Solona sank into her mattress, practically humming with restless energy. She traced the designs on her warding bracelet with trembling fingers and tapped her foot against the wall as she stared at the ceiling, her mind buzzing with unwanted thoughts.

"I said I was in love with him," she groaned, banging her head back on her pillow. "Why did I say that?"

"Because you are."

Solona almost fell off the bed in alarm. "Neria!"

Neria materialized from the shadows with a grin, red hair hanging in a loose braid over her left shoulder. "The one and only."

Solona turned over and buried her face into the sheets. "How long have you been in here?" she groaned, her voice muffled by her pillow.

"Long enough." Neria crossed the room with quick strides and perched on the edge of the bed. "I was hoping to catch you before you left tomorrow. You left your door unlocked."

"No point in locking it when the templars all have keys."

"Fair."

The air in her room suddenly felt stale. Solona dragged one arm out from under her head and twirled her fingers until a light breeze swept through her quarters. Several sheets of paper ruffled on her desk and flew to the floor. "Fuck it," Solona mumbled, and waved her hand again for another breeze, but Neria caught her wrist and frowned.

"You're pacing."

Solona turned and glared at her with a raised eyebrow. "I'm lying down."

"Still." Neria frowned, lacing their fingers together with a reassuring squeeze. "You're restless, and you're pacing in your mind."

"That a Dalish saying or something?"

"Yes, actually." An amused expression flickered across Neria's face. "My Keeper used to say that pacing in your mind is just as much a waste of energy as pacing with your legs. And much worse for your thoughts."

"Great. So I'll waste away earlier and die even younger. News to no one."

An awkward silence settled over the room. Neria frowned and cocked her head sideways. "Solona, what's going on? Ever since your Harrowing, you've been…"

"Withdrawn?" Solona finished. She shoved herself to a seated position and leaned against the wall with her arms around her knees. "Sullen? Broody? Save it, Neri. Between Irving and Lucien, I've heard all of it this week."

"What happened?" Neria prodded gently.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

Solona waved her hands in front of her. "That…that Keeper thing you do, where you act all motherly and try to fix other people's problems. Some issues don't have solutions, alright?"

"I'm not trying to fix you, Sol," Neria said quietly. "You're my friend, and you're in pain. Something is eating you alive, lethallan. I can't just sit quietly by and watch that happen. You know that."

"Maker. Fuck." Solona wrapped her arms around her legs again and buried her face into her knees as shame crept up her face. "I'm sorry, Neri. I…you didn't deserve what I just said to you. I'm sorry. I just." She trailed off into a heaving sob, and before she knew it Neria was sitting next to her, drawing her into a hug with both arms and whispering something in Elvhen, and she had no idea what any of the words meant, but Neria was saying them in that soothing, melodic voice of hers and maybe that meant things might eventually be okay.

So she told Neria everything. About her Harrowing, meeting Tenacity, about the trade Lynkhaba had suggested. About the mark on her arm tempting her into that trade every single day, even when the bracelet she wore cut off the magic powering it. She confessed what had transpired between her and Cullen earlier that day between hiccuping sobs and pausing to awkwardly blow her nose into the sleeves of her soiled robes.

"I told him I was in love with him," she sniffled. "I'm not. Or. I don't know. Maybe I am, but I can't be. It was dangerous before, but now with this … this … thing on my arm…" She spat the word out like venom between her lips. "I can't keep doing this. I can't keep wanting him, not when there's a demon on the other side of the Veil just waiting for me to give in."

"Love doesn't work like that, Sol," Neria murmured sadly. "It hits you in the face before you realize what's happening, and when it's ripped away, it takes a piece of you with it, and sometimes there's nothing you can do to stop any of it from happening."

Solona sniffled again and wiped her face with a fistful of her sheets. "I thought you were supposed to be comforting me right now," she grumbled.

