AN: Hello all! Thanks so much for all your warmth and support on that last chapter! Glad to see we have some new readers and that I'm still keeping you loyal readers on your toes :)

Thanks again to everyone for taking the time to read my work - it's a pleasure to have such wonderful company on this adventure.

Best,
Voi


They ambushed her just outside the town walls.

Well, ambushed was perhaps a generous term, for the hunters that waited for her were not nearly as skilled as those that had shadowed her steps since she had become the Inquisitor. She had been aware of these armed elves from the moment she had left the cover of the forest.

"You!"

There were no less than six of them, but as she turned to face them they did not seem as intimidating as they might have wished. It seemed fear was a relative thing, and even hunters as skilled as these were nothing in comparison to ancient elven gods. Still, she was a seasoned enough woman to know that foolishness was found in underestimating one's adversary. And so when they stepped closer she kept them all in view, making sure her stance remained loose, ready for anything.

"So you are the one they call Herald of Andraste."

The youngest of the group, a huntress, stepped forward and surveyed her with cold eyes. Spitting the title like a vile curse, the shorter, stockier woman, seemed all but primed for conflict. Given the strong distaste that some clans held for humans Lavellan could not fault their response, but her temper prickled at the judgemental way those six pairs of eyes roamed her unmarked face.

"Yes, I am Lavellan of Clan Lavellan."

"Traitor to our people is what you are." The woman snapped, "Taken by humans and sullying yourself by renouncing the marks of the People. You are no Dalish. You may claim no clan."

Her sentiment was not a unique one, but the manner in which she had phrased herself made Lavellan pause.

"Strange, I seem to have had a similar conversation with another elven man not so long ago. Would you be related at all?" Lavellan's eyes scanned the six and realized she should have seen the connection earlier, the similarities were unmistakeable.

"Ah, you're here about Dheron. I sent a message to the Inquisition, and now you have come."

"Our Keeper received a summons from the Keep and was told our First was to be a prisoner of the Inquisition for crimes he did not commit."

"The Inquisition told you they were imprisoning Dheron specifically for crimes he 'did not commit'?" The huntress' choice of words made Lavellan's brows raise in surprise, "How odd...I thought we only imprisoned people who had committed crimes."

Lavellan considered herself a fair and even tempered woman, but the arrogance of this woman brought out a sharp sarcasm that she knew Dorian would have appreciated.

"You mock me?" The dark haired huntress snarled.

"I question the validity of your remark considering you do not know who brought those charges before him." She replied firmly as she crossed her arms, "The Inquisition would not have summoned you without cause."

"There is no cause because this summons is nothing more than a ploy by a traitorious bitch to bend unwilling clans to her demands!"

"Syrus, that is enough."

It was the tall figure in the back that spoke. Broad shouldered, with dark eyes and even darker hair, his angular face was somber as he surveyed the two women. His sheer size meant that it had been impossible to miss him, but Lavellan had not expected the low, tranquil quality of his voice.

Taking note of the way all in the party deferred to his calm but commanding tone, she felt a small measure of tension ease.

"I had wondered when you might speak up." She called out to him, "You are Dheron's older brother, are you not? You look quite a bit like him."

His lips quirked into a frown, "You know me?"

"Yes of course." Lavellan almost smiled, "How else do you imagine you were not struck down the moment you entered Inquisition territory?"

He nodded, accepting the truth of her words, before returning to the crux of their discussion, the point of so much contention. Speaking quickly but clearly, he repeated the accusation but with more consideration for diplomacy rather than hatred.

"You are being accused of harming a member of the clan, my brother."

Lavellan nodded, "That is an accusation I understand. But it is an incorrect one."

Her words made all who heard frown in confusion. And though she wished to, she could not fully explain herself without putting Solas in danger as well. Truth was often a luxury not enjoyed by the one called Inquisitor. Trying to elaborate without disclosing the exact details of what had transpired Lavellan said, "All that befell him was the result of his own decision."

"He does not even recognize his own kin anymore." The dark haired man protested, but his tone remained considered, neutral. "And you say it is of his own doing?"

