"I suppose it wasn't a new job you were looking for in the galley?" Lelianna crossed her arms as she leaned against the desk Josephine currently fretted behind. "I can't say we would recommend you."

He had not, in all his careful planning, considered the eventuality of truly having to return to Skyhold while the Inquisition still inhabited it. Nevertheless, it was ground more familiar to him than to any others who might haunt those halls, and he managed to make it as far as the kitchens before someone noticed him.

"Is there," he tried to keep his voice even, "something I have been accused of?"

Lelianna frowned deeply, as Josephine stood. "Master Solas, I apologize. We should have been more welcoming. It was just that you departed so suddenly, with no word. You must realize that would raise some suspicion."

"I see. Who was I to leave word with? From my understanding the battle was won, the victory secured." He took in a breath before continuing, "And I thought perhaps I had already overstayed my welcome, under the circumstances."

The spymaster and ambassador shared an uneasy look. Josephine adjusted her collar. "Perhaps if you had sent word before your return..."

"I am afraid I lacked the means for such communications. I have been in the field for some time."

Lelianna, then, "Doing?"

"Research."

They all stared at one another for a beat. "Solas," Josephine began again, "I should probably tell you that there is... that the Lady Trevelyan is engaged to be married."

"Yes, I am aware. I came to give my well wishes. If she is not currently available, I would be happy to wait for her in her chambers."

Lelianna let loose an involuntary snort. "I hardly think that's appropriate."

"Is there somewhere else you would suggest?"

Josephine stepped from behind her desk. "I will ask the Inquisitor directly. She is currently indisposed, but I can send in a note..."

In the war room, the scout they'd recovered from the Emerald Graves was delivering her report. The attack on the camp happened just over a week ago, and they were still receiving reports from the straggling survivors. "They were elves, your worship, but not the Dalish. No marks of any kind."

"Bandits?" Evelyn asked.

"I don't believe so, no. They didn't look like no bandits I've ever seen."

The porter brought the note to her side and she opened it hurriedly, hoping this was news of the caravan that was now overdue by a full month. Her troops and people seemed to disappear into thin air, as if they simply abandoned their posts and walked on. Yet, it wasn't all of them. It was a peculiarity that seemed to afflict elves in particular.

She scanned the two lines written on the note and nearly lost her grip on the tiny paper. Evelyn took a steadying breath to compose herself. "Tell the Ambassador that I will greet my guest in due time. Show him to my quarters."

Commander Cullen raised a brow at this, but turned back to the scout. "Did they have any imprint on their armor? Any design? Colors in kind? Anything that could..."

His questioning faded into background noise as Evelyn heard the heavy door at the far end of the hall creak open. He was here. Possibly walking through that door, toward her quarters. Back into her life.

The flowers stood on her desk, blossoming bloody red above verdant green, an accusation of all that had come to pass in his absence. So the fiance was a romantic. A wealthy one, judging from the condition and number of the blooms. Solas took one of the petals between his fingers while she quietly watched behind him.

She was thinner than when he'd last laid eyes upon her, paler as well, with a long ragged scar now tracing a lightning bolt stripe from the edge of her left eyebrow to her jaw. The surgeon was quick, she was lucky that the scar was not deeper. Lucky she didn't lose the eye entirely.

"I have spent a great deal of time in the forest, wandering, since I left your side. I learned many things. For example, do you know why lovers give flowers? It is because a flower is the truest example of mortal love. Beautiful, fragrant, but try to possess it and you can only watch it fade and die. If you leave a flower to root, to live and pass on seed and bloom, you can keep it forever." The petal plucked off in his fingers, fluttered to the floor. He watched its path intently, not quite ready to meet her gaze. "That," he said, eyes trained to the fallen red petal, "is what the forest taught me. You will never truly be mine, but I will never truly lose you."

She bristled, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Is that what you've come to tell me? That you left because... because you still secretly loved me? That you put me through all of this for me? And you dared to decide to impart this wisdom now? When I'm to be married? And what, exactly, did you hope for my answer to be? All is forgiven? Welcome you back into my home, my heart, my bed with no reservations?"

His eyes snapped closed, her words striking him as sure as a slap. How to tell her what he'd learned, what he felt, what he had done since his departure? How do you tell someone that you hurt them so deeply in the hopes that it would save them, in the long run?

He leaned against the desk, focusing on the wood grain. "I had underestimated the proclivity of humanity, it seems. You are everywhere. In every city, every forest, lingering near every run-down inn on the edge of civilization. You cover the earth, and the seas. Everywhere I turned, everywhere I looked, there were remnants of you. A woman in Highwall with her flame-red hair in a messy braid. A bard in an inn outside the Kolcari Wilds with your fingers. The fields of Eastburn smell like your sheets. Somehow you found me, no matter how far I ran. No matter how far I tried to distance myself, you were always there."

"So you came to... to tell me that you had to think of me while you were running from me?"

"I came to remind you that I do not forget. Not my feelings. And certainly not my obligations."

"You walked away on those obligations fairly easily, I might remind you."

"And I might remind you that you are already married." The words came harsher than he intended, and she took a physical step away and back.

"It would be wise you not mention that to anyone else. Not now, not ever." That formal tone creeping in, edging him back out like a wall of ice.

Solas rolled his shoulders back, craned his neck to one side, and turned to face her. "How does the anchor fare, Inquisitor? Do you find that its pulses now come unbidden? Seemingly at random? Do they wake you in the night? Is it now painful, instead of mildly unpleasant?" His voice became harsher, more insistent as he continued. "Would you like it to stop?"

Ignoring the sorrow that built as she shrank from his words, he crossed the room and grasped her wrist in his hand. "This, Inquisitor will eventually consume you. Even now you can feel it, throbbing in your veins. The anchor must be removed, and I can see from the look in your eyes that you suspected as much." He dropped her arm, backing away from her. "I came to remove that which troubles you. I had hoped to arrive in time to save your life, but now I see you have more... pressing concerns. So," he spread his arms wide. "Allow me to do this. Consider it your wedding present. I can slow the spread, perhaps even stop it."

Evelyn flexed her hand as she stared at it. It was true, what had once been an irritating crackle had recently turned into a deep, dull ache that felt wrong, like an infection deep in her bones. Halden had expressed concern, suggested some physicians in Val Royeux who had specialties in magical ailments, that they consult "some elves," as if that were something one could just point to on a map. "That," she said quietly, "would be appreciated. It has caused us some concern."

Us. Solas stared out the large paneled windows of her chamber. "I will leave as soon as it is done. I would not... I could not..." he took in an uneasy breath. "I would not wish to mar your happiness with any unpleasantness, Inquisitor. I do feel I owe you at least that."

Josephine burst up the stairs just then, her hair uncharacteristically out of place as she skidded to a stop. Evelyn recognized the look on the Ambassador's face at once. So her fiance had heard the news and insisted they treat him with all due respect. This had undoubtedly sent Josie into a full panic. "I came as soon as I... Master Solas, please allow us to formally welcome you back to Skyhold. If you would be so kind as to join me in the library, I will attempt to find suitable accommodations for you..." she made a hurried gesture with her arm.

"Of course," Solas set his mouth in a firm line. "I was just leaving." He turned to Evelyn, gave a stiff perfunctory bow. "Inquisitor."