A/N: I was late getting this up last week so this time I'll be early to compensate! This is the "calm before the storm" chapter because after this is In Hushed Whispers, where shit gets real! I also wanted to give Iron Bull some screen time before the rollercoaster. Anyway, enjoy!

Ten

A True Name

As gold-orange sunshine bathed the outside of his cabin, Solas admired the view of the snowy village of Haven. It was barely an hour after dawn and Solas had only been up a few minutes, though that was long enough to feel the bitter chill settling into him. He'd moved his small wooden chair out from his desk in the cabin to sit in the sunshine to try and find some energy for the day—as well as some light to see by while he mended his armor.

This particular hole in his armor was due to the Revenant attack that had nearly killed him in the Fallow Mire. He ran over his memories of it as he threaded the needle and knotted the line to begin sewing the patch in place. He recalled very little of what had happened, just flashes and snatches of words. He knew from Tal that Rosa had healed him with Rogathe's aid and with some of Tal's mana.

He'd also learned, after visiting with Tal in the Fade the day after the attack, that Mahanon had learned of Rogathe during the healing and had not handled it well. Indeed, Solas had noticed a growing iciness between the two as Mahanon suddenly seemed willing to give Rosa her space. He'd been unfazed when Rosa and Blackwall spent much of the first few days of their journey back to Haven riding side by side and chatting. Solas, for his part, was too exhausted from the apparent near-death experience to do much more than groggily observe his surroundings and companions from horseback.

Now, a day after arriving back at Haven, Solas was still fatigued but the bright sunshine helped, as did the cold and the chore of mending his armor. He made the first few stitches with slow, careful movements. Sewing was something he'd learned as a child, raised by his middle class parents. The Elvhen had magic to aid their creations, just as they used magic to enhance their learning and writing and food, but there was no substitute for the raw manual labor of tailoring. And harvesting. Seeding. Scrubbing cobblestones.

That was why they'd had slaves.

Solas had nearly completed securing the patch to the tear in his coat when he saw the sun glinting off armor as Inquisition soldiers marched past the tavern. Their armor glittered silver in the sunshine, like light reflected from water or glass. Solas tugged the latest stitch through his coat and watched the soldiers with only minor interest—until they started marching up the stairs to his little corner by the apothecary. He lowered his sewing into his lap and stared with a mixture of amusement and wariness as the Inquisition soldiers—five of them—stopped in front of him.

"Can I help you?" Solas asked the woman who seemed to be their leader: a pallid woman with blond hair and freckled cheeks. He expected they had come to nab the Tevinter, Dorian, who slept in the cabin across from Solas'. Dorian wasn't awake yet, however, and Solas doubted the flashy Tevinter mage would wake up before noon.

"Revas," the woman addressed him, sounding stern. Her body language was stiff as well. "I need you to come with us, ser."

Solas' brows both arched with surprise. Something flushed cold inside him, though he paid it no mind. "Of course," he answered calmly, falling into his role as obedient, polite apostate. "I must put this away first," he said, lifting the armor he'd been mending.

The woman hesitated a moment and then nodded at him.

Solas rose from his seat and walked casually back to his cabin. Inside he set his coat down on his desk, carefully stabbing the needle into a few thick folds to keep it from falling or pricking anyone. As he returned to the soldiers, he paused in his cabin's doorway and asked, "May I ask what this is regarding?"

"Lady Nightingale and Seeker Cassandra have called for you," the woman replied.

"Surely a summons by Cassandra and Leliana hardly requires an armed escort," Solas hedged, eyeing the five soldiers with a tight smile. Were they summoning him or arresting him? And why? What had they found?

"Will you be coming or not?" the woman asked, curt now with annoyance.

"Of courses," Solas said and forced another polite smile over his lips as he closed the door behind himself and took a spot between the soldiers with two in front and three behind. Out of nervous habit he stroked his mana core, feeling over it and finding it easily strong enough to burn all five soldiers into a crisp with but a gesture. A staff would have helped focus his power, but he hardly needed one to kill these humans who appeared to be relatively relaxed around him.

The soldiers led him to the Chantry and escorted him inside. The stone underfoot was somehow colder than the ground outside had been as he marched toward the meeting room at the far end where he knew Rosa met with the humans running the Inquisition to make decisions. As one of his soldier escorts opened the heavy wood door, Solas tried to keep himself from tensing with fear and prevent his mind from running wild with worry.

Entering the space, Solas saw Leliana in her usual hooded chainmail, sitting at the left edge of the enormous wood table that dominated the center of this small room. On the opposite side of the table and closer to the center, Cassandra stood erect and with her arms behinds her back. Her militant pose, combined with the deadly gleam in Leliana's blue eyes, set Solas' heart pounding. This was not some ordinary summons, as he'd suspected from the start. They hadn't asked him to come here, under soldier escort, to act as a consultant on something archaic and arcane.

