It was strange. Having the boys around again, I meant. It wasn't that they'd changed; despite my jokes they pretty much hadn't.

Sure, they all looked a little more worn, but that was probably just another couple of years of living in Kirkwall. Getting older in a city that rarely provided true opportunities to relax.

Fenris hadn't changed at all. Same hair cut, same battered old armor, same scowl when he had to interact with Merrill. The only thing new about him were his swords; both his two-hander and the shorter one on his hip looked freshly forged to me.

Now that I had more time to look at him, Anders was much the same as well, though he at least had managed a broader change of his wardrobe. Same style, complete with feathers on his robes, but most of it looked new instead of holed and stained like the ones I remembered seeing him in. I'd put good money on Varric or Brennan being responsible for that.

It wasn't the minor cosmetic changes that were strange. It was more the fact that, well, we pretty much just settled right back into old routines as if we were just catching up after a week apart, instead of years apart.

The three of them had a pony and two horses tied off not far away, our own ponies having been brought over by Merrill. We all mounted up, carefully picked our way back to the road, and then the lot of us rode as hard as we dared away from the greasy smoke still rising above the trees. Apart from some banter about how terrible a horse-woman I was, to which I retaliated with comments about how miserable Varric's pony looked bearing his weight, we didn't speak much on the ride.

Merrill and I led them all back to the same sheltered encampment we'd used the night before. The size of the stone barn ensured it was more than large enough even with the extra company, and we wasted little time in getting settled in.

That would have been easier if not for the fact that everyone seemed to assume that I was still giving orders, something that left me fuming but still giving them all the same.

"Fenris?" I motioned outdoors, "You think you can find anything to eat? I think we deserve more than hard-tack and berries for a reunion dinner."

He glanced at the lowering sun, shrugged, and nodded. "I can't argue with that. I'll take the blood mage to flush out some game."

The Merrill of a few years ago would have probably winced at the title. A Merrill who'd heard far worse from the various enemies we'd made loftily ignored him, turning to me instead. "Of course, lethallan. We'll be right back."

I helped her get her pack off, laying it down beside my own, and then the two of them trotted out into the woods. I watched them go, turning back to find Anders already tossing new bits of wood onto where we'd had our fire last night. When he finished I muttered my little spell, waving a hand to set the kindling alight.

"Thanks." He said, sitting with a long groan. "I heard Fenris. I'm sorry, I didn't think he'd actually call her that to her face."

I sighed, moving over to sit down as well, Varric joining us.

"I'm not surprised." I said. "That's how he referred to her in his letters, once he actually started writing them instead of you. He better not slip up in public though, or he and I are going to have a problem."

Anders shook his head. "I doubt that he will. I've gotten to know him better, and he is far more bark than bite so long as we mages don't harm anyone else with our magic. Merrill only harms herself. He'll be paranoid and cutting, but that's just who he is."

I shrugged, "That describes most of us, I think. I'm still holding out hope that part of him wants to like her, if only because her Eluvian project really could let him free countless Tevinter slaves."

"How is that going?" The dwarf asked. "You said something about getting the key before the fight."

I shrugged. "It's almost done. Well, the Eluvian itself is fixed as far as we can tell, we just need to make the key to unlock it."

Anders narrowed his eyes. "And you know how?"

"Yup."

"Your spirit?" He guessed.

Another shrug. "I used the last question she owed me to get the information. It's not that different from how I make my Dream-Catchers, but it's better suited for someone with a normal approach to magic. And yes, Anders, I think it might be the key we need for Merrill to make them without the mixed process we're using right now."

He'd perked up quickly at that. "Thank the Maker for that. You have no idea how valuable those little hoops have become."

I blinked. "They're that important to the Underground?"

Varric grunted, speaking up, "One idiot stole one and tried to put it up for auction. A visiting 'Vint had the bidding up near three thousand sovereign before the Templars crashed the meeting. Thrask managed to get a hold of it, and the convinced the others that the auction was just for a warding amulet. Since then Blondie's Underground has been keeping the things under lock and key."

