Ahrue approached Din'an Hanin cautiously, not sure of whether or not to expected a trap. From the cover of the heavy trees, she spotted a single lookout, standing just outside the doors. Ahrue quickly sent an icy blast to freeze the lookout while remaining in cover. She emerged from the trees and approached the woman's frozen form. Another Venatori mage. Amateurs, she thought to herself. Ahrue channeled the fade in a heavy distortion of space that shattered the lookout like a rock to a glass window.

She walked lightly through the open door of the tomb, hearing the murmur of men's voices coming from a lower chamber. There was coughing and then… her heart raced and her breath caught in her chest at the sound of his voice. Solas. She peeked through an archway that led to a grand staircase and down into a wide chamber. At the bottom of the stairs, a Red Templar had Solas by the throat, while a Venatori with his back to her spoke to Solas too softly for Ahrue to hear. Two additional Templars and a Venatori rogue stood around Solas. The Templars were likely stifling the fade and preventing Solas from using magic. Either the Venatori's words or the lack of air made Solas frantic. He began struggling, clawing, kicking to get free, but the Templar had him firmly.

She needed to act fast. At this distance, the Templars were not affecting her ability to draw from the fade; they were too focused on Solas. But as soon as they would become aware of her presence, they'd close in, and her magic would be disrupted. Solas looked injured, so she knew she couldn't count on his assistance in the impending fight. Fighting without a team, she needed to be able to use magic fully, so the Templars posed a particular problem. A moment of disrupted focus could mean a quick death for her and Solas, and while she wasn't sure how she felt about seeing him here, she was sure that she didn't want him to die.

She reached into her pouch to pull out a jar of angry bees, magically held in stasis. She could use the bees to cause a distraction and break the Templars' focus. She whispered a prayer to Mythal (more out of habit than true belief), and stepped through the archway. Before the Templars had time to react, she pulled the energy of the fade around Solas in a protective barrier, and threw the bees directly at the center Templars' head. The jar shattered against his helmet, and the stasis spell broke, releasing a swarm of bees into the area. The Templar strangling Solas dropped him to the ground where he lay unconscious or dead. The bees set to work swarming into the Templars' armor through eye slits, opening of the neck holes, and the space between slats of metal. The men shouted and swung at the air with their swords.

Staff in hand, Ahrue drew her blade from her belt and made for the mage who was now turning to face her. He didn't have time to so much as shout before she swung her blade through his neck, and he crumpled lifeless to the ground. The Templars made for her, but the persistent nuisance of the bees, made their focus spotty. Even so, three Templars and a rogue against a single mage were not exactly favorable odds.

She thrust her arms forward and a telekinetic wave put the Templars and the rogue off balance and halted their advance. She took a deep breath and focused her energy, everything she could muster, through the anchor on her hand. She splayed her fingers, feeling the threads of the fade unravel at her touch, and then abruptly pulled her hand back toward her body, grimacing at the ripping sensation that signaled the opening of a rift. The rift wouldn't do much damage to the Templars, but it would further draw their magic-stifling focus away from her.

The tactic was effective, and their hold on the fade loosened further. She wrapped a barrier around herself and run toward the group, spectral blade flashing. As long as they didn't disrupt her magic, Ahrue's barriers were virtually unbreakable. For every hit she landed, her barrier replenished. The Templar that had strangled Solas swung his broadsword horizontally into Ahrue's right arm. The momentum and weight of the weapon sent her stumbling in the direction of the impact, but her barrier held, and she regained herself quickly. She slammed her staff to the ground and smiled as the forking energy she summoned charged the metal in her opponents' armor and weapons. While they shook in place, bracing themselves against the white hot pain cascading through their electrified nerves, Ahrue swung her blade into the shoulder of the rogue to her left. He screamed, fell to his knees, and Ahrue set him ablaze for good measure.

A hit from behind struck her left shoulder, the force causing her to drop her sword. She whirled around, using her staff to freeze the humid air, creating a short wall of ice between her and the Templars. She pick up her blade, a rolled her wrenched shoulder to loosen the aching muscle while the Templars busied themselves hacking through the ice. She thrust her arms forward, toward the Templars, sending the shards of ice flying in a telekinetic wave into the faces of the Templars. They shouted and pawed at their stinging eyes, and Ahrue swung her blade to cleanly end the Templar to her left with a cut to his neck.

