As the morning sun rose higher in the frosted sky, blocks of golden rays caressed the length of Andra's room as they filtered through her window, filling it with the warmth of the new day. She explained to Solas her encounter with the Spirit. It had brought her out of her dream, causing her to be 'awake' in the Fade, and then had told her such promising things...

All she had to do in order to learn of her past was some quests. It couldn't get any worse or more ridiculous than this first one that Mischief had asked of her.

"Are you sure it wasn't a dream?"

Andra saw the skepticism in Solas' eyes but she felt very firm in her belief that it was true. "No, I'm sure it was real. My dreams are always so hazy in my mind when I wake up but I remember this so vividly, as if it was a memory instead."

Solas nodded, "I believe you." He needed no further convincing. In the span of his life, he had no doubt seen instances of this. Where a non-mage had been 'conscious' in their sleep and had spoken with Spirits. The Inquisitor would be a good example except they were physically in the Fade—which didn't entirely count. What intrigued him most, however, was that this spirit had wanted to speak with her. It sought her out intentionally. Though as the embodiment of Mischief, what good was really going to come of this?

"What did it ask of you?"

Andra let out a short, breathy laugh of exasperation, "I'm to go to Arlathan to recover some old rune."

"Arlathan?" Solas was tense, his expression surprised as he stood. "The Elvhen city doesn't exist any longer. Tevinter sank it into the ground. It would be well overrun with the growth of the forest by now if anything had survived at all." If Andra was better at reading Solas' expressions, she might have noticed the fleeting sorrow that passed over him, or how his voice grew softer as he finished speaking.

"Yes, but I'm not looking for the lost city, I'm looking for a rune that just happens to be where Arlathan used to be. And I know the general area of where I'm supposed to go," She mused, "It's just a little north-west of Antiva. All I need to do is find the forest. I'm sure I'll figure something out from there."

"Are you seriously considering this?"

"What else can I do, Solas?" Andra removed the covers from her body and swung her feet over the side of her bed, her soles touching the cold of the wood floor, "I need to know who I am."

Andra stood up, her blonde hair in disarray as she sashayed over to her dresser to pull out some clothes to change into. Then a thought came to her and she turned around to face the older elf who still stood silently behind her, deep in thought.

"Why were you in my room when I woke up?"

Solas stopped burning a hole in the ground with his gaze to look at the curious expression of his companion. "I just arrived a few minutes ago. You were tossing in your sleep and mumbling so I came in to wake you." He paused, then closed the gap between them, "You left my mind reeling after yesterday; I wanted to see you."

Andra blushed and quickly turned back around, "It was just one kiss."

"Yes, but it was also much more than that."

Andra felt a shiver run down her spine, "I'm starting to see why Josephine insisted I have my own room."

He chuckled, "I would never do anything to you that you didn't want."

It was like a silent promise. For a moment, Andra was distracted, her mind wandering down rabbit trails of possibilities. She shook the feeling away. The sensation of his lips on hers still lingered, a tingling, electric vibe—but so now did a gnawing cautiousness. They had shared a kiss, and she hoped dearly that this wouldn't be a passing fling.

For now, she would see where this path led her.

For now, that carnal lust was enough.

"S-so," Andra did her best to brush off the heat that rolled through her, "will you come with me?" She paused a moment but then added, "It's okay if you'd rather not."

"I thought we had already settled this matter?" Solas replied.

"It's hard to tell with you, sometimes," Andra admitted as she turned around to face her companion. "I know you've opened up to me quite a bit, but I can still tell that you're guarded."

Silence.

And then a sigh.

"I've been through much in my life. None of that is important at the moment though, and I believe it best to not drag you into it even if it was." He averted his eyes, a solemnness furrowing his brow.

"What if I wanted to be dragged into it?" Andra pressed herself against him, manipulative but with good intentions.

He placed his hands at her waist, "Can we not simply enjoy each other as we are for now?"

