"Reservations"

Haven was buried in snow, and their enemy had a name. Corypheus. Elleri wished she would have seen it coming, but it came right on the heels of their supposed victory. They had not even stopped celebrating the closing of the Breach when the army was spotted in the mountains, marching for the village.

Elleri had not expected to survive the initial confrontation with Corypheus, but once she had, she was determined to make it to the others, trudging through snow up to her thighs as the cold burrowed deep into her bones. The calm, gentle snowflakes that had been falling in Haven before everything had gone so wrong had since intensified to sharp pellets of ice that pelted and reddened her cheeks in powerful gusts of wind like tiny daggers. Reminding herself not to rub her frostbitten hands together in an attempt to warm them—holding them beneath her arms instead—she forced all of her focus to the forefront, pushing any thoughts of taking a break or giving up out of her mind altogether. She had not survived a fight with Corypheus and his pet archdemon just to die in a snowstorm; that was just insulting. Against all the odds, she was still her clan's best tracker, and somehow, she managed to pull those skills out of her ass despite the cold hands of death clawing at the back of her neck. A village of evacuees rushing to escape hell was not difficult to track, even considering their footsteps had since been covered in snow; there were other ways of tracking one's quarry.

Fortunately, the others had stopped and made camp in a cave to wait out the snowstorm, and that was where she'd found them. Then the only thing she could clearly remember was being cradled against Cullen's chest as he carried her inside to deposit her onto a cot, and Solas' hands—impossibly warm—jolting her awake and checking her vital signs before slipping into the darkness of her apparent exhaustion, despite the others trying valiantly to rouse her.

She awoke the next day to arguing, after spending a restless night plagued by the memories of what she'd seen. It had not been a good night's sleep, and she was racked by pain for most of it, but it was a rest that she'd needed just the same. Now, heated words were being shared between Tillie and Varric, and she was prepared to snap at them for waking her when she so desperately wished to just rest, but the sight of Solas hovering beside her, loosely holding her left hand in his own stopped her. He was studying the mark, judging by the look of confusion that creased his brow. It was a moment before he realized she was awake, but when he did he immediately dropped her hand.

"Forgive me," he said, shaking his head, "it is just such a mystery."

"It's fine." She replied, attempting to sit up but stopping at the white hot pain flaring across her back (likely from the tumble into the mineshaft that had ironically saved her life) and settling for resting herself on her elbows and flexing her hands a few times, "Especially considering how frostbitten my hands felt yesterday. It's nice to feel my fingers again, let me tell you. I'm almost surprised I didn't lose any."

"Any longer out in that storm, and that very well may have been the case."

"Don't I know it."

"Lie back." Solas instructed, placing an insistent hand on her shoulder, "You had a few cracked ribs, and I healed them, along with your other injuries. But there is a rather impressive bruise on your back, and it will take a few days for your muscle strain to recover, so I would prefer you not overexert yourself."

She obeyed him, but couldn't resist teasing him a little, "Why, Solas, are you worried about me?"

"Concerned that you may undo my hard work, perhaps." He replied, his lips twitching, despite himself, "Besides, you are the only one who can close the rifts. If we lose you, we lose everything."

The two of them shared a look. Elleri wasn't exactly sure what expression passed between them, but her mirth was quickly replaced with severity. She had not expected him to meet her casual flirting with a hefty dose of reality—especially not when he'd been so receptive to her teasing in the days prior. But she was not surprised by it, just the same. For Solas' part, he looked pensive, melancholy, and she wondered what had happened in their conversation that had made his mood take such an unexpected turn. It was short-lived, however, because Tillie's voice was suddenly echoing loudly through the cavern.

"This is not what I signed up for!"

Solas' brow lifted at the outburst, before turning to look at the two as the argument escalated. Elleri just covered her eyes with a forearm. Elgar'nan, I just want to rest.

"You did join us for the inspiration, if I recall." Varric's voice. Quieter. Elleri had to focus a bit more in order to hear it, but he was by no means whispering. "For the adventure. If that wasn't an adventure, I don't know what is."

"Adventure! I didn't anticipate Haven being buried under a hundred feet of snow while Lavellan strolled off to a battle no one expected her to walk away from, just so we could escape by the skin of our teeth!"

"Ma serannas, Tillie. Your faith in my abilities is truly touching." Elleri muttered without uncovering her eyes, quietly enough that only Solas could hear, but her lip quirked upwards slightly when she heard a muffled breath of laughter that could only have been him. She was silently thrilled that she'd managed to coax some levity out of him after his brief departure into melancholy.

