Here is the first part of this fluffs chapter because I want to revisit a particular conversation before I post the second part – I am visiting my folks' for the holidays and am away from my gaming system and have too crappy of internet to watch a youtube video of it that I am sure exists. The horror of limited internet!

The next installment of my drabbles is rather…dark…so I figured you all should get at least one more fluff chapter before that particular horror is unveiled! Muahahaha!

Thank you all for your follows and reviews - I really appreciate it! You guys rock my socks off.

Beginnings, Part I

Solas made his camp at the periphery of Haven, finding a small wooden pallet in which to provide a buffer between his tent and the cold, snow-covered ground. He had to scour for a while to accumulate enough small rocks in which to create his firepit, but he didn't really mind, as it allowed him to become familiar with the adjacent woods in which he found some elfroot and iron ore. He currently sat cross legged on his pallet, a bowl of warm camp stew in his hands and a small loaf of bread on his knee that he acquired from the camp's cook.

While others would have been pleased to be assigned a small house in Haven, he recognized Cassandra's thinly veiled attempts to keep him close and be able to locate him easily if she wished. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as he politely declined, offering the excuse that families should be allowed to use the house instead of a travelling apostate who had an aptitude and preference for being in the outdoors. In truth, he wished to remain as far away from the members of the Inquisition as possible. His reason was still valid, however, finding it a waste of shelter for those who couldn't easily make shelter for themselves.

He had tried to suggest that he be allowed to make camp outside Haven's walls in hopes of mitigating the glares he was receiving and the offending, persistent noise of the makeshift war camp, but the austere Nevarran woman flatly refused. He beat back his irritation, recognizing that she acted in what she perceived as best interest for her people in protecting them from an apostate, and politely told her that he would make camp in the sparse woods behind the Alchemist's hut, still within Haven's walls but away from the majority of the camp's commotion. He saw her search for a problem with his proposal, but found none and dismissed him with a terse nod of her head before she turned on her heel and left.

He found it irksome to be bargaining with his freedom with the Seeker and resented the confinement, but contented himself with the knowledge that he would now be able to be in close proximity to the Dalish elf who bore the Mark, the woman they were now referring to as the Herald of Andraste. He scowled to himself over his bowl, aggravated in how eagerly the humans assigned Divine intervention to an event that he was sure would be explainable.

He cast out his magic again, searching for the small female elf, reassuring himself that she was alive and still in the Chantry surrounded by several armored warriors. He would do this several times an hour, worried for her safety, for without her, they would have no chance at closing the Breach.

He glowered up at the offending subject, the swirling green entity deceitfully beautiful. How had this happened? The repeated question had almost become a mantra, but could discern no more now than when he witnessed the enormous explosion from the small village that shook from its power. He had hurried in his panic toward the Temple of Sacred Ashes, only to find in horror that the Conclave had been leveled.

He allowed his thoughts to narrow in attempt to find a solution, sipping on the warm broth as he brooded.

"Solas?" He looked up, startled, almost spilling his bowl of meager rations – he had not heard her approach. He recovered quickly, even managing to catch the bread that had fallen from his knee as he jumped.

"Hello." He greeted Arya politely, gazing at her, surprised that he had sought him out, for she had yet to do so since they returned to Haven that morning. She had changed out of her armored battle robes and wore a simple woolen shirt, breeches, and warm socks, the latter of which he noted with amusement had been removed of their heels and soles to emulate the stirruped pants of her people. She was small, even for an elf, but carried herself with a quiet dignity that was hard for her uncertainty at her situation to completely mask. Her dark red hair was let loose from her braids, and was secured from her face by a leather headband, falling over her shoulders and down her back in rich red waves. Her eyes were a dark emerald green, intelligent and attentive as they watched him. She was she was quite lovely, even with the prominence of the vallaslin on her forehead, which he grudgingly admitted was artfully applied. He successfully prevented himself from glowering at it.

