Hope you guys all had a good weekend. I visited fossil beds and tried to explain to my 4-year-old why the horses pictured on the informational plaque weren't any of the fossils we saw, and then fielded a ton of questions about how the specific ones in the artistic rendering had died, whether they had been eaten by other animals, and whether their fossils would be discovered in the future.

Not Technically Swamped

Since conditions at Skyhold had improved, I had managed to requisition a tent just large enough for all of us to squeeze into while we remained in the mountains. Solas and I spent the two days of that descent debating whether or not to simply announce we were sharing a tent once we reached the valley and let the implications of that decision stand. We could only snatch odd moments of privacy, and sometimes resorted to passing notes written in Elvish, though his command of the language was so much better than mine that this was of limited use. At least, I supposed, it was easy to pretend he was offering me lessons. It was what he ended up doing, even though it wasn't one of our goals.

The only thing we were at odds over was the timeline. We agreed that we weren't going to be able to hide our association for very long - it was possible we weren't hiding it now - and that the only way to avoid all political fallout was to break things off, which wasn't a real option. That meant, sooner or later, owning up to it. I thought it should be sooner, especially when speaking of my inner circle. I didn't want anyone to think that this was something I was drifting into or could be talked out of - I would rather make a clear statement on the matter, and I preferred to make it first to those I trusted most. I suspected they would have ideas for dealing with both the larger organization of the Inquisition, and also the world as a whole.

Solas favored waiting because my position as Inquisitor was so new, and he feared what it would look like to the former leadership of the Inquisition - now my advisors - if the two most-determinedly 'elfy' (as Sera would put it) of the elves were suddenly paired off. I couldn't dismiss his concern entirely - it worried me, too. We were both apostates, neither of us much enamored of the Chantry. This might look like an alliance - would , to some, like Vivienne - and it might make things that much worse when they learned the focus Corypheus wielded was elven in origin.

But that would all be true no matter what timeline we stuck to, and I wasn't certain that time would solidify their trust in me to the point where it would become unshakeable - at least not for all of them. I suspected, first, that Leliana already knew exactly what was happening between us, because she was Leliana and apparently the next thing to omniscient. Second, I thought openness with Josephine in particular - giving her as much time as I could to craft narratives - was more likely to secure her trust than any other set of actions I could take. Leliana, too, would relax very slightly if she thought I trusted them .

Solas was probably right about Cullen, but Cullen was too forthright himself to expect complicated machinations from anyone else. He would weigh what he knew he liked about my actions and my reasons for them against what he knew he disliked, and base his opinion on that. Timing didn't matter much - he was unlikely to ever view the things I did that pleased him as part of a nefarious plot to trick him into something. If he regarded me a little more coolly for a few weeks or months until my actions reassured him that I was what he had already judged me to be, I could live with that.

"It's your decision, ultimately," Solas told me as we descended the last long slope into the lowest of the Frostbacks' foothills, riding rearguard so we could speak privately. "You have heard my concerns, but as you are the one who must bear most of the consequences, I would be little better than your clan if I attempted to keep you from making the choice for yourself."

"And the fact that you want to spend our nights together has nothing to do with it, of course," I teased him, immediately feeling more settled now that I knew he wouldn't hold it against me if I followed my own judgment. It still wasn't a courtesy I was overly optimistic about receiving, but Blackwall's words about other courtesies came back to me, and I thought I should probably start not only expecting it, but insisting upon it. It was a little more important than the pretty flourishes of courtly manners.

"Wanting to spend my nights with you has a great deal to do with it," he responded easily. "We wouldn't be having this debate at all, were that less true."

"We still aren't really going to be having sex in camp," I pointed out. "Your spell may confuse words enough to make them unrecognizable, but it won't confuse...that."

"I am well aware," he said. "The shivas'lath exists for no other reason than to enhance our satisfaction in being together. Sexual pleasure is certainly an important facet, but far from the only one."

I snorted softly - hopefully softly enough that he didn't hear it. It wasn't for him, after all, just for myself. Of course I knew there was satisfaction in being together. I craved it. I craved it so much that it seemed to me all but certain he would fail to feel the same way.

That was what years of nonlinear Fade meetings earned me, I supposed. Or maybe the real damage had been done when he hadn't recognized me on the path to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. In any case, I didn't entirely trust Cole's assertion that he felt as I did - even with a bond that literally allowed me to feel that he felt as I did.

That night when we divided into pairs for sharing tents, I claimed Solas. Afterward I was, for once, glad that I couldn't actually see how anyone looked at me. I also pretended I couldn't hear anything when Sera shouted after us: "Are you friggin' kidding me? But he's old! And elfy! And boring!"

The remainder of the nights we spent on the road to the Fallow Mire I, at least, spent very comfortably.

The Fallow Mire boasted both undead and a plague, as expected, and since we decided to count any time anyone caught Dorian fussing with his hair as a complaint - he was being stubborn about actually voicing anything - I was definitely going to lose the bet. It was also just as wet as expected. "Breaks" in the rain consisted of handfuls of minutes together during which it became light enough that I couldn't actively feel individual drops striking me any longer.