The soldiers closed the heavy door behind him with a thump, and it was all Solas could do to keep himself from flinching. All five soldiers had remained inside the room, standing behind him to bar access to the door. Solas did his best to smile politely, though he was sure it'd look closer to a grimace. "You wished to speak with me?"

"Yes," Cassandra said, brown eyes narrowed at him. She turned her head and jerked her chin toward Leliana, signaling the other woman.

Leliana shifted in her spot sitting on the table, pushing off. "It has come to our attention that we know remarkably little about you."

Solas' skin dimpled in gooseflesh, but his polite smile—or his attempt at one, anyway—stayed firmly in place. "That is because there is little to know of me, Spymaster." He dipped his chin slightly, trying to appear docile and humble rather than guarded and tense. "But I am happy to share whatever you wish to know."

"Good," Leliana said in her crisp, pretty voice. "Then perhaps we should start with the basics." She shot Cassandra a knowing look. "Wouldn't you agree, Cassandra?"

"Yes," the Seeker said and left it at that as she crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at Solas.

"Very well," Leliana said, a coy little smile spreading over her lips that reminded Solas painfully of Rosa. He forced himself not to look away despite the little stab through his ribs. "Your name is Revas, yes?" the spymaster asked.

Solas nodded. "Yes. "

Suddenly Cassandra pounded her fist onto the table, on the map right over Tevinter. "Don't lie to us!"

Solas flinched at the loud, unexpected thump, blinking at the Seeker. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, his voice steady despite his surprise.

It was Leliana who answered, her voice cool and gentle despite the hard glint in her steely blue eyes. "We received a tip that you are not who you claim to be."

Solas stared at the spymaster, his muscles taut and his heart racing. His hands were sweaty and his knees felt weak, though he locked them to ensure he remained steady. Leliana returned his stare, like a cat watching a rodent and waiting for it to flee. "I am afraid I—"

"Enough," Cassandra snapped, slashing one hand through the air in his direction, clearly losing patience with him. "Just tell him, Leliana."

The other woman wrinkled her nose, irritated with Cassandra, but what she said was, "Very well." Looking to Solas again, she said, "Your name isn't Revas, is it?"

Now Solas drew in a slight breath, steeling himself for whatever was coming. "No," he said, freely admitting it. "My given name is Solas."

"Why lie to us?" Cassandra shook her head, clearly affronted on a personal level that he had misled them.

"It is hardly a lie," Solas said, remaining calm as he wove the half-truth. "I chose the name Revas when I was captured and taken to the Hasmal Circle."

"Why did you not want the Templars to know your true name?" Leliana asked.

"I chose a new name as a symbol of rebirth," Solas explained. "The name means freedom in the elven tongue. It was the memory of what I wished to hold onto, even when I was trapped in the Circle."

"So," Leliana said, drawing the single word out a little more than necessary. "When I send my agents out into the field to ask after an elven apostate named Solas instead of Revas, they aren't going to find any skeletons you'd rather remained buried?"

What a humorous turn of phrase, Spymaster, Solas thought, but kept himself from smiling with the bitterness churning within. Just. Barely. In reality Leliana's agents would unknowingly stumble upon his victims every time they spoke with an elf or saw elven ruins.

"Of course not, Lady Nightingale," Solas said, managing to give a real smile, as if the very idea she thought him capable of intrigue or deception was humorous. As if she wasn't speaking to a man who'd been falsely labeled a god and then accidentally destroyed his own people and all of Thedas, using heavy doses of intrigue and deception.

Leliana made a humming sound in the back of her throat as she nodded. Her blue eyes narrowed as she asked, "What happened when you escaped the Hasmal Circle, Solas?"

This would be their point of greatest interest, Solas knew. It was the one part of his life they could corroborate with others—like Rosa and Tal. Otherwise Solas could tell them anything and they'd never truly be able to prove it fact or fiction. Because this would be of such great interest to them, Solas also knew he'd have to be very careful what he said. It would have to match Cassandra's memories, Rosa and Tal's account, and it had to include a narrative that fit somewhat with what any surviving mages and Templars from the Hasmal Circle would say. That left little other option than a mildly cagey version of the truth, but sanitized to omit such nasty details as he and Rosa being the sole reason the tower had fallen to violence.

So he explained it: the Knight-Commander's death after the lockdown of the mages in the tower and the resulting witch-hunt by the Templars to find a killer. He answered questions easily until Cassandra suddenly asked, "Whatever happened to the artifact the Templars found you with?"

In other words, Solas thought, the orb. Solas' stomach clenched with dread as he felt himself break out in a sudden sweat. He could feel Leliana's eyes on him, her gaze as intense as dragon fire. Solas smiled politely as he shrugged. "I cannot say. I suspect it was looted from the tower after the rebellion. It may have been sold to Tevinter, or it may have burned into ash. There is no way to know."

