The Inquisition had become its own apparatus, capable of functioning and sustaining itself without Elanna's careful eye, not that it was ever a particularly careful eye to begin with. She could not be certain if it was out of duty, respect, or piety but after Haven's fall the forces of the Inquisition seemed to want to consult her on every matter before making a decision. In the early days her command was more akin to her assent, aggressively proposing very little and instead choosing the most palatable of options presented to her.

As time had gone on and the wheels of command became better greased by experience the various individuals, from top to bottom, began to accurately guess her decisions, or at least grow better determining what was too urgent to discuss without her and what could be handled to keep Skyhold running.

At first her private excursions with Solas were something done in relative secret. Her guilt at leaving the keep behind with no word had kept her from keeping it entirely secret, though Cassandra was always the first to let her know how irresponsible it was Haven's fall had been fresh in all their minds then and though Elanna could not fault Cassandra for her caution it still made her feel like a chastised child rather than the paragon of a cause.

Times were different now. Haven was a different life. It must have been peculiar for the faithful, Elanna thought, that the foot of the Temple of Sacred Ashes was the refuge of their doubt, when an Elf had emerged from the ruins of their greatest temple and speculative eyes hoped but could not be certain that she was a message from the Divine.

They were a bunch of tits, she thought, but at least they were now tits that had a cause they believed in.

A feeling of familiarity washed over Elanna the further she rode from Skyhold. Her clan's journeys had been far to the north, across the sea as they wandered the Free Marches. The very landscape was unrecognizable to look upon, with its hills that curved into mountain that touched the sky. To further render the land alien and strange was the way the plains she and Solas had ridden upon was upturned, the green grass that likely dotted the ground was shoveled out and turned into an ugly, muddy black.

But there was a magic in the air that was thick and intoxicating, making Elanna feel as though she were swimming through a caustic air even as she and Solas rode into the Exalted Plains. It was the feeling of home, as familiar to her as the smell of rabbit stew and a freshly skinned buck, of the paint the hunters used to blend their form to the trees, smelling of olives and herbs.

Although both sides of the Orlesian Civil War, entrenched as they were and largely staring at one another from across the strewn earth, claimed total control of the region Solas made it more than clear just how little they knew about their own charge. Which was fortunate as the heavily guarded main road was the furthest from their destination, sweeping deep into the tall mounds of earth and buried under trees so ancient that they groaned like sore old men.

As they stopped for lunch, stringing their horses beneath the bark of one of the tired old trunks, Elanna took a moment to wonder how many of the great camps and siege engines among the feuding humans were built from the very bark that had seen the rise, fall, and new birth of kingdoms.

The thought carried itself to words as Solas prepared their camp. "These trees are so old," she observed, not quite turning to look at him as she let her thoughts wander.

"That they are."

"How much of it do you think the Shems are using in their war?"

Solas put down a pot that they would use for their cooking and rose to regard her. "Probably more than you would like," he answered, "but probably less than you would think. Trees have seen worse than this conflict and they're likely going to see worse yet. I would not worry a great deal about them."

He had been strangely silent for the duration of the journey, though it seemed to be a pleased silence. This had not been the first time the two had journeyed forward in pursuit of their Elven past, but it had usually been at his own urging. She had always been content enough to follow along, if only to enjoy his company and observations.

Her thirst for knowledge had put him in good spirits and perhaps his silence was owed to the joy that denied him the need to make cynical remarks on his observations as they passed. She was not sure if she preferred the quiet, happy Solas to the talkative, gloomy one.

They ate a light lunch of porridge and vegetable stew, then Solas approached the edge of the cliff on which they were perched and glanced down at the ravine below. Vines and roots were trying to escape their earthen prison and wrap around the valley, exposed and foreign, some retreating back into the ground as quickly as they had come out as though they were developing second thoughts. Criss crossing the way were several stoneworks built countless ages ago, the mortar and brick chipped and weathered yet somehow still standing.

"There is so much to learn here," it was the first time he had spoken since lunch and the first time he had started on his own. "But the conventional method of wandering around and hoping to trip over artifacts is no doubt the least efficient."

"You mean to dream," Elanna said, stepping behind him and following his eyes.

"I do."

"Can I come with you?"

"I anticipated you would ask me that."

Elanna raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And?"

"And I've already brought you with me."

She balked and looked around. Glancing back she realized that the camp was nowhere to be seen and as she thought about it she remembered that they had chosen closer to the ground for their stay, nowhere near any cliff. It was strange and alarming, but delightful in a childlike way how her memory in dreams took whatever it had seen for granted and tried to piece it together without upsetting her.

"Well…" she stammered, trying to regain her senses and bearing in this alien environment. "You're pretty good at that."