"May I help you?" He kept his tone polite, still irritated at how easily she had snuck up on him, but genuinely wondering why she made it a point to seek him out, for his placement at the camp was designed precisely to discourage visitors. He had planned on keeping his distance from her and everyone else.

She seemed unsure, her eyes calculating as she surveyed him.

"You wouldn't…happen to have an extra hammock in that pack of yours, would you?" She gestured to his tent and the small pack that leaned against a large conifer. The question was hurried, and he was sure this could not have been what she had initially wished to ask him.

"A hammock?" He watched her, wondering what on earth she would want with such a contraption. "I am afraid not. I do not recall even seeing one in the recent past." She sighed regretfully.

"Oh, okay." She caught his eyes in their want of explanation, and he noticed with amusement that there was a slight pink flush to her cheeks. She elaborated. "I would just much rather carry around a hammock than that gaudy canvas thing they handed to me to put in my pack" she offered, shrugging.

When he didn't respond, her blush deepened, and she cleared her throat before continuing. "Well, thank you. I have yet to find one, so I might just have to make one here soon." She shuffled her feet and looked down. He sighed inwardly at her shyness, wishing she would get to the point so that he could continue his meal in solitude.

"And what, pray would the Chosen of Andraste, a Blessed Hero Sent to Save Us All need a hammock?" He said it with slight sarcasm. He saw her grimace then, her dark eyes snapping back up to his to gauge his meaning. Her frown at the title surprised him: he expected any mortal to love the attention.

"Ugh, don't do that." she scolded. "I've gotten enough of that today, already. I'm no Herald…nor am I a hero." He smirked, pleased with her answer, but saw her eyes flash with anger at his reaction, apparently mistaking his satisfaction for condescension. The fire flared and crackled angrily, distracting him from her angry gaze. Confused, he stared at it and then back to her smoldering eyes. He held up his hands in a silent apology, but the anger remained. He softened his expression in a more earnest apology, and motioned for her to join him at his fire. Those large green eyes narrowed as she surveyed him, unsure of his intentions.

"Please." He layered his voice with sincerity, genuinely wanting her to join him, guilty from his ungraciousness. In fact, he would be able to take the time to observe her now that the initial danger had passed. He hadn't had time nor the opportunity in their rush to the temple or on the way back to Haven – her presence was monopolized by the Seeker and various Inquisition soldiers. He saw her assent in the way her shoulders relaxed and how she looked around for a seat across the fire from him, which had calmed suddenly. He almost frowned at it.

Not finding a seat, Arya pointed to a small log underneath a tree and looked at question at him. He nodded and she used to magic to levitate the log next to the fire, which she sat upon after dusting off the snow and dirt. She sat, gazing at him, waiting expectantly.

He placed his bowl to his side and glanced out across the valley in which Haven nestled, indicating the Breach with waved hand. She twisted on the small log and surveyed it, but quickly turned back to him with a scowl on her face. He suppressed a smile at her reaction, and spoke quietly, academic.

"I've watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten." He said these words as he watched the Breach, but captured her eyes and spoke the next words directly to her.

"Every great war has its heroes, I just wonder what kind you will be." She made no comment, but gazed at him, measuring his words through slightly narrowed eyes. Then she cocked her head slightly before she responded.

"What do you mean….ruins and battlefields?" Her question surprised him, not just that she thought to ask, but also that she seemed truly interested, her eyes twinkling as she looked at him. He didn't miss that she completely ignored his statement that she was the hero of the war, but he discarded his suspicion that she was only attempting to change the subject in how interested she seemed.

"Any building strong enough to withstand the ridges of time has a history." He happily elaborated. "Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits, they press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between their worlds." He broke his small loaf of bread and offered her half, but she declined politely, and he weighed his next words, careful to not reveal too much, but delighting in speaking to someone about his experiences.

"When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen." He bit into a piece of bread and chewed thoughtfully as he thought about his next statement. She interrupted his thoughts.

"You fall asleep in the middle of ancient ruins? Isn't that dangerous?" She inquired, brows knitted together. He finished chewing the tough bread and swallowed.

