She hadn't remembered Redcliffe being so quiet. Then again, she had been nervous, jittery, and on the run last time she'd been through here as well. Looking back now, she wondered what idiot notion had driven her to the city. In those days, if anywhere had spelled "trap" it definitely would have been Redcliffe. In the end it had turned out for the best, but things could have gone so wrong…

Smiling absently to herself, she bit into a bit of her meat pie and watched the goings on of the early evening hustle of the tavern. There was a certain haunted look hanging around the people as they sat and ate and drank. Some of them were obviously just passing through, their mud-spattered clothes, heavy packs and wary glances marking them as outsiders. Outside on the street she knew that squads of men in armor were actively patrolling. An evening guard that came out around twilight and watched the town until dawn. She'd asked about it, but nobody had been keen to answer, instead silently warding themselves against evil with a gesture associated with invoking the Maker. Something bad, and probably supernatural.

At first she had been afraid that someone might recognize her from that disastrous night almost a year ago, but nobody gave her a second glance. She was just another refugee, like half of the people here only a little less ragged. Underneath the table Keran stirred, pawing at her leg and whining and looking up at her with large baleful eyes. Sighing, she put the remaining bits of her pie on the floor where the hound immediately devoured the food loudly, stumpy tail wiggling. She smiled briefly at the hound's contentment. If only everyone was so easy to please.

The door swung open, admitting a newcomer, and everyone looked up to see who had disturbed the quiet atmosphere. There was an immediate reaction when they saw the Templar crest on the man's chest, some of the patrons of the tavern cowering in their seats and trying not to be noticed, others murmuring to each other and looking at the Templar as if he were some sort of hero. For her part, Solona very nearly had a heart attack and openly stared, her knuckles turning white as her fists clenched against the grainy wood of the table.

This was bad.

This was really, really bad.

For his part, the Templar stared right back, their eyes meeting in a breathless second. Then he simply walked over. He didn't even reach for his sword. She sat paralyzed, not sure what to do as Keran got to his feet, the war hound brushing his shoulder against the mage's leg in a protective way, a low rumble vibrating in his chest.

The Templar sat down, placing his helmet on the table and looked her directly in the eye. "It's been a while, Sola."

She gulped, aware that everyone was staring. "It has." She replied in a quiet, tight voice. "I never thought I'd see you again."

He flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Never thought I'd get the chance either. I missed you, you know. Coulda told me you were plannin' on escaping. Mighta helped."

Now she really did gape. With an effort she closed her mouth and leaned forward against the table, one hand reaching for Keran's ruff and placing her palm on the solid muscle of his neck. Having the hound there was reassuring, and she was glad that Keran was ready to leap to her defense at a word. "Derik, what in the Void are you doing here? How did you even find me?"

The Templar smiled for real this time, leaning back in his chair, mischief in his brown eyes. Among all the Templars, he was the only one that Solona had known to have a real sense of humor and a certain… flexibility with his morals and a colorful take on the oaths of the Templars. He was devoted to the Chantry, of course. As zealous in his belief of the Maker and Andraste as any of the other mage-slayers that populated the tower, but the way that he applied his oaths had a bit of a unique flair. It was why she'd fallen in love with him in the first place.

"Well, you know. I just followed the sound of heartbreak and it led me right to you. Shoulda tried that earlier. Woulda lost less men that way." Though he continued to smile, she felt the stab of accusation keenly. He knew what had happened when the other Templars had tried to take her. Or, well, at least knew that she was capable of killing them. Maybe that's why he hadn't taken her head yet? "But what I wanna know is how you knew that we were up there. The Arl's been very careful about spreading the word of our presence."

She sat back in her chair, eyeing him coolly and studying his face. He hadn't changed at all since she'd left. Though he was a farmer's son, an orphan, he had a very distinctly rich look about him. Not the cold kind of passive power that Aedan had, but a different kind of… glow. He had a young face, the kind that made people underestimate him, especially when he smiled. Derik positively oozed charisma with his warm brown eyes and sandy brown hair and very nearly perpetual smile. How he'd remained cheery after having the Templars beat their creed into him, she'd never known, but it suited him. His sad face was heartbreaking, and his serious face bordered on terrifying.

"Well, you know that a host of Templars is hard to keep from being gossiped about, especially given the recent circumstances." He blinked. She smiled. There was no denying that logic. She looked over his shoulder to see that others were still sneaking covert glances in their direction and shoved her fingers deeper into Keran's fur. "Should we go somewhere else?" Meaning: If you're going to kidnap me, at least don't traumatize everyone else in the room doing it.

Derik seemed to notice the onlookers for the first time. Apparently he forgot that he was in full armor, and even though it wasn't the noise-making heavy plate that most Templars wore he still made something of a spectacle sitting in the middle of the tavern as he was. "I suppose you're right." He stood with a groan of metal and leather, Solona rising smoothly and silently to her feet. Keran continued to press up against her side as they walked, the mage leading the way out the door with her Templar escort following close behind.

