in his expression, "but sometimes I do rounds of our encampments. We'll see."

A thought, which he would have considered hazardous at any other time, suddenly struck Bram: "May I write to you? I know you shall be very busy, and of course I do not wish to become a vexation in your life." Chuckling to himself, he joked, "More than I already am during expeditions, that is."

Lace laughed, her eyes finally matching the joy in the curve of her mouth. "You may have the survival instinct of a puppy, but you've never been vexing. Very much, anyway. I… I would like it if you wrote me."

Bram's heart buoyed up, every fiber of his noble training trying to restrain his elated grin. "Truly?"

"Yeah," Lace said, dusting something off the map, "It'd be nice. I won't always be able to write back," she cautioned, finally meeting his gaze.

Shaking his head with a smile, he hastily replied, "I completely understand. I don't wish to be a burden."

"Alright then." Idly knocking her knuckles on the table, she looked about at her scouts. "I really ought to get back to planning," Lace hinted.

Oh dear, already he was disrupting her work! "Yes, yes, do forgive me, my lady," Bram exclaimed, bowing as he stepped away.

"Best of luck to you, Bram," Lace called, from what was suddenly feeling like a great distance away.

"Best of luck to you too, Lady Harding," he returned, bowing again.

They were little solace, but Bram buried himself in his books and writings for the rest of the day.