The two remaining Templar closed in on her. When they drew close, Ahrue focused the space around her. The Templars' movements become thick and slow in the distorted bubble of time she summoned. The one to her right lifted his sword above his head, while the other made to lunge. She stepped out from her place between them and around to stand behind the Templar on the right and released her hold on the fade. The slowness of their movements abated and the Templar to the left lunged forward just in time to catch the heavy downswing of the other's broadsword in a quick fatal blow to his head. Ahrue deftly swung her blade to the back of the last Templar's knees, slicing the ligaments. He fell forward, and before he could hit the ground, she froze him solid, so the collision with the floor sent his pieces scattering.

With the last Templar dead, Ahrue returned her staff to her back and shifted her focus to the rift she'd opened. With a wriggle of her fingers and a flick of her wrist, she sutured the rift shut. She turned to the crumpled form of Solas. He was very still. Ahrue steadied her breath and returned her hilt to her belt as she walked to where he lay on the broken, tiled floor. She knelt beside him and placed her fingers on his wrist, refusing to let her hands shake while she felt for a pulse. Nothing. She repositioned her stone-steady hand to try again. The slow beat drummed against her fingers. Her breath left her in a rush, an unexpected sob escaping her throat. Her legs, firm and strong a moment before, shook and buckled, and she fell to her hip. She hadn't allowed the possibility of him being dead to impact her until she was sure he was alive. Now both the grief at almost losing him and the relief that she hadn't hit her heavily.

She beat her fist painfully against the floor in punishment for still being so affected by him. He'd lied to her, used her, and abandoned her, and still she fell to pieces at the thought of living in a world that he wasn't a part of. Foolish and sentimental. I should leave him, she thought to herself. He'll live, and it would be better if she was gone when he woke up. But against her better judgment, she rolled him to his back and placed a hand to his chest. Closing her eyes, she let her magic consume her senses. From the point of contact, her focus spread out, and out, gradually taking in the inner workings of his entire body. She felt the bruised and battered jaw; the stab wound that passed through the base of his mouth, behind his chin; the barely open airway and throat bruised with large fingermarks where the Templar had gripped him; and the broken ribs.

Ahrue wasn't much of a healer when it came to magic, but she was handy with more mundane remedies. She began rummaging through her pack to find the bandages and healing salves to tend to his injuries. A poultice for the jaw and throat should reduce the swelling, sooth the pain and speed the healing. A few stiches behind the chin would have to do for the stab wound. And she would need to bandage the ribs.

The ribs gave her pause. Not because she wasn't confident in her ability to stabilize the area, but because tending to the injury required familiar physical contact. Still, the wound needed to be dressed. She took a deep breath, clenched her jaw, and gently rolled the bottom of his shirt up, and then gingerly worked it over his head and arms. She examined the wound with as much clinical coldness as she could manage. The skin was badly discolored near and around the break, but no bones had punctured the skin or lungs. She poured the salve directly onto the wound, and tried not to think about how warm and familiar his body felt against hers as she dressed the injury, how much she enjoyed the look of his lithe, lean form. She stepped back the moment she was done with her work and tried to slow her heart beat.

He looked uncomfortable on the hard ground. Dragging him to his bed roll didn't seem like a good idea given his injuries, so she rolled up the thin mattress and positioned it behind his head. She applied the poultices to his jaw and throat and sewed up the stab wound. She stepped back and admired her work. That was a little better. He would wake up in a while, hurting but alive. He could use magic to heal what she hadn't. She wasn't needed any further. She should leave.