"Reserved for children and apprentices, or those few people I trust who need the quiet at night." Anders confirmed. "We've got them scattered at safehouses outside of the city now, with a few hidden on the main route out of the Gallows. People coming and going push their mana into them to keep them charged, but we don't tell them what they're actually doing. We're telling them it's just a means of stopping the Templars from easily detecting them."

"He means," Varric said with a chuckle, "That they hid them behind rocks. Half of the kids think it's some kind of secret code to prove that they're actually in the Underground, that Anders can pick up messages from how their magic hits the stone or some nonsense."

My laugh had the other man pink slightly, speaking up in his own defense. "It's working! They all say they can't hear any demons on that route, or at the final rest stop on their way out of the city."

"Heh." I controlled my laugh, still smiling. "So you're making them all exit the city now?"

"Yes." He nodded once, his flush fading quickly. "We learned our lesson there. Anyone we can smuggle out of the Gallows isn't allowed to stay in Kirkwall. The ones that want to continue to be free are taking paths north, toward Antiva or Tevinter. We let them pick either one. The ones that just want to be away from Meredith's rule follow the cost toward the College, and the Enchanters there are covering for their arrival."

"Found a Revered Mother to fake the documentation?" I guessed.

"That's my guess as well, but they haven't said." He replied. "I don't blame them. We're all keeping information strictly on a need to know basis."

That made sense, and I said so before going into my next question. "How many actually make it that far?"

His expression twisted into something unhappy, Varric chiming in. "Maybe a third. The ones that actually listen to the instructions and follow them after."

I winced. "That few?"

Anders clenched his jaw for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. The young Apprentices are usually the ones who don't get recaptured, thank the Maker, and most of the older Enchanters avoid detection as well. It's, well, everyone in between."

One of his hands rose, fingers ticking off the reasons as he went. His voice changed with each sentence, clearly imitating the complainers he'd had to deal with. "Avoid the roads and inns, and live in the woods like barbarians? Of course we can keep ourselves hidden on the roads and in packed taverns! Obviously the Dalish will help them just because one of five of us is an Elf who doesn't speak a word of their language. You're all cowards for insisting we hide! We should be taking the fight to the Templars!"

Sighing, I brought my own hand up, ticking off my guesses. "Captured easily by Templars stationed there to find them. Half of them are killed by the Dalish, and the rest are captured when they stagger back to civilization. Killed or captured when they attack paranoid Templars outside of the city."

"More or less." Anders said, his mood quickly turning to the morose. "Plenty are picked up trying to come back into the city as well. They think the Templars are weak because Meredith was crippled, and that the city is ripe for another attempted uprising."

I pursed my lips, fingers finding said Templar Commander's gift to me. Felt the leather of the sword's grip. "She hasn't eased up at all?"

"No." He said, voice flat.

Varric, naturally, spoke up a second later. "Sort of."

Both men promptly turned to glare at one another, leaving me to clear my throat. "I'm guessing this is an ongoing argument between you two?"

Looking disgusted, Anders waved for Varric to go first.

"Broody and I have been talking more with Curly. He comes over to the Hanged Man once every couple of weeks." Varric said. "According to him, Meredith is actually trying to deal with some of the problems the mages are having inside of the Gallows. He says she's having a spat by letters with Elthina about moving loyal mages out to other Circles, and they're really going at it about Starkhaven. Meredith wants to arrange a coup there, and Elthina's having none of it."

I blinked, baffled. "She wants to put that Maker-obsessed shiny boy in power there? In God's name why?"

He waved a hand toward Anders, "Because the current Prince is refusing to build a new Circle without someone else paying for it. And by someone else, he pretty blatantly means Kirkwall."

"Ah." I nodded, trying to sound as if I only vaguely knew who they were talking about. "So she thinks... what was his name?"

"Choir-Boy." He provided, betraying the fact that he'd apparently met Sebastien in the time we'd been gone. Met him enough to give him his in-game nickname at that.

