Author's Note: I apologize for all the confusion (and the two month wait for the next chapter. Nonstop lacrosse games kicked my ass); probably should've mentioned that Fenris was never in Kirkwall earlier... Anyway, thank you for all the follows and favorites! The constructive criticism was much appreciated, too. :)

They were sitting around a roaring fire passing around ram stew and medical supplies when Lavellan plopped herself on a log and proceeded to assess everyone's health; other than Solas, she was really the only one knowledgeable in medical care. After washing her hands in the nearby stream, she began what Varric dubbed her "routine check-up post ass-kicking" with Cassandra. The warrior sat next to her wiping down her sword, her normally fluid movements stiff and mechanical. Lavellan observed her quietly, eyes growing wide in morbid fascination as blood started to seep through a makeshift bandage around Cassandra's right forearm. Disregarding her incessant "I am fine" bullshit, Ma'nehn gently clutched the rag from her hand and pulled off the bandage with practiced fingers, noting the warrior's severely burned arm with a shake of her head.

"How did you manage to keep this hidden, Cass?" Ma'nehn asked, equally frightened and impressed. "This burn is just deep enough to elicit excruciating pain, but shallow enough not to have burned any of the major nerves and blood vessels. Never mind the fact that you could've gotten it infected!"

"It is nothing to worry about, Herald," she replied, pulling her arm away.

"Yes," the elf hissed. "It is."

"Herald–"

"I thought you were better than this, Seeker," Ma'nehn interrupted, cleaning the wound and applying a poultice of elfroot and aloe to the burn. "Still, you're not dying under my watch."

"I can do this myself, Herald, you need not trouble yourself."

"If I leave this to you, Cass," she smiled knowingly. "You're not gonna do anything about it. Let me."

Cassandra made a noncommittal noise. "As you wish."

There was a quiet chatter that lulled her to work. "I have a name, you know. And it isn't 'Herald.'"

"I..." Cassandra mumbled. "I am embarrassed to say that I do not want to botch the pronunciation."

Ma'nehn grinned, chuckling to herself. "Lavellan is fine, yeah? That shouldn't be too difficult."

"Hey, Cheeky!" Varric called across the fire. "Is our lady warrior not as unstoppable as she looks?"

All he received was an annoyed grunt from the Seeker and a flying salve from the young elf. "I'm coming for you next, dwarf!"

Varric snickered and caught the small package. He turned towards the silent warrior next to him, who was observing the interaction with a wide, but calculating gaze. "So, what's your story, Broody?"

"Varric..." Lavellan mollified, her voice carrying over as she continued wrapping Cassandra's arm in a bandage.

"What?" He asked with faux incredulity, a massive grin on his face. "You said to interrogate him when we're not in the middle of the forest bruised and bloody. Now we're in the middle of the forest clean and smelling of elfroot and apples; I think it's the perfect time to interrogate."

"You're incorrigible!" she shot back playfully. Ma'nehn stood up after she finished wrapping up Cassandra's arm, patting herself down and stretching her own arms high. She turned towards the Seeker with what could pass as a blank look, however her poorly concealed smirk couldn't mask the amusement shining in her gold eyes. "Sorry, Cass, but you're gonna have to sit Redcliffe out. I can't have you fighting with half your arm burned off." Her laughing gaze landed on Varric. "And you! Leave Fenris alone."

Cassandra managed to look both indignant and resigned by her order, though she still nodded her consent. Ma'nehn grabbed her supplies and shuffled over to the other side of the fire towards Varric and Fenris, her feet light–bootless, too, thank Sylaise!–and silent. She gave the dwarf a once-over. "You seem perfectly fine Varric. Are you in pain? Any burns, bruises?"

"Nope," the dwarf answered, smiling. "Cassandra makes a nice wall between me and people with murderous intent. Well," he smiled wider towards the glowering warrior across the fire. "Not anymore."

"You're sitting this one out, too, regardless."

"What?" His smile waned. "Why? Unlike our resident Seeker, I don't lie about my well-being."

"It's not because I think you're not healthy enough," she answered, still checking him for any hidden injuries. "Just that Dorian is already there waiting for us, and I planned on taking Solas and Fenris with me."

"Why do you always take Chuckles?" He grumbled, nearly pouting. "He's not that great...I'm better."