"Yes." Lavellan felt sympathy for Dheron's brother, but kept the expression from her face. "He chose an unwise path and through the consequences were severe, terrible even, they are of his own making. I could explain more if-"

"Liar!"

The shriek split the air a second before the huntress, Syrus, broke rank. And though there was no flash of a blade, nor notched arrow, Lavellan felt her instincts prickle all the same. The other woman was not truly a credible danger, not when Lavellan had the power of the mark at her disposal but that did not mean she should casually dismiss the woman either.

Not all dangers came from what was immediately before one's face, and when she saw the shadowy figure emerge from the tree line she knew she could use this moment to teach her guests that very important lesson.

It was this knowledge that made a Lavellan's lips curve into a cold smile, one the matched the stark light in her eye. Looking to where Dheron's older brother stood, Lavellan did not even bother to defend herself from the woman that was advancing on her.

"I told you that you are here on my invitation." She reminded him, "And though you might not like it, you are also under my protection."

"Syrus."

It was impossible to miss the warning in his voice, but when he called to his huntress his words fell on deaf ears. And though Lavellan did not seem outwardly concerned, the elven man seemed to sense the danger that was building with each moment.

All the damage...all consequences were entirely of his own making entirely.

Lavellan's words echoed through the silence like a memory made flesh.

"Syrus!" This time his voice was sharp, like a crack of whip, "Stand down!"

But for a woman so easily wound up, his repetition of the order, his concern, was beyond her. And instead the dark haired woman grew all the more agitated, as if hearing him heed Lavellan's warning mad it all the more maddening.

"Your protection?!" Syrus bellowed as she crossed those final few feet, "We don't need your help!"

It would have been impossible to get away now, to avoid the slash that the other woman intended for her to feel. But no sooner had Syrus swiped forward, knife expertly angled for Lavellan's tender throat ,when an explosion of winter cold and ice claimed her hand until the elbow, turning it into a leaden weight the dropped her instantly to her knees.

And though she had expected it, had anticipated it even, Lavellan's surprise matched those of the hunters until it slowly faded to a sort of quiet approval. The feeling only increased, warming when the remaining hunters straightened to face the figure that strode from the forest to meet them.

The stunned silence that greeted his arrival was broken only by his easy, almost conversational greeting.

"Is this what the Dalish call a fair trial?"

Light and unworried, he drew into the small circle with nary a flourish, completely disinterested in the woman who writhed on the ground in pain.

"Hello, Solas." Serene as she greeted him, Lavellan felt her features soften, ease as the tension drained out of her.

"Nice of you to join us." She said.

"Of course." He nodded, making a show of settling at her side, his own blue eyes scanning the line of hunters, "I apologize for the interruption of course. Please continue."

"H-how dare you?!" Syrus's voice was tight with pain when she finally managed to speak. And though her hand was still firmly entombed in ice, her temper remained hot as flame, "Damn flat-ear."

Dheron's brother barked her name, but earned little more than a dirty look for his efforts.

"Truly? We are stooping to insults?" One of Solas' brows quirked in what might have been amusement, "A shame that you could not be a credit to your people."

And when he words looked to have riled her even further he smiled, "Well, it seems that I remember my manners, little huntress. Perhaps it is best I remind you how to use yours."

His hand flexed a second later, and without the aid of even a staff or scepter to focus his magic, the ice began a slow march upwards towards her neck.

"You may request an end to this at any time." He said before turning his displeased frown to the half-circle of warriors that continued to watch the scene before them.

"And is this how you honor your clan? Surround a single elven woman and demand your way?"

His accusation was met with an uncomfortable shuffling of feet, the guilty looks that said well enough they knew this meeting of forces had not been meant to be fair. Still, there were others that refused to be cowed, and when one of them spoke up, Solas faced them with the sort of icy patience that reminded Lavellan of his conversations with Vivienne.

"One against six. No, it was not meant to be fair."

One of the hunters, a tall lanky man with scar across his brow pointed out, "But if the rumors were true then it would take more than just us six to subdue her. She is called the 'Herald of Andraste' for a reason, is she not?"

