Skyhold glimmered in the midday sun, the blanched stones shining like a beacon. Home. Evelyn smiled at him and nudged her horse forward, the first horn sounding as the men on the walls sighted their banners. The courtyard was unusually still, with no clanging of swords or shouts of the trainers to be heard. Perhaps Rutherford decided to give it a rest for a single day. Only Josephine stood at the turn in the stair, smiling a closed mouth smile that did not reach her eyes.

"If we could speak in private, your worship?" she called as Evelyn slid off her mount.

"In a moment. Where is Warren?"

"In the tavern, your grace. If I could first give you the status of-"

"Later," Evelyn raised a single hand, already heading toward the smaller building. She reached the door and stopped, extending that same hand behind her, fingers spread in an invitation. "Come on, let's do this."

Solas cautiously accepted her hand and followed her into the dim of the tavern. It was always a rowdy place, full of song and commotion, smells of spilled beer and firewood. Today, however, the place seemed almost deserted. Only a handful of people sat at the tables, spread throughout the room, hugging the walls. Warren was among them, sitting alone with a tankard before him.

"We've returned," Evelyn said triumphantly.

"So I see," he replied, emptying the cup in one swallow. "Have you spoken to your advisors?"

"I came to see you first, I had something I wanted to tell you."

"I think you should go speak to your advisors first."

She laughed. "Why are you being like this?"

Warren stared at her. "Look around you."

She shook her head slowly, her smile slipping. "I don't understand what you're getting at. Why are you playing this game? Where is everyone?"

"Evelyn," he said in a low, quiet voice. "Go speak with your advisors."

Her demeanor shifted almost imperceptibly. A slight straightening of her shoulders, head changing its angle. Her fingers went limp in his and he dropped her hand in response. "I'll find you after I've been briefed."

"Goody," he said dryly, gesturing toward the bartender with three fingers.

Solas followed her out into the courtyard, watching her straighten her jacket as she walked, smoothing her hair back into where she had gathered it up at the base of her neck. Josephine still stood on the stair, with that same strange smile. Solas felt his veins turn to ice.

"Not all of them," said Cole, now seated on the wall. "Just most."

"When?"

"The path was damp with rain and the horses were already unsure on their feet. The storm on the horizon. Move, quickly, we mustn't be out in the open in the dark. Then the dark took flame. Red. Everywhere. The first screams, frightened, then angry. So angry. Why."

"An ambush," he whispered.

"No. They did not try to hide. I think we surprised them. They were frightened too, in their way."

"How many, Cole?"

Cole drummed his heels on the wall. "Three hundred and three men sent to Adamant. Plus you. Plus her. Plus me. Thirty-two fell against the walls; one hundred and twenty inside them. Twelve tumbled from the mountain pass when the attack started, reaching out for handholds that weren't there. Sixty and one returned to Skyhold. The red templars and their demons took the rest. The path was so narrow, they rode two at a time to keep from falling. Picked off like petals from a flower, two by two. Not enough swords to stop the collision. Just deaths, one side at a time. Until one side ran out of lives."

Solas stared at the open doorway to the fortress, wondering how she was receiving this news.

"It would not have mattered, if you had been there. She would have been near the front of the line. You would have just died, too."

"Thank you, Cole, but I think I need to be alone for a while."

"All right." The boy disappeared again.

In the hall, Varric gave a low whistle when Solas approached. "You picked a hell of a time to fuck off, Chuckles."

"So I gathered. I am glad to see you still live."

"There aren't a whole helluva lot of those you could say that about. Those of us that survived did it by dumb luck alone. If Curly's horse hadn't thrown a shoe, if Cassandra hadn't stopped to help him, if Iron Bull hadn't been flirting with that scout at the back of the procession..." Varric shook his head. "It was a goddamned disaster and we're lucky anyone made it back."

"We will likely have to push recruitment, speed up the training."

"We don't have time for that shit, or the money. She's going to have to find an army to absorb."

Solas glanced at the dwarf sharply, seeing the sad, knowing look in Varric's eyes. "Ah. And I assume there is one already awaiting her."

"Shiny and strong. Waiting for the right alliance."

"At the right terms."

Varric nodded. "You always were quick on the uptake. I like that about you." He shifted his weight, arms hanging at his sides. "Look, you knew this was coming eventually. Current events just sped it up a little."

"So I am to just roll over and take it for the sake of her military might?"

"No, you roll over and take it because it's the right thing to do."

Solas somehow managed to close the door to the rotunda without slamming it. He walked swiftly to his desk to place both hands against the rough wood, leaning forward and trying to steady his breath. This shouldn't anger him in this way. He knew their time was ending, wasn't that why he worked so hard to keep each moment tender and fraught with feeling? To give himself something to carry once he had to walk away, something to think about in his darkest hours alone in the confines of the new world he created. With a loud exhale his head fell forward, eyes shutting against the visions of a future he knew he would endure without her. His eyes were still closed tight when he heard the creak of the hinges and felt her slip inside, just behind him.

"Solas, there was an attack," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

"I have heard." He turned, sitting on the edge of his desk. "I am sorry, Evelyn. I can only imagine how you must feel."

"I don't know that I feel anything just yet. I think I'm still processing all of this. There's been a... well, a lot to deal with over the past few days."

"I understand. Would you like to be alone?"

"No," she shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. "But I do think I should talk to Warren alone. That boy," she shook her head, "... man. He was 22. That's technically a man, isn't it?" She rubbed at her upper arms roughly. "His name was Teague. Warren and he passed some time together. His horse lost its footing and he didn't come back."

"I am very sorry, Evelyn."

"You don't need to be sorry. When I heard how it happened, how they died." She looked away, toward the outer door. "If we had been with them, you would have died too. It's not a comfort to know I likely wouldn't have lived to know it, but there it is." She wiped at her eyes with the palm of her hand. "I should go. I have to give Warren my happy news. I think he might not be as pleased as I originally planned. Not now that I have to find something better than my heart to offer in exchange for our security."

When the door closed behind her, Solas allowed himself to sit heavily in his chair, his head in his hands. The memory of a familiar voice, its tone gentle, yet chiding echoed in his mind. Repeating the words he'd heard so many times before.

"Oh, my dear sweet boy. What have you done?"