She'd left her staff in her room on account of it being unwieldy and a dead giveaway if anyone was looking for runaway mages. Now she wished she had it in the event that Derik's loose interpretation of his duties decided that letting her get away was against his better judgment. They walked out near the lake, the smell of the shore winning over the stale dusty smell of the town behind them, reminding her strongly of the smell that pervaded the Circle's island. Boats creaked where they were moored, rocking gently in the breeze that blew off of the lake at all hours of the day. Solona stopped near a pier, folding her arms across her chest and looking straight at Derik, Keran at her side.

"Why did you come for me?" The words were a challenge.

After studying her a moment, the Templar shrugged. "Well, you are just about the most wanted mage to ever escape the Circle. Killing Templars left and right… even got your phylactery nice an' broke so that we can't track you anymore. The other Templars hoped you'd died fleein', or that you'd gone out of the country. I knew you'd stay though. You don't do much of anything half way."

She narrowed her eyes. That didn't really answer her question. "I don't believe that you wanted to find me just so you could praise my skills at avoiding re-capture. Derik, why did you come for me? How did you even know that I was here?" She had her theories of course, but the Templar could answer her questions, or she could be content to guess.

This time his smile was tinged with a bit of regret. "Well, you know that I'm an excellent blood hound." It was true. He was the best mage-hunter that the Circle had seen in ages. He always found the renegades. Always. Usually, however, the ones that he found never made it back to the tower. He dealt with renegades quickly and efficiently, not quite seeing the point of dragging maleficar back to the tower for judgment or punishment when the sentence was nearly always death anyways. "After we lost you from the Tower, Gregoir called me up and had me track you down. Assisting blood mages is serious business. So I did. Got some guys killed for it, too. Then you go off the map entirely, and the Templars are having an absolute bloody fit and sayin' you were a blood-mage. Well, that made me look a bit harder. Then what do you know? The Cousland boys appear out of thin air like magic. Didn't take me long to pry out the fact that you were traveling with 'em. Those soldiers are a bit scared of you, y'know. Bit fascinated, too. They were all curious why you didn't show up. I suppose you got the younger brother under your thumb, eh? Word has it you're a permanent fixture around him."

She colored at that, glad for the darkness that would hide the worst of her blush. "It's not like that at all."

"No?" Derik asked, cocking his head to the side slightly, raising an eyebrow in question. Then his other eyebrow joined the first, a look of incredulity stealing across his features. "Nooooo, you didn't, did you-?" It was hard to tell if he was amused or disappointed.

If she was blushing before, she was mortified now. She tried to speak, opening and closing her mouth, gaping a bit like a fish. "There's no game this time." She mumbled, feeling indignant and like she'd just lost a lot of ground.

The Templar whistled the look of surprise on his face clear. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. A future with a Teyrn's boy looks a bit better than one with a mage-hunter, right? Well, if you can spell the Landsmeet to restore his title, that is."

"Derik." Her tone was a warning. "Don't go there."

He shrugged, apparently unconcerned that she was now on the border of bristling with rage. "What I can't figure is how you did it. Kept away so long, I mean."

The way that he looked at her made Solona immediately nervous. He was giving her his best seeker look, the one that meant he was looking at her soul and could tell when she was about to lie. It was uncanny. He had such an easy time lying to everybody else, but nobody could pull the wool over his eyes. It really wasn't fair at all.

Then again, nothing about their relationship had ever been strictly fair.

"I had help." She replied, drawing herself up and patting Keran, the dog rumbling in response. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either, and Derik's frown immediately let her know that he wasn't at all happy with that explanation. "Look, you can be jealous if you want, but there was never going to be anything long-term for us anyway. It was just… fun, while it lasted. You knew that from the start."

"Oh no!" He put his hands up, his face instantly going serious, though not quite scary just yet. "You're not pinning this on me. Don't change the subject. It's a legitimate question, given my position. Really, I shouldn't even be asking it. Strictly speaking, I should probably Smite you, drag you back to the Tower, and let Gregoir hand out your punishment. Which, by the way, is execution, so nobody'd mind if I beheaded you and skipped over the middleman completely. So, I'll ask again more directly this time. Did you or did you not consort with demons and use blood magic?"

He was definitely bordering on scary now, she decided. That, and she had been caught. Tell the truth and duel to the death, or lie and duel to the death anyway while knowing that anything they had ever shared would be shattered to a million pieces by a falsehood that he would never believe. It was a tough choice. In response, she lifted her hands, palms up. "Yes."

He looked at her palms, the network of scars hard to see in the dim lighting, but it was enough. He looked sad, but not particularly shocked, like he'd known all along. That was her Derik. He always figured things out fast. "You always hated blood magic." He said quietly, standing still and watching her, drinking her in like it was the last time he'd ever see her. Well, it would be the last time, one way or another.