"That does not make your actions any less shameful." Solas asserted, looking pointedly at Dheron's brother, "You do your lineage a disservice with your actions. You most of all, Ehrin Ehnuven. Do not think it has been so long that I do not remember you."

Solas' easy identification of Dheron's brother made Lavellan straighten in surprise, but she could hardly question him here. Turning to see Ehrin's head bow in shame, she was met with a chorus of apologies.

"What about me?" Huffing mightily, Syrus called attention to where the ice had very nearly covered the crest of her shoulder.

At Solas' blank, uncomprehending look, she squirmed, looking as if she was caught between her pride and fainting at the agonizing pain of the ice.

"I will lose my hand if you do not stop it!"

"You make that sound as if this is something I should be concerned about." Solas raised a brow but did nothing, "Why should I care what happens? I am but a flat-ear. What do I know of Dalish hunting customs?"

Syrus took several sharp breaths, but could not find the strength to speak at the ice crackled and inched higher still.

"Please, hahren."

And this time it was Ehrin who spoke, his voice pleading in a way that Lavellan had not heard before.

"Your manners do you credit, Ehrin, but it was not your error that placed her in such a position." Solas frowned.

"She is..." The taller man suddenly shifted, looking at once both protective but apologetic, "Syrus is newly bonded to me, she does this out of love for me. Please forgive her."

"And what would you have done had she hurt the Inquisitor?" Solas asked just as softly, "What if she had killed her?"

The other man looked suddenly stricken.

"Shall I tell you what I would have done?" Solas continued, his voice nearly a whisper and yet so dangerous in its quiet that no one dared miss a single word, "To you? To the entirety of your clan?"

His lips curled into a small smile, but the words were there in the predatory glimmer of eyes. And it did not matter that his form was that of a man, for in that moment he seemed every inch the wolf he had been born.

I would have torn you all apart. And not even the history books would remember you.

Lavellan could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as the words wafted through her mind like a spring haze, a gauzy mist. And though he did not look at her, had not leveled her with the sharpness of his gaze, she could feel the heat of his anger.

"P-please."

In the end, it was Syrus who undid the tension she had wrought. Her voice, a shredded agonized thing, cut through the quiet to beg forgiveness.

"I am sorry. Creators forgive my rudeness."

"I do not believe in your creators." Solas said coldly, unwilling to give her any quarter after what she had done, "Just as I do not understand your customs. Does that warrant such anger from you?"

"No." The huntress shook her head, tried to inhale, but her throat caught on a sob, "No, of course not. I am so sorry."

"I do not think you worthy of forgiveness," Solas said, "Mistakes are one thing, but mindless hatred is inexcusable. Pride is another."

And this time it was not just to the huntress that he was speaking, but perhaps to himself as well.

"I-I know." Broken now, Syrus began to cry, "I apologize. Please, stop the ice. I cannot feel my arm."

"Nor will you again if I have my way." Solas said, "Maiming you might be the kindest thing I can do."

And though part of her agreed, Lavellan's hand found its way to Solas' back, pressing softly against the strength she found there, the tension. They had brushed against one another countless times since their reunion in the temple, but this was unlike any of those previous times.

She felt him absorb the deliberate touch and paused, waited for him to understand her intent.

A moment later the ice fell away from Syrus' arm leaving it notably blue but not permanently maligned. It would take her several days for functionality to return, but she was still whole. Ehrin was at her side in an instant, his arms around her shoulders as he gently drew her against him, upwards until she was on her feet.

And despite the tears on her cheeks there was relief not anger on Syrus' face.

"Let this be a reminder." Lavellan spoke, "We are not merciless, but Dheron earned his consequences, of that there is no doubt."

Ehrin turned his gaze to where Lavellan stood, "Despite our actions here, we are not a clan without honor. If you can find it in yourself to forgive this transgression, we would beg a council with you to discuss what happened."

"I would grant you such a council." Lavellan agreed, "You deserve to know what happened, but we will do this as protocol demands. Is this an acceptable arrangement?"

Ehrin nodded, his sharp face serious but sincere, "Thank you, Herald. We will look forward to your summons."