Cassandra nodded and gave a slight grunt of interest, but seemed satisfied with that answer. Leliana was more difficult to read, however. Her lips stayed curled in that coy smile that so reminded him of Rosa. Yet a moment later she motioned to the of the soldiers who'd escorted Solas in and made a tsking noise with her tongue. "Go and find the Herald," she instructed. "And bring her here."

The soldier nodded and turned on her heel, marching out to do as she'd been bidden. Solas remained where he was, stiff and wary yet trying to appear relatively unbothered by all this as he waited. Cassandra picked at her leather gloves and sleeves, then her sword and belt. Leliana seemed content to watch Solas, no doubt trying to ferret something out by his reactions as they waited. Solas remained as stoic as possible to give nothing away and he stifled the frantic, clawing thoughts that scrabbled in the back of his skull, worrying that Rosa had betrayed him. It would hardly be undeserved, considering all the sins he had committed against her, but he couldn't stop the twinge of pain at just the slightest thought that it could be a possibility.

Finally the door behind him opened with a screech and groan of its hinges. The soldier passed through and stepped aside, letting Rosa stride in, wearing a small frown on her face. She sighed as she surveyed the room, then walked past Solas and toward the far right side of the table. "I'm guessing there's some meaningful reason why you two called me here?" she asked.

"Why yes," Leliana said, smiling a little fiendishly. "I received a report last night after you arrived back at Haven regarding Revas."

Rosa sighed, shoulders slumping. She had a tired look about her, as though the Fallow Mire had drained her as much as it had Solas, but without the blood loss. Solas tore his gaze from her when her violet eyes flicked toward his, unable to watch her in this moment for fear of what Leliana and Cassandra—and Rosa herself—would see on his face.

"Let me guess," she said, clasping her hip with one hand and cocking her leg out as she leaned against the table. "Han came to you saying Revas is an alias."

"Yes," Cassandra said. "And he has admitted it."

"You knew," Leliana said. It wasn't a question and she didn't sound surprised or as if she disapproved.

"Yeah," Rosa replied with a shrug and a quick glance at Solas that he pretended to ignore while tugging at his sleeves as if trying to pluck off loose strings. "Having multiple names isn't that unusual, is it? Especially among my people." She snorted then, smirking in a way that was both dry and pained at once. "Take my father for example. He had so many names I could barely keep track of them."

Solas restrained a wince at the reminder of his old friend even as he also wrestled with the desire to smile. It was true Felassan had been especially good at collecting and choosing new names. Even Solas, as it turned out, hadn't known them all. Of course, even Felassan didn't have as many as Solas' alter ego as Fen'Harel.

"And take you, for example, Cassandra," Rosa said, grinning now. "How many names do you have, again?"

Now Leliana laughed, short but genuine, and Cassandra shot the spymaster a glare. When she looked back at Rosa, she scowled. "Who told you my full name?"

"Varric," Rosa said, smirking.

Cassandra's scowl turned into a snarl as her hands curled into fists. "That little…"

"Calm yourself, Cassandra," Leliana cautioned, though she looked and sounded as though she might start chuckling again at any moment. "You know this man better than anyone else in Haven," Leliana said to Rosa, and again Solas noted it wasn't a question. She had surmised the nature of their former relationship easily enough. Solas stiffened and fought the heat of irritation and humiliation at having that brought up…even this subtly. "You vouch for him?" the spymaster asked, getting to the point.

This was, of course, why they'd summoned Rosa. She was, apparently, completely in their circle of trust and respect. It was interesting to note. Humans rarely afforded elves such respect and authority.

Rosa scoffed. "This flat-ear?" she asked, gesturing at Solas dismissively. "Of course I vouch for him. Why all this fuss just because he decided he didn't want to hear Templars calling him by his birth name? Names have power," she reminded them. "Did you know my name means to stand tall? It's defined me from birth."

Solas ducked his head slightly, clearing his throat gently and murmuring, "Ma serannas."

She waved his thanks away, still staring at the humans. "Are we done here?"

"Yes," Leliana said with a small nod, though her blue eyes flicked to Solas and narrowed slightly, scrutinizing him. "I will, of course, conduct a thorough background on you…Solas."

"If names are so important to you," Cassandra blurted then. "What does Solas mean?"

"Pride," Solas answered quickly, though he didn't smile.

Cassandra made a noise in her throat of interest, but otherwise said nothing.

"Which name do you prefer?" Leliana asked, her tone easygoing now and conversational, as if she hadn't just moments ago reminded him that she would be investigating him, trying to dig up skeletons. But of course, the skeletons he had buried lay under a few thousand years worth of sediment. Leliana's investigation into his background would be a dead end even before she began it.

"Solas," he replied after a moment's hesitation when he actually wasn't certain of the answer to that question. "I chose Revas as a reminder of what I had lost by entering the Circle. The name means freedom. I wanted to remember it every time it was spoken. However, now I do not require such a reminder and I am content to use my given name again."