"Solas doesn't grouch when I don't take him with me," Ma'nehn enunciated. "You should learn from him."

"Where is Solas?" Cassandra asked, staring at her arm in disdain.

"He went to go to the ruins away from camp. He'll be back in a few hours, before we head for Redcliffe."

Nodding at Varric's lack of injury, Ma'nehn finally faced the enigma of the group: Fenris. His eyes met hers steadily, dark and green framed by wisps of white hair. Her gaze traveled down the high cheekbones and strong jaw, stopping at his white markings that were rimmed with red. She frowned. "Are you okay? Your markings are slightly inflamed. I have a potion that can help with that."

"No," he asserted. As an afterthought, he added, "Thank you."

If you're sure."

"Hey," Varric called to her. "What does your name mean in Elvish?"

"What?" she said, sitting down on the log between the warrior and rogue. "That came out of nowhere. Why do you ask?"

"'My joy,'" a voice cut in from the shadows, revealing himself to be Solas. "Not very common for the Dalish to know much of the ancient language apart from basic greetings and curses. I'm curious how you received such a name." His head was tilted to the side in idle interest, as if examining a fascinating piece of rock.

Lavellan stiffened at the inquiry, her shoulders taut with tension. She tried to deflect it with a question of her own. "And 'Solas' means 'pride.' How were you named so? You're not Dalish at all."

"One does not need to be Dalish to take pride in their roots, da'len."

"I am not a child, Solas. And pride does not empower you to be a pretentious asshole."

His eyebrows raised at the hostility. "I meant no offense, Lavellan."

She huffed out a breath. Holding the bandages in her hand, she busied herself with organizing her supplies into her pack. "If you must know, my mother was a freed slave from Tevinter who met my father in the Free Marches." Her hands trembled as she remembered warm smiles and happier times. Simpler times. "He was First of the Lavellan Clan, but that didn't stop my mother from falling in love with him. They just...clicked, I suppose?" She scrunched her nose up, a sad smile on her face. "I can't think of a better word."

"Your mother was not afraid of him?" Fenris asked. "A mage?"

"No, my mother was a bit of a romantic." Ma'nehn continued her work, voice a bit hoarse. "Her owner was not abusive, and freed her when she saw my mother's potential."

"How did you clan react to a 'flat-ear'?" Solas queried, his demeanor defensive and imperious.

"They ostracized her, of course."

Solas sneered. "Predictable, the Dalish."

Ma'nehn's eyes flashed. "That didn't stop her from being with my father. He, as the clan's First, had already amassed respect from everyone. They may not have trusted my mother, but they trusted my father."

"You still haven't told us how you got your name," Varric added.

"My mother passed away giving birth to me. The clan provided minimal care, just enough to keep my mother and I healthy. And my father was no healer," Ma'nehn said, shoving another potion into her pack. "Her final words to him were, 'Ma nehn, var nehn. Emma atisha, sa lath. Ma sahlin serannas. Ar lath.'"

"'My joy, our joy. I am peaceful, my love. Forever grateful for this moment. I love you.'" Everyone was silent at that declaration. "My father died my fifteenth summer, killed protecting the children against shemlen bandits looking for...I don't know. Halla skins? Prized 'elfy artifacts'?" She shook her head, tears in her eyes. "He named me after Mamae's final words. 'Ma'nehn.' My joy."

No one spoke. Their usually chipper Herald was not crying, but she wasn't smiling, or laughing, or making jokes. It was disconcerting for everyone to see her this way, silent and refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Surprisingly, it was Fenris who stopped her from overfilling her pack with supplies, a hand on her arm stopping her as she went to grab for yet another potion. "I am sorry for you loss."

At his words, everyone seemed to wake from their stupor and began offering their own condolences, Varric especially repentant for causing her distress. She just nodded and smiled, thanking them for listening to her story. Her eyes never strayed far from the elven warrior, however, the mystery of a man she knew nothing about. Grabbing her pack, bow, arrows, and knives, Lavellan stood and plastered a smile on her face.

She didn't see Fenris' lingering look at that smile.

Let me know your thoughts?

Oh, the next chapter shouldn't take as long (and will be in Fenris' point of view, which I'm excited about. I hope that I do his character justice). ^^