"I didn't anticipate some crazy darkspawn—magister—thing showing up with some kind of grotesque red lyrium Templar! I didn't anticipate a fucking archdemon!" She shouted, uncaring of any listening ears in her anger, "That's not an adventure; that's a death sentence!"

"Look, Prickly—"

Elleri's brow lifted at that, "Huh. He's already given her a nickname."

"Prickly." Solas said, testing it out himself, "Seems oddly fitting."

"How come I don't have a nickname yet?" Elleri grumbled, their voices finally beginning to grate on her nerves. She was still exhausted and in a great deal of pain, and she was fairly certain her head was not throbbing before, but it certainly was now.

"All things in good time, I'm certain." He replied, but he sensed the lack of venom in her voice, and she did move her arm then, to see the way his lips lifted into a smirk as she returned it with her own.

"—some writers can come up with great stories on their own, but writers like you and me? We get our best ideas when we go out and do shit." Varric was saying, "You're going to be bored, if you leave. And lacking the inspiration you need to finally get yourself published."

"Fine!" Tillie looked down at him, glaring murderously, "Then as soon as we get out of here, I will go back to my boring, uninspirational house in Val Royeaux, to do my boring, uninspirational job, and live my boring, unspirational life. But at least I'll damn well still be alive at the end of all this!"

"Don't tell me you're losing faith in the Inquisition." Varric prodded, "Wasn't it you who said the Inquisition were the only ones actually doing anything about the Breach?"

"I did, and you are." Tillie said, "And the Inquisition can go right ahead and do things about the Breach—without me!"

"By the Dread Wolf, will you both just shut up?!" Elleri shouted, her patience at an end, "Tillie, if you're going to leave, just leave, and Varric, let her go! If you can't do that, then take this argument somewhere else, because I, and the other injured parties, would kindly like to get some rest, if you please."

Silence fell, and the dwarf and human looked at each other—one with a raised eyebrow, the other with a glare—before walking away, as Elleri made herself as comfortable as she could without hurting herself.

"I will take my leave as well." Solas said, starting to move, "You need your rest."

"You don't have to go." She blurted before she could stop herself.

He looked down at her hand, which was on his forearm without her mind ever having any knowledge of exactly how it got there, and she pulled it away as if she'd been burned.

"I—I mean—if you have other things to do, by all means! I just…" Corypheus' face flashed into her mind's eye, the roar of his dragon echoing in her ears as her back slammed into the trebuchet, the memory of pain blasting through her body as she cried out in agony with no one to hear her but the enemy, "I don't want to be alone, and I ... enjoy your company."

He was silent for a moment, and she could see by the way the muscles in his jaw and temple flexed that he was thinking very hard about this for some reason, and Lavellan shook her head, internally berating herself. He obviously had more important things to do than humour her foolish need for company. She wasn't even alone, not really. There were other injured refugees on the cots around her, in various states of wakefulness—especially given the argument they'd recently been privy to. She was about to tell him to nevermind her, to go do whatever it was that was demanding his attention when he relaxed, met her eyes, and spoke again: "Ma nuvenin. I will stay for a time." He said, reaching out a hand expectantly, "On the condition of you allowing me to study the mark."

"Of course." She gave him a grateful smile, and let him take her hand, "Ma serannas."

His hands were warm, and his fingers gently prodded at the mark, siphoning a small amount of magic into it that sent a slight tingling sensation up her forearm and her arm reflexively tensed.

Solas felt the reaction and stopped, looking up at her, "Did I hurt you?"

"Not at all." She shook her head, "I mean, it always hurts—at least a little—but that just felt... strange."

"My apologies; I should have warned you. I was trying to see how it would react with my own rift magic. I'm curious to learn whether the power within your mark comes directly from the Fade, or from the rifts themselves; perhaps the imbalance of the energy of the veil where it is thinnest and the rifts appear."

"Is there a difference?"

"I am not entirely certain myself." He said, "It is the first I've been able to study the mark while you are conscious, however, so your feedback is helpful."

Elleri laughed softly, "I'm no mage, Solas. I don't know how much help I'd be."

"Just tell me what you feel."

Again she felt the sensation of his magic being fed into the mark, and again she felt her arm tense instinctively.

"It feels... strange." She said again, her confusion evident as she searched for the right words, "Almost as if I'm being pulled towards you—not physically, I mean, but—by my spirit, I suppose? The pain eases slightly, and it's almost like the mark wants to... follow you when you pull away from it."