"Very well," Leliana said, motioning to Solas. "You're free to go." Solas had little doubt this wasn't the end of Leliana's suspicions, of course. She would have him followed and watched discreetly until she was satisfied he had no ulterior motives or dark, hidden secrets. She'd be wrong when she made that conclusion, but Solas would be cautious regardless.

With a smile, Solas gave both human women a little bow and a smile before turning on his heel and striding clear of their war room. He felt Rosa's eyes on him as he went but didn't dare give in to the desire to look at her. But as he left the room, he heard Rosa's bare feet slap on the floor, moving after him—and then Cassandra's voice.

"Herald," she said. "Stay with us, if you would. We must discuss our options with allying with the Templars."

"Or the rebel mages," Leliana added.

Rosa huffed, though the sound was muffled as the door at last swung shut. "All right."

Solas let out a sigh of both relief and regret as he continued walking out of the Chantry. It was probably for the best that Rosa was too busy to speak with him just now. He wasn't sure he'd be able to resist the desire to be…less than platonic. He had to thank her for saving him in the Fallow Mire, despite it meaning she exposed herself and Rogathe and earned Mahanon's spite. But it was more than just that: he wanted to comfort her, rather than just express his gratitude. If he had been in her position, he wasn't certain he would have exposed his own secrets, and the thought shamed him. Rosa deserved better—better than Mahanon. Better than Solas. Better than her lot caught as the Inquisition's Herald.

After a few hours of planning with Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen, Rosa was ready to get drunk or sleep for a month. She wasn't sure which would be more helpful, but her stomach was empty so she chose the tavern and alcohol. The place was packed, loud and raucous with song and banter. The jovial mood helped ease the knot of tension on her spine that'd grown as she argued with the humans about whether they allied with the rebel mages or the Templars.

Rosa saw Sera and Varric sitting at one table with her newest recruit, a Qunari mercenary by the name of Iron Bull, and hesitated. The sight of his pallid, grayish skin and enormous horns immediately reminded her of Kaaras and the other Valo-Kas mercs who hadn't survived the Conclave. Her heart tightened in her chest and she swallowed to try and ease it before striding forward to take a seat next to Sera and across from Varric.

"Morning," she greeted them all, smiling.

The Iron Bull, who sat at the end of the table, turned his head to regard her with one blue eye. The other had a patch over it. He smiled at her and lifted his large mug toward her in a gesture of salute. "Hey there, Boss."

She snorted. "I'm hardly your boss. Cassandra's the one who recruited you and your men."

"Yeah," Iron Bull agreed, motioning still with the mug. "But let's be honest. This isn't her show. You are the Herald."

Rosa wrinkled her nose with disgust. "Don't remind me."

Varric laughed, though his eyes held a look that Rosa read as something akin to sympathy. "Rough day, Violet?"

"You have no idea," she said, smiling dryly before she twisted round to catch the tavern keeper's eye and, when she had the other woman's attention, she called out: "Can I get some wine?"

"Wine," Sera complained, scoffing. "Weak stuff, that." She held her own ale in front of her in a mug that was the same size as Iron Bull's—a mistake, Rosa thought, though she didn't voice it. Then the rogue elbowed her in the side and said in a hissed voice that somehow wasn't any quieter than her usual speaking volume, "Heard you had to save frigging droopy ears' arse in the bog. That true, yeah?"

"He was injured fighting a Revenant," she explained blankly and then cleared her throat, eager to switch topics before Sera or any of the others could probe further. "So, let's pretend you guys are me and the shem—I mean, the humans want you to be the one who decides whether the Inquisition allies with the rebel mages or the Templars and—"

"Why's that even a question?" Sera interrupted, curling her upper lip with disgust. "Honestly. You really want a bunch more weirdies round here, what with all the demons and shite?"

Rosa heaved a long sigh as she saw Iron Bull's inquisitive look and Varric's mildly amused one and realized she had no idea what they were thinking. At least Sera, for all her crudeness, was obvious. "I get it, Sera," she grumbled. "You hate mages. But you have to admit they're probably exactly what we need to close the Breach. What's scarier? A bunch of mages or the Breach expanding until it's pouring out demons again?"

Sera shook her head, scoffing. "Both, duh."

"Templars could get the job done, too," Iron Bull said, his tone conversational.

"The last time I dealt with them," Rosa said, shooting the Qunari an irritable look. "I exposed their leader as a demon. And that still wasn't enough to make them ally with us right away. They marched right off to Therinfal Redoubt, apparently, unbothered by the fact their Lord Seeker is a fucking demon."

Now Iron Bull grunted, making a face of distaste. "Yeah," he said, his voice dropping even deeper. "You got a point there, Boss."

