Solas slid down the hill behind Lavellan, Blackwall, and Dorian, and then all hid behind a large rock that blocked the view. Lavellan popped her head over the side, bow out in her hand and nose wiggling. "There they are," she whispered, eyes narrowing as she looked down at the Venatori below them, lounging. Beside her, Blackwall grunted, scratching a little at his beard. "How many?" She asked him.

"I count twelve heads," he muttered, making sure his sword was loose in its sheath.

"Me too," she said softly, tugging out an arrow and nocking it. It was all the three men needed. Dorian laughed softly in pleasure, sneaking down one side of the hill. Solas crept down the other, with Blackwall at his heels. The large man had already pulled his shield from his back, and slowly he came up beside the elf, smiling beside himself.

"No," Solas said, and Blackwall gave a light laugh.

"I didn't even get it out! How did you know I was going to even say anything?"

"I've seen you have that look before, like you did when you learned about Lavellan and the Commander."

"Ah… you're no fun Solas." Solas didn't reply as they ducked down into the long grass surrounding the camp, waiting for the Inquisitor's first arrow strike. "Well," he breathed, "as choices go, I can't deny that he's a good one."

"What do you mean?"

"Powerful family, strong mage bloodline, quite handsome… quick as a whip to keep up with you."

Solas smirked a little, staff changing hands. "It almost sounds like you're jealous, old friend."

"Of which one?" Blackwall wondered, drawing his blade now, ear to the camp, listening for the whistle.

"Of Dorian, of course," Solas murmured, and Blackwall grinned, shouldering his a little roughly, but Solas knew it was friendly. "But it seems you are out of luck."

"There's always Sera," he teased, and Solas laughed as the arrow struck the first of the foes, and he leapt out, freezing a line of three of the Venatori with a blast from his staff.

"I don't think you're her type!" He said loudly, setting another on fire as Blackwall shattered the Venatori-sicles with a loud grunt, and a laugh.

"I'm everyone's type!" Blackwall yelled back, stabbing the man behind him and yanking back out his sword, blood splattering over him. From the other side of the camp, they heard Dorian and Lavellan laugh. Dorian had abandoned simply setting them on fire and opted for stabbing them with spike of ice.

Lavellan snorted as she reached them, pulling out a knife and throwing it behind Solas, right over his shoulder. He didn't even have time to turn before he heard the gurgle, and he jumped a little, looking at the man falling to his knees. A slice of ice from the end of Solas's staff ended the struggle, and he retrieved her blade with a contemplative look. "It isn't right," she said mockingly, voice low to imitate Blackwall. Her other blade was out, and she stepped on another man's chest, ending his life with a stab through the ribs to his heart. "You could have no life with me."

Silence endured after that, and Solas and Dorian, on opposite sides of the camp, exchanged an uneasy look. Blackwall, however, stabbed his sword into the grass, bending down to relieve one of the dead Venatori of his gold. "You seem to have gotten over it," he said quietly, eyes down even as he stood again, bones audibly popping.

Solas's brow raised, eyes shifting from Lavellan, whose body language suggested thinly veiled rage, and Blackwall, who looked thoroughly… ashamed?

"Shut up! Just stop okay?"

Blackwall looked at her, crossing to her quickly. Dorian and Solas both took a few steps towards them, ready to intervene if necessary. She hardly needed protecting, but that wouldn't stop Solas from doing it. "Are you not happy? Is a relationship not what you wanted, Inquisitor? Does he treat you so poorly that you still have illusions about what we might have been?"

"You know that's not true!" She said loudly, staring up at him defiantly. "At least he's a man who stands up and knows his own feelings and doesn't make someone else make the hard decisions!"

"You're the Inquisitor for a reason," he stated, voice deep, but slightly raised. "You can do that. I'm a Warden; I'm hardly a leader."

"Lohgain could do it."

"You compare me to him? Is that the kind of man you want, hmm? A fallen general who—"

"Enough!" Dorian said, stepping up and between them, hands out to stop Blackwall from moving closer. He was scowling. "We get it! You both have feelings for each other yes? Lavellan here feels betrayed by your cowardice," he had to raise his voice at protests, "and Blackwall feels betrayed by our elf moving on." He pushed Blackwall back with a hand. "Get over it. You had your chance," he said, head tilting slightly to make his point, "and you blew it. Accept this, or leave."