Neria took Solona's face into her delicate hands. "I'm telling you I understand." Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "Every day I see Teresa in the halls, and every day I wonder what we could have done differently. She took the fall for me, did you know that? She protected me by taking the brand herself, and not a day goes by that I don't miss her. I know what it's like to want something you know you can't ever have for good, Sol, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"What happened between you two?"

"She loved me," Neria said simply. "She loved me, and I convinced her to run away with me. When they caught us, she told Greagoir the whole plan was her idea, that I'd argued with her every step of the way. The let me off with a stern warning, and she … well. You know what happened to her."

"Maker, Neri," Solona breathed. "You tried to escape? When? How?"

Neria fiddled with her fingernails. "Remember last Justinian, when I disappeared for a few days and then later Ariban said I was in the back laboratory observing a project for him? He was covering for me after the fact. I didn't want anyone knowing what happened, how I'd been so stupid." She stared down at the sheets, her gaze lost in a far off memory. "We made it as far as the Imperial Highway when the templars found us. I'd never been so scared in my life. You know the most ridiculous part of it all?" She looked up, mouth set in a hard line. "I chose this life. I came to the Circle myself. I never told you that, did I?"

"No," Solona said slowly. "You said you got separated from your clan when the templars found you."

"Another lie," Neria confessed, her eyes turning back to the fabric in front of her. "I came here on my own. My Keeper, well. I was her First. I was supposed to take over for her, right? Trained to lead the clan and everything. There's three mages in a Dalish clan: the Keeper, who keeps your history and leads you; the First who trains under the Keeper and is next in line, and then the Second. Some clans are alright with having more than three mages, but most … aren't. If you're the fourth mage born in most Dalish clans, your Keeper makes arrangements for you to be sent to a clan who doesn't have enough mages and maybe needs a First or a Second. And…" She took a deep breath. "One of my little sisters was the fourth mage in our clan. She's a twin, came into her magic young. Our mother cried for days when we found out. Keeper Ysolie sent a runner off to Clan Dorae to negotiate Lila's future, and we … argued. For hours. Lila was five years old, she and Fern were glued at the hip, and she was terrified when she found out Ysolie was going to just give her away.

"I told Ysolie to send me away instead, and she said she'd invested too much into me already to let me go. I told her I'd run away, and she shook her head and said the hunters would find me eventually. So I told her I'd go somewhere the hunters couldn't reach me." She scoffed. "I was such an idiot. I was fifteen, and reckless. Thought I was being some kind of hero. As it turned out, I just traded one set of jailers for another, except now I can't even lie down in the grass and see the stars at night. Lila's flourishing as Clan Surana's Second though, last I heard, thank the Creators for that. I traded my freedom for my sister's place in our family, and." She shook her head in disgust. "I'd probably trade it back in a heartbeat now if it meant I could just feel the grass under my feet again."

Tears were gathering now in the corners of her almond eyes, shimmering like emeralds in the candlelight. "Teresa made me feel like I could do anything. I felt free with her, and that made me reckless, do you understand?"

Solona found herself nodding. Of course she understood that much. That was what had drawn her to Cullen in the first place, wasn't it? She was more than just a mage to him, and her magic thrilled him almost as much as it thrilled her. Being with him was the most free she'd ever felt in her entire life. She felt tears brimming in her own eyes at the thought.

"I made a mistake with Teresa," Neria said flatly. "A mistake that she paid a heavy price for. I've seen the way Cullen looks at you, and if you don't think that man will jump to your defense the second the two of you are caught, you're a fool. But I know what it does to you, how it feels when someone like that falls into your life. You love him, and that's something I understand too well."

Solona sighed, a heavy sound from a heavier heart. "I wish I knew what to do," she lamented, her fingers twisting the silver bracelet around her wrist with agitation. "It seems so simple, doesn't it? Give up the magic, have a normal life."

"Don't go down that road, lethallan," Neria warned. "These things always come with a price, one realized far too heavily, and too late." She brushed a stray curl from Solona's face and tucked it behind her ear. "And you are the last person I can imagine being happy without magic. Have you looked in a mirror, Sol? You live and breathe the Fade more than anyone I've ever met. You blink and the world bends around you. Can you really imagine a life where that isn't a part of you?"