Harding was waiting for us, looking reasonably well rested, which I hoped meant she had managed to catch up on whatever sleep she had forgone to rush down here and lead the search for the missing soldiers herself. She showed me a map on which an old road - now falling into disrepair - was marked. "This is probably the only firm ground you can count on," she said apologetically. "I tried sending people out to look for faster routes, but there are a lot of dead ends."

"It's a wetland. Firm ground a week ago is not necessarily firm ground today," I pointed out. "The road was probably built up, somehow, and perhaps reinforced, as well."

"It was," she agreed, "but mostly with wood, so…"

"So it's a good thing we're following it now and not in five years," I agreed, my tone likely the only dry thing in the whole of the stinking bog. "Can you estimate how long it will take us to reach the fort?"

"That's hard," she said. "A lot depends on how many undead you encounter." She tapped a marked place on the map. "Back when this place saw trading caravans, this was a common camp for them. It's about a day's ride at a moderate pace from the fort. The ground is supposed to be a little elevated and fairly dry, and it's defensible."

"But you haven't gone to look at it yourself? Or sent anyone?" I asked with a sinking feeling. The spot was much nearer this camp than it was the fort. Perhaps less than half the distance.

"I wasn't willing to risk my people being caught out after dark," she said with a firm shake of her head. "It was too far to walk in half a day."

"Right," I sighed. "Which means, on foot…"

"It's likely more than a day to the fort," Harding agreed, rubbing the back of her neck. "At least this time of year."

"Fenedhis," I swore quietly. "This is going to be truly miserable."

"Well, we haven't seen any rifts between here and the next camp," Harding offered. "That's good news?"

I supposed I would have to take what I could get.

We stayed at the camp that night, Solas and Dorian going out to find herbs with Blackwall and Cole trailing behind them as both extra hands and to provide aid should they encounter any of the undead Harding had told us about. Solas returned soaked through, triumphantly carrying a lotus plant that he swore was a species he had never before encountered, pulled from a small patch of similar plants. He and Dorian spent the evening - once I had forced them both into dry clothing - arguing over how much it would be reasonable to take, given that the plant seemed rare, and making plans for decoctions that would test its properties.

He was still discussing the possibility of previously-undiscovered plants in the - admittedly sparsely populated - region as we fell asleep.

The next morning we got an early start, setting out just before dawn. No one was particularly pleased to be awake, but I wanted to be certain we would make the next campsite before it got dark, and that we would have time to set up, too. We were taking along extra tents and gear to leave behind. Some of Harding's scouts - all versed in first aid - would come along the next day and attempt to arrange it for treating wounded, in case the soldiers were in poor condition. Of course, it turned out it was more than a day's walk from the fort - where they were apparently being held - to the camp, but...we were doing what we could. At least Solas was very good with healing magic for a man who insisted he wasn't a healer, and I wasn't entirely hopeless.

I could see that Harding hadn't been idle. The road near our forward camp showed signs of having been recently built up and reinforced. We made reasonably good time all morning, managing to keep out of the water and encountering nothing more than a single wandering wraith, quickly destroyed. We walked in single file, Dorian going first, testing the ground with both his staff and his weight, Bull next, then Cole. I followed Cole, with Solas walking close behind, generally keeping one hand hovering near my elbow so he could steady me if I tripped. After him, Cassandra, Blackwall, and Sera came in some order - I had too much to pay attention to with placing my feet to concern myself with it.

Around noon the road climbed a hill, atop which stood a pillar with a brazier fastened to it. It was still raining, so there was no chance of a dry rest, but it was nice to stand on firmer ground, at least. We stopped and ate an abbreviated and somewhat unsatisfying meal, but something about the pillar kept tugging at the edges of vision I didn't have. I stuffed the last of the hardtack I was stoically chewing my way through into my mouth, and felt my way nearer the pillar with my staff.

There was...magic swirling around it, but not magic that did things, precisely. More...magic that held impressions - not just words, but other things. There were old stories about the Elvhen using such magic, though it had been lost to my people since long before the founding of the Dales.

Solas's voice spoke in my ear: "There is writing here, for those with eyes to see it. Let me show you a use for Veilfire beyond conveniently lighting the way without the need for physical fuel." He took my hand and led me around the other side of the pillar to the brazier, summoning the Veilfire to the vessel.

And top of the hill exploded.

There was no light, no heat, very little force, even - but even Bull flinched. The other non-mages were left gasping - Dorian actually fell to his knees, while Solas and I were saved from tumbling to the ground only by the presence of the pillar as he instinctively flung his arms around me, throwing us both off balance. We half-collapsed against the rough stone.

"What the shit - " Bull began to demand.

His question was cut off by an unholy shriek, coming from one throat, but shrilling with multiple voices. Solas snatched the staff I still gripped from my hand, his own set aside during his meal, and put up one of the most impressive barriers I had ever seen, expanding out from a single point to cover not just us, but the entire crown of the hill. Beyond it, something twisted erupted from the ground, letting out another mind-shredding shriek of pain and fear.

Fear? No.

Terror.