Solas took a few steps closer, clutching to his staff for reassurance, eyes moving to each of them. He himself had chosen not to pursue a relationship with Lavellan, and while glad that he made that decision, he would never go so far as to accuse her for the deed. That was months ago now, and it was a mutual decision. His jaw tightened a little, but he didn't say a word. No matter what had occurred, he agreed with Blackwall: he could offer her no life worthy of her. After dealing with Corypheus, he would be gone once more, his duty fulfilled.

Perhaps he would go to Tevinter.

"Well?" Dorian wondered, eyes on Blackwall. They stared each other down for a long moment, before the bearded man grunted.

"I'm sorry, my lady," he said finally, lowering into a small bow. "Dorian is right, as are you. I'm being a coward to my own feelings. I care for you, and you have my sword, as long as you'll have it."

She looked down at him, chin tilting up a little. "I will always want your loyalty, and there is no man I would rather have with a sword watching my back," she said in a quiet voice. "Don't ever accuse me of making a decision you dislike when you refused to make it yourself."

"Of course," he said, eyes still low. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead warmly, whispering something to Blackwall that Solas couldn't hear. Slowly, Dorian made his way over to Solas, who was now standing a little up the hill, making sure nothing snuck up on them. The man came to stand beside him, making a small noise.

"We seem to have ruffled some feathers," he said after a moment, glancing back down at the pair below them.

"Unintentionally, perhaps," Solas replied, glancing down at them as well. He then returned his gaze back out to the forest. "Blackwall seems to think that we are a good fit."

"Does he? That's almost surprising," Dorian replied, his voice quiet, and Solas was taken aback a little to realize the man was being completely sincere. No games, no teasing. Dorian knelt down, staff stuck in the earth, watching the pair below them. "Do you feel sorrow for him?"

"Should I? True, he seems to be a good man, or he tries to be, but he wears his regret plainly on his face. He is a soldier, ma vhenan, and he has seen many battles. I wonder what he was before he came to the Wardens."

"I wonder as well. We haven't spoken at length, but maybe we should. He holds all his passion inside of him, does he not?"

"He does. You can see him about him as he moves."

"Is that what the Wardens do to people?"

"I have met a few wardens in my time, and Lohgain seemed to be no different. Concise, to the point, a general of renown from the war with Orlais… I must admit seeing him in the flesh rather than in the Fade made the whole experience seem…. I don't know. Odd. I can't think of another word for it."

"He didn't seem like a particularly cheerful fellow," Dorian agreed, running a finger along his moustache softly. "Probably could use a stiff drink."

"Probably, with what he now has to deal with."

Silence followed, and then Dorian looked up at Solas, eyebrows furrowed. "When the Inquisitor left Hawke to die—"

"You could feel it, couldn't you?" Solas whispered. Dorian hadn't been there in the Fade with them, but they had talked about the entire experience afterwards. "It wasn't until after, when I was exploring the memories of the experience, that I noticed it, though I suppose I noticed it all along. It was Anders, that Warden mage that Hawke was involved with. That spirit inside of him—I talked to Hawke a little about it while she was here—made an echo through the Fade." He paused, eyes down on Dorian as well. "Is that what you mean?"

Dorian was silent for a moment, considering. "It has to be. I don't want to be in the way of that abomination when he finally gets a hold of Lavellan for what happened."

Solas raised his eyebrows. "You think that he is coming here?"

"Wouldn't you?"

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"Yes," Solas said after a while, "for nothing less than an explanation. Then, if the explanation required my anger, than I would answer with it."

"You have more control than me," Dorian replied, breaking their eye contact to return to watching Lavellan and Blackwall. The pair were talking quietly now. "I would probably kill everyone who was there when you died, who let you die." He made a small noise, and Solas forgot to breathe. "There's always another way."

"Dorian," Solas said, and though Dorian didn't look up at him, he could still see that the man was smiling.

"Are you two love-birds quite done?" Dorian wondered, his voice back to being light and teasing. "Don't we have more of my countrymen to kill?"