"I don't envy you," Varric said after taking a long swallow of his own ale. "That's a tough choice, really. I've talked with Commander Cullen and he seems to think the Templars could weaken the magic sustaining the Breach and let the mages we already have, combined with your mark, close it. But, then again, this isn't like any kind of magic I've seen before, so maybe we need more magic to get the job done."

The tavern keeper came over then and set a wine bottle in front of Rosa, along with a crude glass. Rosa broke the seal and quickly poured herself a glass, downing it in a few swallows. After catching her breath, she poured another. The alcohol left a pleasant burn in her mouth and throat, even if it wasn't as flavorful or sweet as she'd have liked. She nodded to Varric's points, even as she knew the real opinion she needed to seek was Solas', and he seemed to be avoiding her. As usual. Though, really, she had been doing the same to him.

"What does our resident expert think?" Iron Bull asked, as if he'd been reading her mind.

She glanced at him and saw he wore an unnerving…knowing expression. She repressed a shudder and downed another glass before finally answering. "I haven't asked Revas yet."

Iron Bull grunted again, taking a drink from his mug and then wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His knuckles rasped against his facial hair. "I gotta wonder why you're asking us, Boss, when you have an expert on this crap."

"Because I'm pretty sure he'll tell me both solutions could work," she said, grimacing at the growing aftertaste from the wine. Yuck. And she'd thought the wine at the Hasmal Circle was bad. The Inquisition's brew was far worse. She hoped Iron Bull wouldn't read anything deeper in her reaction. Had he heard gossip about her and Solas? Was it too much to hope that even just one of her unusual retinue of quasi-friends through the Inquisition wouldn't eventually learn she'd been sleeping with Solas?

"I get it," Varric said. "It's political as much as practical. Go with the Templars, you're validating them and the traditional way of doing things. Go with the mages, you're calling for change."

"When you put it that way," Rosa said, smirking. "The answer's obvious."

"Yeah," Varric said, shrugging. "Maybe so." He smiled at her, warm and friendly. They had spent weeks sharing meals and commiserating together as mutual "prisoners" in the Hasmal Circle a year ago. Varric had been Cassandra's hostage, while Rosa, Tal, and Solas were prisoners in the Circle itself because they had the audacity to have been born mages. Varric would know better than anyone else, aside from Tal and Solas, exactly Rosa's motivations regarding the Andrastian viewpoint on mages.

"Ugh," Sera said, rolling her eyes. "Wrong."

"Oh relax," Rosa chided the other elf gently. "I'm a mage and I haven't hurt you or weirded out on you, have I?"

"No…" Sera admitted, sounding suspicious, as if this was a trick question.

"Then stop worrying about it," Rosa said and tossed back yet another glass of wine with a satisfied sigh afterward, despite the nasty aftertaste.

"Careful, Violet," Varric cautioned, lifting his own mug in gesture. "Soon you'll be as bad as me."

"Or Tal," Rosa added, with a dry chuckle. Since returning to Haven, Tal had done little except drink and sleep. Whatever the reason—the journey, the stress of saving Solas' life, or dealing with Mahanon's perpetual aloofness since then, and of course discovering his strange new talent for necromancy or whatever it was—Tal seemed incapable of putting the bottle down. Rosa hadn't tried to curtail his drinking yet, but it was definitely on her list of things to do.

"Something's troubling Stoic," Varric said, shifting in his seat and leaning closer over the table with fresh interest.

"The trip to the bog was hard on him especially," Rosa said, though she didn't explain why and lied, "The bog made him sick."

"No," Varric said. "I mean something's been bothering him basically since the start." He shot her a look of concern, brows furrowing. "He's not the same easygoing, careless kid I met in the Circle."

"No," Rosa agreed, fingering her glass. "He joined a clan and became First. He's tasted true responsibility now."

Varric's doubtful expression made something tighten in Rosa's guts. "I don't know if it's that, Violet, or something else…"

"Who cares?" Sera interjected, apparently bored of this topic.

Rosa frowned at her, disapproving. "I care," she reminded the other elf. "He's my little brother."

"Yeah," Sera agreed, shrugging. "I get it, and Tal's not so bad, yeah. Just—why talk about how something's wrong with him when you could talk with him about it? Yeah?"

"I've tried," Rosa muttered, shaking her head. She had tried, too. During their trip to Val Royeaux, she'd tried to chastise her brother for his excessive drinking, only to earn his censure and to realize something was bothering him. But he'd been mum when she asked in private, evading it and distracting her. "Tal will talk when he's ready." I hope.

"Well," Iron Bull said then, swiveling his head to look out the tavern's side door. "I'll be a nug's uncle. There's the man of the hour himself."

Rosa glanced that way and saw Tal walk into the tavern, followed by a rather bleary-eyed Dorian. She wondered, irritably, for a moment if maybe her brother and this Tevinter mage were already sleeping together, but Tal's body language didn't suggest he'd been recently frolicking in bed with the other mage. More likely, Dorian's slightly-disheveled look was because he apparently wasn't an early riser. He'd only been in Haven for a few weeks, since Rosa had met him in Redcliffe during her first brush with the rebel mages, and he already had quite the reputation as a haughty, spoiled brat with a witty tongue.

