When the little kernel of uncertainty hit Belathen, it was with the full force of its power. She had no heart to bring it up to Cullen, and she was afraid mentioning any doubt to Dorian would cut off whatever it was that had set itself in motion. Instead, she carried the discomfort with her as she explored the Emerald Graves, for once only one warrior at her side. Mostly because Cullen would pitch a fit if she left Dorian behind (not to mention the mage's own disapproval) and in this place she needed her hahren's knowledge of the past. So she took Cassandra, since the Seeker was a closer friend and knew how to take a hit better than the Iron Bull in his furious rampages.

They were almost done searching this area. Only a few more days, Bel promised herself, and she would be back. The Emerald Graves were beautiful, but something about the massive green canopies of branches simply made her... melancholy. As if the ancestors were watching her here, and shaking their heads. After all, she HAD disappointed them, hadn't she? Figurehead of a shem religion, lover to two shemlen as well... not to mention her inkling to want a true relationship with both! They would be horrified!

Once camp was made, Belathen made sure Dorian was entranced in the book he'd brought for this excursion before heading up to the hilltop. From here she could see the river, the markings left, and the grove of true, proven vallasdahlen. It was a beautiful sight. If she didn't know better how it came to be, she might think it beautiful herself. Instead it reminded her of everything the elvhen had lost- she was no Keeper, but in such a unique position she felt she should be doing something more for the Dalish.

Belathen was hunter enough, however, that even with her thoughts turned inward she still heard the quiet footsteps. Cassandra's were always so heavy, as these were not, and Dorian had a very telling gait that she could hear in each touch of his shoes to the ground. No, only Solas walked so close to silently, so much like a hunter that if she hadn't seen how he cast magic Bel would have sworn that he was meant to be chasing prey. Without turning, the Dalish woman gave a sigh and greeted her unexpected intruder.

"Aneth ara, hahren."

"Vir enansal," Solas returned. "I am surprised to see you on your own, lethallan." (Mini A/N: I wanted a response to the elvish greeting and thought this fit quite well. The literal translation would be 'the path to the gift' but with the tendency of elvhen to be lyrical it would be closer to 'this way has given a gift')

Belathen sighed, shifting to lay on her back and up at the bright afternoon sky as it just started to darken. "Did someone need something?"

"What? Oh! No. I simply imagined at least Dorian would be nearby."

"He is lost in some volume he grabbed from Skyhold."

"That... may be my fault. He asked about elvhen language and customs, so I lent him the same book I gave Cullen when he inquired."

"Then I've lost him for the night." A smile slipped to Bel's lips, resulting in a chuckle. Then, a bit serious, she added, "I do apologize. When you walked in... if it was uncomfortable."

Solas had that smug smile. Bel couldn't see it, but she heard it as he responded, "Who you allow to court you is your affair, lethallan."

That was not what she had expected. "Out of curiosity, why so calm about it? I know you aren't Dalish by any means, but I can't imagine this was something you've seen the elvhen do in the Fade."

"And what if I have?" It wasn't the response but the quickness of it, the strength and amusement in his voice, that truly was startling. "You are hardly the first to find that you have room in your heart for two, lethallan."

"So you've seen this...often?"

Solas sat down beside her, looking up into the sky from her side. "Your valleslin are of Andruil. I take it you are familiar with the Vir Tanadahl, yes?"

Belathen was intrigued, answering. "Of course. Together we are stronger than the one." Realization hit Bel quickly. "Do your mean to tell me that followers of Andruil used the Vir Tanadahl as a philosophy for more than just hunting?"

Solas was quiet for a few minutes. Likely, Bel knew, picking his words. When he did speak, it was quieter than normal. "In some of the oldest versions of their story, I may have encountered the thought that Andruil and Ghilan'nain shared a single love with another, and the three of them created the tennets together. Her hunters took that as leave to make similar relationships of their own."

Belathen considered that. Not trysts, not hidden kisses in the shadows. Relationships. It gave her hope. "So my feelings are completely natural. This could even be a step towards reclaiming some of our true traditions, rather than what we are left with after centuries of fighting."

"That... yes, I suppose that is very true."

Belathen watched the sky again, considering the implications. Maybe she wasn't such a disappointment if she could bring back this one piece of the past...

"Hahren?"

"Yes, lethallan?"

"Who was the third?" He didn't answer, but Bel pressed. "Obviously Andruil is the origin the primary tennet: fly straight and do not waver. I can see Gilan'nain as the vir adahlen. I am curious about the bow."

It was a good long time before Solas spoke. "From my understanding, Andruil is the one who was credited with bend but do not waver. The vir assan would have been... whoever they chose to love."

"Hmm." Then, thoughtful, Bel rolled back up and to her feet. "I should go back."

"I will return later. I should like to remain a moment."

"Wish me luck getting Dorian's nose from his book."

Belathen moved so quickly she missed the blush on Solas' cheeks as he watched the clouds across the sky- memories of happy times rampant. It had been long ago, but he could still remember each touch, every evening spent with true companionship.

"Fly straight," he reminded himself with a quiet whisper, "and do not waver."