Solas smiled as much to himself as to her. "I've had some practice."

"How long have we been asleep?"

"A few hours. You stirred a little longer than I."

"Well I'm not as well practiced as you." She stuck her tongue out at him, then swept her gaze back out across the canyon. She felt a shudder course up her spine as she thought about this walk somewhere between the Fade and Thedas. "There's a lot of pain here."

"There is," Solas agreed, "but that is a sheet spread over the landscape of emotions that have populated this place time and again. Do you feel that?" He motioned away. "That is hope. And there is love. Passion, I would say, is the most common thing you will find here."

"Passion?" she tried to feel that but the feelings of death and despair were too smothering. She suspected that those were the more temporal feelings as he had said. Even as the fighting had come to a temporary truce the soldiers were unable to escape the reality of unwashed bodies sharing a field with the dead, all congregated together and swapping diseases among one another. Their sorrow called out loudest of all.

"Passion. I would not strictly call it an emotion itself, if we want to get technical it's more of an amplifier. But it is there. These plains have called passions from all corners of the world it would seem."

She tried but it was impossible to see past the initial haze of war.

Sensing that frustration, Solas took her by the hand and pointed with her own fingers down the valley toward a small creek. The small flow of water was all that remained of the mighty river that had carved out the valley below. She saw nothing save for a trickle of bushes that might have been an animal or might have been the breeze.

"Do you see it?" Solas urged, clenching her wrist a little tighter.

Elanna ground her teeth and narrowed her eyes, struggling to double her focus. Just as she was ready to give up she saw what he was directing her toward, a small shape, cream colored but in the lithe form of an Elf. They were wispy, cream colored and translucent, with long, wild hair that danced in the wind but seemed to never truly end, only fading into the air until it was no longer visible.

The being was too distant for her to make out any features, though she did see that it was moving at a careful, step over step pace.

"I see it," she acknowledged.

"Focus on it," Solas commanded. His voice softened. "On her."

At first obedience to his command was difficult with the overwhelming feeling of loss that tried to encircle and envelope her but she pressed on, trying to make nothing in the world exist but the shape. It was difficult with the feeling of Solas's chest, expanding and retracting with his breaths or the way his hot palm was wrapped around her wrist.

When at last she managed to narrow her vision down to only the wisp of a woman she felt as though she were being pulled down a long hallway, stopping only when she collided into a wall of her thoughts.

It was here. You're gone, but I cannot feel sad. You're here still, I can feel you.

"She's mourning," Elanna's voice was quiet and calm, as though to keep from disturbing the spirit.

"In a way," Solas whispered back. "She's remembering."

"Isn't that mourning?"

"In a more wizened, distant way."

The spirit knelt down and grazed the tips of her knuckles against the earth, smiling as she felt again the sand and pebbles that were once scraping her knees as she knelt for lunch or picked at the bottom of her feet as she secluded away to her secret liaison. Her heart throbbed because she would never feel those pebbles, that dirt with him again, but it swelled, cherishing that they had shared it at all.

"A victim of one of the wars?" Elanna asked, a lump growing in her throat.

"Not quite," Solas explained, understanding that she could not quite reach into the well of her memories as he could. "He was taken by time, surrounded by the ones he loved, sipping hot wine to ease his pain. She was there at the end, saying her goodbyes. The histories would have you believe that that every T in this land is crossed with blood but those are passing sorrows for a place so old."

I would trade anything for another day with you, except the time we spent together, which I cherish among all else.

"She's Dalish," Elanna remarked and although it might have been obvious the kinship she was feeling caused her to suddenly beam with joy.

"Her's is but another thread in the undying tapestry of the People's history, vhenan."

Elanna felt her body tremble and her knees go weak. If Solas had not been so tightly clasped onto her she might have fallen to the crags below. She leaned back, opting instead to fall into him.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. When they opened again she felt jolted awake. Solas was facing her, eyes wide, lying sidelong. She looked around, trying to regain her bearings, recognizing the old tree where they tied their horses, finding a new comfort in the smell of their extinguished fire.

"We're awake," she spoke, as much to herself as Solas.

He only nodded to her.

Now her own memories were embroidered into the Exalted Plains. She cupped Solas into her hands and leaned in close for a kiss, shuddering at the feeling of his warm breath washing out against her.

They lay like that for several long moments, neither offering words that might take away from the experience they had shared. She felt his arms wrap around her, hands resting on the small of her back as though to hold her into place.

She was ready to fall back asleep like that, her moment then as perfect as the one they shared over the valley. She wondered if one day she would come back to this place, grazing her knuckles against the dirt, remembering when they held witness to this moment.