"So she thinks Choir-Boy would build a new Circle, letting them move the Mages who came from Starkhaven back there?" I asked.

Varric nodded. "Yeah. But that's too militaristic for Elthina. She won't hear it, just like she won't hear of anything to push the Qunari out by force."

I huffed, "So I've heard. I'm really starting to hate that old bat."

There was noise of agreement from Anders. "And to think that I once thought she might be a counter-weight to Meredith. The more Varric talks to the Templars, the more it seems that Elthina is even more of a problem than Meredith is. At least Meredith is, supposedly, exploring options. The Grand Cleric just seems to want things to stay the same and wait for the Maker to solve all of our problems."

"So you do think Meredith's trying?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter if she is." He countered, crossing his arms. "She still punishes Mages for the most minor infractions, covers up rapists and abusers among the ranks, and refuses to even consider allowing the Mages the smallest degrees of freedom. Maybe she wants to change things, but she refuses to involve even a single Mage in the decision making process. We're just supposed to put our lives in her hands for her to do with as she sees fit."

When I simply nodded, Anders narrowed his eyes at me. "You've still been writing her?"

"Yes." I said, our gaze meeting.

"And?" He demanded.

My shoulders went up and down. "I can confirm that she and Elthina are arguing, and that she hates the First Enchanter's guts. That's just general venting on her part though. She's never really offered details, and I've never really asked."

"Could you-"

"No." I cut him off before he could ask, my voice hard. "Anders, no."

He scowled at me. "You didn't even let me finish."

"You're right." I said, "But my answer's still no. I'm not telling you about Meredith's health, or pumping her for information, or setting her up for something. It's awkward enough knowing I'm apparently the only person she can talk to like a normal person when I'm a mage, and when I don't agree with her policies. I'm not making shit even more awkward by trying to use her fondness for me on the Underground's behalf."

The Warden's expression darkened further, his jaw clenching to the point where I could see the muscles in his neck straining. He rose abruptly, grabbed his staff, and stalked out of the shelter without another word.

"Testy." I noted to his back. "You could have warned me."

Varric reached into his vest, pulling out a small flask. "Figured you had to see it yourself. I really thought he'd calm down once he got what was left of the Underground working as he wanted them to. Focusing on getting Mages to freedom instead of trying to murder Elves. Instead it's just made him even more stressed and snappish."

I glanced out to where Anders had stopped a few dozen paces outside, leaning heavily on his staff, head bowed. "Fenris not helping?"

"Not really." Varric sighed. "They get along fine when I'm there between them, but I'm pretty sure they've got into actual fist fights with each other at least twice since you left. Might want to take it easy with both of them while you're around."

"I'll try and avoid the snark around him. Or mentioning Meredith." I said, turning back to see him sipping from whatever was in his flask. "And I won't bring up Longing around Fenris."

"Smart." He offered.

"Thanks. How have you been? Anything else you leave out of your letters?" I asked.

"Nah, things have actually been pretty quiet. Usual Guild problems, Broody found some 'Vints to fight last year, but nothing like when you were around." A hand gestured towards Anders. "And as testy as Blondie's been lately, he's not that bad most days, and he's actually getting along pretty well with Greybeard and Charger."

I blinked a few times, his smirk widening as I tried to work out who he meant. "...Emeric and Thrask?"

"First try, not bad." He grinned. "Anyway, they've been covering for him, and helped an Elven kid who grew into his magic. Got him out before anyone else noticed, even got him to a Dalish clan looking for a new First."

"Please tell me it wasn't Merrill's old clan."

"Maker's balls no." A quick shake of his head. "Some group out by Ostwick. Lavellan, I think it was."

Huh. I guessed any potential Inquisitor from that Clan wouldn't be a mage then. Any kid growing into his magic would be far too young to be sent to something like the Conclave, even with a few years of growing between now and then. Of course, even the thought of that cluster-fuck darkened my mood at once, if only because I still had no idea what I was going to do about it. If anything.