"I do set wards." He assured her. "And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live." He noticed her shudder of horror at the mention of giant spiders, but politely ignored it.

"I've never heard of anyone going so far into the Fade…that's extraordinary." Her voice was slightly awed as she replied.

"Thank you." He replied, pleased at the compliment. "It's not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. The thrills of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything." She grinned.

"Yes, throwing fire is fun and all," she raised an outstretched finger casually and the fire rose impressively, its disproportionate height paralleling her rising hand. "but isn't the most practical of the schools of magic."

He smiled as she dropped her hand and the fire resumed its pensive flickering. That was why it rose angrily before when he smirked at her – it must have been complementing her irritation. Her tie to the element must be extremely strong for her emotions to manifest through it. It would harmonize well with his control of ice and spirit magic.

His reaction must've pleased her, because she was also grinning when his eyes found hers again as she fed the fire with some of the wood he had piled next to it. "Studying the Fade sounds fascinating, truly," She said. "I would like to hear more of it in the days to come." He nodded in response, biting into another piece of bread and chewing thoughtfully as he watched her artful placement of the sticks into the strangely happy flames.

"I will stay then, at least until the Breach is closed." He eventually offered, turning his gaze back to the Breach as she sat back on her log.

"Was that…in doubt?" she asked, surprised. He smirked and waved his hands at Haven, not taking his eyes away from the swirling green anomaly.

"I'm an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces and unlike you, I do not have a Divine mark protecting me. Cassandra has been…accommodating, but you understand my caution." he said carefully

She shook her head in disbelief and slight disgust "You came here to help, Solas. I wouldn't let them use that against you. That'd be horrid." He looked at her, trying to determine her sincerity.

"How would you stop them?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"However I had to. I am the "Chosen of Andraste," after all." Her sarcastic emphasis of the title made him chuckle.

"Well…thank you. For now, let us hope the mages or the Templars have the power to seal the Breach" She nodded her agreement and recognized the courteous dismissal.

She stood, raising her arms above her head as she stretched. "Thank you for talking with me, Solas. I am glad that you have decided to stay on with us." She smiled. "I was actually hoping you would accompany me to the Hinterlands to meet with a Chantry Mother who has agreed to give us information." He pretended to consider before he nodded, her apparent purpose at meeting him finally elucidated. "When do we leave?" he inquired, and bit into another piece of bread.

"Cassandra says we can leave at first light tomorrow. Meet at the gates?" She inquired, and he nodded.

"I will see you then." She had only walked a few steps before she turned and added an afterthought.

"And you know, you don't need to check up on me when we are at camp. It's been rather distracting having my mind brushed against every few minutes." She grinned cheekily at his flabbergasted expression, and walked off before he had a chance to respond.

He almost gaped at her as she walked away, simultaneously annoyed and fascinated by her departure. She was not what he expected at all. She was certainly Dalish in her cheekiness and bizarre sense of humor, but she was also civil, polite, and seemed genuine in her interest in what he had to say. As he thought about her last comment, he smirked as he realized that their entire conversation might have been brought by her want to throw him off guard by that one statement. Indeed, most mages weren't able to sense when another intruded upon their minds.

Not only was he amazed she could detect his subtle brushes of his magic on her aura, but she had managed to catch him off guard twice in their conversation. He was not sure whether to be impressed with her or annoyed at himself for not being more careful.

He would have to explore her magical talents as they travelled, for which he was quite glad that she asked him to accompany her on her mission - he doubted whether or not he'd be informed of their departure, and that would spare his need to explain why he left in hasty pursuit of them. In truth, he would not let her leave his circle of awareness while the Breach remained opened.

Indeed, maybe this would provide an opportunity to bring up the recovery of his orb.

The following morning, Cassandra glared daggers as she approached the gates where both he and Varric waited for Arya to arrive. He took great joy in sending the Seeker a smug expression when Arya greeted them happily and they set out - Cassandra in the lead, then Arya, then Varric, with Solas bringing up the rear.