Neria was right, but Solona didn't know how she felt about that particular truth. She leaned her head on Neria's shoulder and chuckled instead. "You may be right. A life where it takes more than ten seconds to heat my bathwater? I may die."

Solona opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room. She was still in a bed, but the area around her was a one room cabin with a fire crackling merrily in the fireplace. Red velvet drapes covered the windows, and one window in particular had one side of the drapes tied back with a golden ribbon, showcasing an expanse of snow covered pine trees outside with the faintest glimmering rays of sunlight peeking through the branches.

"You read about a place like this in a book once," a familiar voice said from somewhere beside her. "It felt like you liked it. I hope I read that right."

Tenacity's translucent form materialized on the bed next to her. "Sorry if this was disorienting," they added, almost sheepishly. "I missed talking to you, is that strange? I think it's a feeling I picked up from your memories. It's so interesting."

"It's really creepy how you do that," Solona said dryly. "Do you rifle around in my head intentionally, or do you just accidentally bump into my thoughts on the way to the privy?"

The spirit wrinkled their nose. "That's offensive. I would never."

"Mmhm. Right." Solona snickered. "Youre a Maker-damned liar. I definitely would." She popped her knuckles and leaned back into plush, silk covered pillows. "So, what, you made this whole place up because you couldn't go another minute without my witty charm?"

Tenacity shrugged. "You felt…turbulent. I thought you might need another friend."

"Huh." Solona felt her lips curl up into a half smile. "That's actually really sweet."

"I am sorry, I hope you know that."

"Sorry? For what?"

A decidedly mortal expression of remorse flickered across their face. "Not being strong enough to help you towards the end of your Harrowing. You're marked now, because of me. I never meant for that to happen."

Solona sighed. "Tenacity, that isn't your fault. She was powerful. Bitch knew exactly what she was doing. I can't fault you for that, you know? I may not have made it that far if it weren't for you." She wrinkled her nose. "Are my emotions really that strong? You're picking them up…disturbingly well."

They flashed a wry smile. "Absolutely tempestuous, my dear."

She rolled her eyes. "Fantastic. I'm a beacon for demons, I'm sure."

"We can't all be perfect."

Solona groaned. "Am I really that much of a smartass?"

Tenacity shrugged. "I have no basis for comparison."

She flopped back on the bed. "Asshole," she grumbled.

The last thing she heard before waking up was Tenacity's melodious laughter.

When Solona awoke, Neria was cuddled next to her, the two of them a wild tangle of limbs and twisted sheets. She brushed a hand through Neria's red hair, unbraided and wavy across the pillows. Her friend's presence in the bed was warmth and comfort, soothing in all the right ways, and she inhaled deeply at the scent, warm and earthy, sweet spices and a blend of herbs she didn't recognize.

She felt a twinge in her chest when she realized Teresa had been an herbalist before…well. Before.

Someone knocked on the door, and Neria jerked awake, the crown of her head colliding squarely with Solona's nose. "Fenedhis lasa!" she swore, and then another string of unintelligible curses in Elvhen streamed from her mouth as she leapt out of bed and yanked her robe on over her undershirt and smalls.

Solona was still nursing her nose when the door opened and a deeply tanned woman with tousled dark brown hair gathered into a loose bun poked her head into the room, eyes widening when she saw Neria. "Amell?" she said cautiously. Her voice was deep and rich and reminded Solona of the way honey flowed from the comb when the kitchens got fresh jars every spring. "Oh, shit, you're not Amell," the woman amended hastily. "Is this the wrong room?" She ducked her head back out in confusion.

"No," Solona groaned. "Right room. I'm over here. Who are you?"

"Oh. Oh!" The woman held up her hands, shaking her head quickly. "I can come back in a few minutes if you-"

Neria stiffed and grabbed her staff. "No need," she said thinly. "I was just leaving."