Andra held his gaze, trying to see what secrets lied beneath the vast, deep oceans of his eyes. For the briefest of moments, she thought she saw sadness flicker through them, a heavy longing—like lightning hitting the water's surface and spreading like tree roots before fizzling out.

The mask returned.

"For now," she yielded.

.

.

.

Before setting off, Andra made a quick stop to meet with the Inquisitor. A stop that proved to be even better as the Inquisition leader was in the meeting room, standing over the 'War Table'—Cullen, Josephine, Varric, Blackwall, Dorian, and Iron Bull present as well.

It wasn't really a War Table anymore, mainly a glorified map that came with intricate chess-like pieces to scoot around to symbolize troops. The Templar/Mage war was over with, Corypheus was defeated. Right now was a time of peace. A peace which everyone hoped lasted.

Of course, there were still small skirmishes to deal with, abandoned land to be distributed to lords and common folk, and the ever increasing amount of public events the Inquisitor needed to show themselves to. Everyone wanted to meet the new Savior of the World, wanted to gaze at the magnificence of what would become their new Legend—and subsequently be underwhelmed that the embellished stories weren't quite as true as people made them out to be.

In the beginning, the Inquisitor had obliged fully, attending as many events as they could from the invitations they had received. Though, a little humbled at first and overwhelmed, still reeling in the aftershocks of a terrible, magical battle with Corypheus. Now, the invitations were becoming a bit tiresome. The War was over so naturally people wanted to celebrate, but in the year that had passed, the celebrating had only gotten more and more extravagant. It felt as if people were choosing to forget how near death they had been. How near the end the world had almost been. The Inquisitor wasn't going to stop people from their merriment, but it made their burden heavier. The job of cleaning up the mess in the aftermath had fallen practically, solely, on the Inquisition's shoulders.

It was a tremendous burden to bear, and still they hadn't even picked up half the pieces.

"Flowers!" Varric exclaimed, "Care to give your two cents on this latest issue?"

Andra laughed lightly, seeing the tired faces of her fiends about the room, "What is it this time?"

"Lord Bauldouin of Orlais is claiming he is owed a chunk of land that sits on the border near his own estate," Cullen answered, pinching the bridge of his nose, "He claims he was good friends with the previous owner, Lord Bennett—who tragically passed sometime during the War—and was promised the land was his should anything happen."

"The problem," Josephine continued, "is there is no documentation of any such promise. In fact, there's no documentation anywhere about the estate that told of any relationship with this Lord from Orlais. Nor does anyone who knew Lord Bennet ever remember him mentioning a friendship with anyone from across the border."

"Well then it should be obvious this is a ploy for land then, right?" Andra said, looking to each face in the room.

The Inquisitor sighed, resting both hands on the War Table and staring hard at its flat world view. "That's the other problem. Lord Bennett was a bit of a hermit. He hardly ever left his estate and he was wary of enemies in every shadow. He barely, if at all, even trusted his own wife—and he definitely didn't trust any of his staff. Even the people he's claimed to be friends with hardly know the man."

"Can't you just tell that to this Lord Bauldouin guy? There's no proof so he doesn't get the land?"

"And if it turns out the promise was real?" Varric added. "We don't want to go around making enemies here."

"If Lord Bennett was so paranoid, wouldn't he have kept a record somewhere? Especially of promises he made?"

"A guy like that usually doesn't leave much behind," Bull chimed in, rubbing his chin. This wasn't usually his type of work. Planning. He was an action man. Give him instructions and he carried them out. The tool rather than the hand. "Doesn't want to leave anything where his enemies might find them."

Andra shook her head, unable to discern how she could possibly help. This wasn't her area of expertise. Politics went over her head. And whether the choice they would eventually come to was actually the right one or not, she knew these sort of matters were in the right hands. Or at least, better hands than hers.

"Well," Andra went on, "it looks like you have your work cut out for you." She fixed the strap of her backpack and adjusted her bow that she had slung over her shoulder, "I came, though, to say goodbye."