Tal made a bee line straight for Rosa, smiling politely at the others sitting with her, though it was obvious he'd come specifically for her. "Hey, asamalin," he greeted her in his usual way and then jerked his thumb over his shoulder to indicate Dorian standing behind him a ways and looking slightly bored. "Cassandra sent me to find you and Dorian. And get you to the war room."

"Again?" Rosa asked, barely managing to bite back her groan. "I was just in there talking with them for hours."

Before Tal could reply, Dorian stepped forward a tad and said, "Yes, well, it seems they're in a bit of a hurry. As rude as it is, I have to agree. The sooner we stop Alexius, the better."

"You could still go with the Templars, Boss," Iron Bull put in.

Dorian scoffed, clearly offended. "I'm sorry," he said in a falsely cheery voice. "I see you only have one eye. Perhaps you missed the giant green hole in the sky, then, but let me assure you, it was caused by magic. It can only be stopped by magic. And, fortunately, we have countless mages relatively nearby with nothing better to do—assuming we first remove their new master, of course."

Iron Bull shrugged. "If you say so, mage."

Dorian sniffed. "I do, Qunari."

"All right," Rosa said, heaving a longsuffering sigh as she rose to her feet. "Tell them I'll be right there," she said to Tal.

"What's the delay?" he asked, hesitating. "Cassandra's really in a hurry."

"Can she wait long enough for me to go take a piss?" Rosa rejoined, smirking as Tal chuckled and nodded in the affirmative. Sera giggled and Dorian's eyes narrowed with amusement, though he didn't say anything.

"I think she'll make do," Tal said and turned to lead Dorian back out the door.

"Off to the latrines I go," Rosa said then, nodding in farewell to Varric, Iron Bull, and Sera. The room felt a little too warm and swam slightly as she made her way to the door, but the chilly mountain air outside quickly snapped her to attention. She huddled into herself, tucking her hands under her armpits for warmth as she walked toward her cabin. Haven did have a communal latrine and a small bathhouse a short jaunt down the road, but Rosa's own chamber pot inside her cabin was a lot closer than that.

As she rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs toward her cabin, a familiar voice tickled her ears. Glancing down the path toward the gates, Rosa saw Solas haggling with the vendor there. She hesitated, torn between continuing on her path, pretending she hadn't noticed him, or moving to chat with him. Seeing him pale and weak during their journey home had reminded her painfully of her own illness in the spring and, for the first time, she didn't feel the overwhelming bitterness and grief she usually experienced. Instead, she wondered what he would say if he knew and heard again his groggy, throaty voice as he called her vhenan.

Her feet seemed to make the choice for her as she pivoted and changed direction. Sidestepping her way down the stairs, she strolled up to the vendor stall next to Solas and leaned over the wares. He lifted his head, cutting himself off mid-sentence from his haggling, and looked at her with an expression of surprise. Lips parted, he blurted her name a little too breathily, "Rosa…"

The vendor grunted and dipped his head. "Herald," he said. "Always a pleasure."

Rosa smiled at the vendor, as if what he'd said had been true when in actuality she'd only done business once or twice with this man. "Are you overcharging my Fade expert?" she asked in a teasing voice.

"No," the vendor spluttered. "I would never overcharge for my wares!" His eyes narrowed. "But this isn't a charity I'm running, either." His eyes flicked to Solas now. "Your Fade expert is asking to walk away with some high-quality fabric for virtually nothing!"

Rosa took in the items on the table and saw that the vendor actually had a bit of a point. Solas was trying to acquire infused Vyrantium samite and had only offered about half of what it was worth. She hesitated a moment, wondering if maybe he didn't know the worth of this cloth, but Solas heaved a sigh a moment later and showed he did know as he counted out a few more coins. "Will that suffice?" he asked.

The vendor nodded and snatched up the coins. "Samite's yours."

Solas took up the cloth and folded it neatly, then tucked it beneath one arm as he stepped back from the stall. Rosa moved with him, though she hadn't missed the way Solas almost sheepishly didn't make eye contact with her. Still, he didn't try to break away from her or excuse himself. They fell into a steady pace at one another's sides, two sets of bare feet crunching against the dirt and gravel beneath them.

"Thank you," Solas told her after a long moment of silence. "For your support regarding my real name. And…for saving my life, of course." He flashed her a small, almost shy smile.

She shrugged. "Don't mention it. I mean, what was I supposed to do? I couldn't let you die."

"You could have," Solas told her matter-of-factly. "But you chose to save me, and I understand you paid an unfortunate cost." He stopped then as they reached the foot of the stairs where the path led off to her cabin. His blue eyes were dark and somber. "Ir abelas, for Mahanon's less than pleasant reaction."