"Neri, wait-" Solona said, but Neria had already swept out of the room.

"So, uh." The woman cast a glance over the room. "Can I…come in?"

Solona shrugged. "Sure. You look familiar; you're a templar, right? I probably don't have a choice anyway."

The woman eyed her warily as she slipped in the room. She was tall, as tall as Cullen, and almost as powerfully built. The sleeves of her loosely fitted shirt were rolled up to her elbows, revealing forearms taut with a warrior's strength, and along her right forearm curled a tattoo of a phoenix, the brightly plumed head nestled into the crook of her elbow, the elaborately designed tail spiraling around her wrist and ending on the back of her hand at the base of her middle finger.

"I, uh. Shit." She ran her fingers through her hair, seemingly forgetting it was tied back until her fingers popped the tie from its place and sent coarse, wavy black hair cascading over her shoulders. "Well. Anyway." She ignored the tie abandoned on the floor and extended a hand in greeting. "Hannah Trevelyan. They probably want you to call me Ser or some shit, but if you could maybe only do that in front of the Knight-Captain, that would be just fine with me. I was sent to collect you when the wagon was ready."

Solona took Hannah's hand and shook it slowly, sleep fogged mind overwhelmed by, well, her. Hannah's presence commanded a room like a friendly thunderstorm.

"Grab a bag if you're packed and we can get going," Hannah said brightly. "Oh, and-" She fumbled in her pockets and lowered her voice as she pulled out a set of coral prayer beads joined in the center by a silver likeness of the Sword of Mercy. "This is from Cullen. He wanted you to have it on the road. I told him you probably weren't Andrastian - oh yes, Ser Merovel told me all about the 'Andraste was a mage and the Maker was a Fade spirit' incident-"

"That was six years ago!" Solona sputtered, indignant. Hannah only chuckled and shrugged.

"Hey, no judgment from me. My opinion? The Maker loves all his children, whether they give a shit about his existence or not. I'm just saying. I told Cullen a set of Chant Stones would probably mean nothing to you, but he insisted. Something about wanting you to have a reminder of the Maker's presence while you're away from home or some disgustingly sentimental drivel. Honestly." She tutted. "He's so smitten with you, it's embarrassing."

Solona only stared. "He really did tell you," she managed finally.

Hannah shrugged. "Not so much as I needled it out of him. Don't worry, the two of you aren't that obvious. I just know him well." She pursed her lips before adding, "I was at your Harrowing, too."

"…oh."

Hannah pressed the beads into Solona's hands. "He's a good man," she murmured. "An honorable one. And he'd fall on his own sword for you if he thought it would keep you safe. Just…take care of his heart, okay?"

"I…" Solona paused, mouth still agape. She took the beads with trembling hands and slipped them over her head, tucking them beneath her robes. "Of course. Thank you." The Sword of Mercy was cold against her bare skin, but the weight of it was strangely comforting.

"Maker, my enemies are abundant," she murmured, rolling one of the beads between her fingers. "Many are those who rise up against me, but my faith sustains me. I shall not fear the legion, should they set themselves against me."

Hannah arched an eyebrow. "Huh. Ser Merovel might owe me five sovereigns."

"There was a templar who helped raise me, when I was small," Solona explained. "He used to…teach me Chant verses. Bribed me with sweets," she recalled wryly. "I suppose they should thank cinnamon buns for my knowledge of the first Canticle of Trials."

"All sixteen verses?"

She dropped the beads back into her robes and stared at the floor. "He retired to Greenfell. Got the lyrium madness, probably long dead by now. They're all I have left to remember him by," she said quietly. "I don't know if I believe in the Maker, but if I did…" She looked up and eyed Hannah sadly, shaking her head. "No one who loves his children would put either of us through what we go through. I refuse to believe that."

"I was under the impression you didn't think very highly of us."

Solona looked up and gave a noncommital shrug. "Most of you, maybe. I knew decent templars once. Maybe I've met a couple more."

Hannah grinned and held out a hand. "Well in that case. Shall we?"