And without further word, the taller man nodded towards Solas before taking both his bond mate and rest of the hunters away from the clearing, winding down the hill towards Wycome.

Lavellan waited until the last of clan Ehnuven had disappeared into the city before turning to face the man that still waited beside her.

Eyes searching, she asked, "You knew them?"

"Clan Ehnuven is an old one. Perhaps one of the oldest that persist from...my time. They were one of the first I sought out when I woke. Ehrin was head of the clan, and despite my other dealings with the Dalish, he proved to be a moderate."

Lavellan did not understand what it meant when Solas said 'woke' but it was not hard to see the connection. She had not recognized the name before, but Dheron had regularly mentioned his clan in connection with the ancient trinket he had used against her.

"You were looking for the amulet?"

"Yes. They had been stewards of Dirthamen once, it seemed appropriate."

"I see." She said, and she did, "But they did not have it?"

"No, Dheron had already left the clan with it...stolen it, actually. I had been looking for him when we met. As you can imagine, the tear in the sky seemed a bigger issue."

Lavellan smiled, "I can appreciate the detour you took in your initial quest. We could not have defeated Corypheus without you."

"Yes, well." Solas trailed off, "The tear in the veil was the product of my own folly as well, so it seemed prudent I fix what I could."

"Of course."

Nodding, she made as if to move away only to be stopped by the touch of his hand on her arm. Warm, the elegant fold of his fingers was gentle upon her skin, but the texture of it rough as she remembered.

"Yes?" Despite her earlier confidence, her own touch to his back, the feel of him so near made the emotion quake in her gut.

He watched at her for a long moment, expression serious as his lips held firm in a line. Waiting until her eyes rose to meet his own, he pinned her with a look before he began.

"If I had not been there, at the edge of the forest..." He began.

"You were." She said, as if he had nothing to fear, nothing he need worry about.

"But if I had not acted fast enough, quickly enough." He pressed with words though he kept his grip on her loose, easily broken, "You could not have known I was there."

She shrugged, "There is a subtle act to bluffing that usually requires some level of risk."

"You are a mother to a trio of young sons." He protested.

"And yet so too am I the Herald of Andraste." She smiled thinly, "It is a strange thing to balance the two. As I'm sure you are finding."

"I..." Solas hesitated, before nodding in grudging agreement, "Yes, it is."

"Besides," she mustered the energy for a smile and fixed the expression to her lips, "I have no doubt in your ability."

Her words seemed to trouble him rather than ease the worry. And when his brows twisted into an expression of pain, Lavellan stepped closer rather than further away.

"Solas, what is going on?"

"What if I doubt?" Solas asked, "What if everything I have been working for comes to nothing because of everything I was before."

"What do you mean?" Lavellan asked, not understanding.

"After our conversation by the fire, I had intended to...apologize for what I said. Not just for what I said back then, but for before as well." He glanced over her shoulder, to where the trees stood, as if sheltering the secrets he kept within their woody bodies.

"It was why I was there at the treeline when you needed me."

Lavellan watched as his hand reached up to touch the cord that rested against his neck, that kept that knot so close, and felt her throat tighten in response.

"I do not know how much more you want to know, or are willing to hear." He confessed, "But if you can spare an evening, I will tell you about the beginning of my story."

His offer seemed to suck the air from around them, leaving them in a void of sound as Lavellan struggled to understand what he was saying.

"What?" Floundering, Lavellan looked up at him, "I don't-"

Strange, but his offer to explain everything seemed to fill her with dread rather than the soaring happiness she always imagined she would feel.

"What has happened?" She demanded, "Why change your mind now? Moments ago you refused to tell me, so why?"

Solas sighed, as if a weight had settled over him in that moment. "You thought me grim and fatalistic, but I was not lying when I spoke of leaving. I fear it may come sooner rather than later."

"You don't know that!" Lavellan whispered fiercely as if the strain had pulled her voice taut like a string, "You could stay for weeks, maybe even months or..."

Solas smiled sadly, "Or I could be gone in the morning, and never have had a chance to say goodbye."