As the moved southeast, the treeline gradually thickened as the snow patches on the ground became less and less frequent. Solas was elated to leave the raucous war camp and be back amongst the trees, immersed in nature. He enjoyed the woods – the stillness, the smell of the crisp air, the crunch of the snow and pine needles under his bare feet. He felt himself becoming more invigorated as they walked, the muscles in his shoulders releasing their tension.

They followed Cassandra as she led them down the mountain, eventually emerging in a thick coniferous forest nestled in a valley between two smaller mountains. Cassandra suggested that they stop for their lunch, as the dappled ground suggested that the sun was directly overhead, its rays parallel to the mighty trees. They each unpacked some dried deer strips and a small wedge of cheese that the quartermaster had packed them, munching on the food in silence as they sat on the springy, needle-covered ground.

They had only been a few minutes back on the trail when Solas was distracted by the faintest rustle overhead. He raised his staff, ready to strike at the threat from above. He was caught off guard – used to scanning the horizon for danger, but what horror could come from trees? For a horror it must be to move so silently through the dry, snow crusted branches. These surprises were beginning the infuriate him, and he glared at the needled canopy .

His discerning eyes caught the rustle in the trees directly above him, scrutinizing, drawing upon his magic, ready to throw up a barrier. He heard the rhythmic thudding of armored footsteps and took his eyes from the tree to see a wild-eyed Cassandra trotting up to him and Varric, who had stopped when he noted Solas's wariness.

"Where is the Herald?" the warrior asked worriedly as she glanced up in the trees to see what Solas was looking at. "She disappeared into the forest to relieve herself as we were packing up, and that was almost ten minutes ago." Her voice became more frantic as she searched the horizon, unable to see far through the dense trees. Solas whirled on the spot as well, danger momentarily overridden by the panic he felt rising in his heart, for he was unable to locate her as he cast his magic out laterally in search of her. No, no, no…

"You let her out of your sight for ten minutes and she's now gone?" he asked incredulously, unable to keep the fury from his voice. The crystal that capped his staff blazed, reflecting his agitation and fear. The Seeker retorted, angry.

"She urged me to go on, saying she would catch up. She was quite insistent." Varric had his crossbow in his hands now.

Cassandra's worried voice continued on, "We need to find her if there's some sort of….OOF" she was cut off midsentence and Solas whipped around, magic blazing at his fingertips

A small elf had thumped into view between the three of them, apparently coming from nowhere. They all staggered in surprise, Solas in anger. It was Arya, grinning broadly at their bewilderment, held her hand over her mouth, snickering.

"Hairy Ogre tits, Dalish." Varric swore as he stumbled backwards in shock. She laughed cheekily then, both at his reaction and at his choice of words.

Cassandra disapproved immensely, her brows furrowed in anger as she stood. "Where did you disappear to? You had us all frightened!"

Solas, angry at being startled yet again by this woman, scowled as the female elf's amused eyes darkened at Cassandra's tone. He let the magic fade from his fingertips, trying to collect his thoughts as he watched the two women stare angrily at each other. Cassandra continued, trying to keep her voice level.

"Herald, you can't disappear from out sight for so long. We were worried something happened to you – what would happen to the world if you died before you could close the Breach?" Arya must have known Cassandra was not meaning to be patronizing, but Solas saw the elf's eyes flash.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Seeker." She said so politely it was almost cool, but Solas saw the fire spit angrily behind her eyes, noting how she emphasized Cassandra's title. "but I can take care of myself. I was wandering the woods since I could toddle and even more so in the trees. I thought it would be fun to play a joke, but obviously you all lack such a sense of humor. I would have thought that you would recognize me as a capable and sensible individual and it might please you to know that I was actually with you the whole time." She pointed upwards into the piney canopy.

Solas's irritation was fading as admiration worked in the cracks of his anger as he realized why he wasn't able to find her aura when he searched frantically for it – he hadn't sent it into the trees, thinking that she would only ever be on the ground.