They all looked at her, confusion mixing into the air.

"You only just got here," Dorian said. "Not even three weeks and you can't stand us any longer?" A joke, but Andra sensed his sadness. The two of them had always gotten along well.

"There are some things I need to do." Andra tried to remain vague, she knew no one would believe her reason for leaving. Though, despite all that had happened, she could admit to herself that this did seem a little crazy. She was obeying the whims of Mischief itself. A fool's errand, some might say.

"Will you be coming back?" Josephine asked.

"Eventually," She smiled. "It'll be a while though. As long as it takes me to find some answers."

The Inquisitor straightened, a knowing look on their face, "You know, I'm sure something will turn up eventually." A hallow reassurance. Andra was already shaking her head.

"I can't wait. I have a direction and I need to look into some things. But who knows, if this all turns out to be fruitless, maybe when I get back you'll have something for me?"

Everyone in the room looked between Andra and the Inquisitor, not knowing what they were talking about. The Inquisitor forced a smile, then crossed the room to wrap the blonde elf in a tight hug. "One can hope. I'll make sure to be extra attentive to your request."

"Thank you." It was all Andra could say, hugging back. Somewhere, deep inside her, she knew they would find nothing—but it never hurt to be hopeful.

"What's the name of your destination, at least?" Bull asked, locking gazes with Andra as she parted from the embrace with the Inquisition leader.

She laughed nervously, no one in the room would like her answer. "I'm... going to the ruins of Arlathan."

Solas chose that moment to walk into the room, the heavy doors opening before him, oblivious to the reasoning behind the startled and confusion twisted faces.

"Are you putting ideas into her head, Chuckles?" Varric said, a faint sternness in his voice.

"Ideas?" Solas repeated.

"Arlathan?" The Inquisitor asked with scrutiny. "She's going to a city that doesn't even exist anymore." It sounded ridiculous to Andra when put that way.

Solas clasped his hands behind him as he stood in the doorway, "I said nearly the same thing to her this morning. If I thought she could be swayed, I might have tried harder. Believe me, I did not influence the choice she's making now."

Varric eyed the bald elf with narrowed eyes, trying to see if there were cracks in the truth he was offering. Solas met his gaze before continuing, "She believes this will lead her to a missing piece of her past, who am I to stand in the way?" Although he meant it, a part of Solas also longed to look upon the lost city. Or at least what was left of it, even if it was only woods anymore. It had been so long...

"And you plan to go alone?" Blackwall joined in.

"This is my journey, my burdens are no one else's, nor would I ask anyone else to carry them," Andra's voice was soft, determined, "but no, Solas is coming with me."

"Aha!" Sera said suddenly, appearing behind Solas, a scowl on her face. "I knew you were up to some kind of trickery! Stealing Andra away from us again!"

Solas glared, his posture stiff, "I didn't ever 'steal her away from you' in the first place."

"A lie if I ever heard one!" Sera waltzed into the room, standing in front of Solas with her hands on her hips. "You upset her last time and she ran away to her elfy friends and we didn't see or hear from her for months! That was your fault!"

"Sera!" Andra chided, "You promised me!" The two of them locked eyes at that and while Sera didn't stop glaring suspiciously at Solas, she did shut up.

After one last jab: "You don't deserve her," a hissed whisper that only Solas could hear as she crossed the room and leaned against the far wall, arms crossed.

"Okay!" Andra exclaimed, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well, we're going to be on our way." She then looked towards the Inquisitor, "Thank you for your hospitality."

The Inquisitor laughed and waved their hand, "No need for the formality, you're always welcome here." Then to Solas, "As are you."

"Ma serannas." The older elf said with the nod.

"Well, we'll walk you both to the gate," The Inquisitor added, ushering everyone out of the room. Then draping an arm around Andra's shoulder, walking at her side, "And here I was, hoping that I could get used to having you guys around again."

Andra felt her heart swell, "One day, I'm sure."


ELVHEN USED:

Ma serannas: "My thanks."