She snorted, smirking with both annoyance and amusement. "You're apologizing to me for Han? Shouldn't I be apologizing?" She shook her head. "I blurted your name after Tal and I healed you. Han took note and turned you in first thing."

Solas' smile was warm with affection. "I far prefer explaining myself and why I had a second name to dying in the Fallow Mire. I do regret, however, that saving me caused you grief."

"Honestly," she said, averting her eyes and snarling down at the ground. "I'm about ready to kick Han's ass for this…for all of it."

Solas opened his mouth to reply and then seemed to think better of it. His blue eyes were heavy and opaque, difficult to read. Rosa edged slightly closer, ready to ask him if he remembered calling her vhenan, but she hesitated. Even with the mild inebriation of the wine dulling her senses and inhibitions, Rosa still found that caution bridled that traitorous desire and affection that still lurked inside her. It seemed so obvious that Solas still felt something for her, but like her father, something held him back or drove him away…

It would be beyond foolish to let herself fall down this path again. Better to be with a man like Mahanon who she knew would be trustworthy and devoted, despite his faults. Solas was just too much like her father.

"Well," Solas said then, still smiling. "I have taken up more than enough of your time—but I am glad I had the chance to thank you properly."

"Well," Rosa countered, also smiling fondly. "You're welcome." Remembering her bladder, she motioned in the direction of her cabin. "I should really be going…"

"Of course," Solas said and, with a last dip of his head, he turned and began walking toward his own cabin, clear on the other side of Haven.

Rosa watched him go for a moment, allowing herself a second to admire his annoyingly attractive ass and the catlike grace of his walk. Her father had had a graceful gait as well, but of course Rosa had given that little thought. Lots of elves and more than a few humans possessed grace, though usually not in quantities like Solas and her father. Now she couldn't help but wonder if it was a side-effect of being raised in Elvhenan, a sort of extra spring in their step that came from having once been the sole rulers of Thedas, the dominant race at every corner of the known world.

Pride.

Rubbing her face with frustration at her own foolish interest in that dangerous man, Rosa turned round and hurried to her cabin to finally relieve herself. But when she opened the door, pausing only briefly in the foyer to scrape her bare feet along the floor to clean them, she immediately realized she wasn't alone. Staring through the foyer and into the bedroom, Rosa saw Mahanon standing in front of the small fireplace, his back to her.

Hearing her enter, Mahanon pivoted to face her. His body language was tense and stiff, but his smile still managed to be warm and genuine. "Rosa," he said. "Good to see you."

"Is it?" she retorted, frowning at him.

"Of course it is," Mahanon said, his voice soft and a touch chagrined.

"Sure," Rosa grumbled. "It's good to see me now that you're ready to forget what happened in the Mire, right? Like it never happened. Is that it?"

"No," Mahanon protested, shaking his head and with a stricken look crossing his face. "I'm sorry for the way I acted. Truly, I am. I…" He stared down at the floor and let out a quick breath, his shoulders sinking with it. "I've always been a little terrified of demons and spirits. One tried to tempt me when I was just a boy, you know."

"But you survived it," Rosa said, trying to sound supportive rather than dismissive, though if she were being honest with herself, she knew she was still a little too irritated with him to pull it off. "So don't feed me some line about how that one minor negative experience made you treat me like I'm some kind of…" She made a sort of flapping motion with her hands in frustration. "Abomination."

"I was frightened, Rosa," Mahanon said, a note of defensiveness now creeping into his voice. "I'm sorry."

She stared at him, trying to decide if she believed him. It wasn't that she suspected this was a lie—it was whether she believed he had accepted her as she truly was or had instead decided to ignore and deny the parts of her he didn't like. For all his devotion to her prior to this point, Rosa saw only the rejection now and couldn't stop herself from thinking of Solas and how quickly he had accepted Rogathe. She pushed those thoughts away, knowing it was unfair to compare Mahanon and Solas in this aspect as their backgrounds were so vastly different. It wasn't as though Mahanon hadn't been extremely good to her in accepting her...unusual circumstances that spring. She didn't want to think about that though and shoved it down deep into the back of her mind. Even if she wasn't being entirely fair to him by forgetting it...considering it was just...

Stop. Thinking. About. It.

"Please," Mahanon said, taking a few steps closer to her. "How can I make it up to you?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, not immediately running out to the shemlen and betraying Revas would have been a great start."

Now Mahanon scowled and looked away. "The shemlen weren't going to hurt him, but they needed to know. He shouldn't be hiding things like that." He cast a sideways glance at Rosa through the corners of his eyes. "He's dangerous, Rosa. You should stay away from him."

"Dangerous?" Rosa repeated and let out a small, dry laugh. "Sure, whatever. He's dangerous. So am I. So are you. So is Cassandra." She flung both arms up to encompass all of Haven. "We're all dangerous people, Han! How many Avvar did we kill in the Mire again? I lost count."