"I still do." She replied, dropping her hands slowly, her right hand close now to the dagger at her hip, hidden in the folds of her sash.

"Why did you use it?" Derik's voice had gone businesslike, his face, usually so charming, completely blank. He looked older now.

"To save someone else's life." Solona replied, lifting her chin slightly, daring him to try and find a lie in that statement.

"Not because you didn't want to come back?"

"That too."

The two stared at each other, mage versus Templar, just like it always had been, and just like it always would be. The enforcement of order against the desperately flapping wings of free will. She hated this. Hated that her freedom meant fighting a friend, that trying to live normally meant she had become a murderer, had dragged an innocent bystander into the conflict and smeared his name with her presence. Tears pricked the back of her eyes when she realized that she was selfish enough to not change a thing, even given a second chance.

"I'm sorry Derik." Her voice trembled as she spoke. "I don't want to kill you, but I can't go back to the tower. Even if I weren't branded maleficar… I've seen too much, done too much to ever want to go back, not even for you. And if that means that I have to fight you, then I will. I cannot be swayed, and I will use everything I have at my disposal to remain free." Immediately she felt the presence of the Fortitude Spirit come to her, the bird drawn by its own curiosity. Solona could feel the Fade open to her, the Veil parting to make way for the creature and flooding her with magic until it visibly rolled off of her in waves, blue light seeping out of her skin and flowing onto the ground like mist.

Derik looked shocked by the sudden transformation and even took a step back. "Maker." He hissed, staring at Solona with wide eyes. He was no mage, but his magic-sensitive soul recognized the flood of power, his palms tingling with the magic that now saturated the evening air. Belatedly, he realized that he was afraid. This was no hedge-mage clinging to the Old Ways and wielding spells like a dull mace. Nor was she some run amok maleficar, scared out of her wits and desperately clawing at freedom. This was a fully-fledged mage confident in her power and backed by something otherworldly. It had to be a demon, that's what usually happened when mages turned to blood magic but…

There was no feeling of menace. No bloodlust. No creatures clawing at his mind and tearing for his sanity. It was as if he were standing before a wall: unfeeling and unemotional, simply existing and imbued with the will to stand forever strong. Fortitude. Yes, that described the feeling very well. "A Spirit!" The creature mystified him once he recognized it. He had never seen one before, and never had he expected to see one when confronting a blood mage. "Maker's breath, you've got a Spirit!"

She simply watched him, glowing a soft blue that lit up the night. "I do. And we are resolved to live by the force of our wills alone if that is what it will take. Draw, Templar, or be gone."

A gust of wind ruffled his hair, the currents of the Fade brushing against his face in tendrils of cool air like fingers. Derik shivered and shook his head. "You aren't the mage I'm looking for."

Solona frowned at that, trying to puzzle out the words for their meaning. "What are you talking about? Who else could you possibly be looking for?"

"I'm looking for a mage that's been taken in by the whispers of demons and the calling of the power of blood. She's crazy, and will attack Templars on sight with no questions asked and no apologies. She can enthrall or enslave men just by looking at them and uses the bodies of others as a shield." He met Solona's gaze for a long moment, her confused gaze softened now by his words into a look of acceptance. "I mistook her for you. It seems like there's no mages here. But if you ever run into this mage, know that I'll be hot on her heels and that next time, there won't be any talking."

Then he simply smiled and dipped his head in a slight bow, turned on his heel, and left.

For a long moment Solona simply stared, unsure what had just happened, then Fortitude, seeing that there was nothing going on anymore, simply left. The Fade closed and the power sloughed off her body, dissipating in the gentle breeze that came off the lake. She felt cold and weak and sank to her knees, her hands trembling when she wrapped Keran's neck in a tight hug. She sat there hugging the war hound for a long time, shivering occasionally until she finally sat back and wiped her eyes of the tears that had gathered there. "I got lucky." She whispered to the hound, rubbing the big dog behind the ears. "Ferelden isn't safe. I haven't gone missing enough."

Keran whined and sat, licking Solona's hand.

She smiled and scratched him under the chin. "I know, I know. I can't leave yet. But I'm going to have to soon. Very, very soon."

'Ello everyone. I know, I know, long time no see. Long story short, a lot of life happened between the last chapter and this one, and I struggled a lot with Solona's character development and her relationship with Aedan in the next chapter which was keeping me hung up on updating. I probably wrote ten drafts of these chapters before I was happy with one. I've never stopped working on HoH, though mostly my writing has been confined to filling the margins of my notes during lecture halls. You'll be relieved to know then that the next three chapters are already all written up and ready to publish. I want to thank everyone who's come with me this far, and the people who still subscribed and Favorited my story despite the long hiatus. We're nearing the end game of this series here, so I hope that I can finish off this story with a flourish and bring all of your suspenseful waiting to an end. Cheers, and see you again in a few days with the next chapter!