Arya continued on, her voice maintaining its cool. "I recognize now that my jest may have been in bad taste. However…I want to make something clear." She stopped, took a deep breath, and continued.

"Cassandra, I believe in your cause and want to help, but you are not shackling me to stay in sight. I already explained to this one," she gestured at Solas, "that I do not need checked up on every few minutes like a child. I have proven that I will not run off or cause you harm. I do, in fact, understand my importance to you as the only means in which to close the Breach, but I will not be treated like your frail noble ladies: I am a Dalish elf, a hunter, First to the Keeper of my clan, and I will be treated with respect." Her eyes glittered, challenging protest from any of them.

Cassandra just stared at the small elf, her eyes widened in her shock, while Varric looked both amused and impressed. Solas found himself smirking at the Seeker's reaction, for he guessed this was the first time Arya had the opportunity and the means in which to put her foot down to the intimidating woman. Solas found his anger had shifted to amusement and approval as this feisty woman finished her declaration, the air around her crackling with the fire of her conviction. Arya's eyes found his last, and he returned her gaze levelly, hoping he was hiding his intrigue and interest. In fact, he was rather impressed.

Arya's intense green hers turned from his when Cassandra had recovered enough to speak.

"I…I was not meaning to cause offense, and I apologize, Herald." Cassandra replied, cowed. Again, Solas saw those glorious green eyes flash dangerously.

"I am not the Herald of Andraste. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's it."

Cassandra watched her for a moment and offered, "That yet…remains to be seen, Arya." The use of her name calmed the elf noticeably. The women stared at each other, the struggle of power evident in their glares. Eventually, Arya nodded noncomittingly. Then she grinned, anger apparently forgotten completely.

"Besides, I'm far more safe than you are on the ground. There are all manners of beasties down here." Then she grinned again before she turned on her heel and walked off down the path.

Cassandra and Varric shared a glance with each other, to which the dwarf smirked and subsequently shrugged, extending his hand after the fiery elf for Cassandra to take her place at the head of the pack.

Solas could only stare as she walked off down the path, at loss for words. This tiny, red headed woman was now berating the faux-leader of the Inquisition after having caught him completely off guard yet again by her emergence from the trees. The third time in two days. She moved so silently that only his years of remaining on guard constantly alerted him to the danger of the branches rustling overhead. And she seemed unimpressed by the whole exchange, ending the conversation with that cheeky grin that begged a laugh.

Fascinating.

He was also intrigued by her words in how she acknowledged that she needed protecting because of her responsibility of possessing the Mark, but headed off being coddled immediately, setting her boundaries well. As he watched her, she scrambled up a large tree adjacent to the path, her bare feet enabling her to grip the tree's bark with ease.

He would not see her again until they stopped for supper. He heard her – certainly – if he paid close enough attention. A rustle here, an alarmed chirp of a bird there. Cassandra was still obviously discomforted by her being out of sight, but didn't want to risk another confrontation. It was needless, though. He wouldn't let this elf out of circle of awareness, yet her respected her privacy and didn't attempt to locate her by magic again - the terror at the loss of the mark after he knew its purpose would be devastating. He could not bear to lose the one thing that could correct his, horrible, horrible mistake. And provide the possibility for retrieving his focus.

He allowed his feet to carry him down the path after the mortals, true hope kindling in his heart.

So I understand the need to have limitations in the form of talent trees and such in games, but I imagine magic lore is much more complex and specialized - a mage's aptitude for a type of magic would reflect their personality.

Take the kind, older, compassionate Wynne and her gift for healing magic.

Arya, a fiesty, hot tempered Dalish, has quite a lot of rage at the fate of her people that would easily be channeled through a volatile and caustic element – fire.

Solas, while also having a lot of rage, is much, much older, and his rage has had centuries to evolve into a cold and unyielding fury – ice. His aptitude for spirit magic is self-evident, our Fade magician.

Anywho, I will work on my original chapter until I go home and can revisit that gameplay conversation, so I can hopefully have both uploaded here soon!