The Well, so calm for the past week, rebelled violently against the idea of her leaving Solas, beating like a war drum behind her eyes. She sat down quickly in anticipation of the imminent dizziness. "I'll stay. I'll stay," she whispered softly, and the Well receded. The Vir'abelasan had refused her the company of any of her comrades, but the whispers insisted on Solas remaining. She looked at him: familiar and stranger. Who was he really? Was he the deceitful monster the despair demon had shown her or the gentle lonely romantic she'd loved? Her reason told her that he was not to be trusted. He had deceived her, hid things from her, and abandoned her. But her heart still saw him as the man whose fingers trembled as he pulled an arrow from her shoulder, who kissed the tears from her cheeks, who marveled at her and admired her with an openness that surprised and delighted her. Whatever he was, she was ashamed to admit to herself that she missed him. She missed the light Northern brogue of his voice, his clever impish eyes, and his sad smile. She missed their long conversations and their long walks. She missed hearing him talk to Cole with such sensitivity, patience, and love. Like a father. Most of all, she missed how, with him, she felt like she'd found home at last.

Ahrue brushed the tears from her cheeks. Despite everything she loved and missed about him, the fact remained that he had left her of his own volition. Whatever he had felt or still felt for her, he'd chosen not to be with her. Nothing had changed. Well… something had changed, but she did not want him to stay out of obligation, nor did she want to subject her child to the fickle affections of a flighty father. Even if he woke up and begged her to take him back, she couldn't really trust him to stay, not when she didn't understand why he'd left in the first place. But he wouldn't want her to take him back, she admitted coldly to herself. He would wake up, they would make pained conversation, and he would leave again.

She put her hand to her abdomen. She was still barely showing and didn't yet look pregnant. Solas wouldn't be able to tell with her wearing armor, and she wouldn't disabuse him of his misperception. She could keep secrets too. But maybe he already knew. He might have sensed it in her as Dorian had, or heard about it through dreams or rumor. Or he might know her body so well that the subtle changes would alert him as clearly as a frank announcement. In any event, he would not hear it from her lips.

Solas moaned softly in his sleep, probably from the pain in his ribs or throat. For a moment, Ahrue relished his pain. With all the grief he had caused her, with her bearing the consequences of their dalliance while he could walk away again and again, only to come back into her life unexpectedly, he deserved a little pain. Why was he even here? Had he known she was coming? Had he come here to meet her? Or did Mythal or the Well have some purpose in pulling her to him? Of course. The Well had rebelled when she'd thought to leave him, it made sense that it had also drawn her here to find him. Ahrue sighed. She had been open to following the Vir'abelasan when she thought it would lead her to old ruins, the sentinels, and answers, but she hadn't planned on running into Solas again so soon. The wounds were still too fresh. And how long did Mythal and the whispers of the Vir'abelasan plan to force them together? If Solas woke up and decided to leave, would Ahrue be able to let him go, or would the throbbing whispers push her to follow him?

She grunted in frustration. This train of thought was leading her nowhere. She was subjected to the will of Mythal, and fretting about it would accomplish nothing. Ahrue decided that she needed to focus on something else. She was tempted to search Solas' pack to find out what brought him to the Graves. Creators know he wouldn't give her a straightforward answer if she asked. But being a private person herself, she balked at the thought of invading his privacy. Besides, her longing to know his reasons for leaving and his reasons for being in the Graves had more to do with wanting to be told than wanting to know. The Venatori corpses were another matter however. She had not yet searched the bodies for information or useful supplies. Ahrue crouched beside the mage and rifled through his robes. A small scroll, stained with red sealing wax was tucked into an inner pocket. This message was in the common tongue, thankfully.

Magister Brutes,

The Inquisitor is bound for the Emerald Graves, alone. Heard her whispering about exploring ancient Elven ruins with her friends. Also can confirm that earlier reported rumors are true. She will leave Skyhold within the fortnight. I trust I have fulfilled my debt to you.

Signed,

G

A spy in Skyhold. The message looked like the ones carried by Leliana's birds. Ahrue would need to get word to the Inquisition. Fenedhis. She didn't want to go back, not with how firm she'd been that she needed to leave immediately, and the slight throb behind her eyes told her the Well wouldn't allow her to travel back anyway. Maybe she could get a messenger bird at a nearby town. Or perhaps Leliana still had scouts in the area. She spat on the dead mage. "You and your friends have caused me a lot of trouble. You're being very poor losers," she said dryly.