"That's not what I meant," Mahanon retorted, irritably. "Anyone who keeps their name a secret like that has something to hide. Something big."

The way he scrutinized her, Rosa suddenly felt herself flush hot. He thinks I know something more. He was right to think that, of course, but she was quick to adopt her coy smile and to scoff dismissively. "Now you're just being paranoid." She laid a hand over her chest. "I had a big secret to hide, but you don't see me wandering around with multiple names. Your theory doesn't hold up well."

"He could have told the humans when he first joined," Mahanon argued. "But he didn't."

Rosa shrugged. "So? I could go out right now and tell the humans about Rogathe, but I'd rather not wind up in a cell. He used the name the humans knew him by, that's all."

"And neglected to mention his true name," Mahanon pointed out, stubbornly sticking to his point.

"You know what the truth is, Han?" she said after rolling her eyes at him. "The truth is you hoped the humans would toss him out. Because the one he's truly dangerous to is you." She stabbed a finger toward the door of the cabin. "Now, get out. I have to piss and then I have to go argue with the humans for the next six hours about recruiting the mages."

Mahanon's shoulders slumped as he resigned himself to accepting her dismissal. "All right," he said, "but I know there's something he's hiding—and you're helping him. Just like you helped hide his real name." He frowned at her as he stomped toward the door, pausing for an instant to say, "You still love him."

"Yeah," Rosa retorted angrily, "I love that stupid flat-ear like I love frostbite. Now, get out of my cabin, Han."

He sighed with an answering anger but obeyed, slamming the door behind him.

Alone, Rosa groaned to herself and scrubbed at her face with frustration. She was intensely grateful for the raven talisman now, keeping Rogathe asleep and dormant. Without it she was sure the spirit would have erupted with violent rage and demanded Mahanon fight her in a duel—or something equally foolish that wouldn't really solve the issue.

Thinking about the spirit made her quash her emotions and head into the bedroom to find her chamber pot. The sooner she finished relieving her bladder, the sooner she could set out to finish planning with the humans on how to ally with the rebel mages. And the sooner she allied with the mages, the sooner she'd be able to close the Breach.

Then, maybe, she could finally get Rogathe to leave her and focus on the Tevinter cultists who Solas said possessed his orb—which was the key to saving her hand, apparently.

One step at a time, she thought, comforting herself. And the first step was that chamber pot for now.

Next Chapter:

He swallowed, throat bobbing, and turned slightly to look at Dorian, Cassandra, and Varric a heartbeat before speaking in elven so only Rosa would understand him. "Please, there is something you must do for me if your plan succeeds."

Rosa hesitated a moment before nodding, aware of the others watching and listening. "Of course, Solas."

Solas' jaw clenched and he gripped the lacquered jawbone that hung at his neck. With a decisive jerk, he pulled it over his head and extended it out to her. "Take this to me in your present," he said, voice cracking. "And tell me I was wrong. Tell me to let it go."

Rosa reached out and accepted the jawbone, gingerly. She fingered the shape, pressing her index finger to the pointy canine tooth and considering it a moment. Her brow furrowed as she tried to puzzle out his meaning. I was wrong. Let it go. What was it?

Endnote: You'll all be pleased to hear I managed to write out another chapter or two and they are BIG ones, both in action and content and...angst. As you can see from the above, my love of canon-breaking is not stopping any time soon!

Sutet: Thank you! I actually just got the PitMad rejection today. Bummer, but I'm an old hat at rejection so I was like *shrug*. And let's see how your Elvhen senses do with this update! Did they tingle early? Haha!

KiraChan: Thank you for your review! Ready for them to kiss and make up so soon? But...we have so much more ANGST! *maniacal laughter* Still, that moment I know you're really waiting on regarding a certain thing Solas doesn't know about is coming fast. I actually just wrote it.

RandomRockets: Great to hear from you again! Thanks for your review! I think it's fabulous you can still sympathize with Mahanon. I wanted to make him somewhat despicable, but also a foil for Solas. Clingy where Solas is aloof, traditional where Solas breaks the mold, insecure and jealous where Solas is quietly confident and a gentleman. Anyway, that's just kind of my thought process.

Urazz: Thanks for reviewing! Good insight on Tal. I actually need to research the Necromancer specialization in DAI. I always play Knight Enchanter and Rift Mage. I've actually already written Rosa as a Rift Mage, giving her all the spells I use frequently in-game. I figure she learned everything she knows from daddy-dearest, but Tal didn't have the same aptitude or interest...or Felassan was just MIA by the time Tal was old enough to learn.

Next chapter...In Hushed Whispers Part 1: Birthright. Anyone know what birthright that'd be? ;) I've had some burning opinions and questions about Redcliffe's dark future and I finally got to write them out. I'm pretty excited to be posting it!