"I see." He said, and his expression seemed almost despondent for a moment before was gone as quickly as it had appeared, "That is interesting indeed."

"Does that make sense at all to you?"

"No." He said, before placing her hand down on the cot beside her and letting it go, "I'm afraid the mark remains a mystery to me and everyone else, save perhaps for Corypheus. It is, however, fascinating."

Tillie's annoyed voice reached them from outside the cavern where she and Varric had retreated, pulling their attention to where she could be seen pacing in and out of view. Fortunately, the argument was far enough away to be easily ignored this time around, and Elleri could only laugh quietly to herself.

"Not the most elegant way to be reminded of home," she said, her head shaking slightly, "but I'll take it."

"Your clan argued frequently?" Solas asked.

"The hunters did, at times." Elleri explained, "Usually friendly competition over who brought back the best game, but sometimes more severe arguments would crop up when some lost human wandered too close to our camp."

"I know some clans would become violent in the case of such an intrusion." He said, "How did your clan normally react when a human stumbled too close?"

"Actually, my clan was on decent terms with the human settlements around us. Depending on where we were settled at the time, violent incidents with humans were very rare—we even traded with some settlements regularly. In the case of some poor lost human getting too close, I was usually the one elected to escort them back out of our territory."

"I can see why they would choose you." He said, "Your disposition is friendly, approachable. Non-threatening unless provoked."

"Yes, well, I was also the only one who actually enjoyed babysitting stray humans." She added, suppressing a laugh, "I learned many interesting stories that way."

"How so?"

"Just… talking to them. They can be surprisingly forthcoming when offered an air of mutual respect. I'd typically just start by asking how they had ended up in Dalish territory to begin with, or ask about human customs in general to establish a rapport with them. If they were receptive, then I could learn a lot from them."

"And those who were not deserving of said respect?"

"Swiftly put in their place—usually with a few sharp words." She shrugged, "Or, in the worst cases, forcibly nudging them out of elven territory at the ends of my daggers with threats of more serious consequences should they return."

He smiled wanly for a moment, shaking his head slightly before returning his gaze to her again, "Your experience with humans must have been more extensive than many of your clansmen, then, yes?"

She nodded, "It's why I was sent to the Conclave. Ideally, a clan's First would be sent on such a mission, but the First of my clan is just a teenager, nowhere near ready to undertake such a mission alone."

"How did you react to the mission?"

"I was so excited." Elleri shook her head, an unrestrained grin taking hold of her mouth, "I'd always had a bad case of wanderlust. I was a hunter, so I was able to wander the surrounding forests, but my days always began and ended with the clan. At twenty-seven years old, I'd never really experienced life outside of it. I wanted to see the world and all it had to offer. I wanted to learn about everything, everyone, and I couldn't do that from within the confines of my clan. So, when my Keeper offered me this mission, I jumped at the chance."

They fell silent, her smile fading as the circumstances of the last few days sunk in and she remembered everything they had lost in just a few short hours—and indeed, since this whole journey even started. The Conclave—failed; The Temple of Sacred Ashes—destroyed; The sky—ripped asunder by the Breach; Haven—buried. She looked at the entrance to the cave, where Tillie could still be seen pacing a worn stripe into the snow outside, anger radiating off the woman in waves, and let out a sigh.

"You know, I wouldn't hold it against you if you decided to leave as well." Her brow furrowed as she looked back up at the other elf, meeting his eyes. "There is a lot at stake for you, being here as an apostate."

"Technically, all mages are now apostates." He met her concerned frown with a slight smirk, "And if I should leave, who would be here to heal you the next time you crawl back from a battle no one expects you to survive?"

She laughed again, "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here, lethallin." The endearment slipped out without thought, but Elleri meant it, regardless of how he would react. Bloodkin. He may not have been Dalish, but he was as much an elf as she, and seemed to know as much or even more about Elvhen history than even Keeper Istmathoriel—not that Elleri had any real idea of the depths of the Keeper's knowledge; that was reserved for the First. Solas' knowledge and experience was certainly worthy of respect, however, and regardless of what her clan may have thought of him, she considered him one of her own. Still, she watched his face as he regarded her, looking for any hint of disapproval, but found none.

"I am glad you survived the battle." He said.

"Because of the Breach?" She asked, a teasing tone to her voice, pointedly lifting her marked hand.

"Because I have precious few friends left—both in and out of the Fade. I would hate to lose another," his gaze softening slightly as he met her eyes, "lethallin."