…no, shit. I had to do something. There was no way I was going to let little Trevelyan go there, and gamble on a one-in-four chance of her surviving and becoming the Inquisitor. I liked the kid too much, even if she was a baby-Templar.

"Good." I said finally, turning my gaze down to stare at the crackling fire. "I did miss you all, you know."

His smile faded into a sober expression. "I know, Buzz. No one blamed you for running off like you did. Not after what happened."

My shoulders twitched in a micro-shrug. "You can all say that, but still kind of feel like I abandoned most of my friends."

"Is that you being hard on yourself as usual, or is that Meredith chastising you for not being knightly?" He asked.

"Bit of both, with a dash of missing you all." I admitted. "Hawke was fun, but dinner at her estate or in Amaranthine just wasn't the same as card nights at the Hanged Man. And Isablla's crew was diverse and fun, but... dammit. Never thought I'd say it, but I did miss the Alienage. I do miss it. Being able to be somewhere and truly know that no one cares that my ears are pointed."

And that had been a painful thing to realize during my first trip to Denerim.

To realize that Kirkwall's Alienage had, at some point in my stay there, become my safe space. My little fortress. My... home.

That when I thought about going home, I'd caught myself equally thinking of returning to Kirkwall as returning to Eerie.

The level of despair and depression that realization had brought up hadn't been pretty. I'd been within a inch of falling off the wagon and going on a bender, or else walking into Hawke's room to throw myself into her bed. Knowing myself as well as I did, I'd have probably done one, the other, or both if we hadn't had to go on the road to the Brecilian Forest the day after I'd started on that particular mental crisis.

Focusing on helping calm shit down between the Dalish and the Banns, then helping Merrill get the Elven tools she needed to work on the Eluvian, had kept me distracted long enough to deal with my emotions. Mostly.

It was a self control that had started to crack when Merrill had shifted how she viewed me.

Varric eyed me over the smoldering flames. "You sure you don't want to stay, once we find out what's going on out here?"

"...no." I said quietly. "I'm sorry, Varric. But no. I can't. I need to go home. To my real home."

He sighed. "Figured you'd say that. Want me to give you a heart-felt speech about home being where people care about you and crap?"

"Only if you want me to feel miserable even as I tell you no again." I said with as much false-cheer as I could manage. "And don't ask about Merrill tonight."

"I won't." A hand reached down into the bag beside him, rifling around for a moment before emerging with a fist-full of paper. "How about we read some of this, see what they say about my brother or his idol instead? We'll save the touchy-feely stuff for when we've got our feet up at my place."

"Heh. Deal." I nodded, quickly reaching out to take them so that he could read one of the journals he'd found instead.

Anders came back inside around then, Varric silently handing over the other little book. The three of us settled in to read, flicking through the pages, trying to make sense of the scribbled writings.

It didn't take me long to figure out we were definitely on the right track, assuming that the red lyrium filled Dwarves hadn't already done that.

"Hey." I said, holding up a single sheet. "Look familiar?"

Both men glanced up, grimacing almost in unison. The drawing was a dead ringer for the idol that had nearly killed me, even done in rough charcoal. Whoever the artist had been, his talents had been wasted in the Carta.

The extra proof got us all focusing, though that didn't help me all that much. Most of the loose paper had apparently been people's personal notes, and consisted almost entirely of scribbled drawings. Most were of the idol, and the rest were of game animals. Deer, mostly, complete with notes about which parts tasted the best.

"Must have been the cook's." I muttered. "It's all about food. You guys find anything?"

Varric hummed, turning a page. "Records of lyrium shipments. Professional notes, I mean. I expected it to be mad scribbles at best. Looks like they were moving it from a place they call 'Tallimar'... sounds like a Thaig, trying to work out where it actually is. Blondie?"

"Northwest." He replied, finger following a line in his own reading. "The writer complains about being sent southeast, away from the 'Beautiful Song'. They wanted to get this shipment done as quickly as possible so that they could return... more complaining about having to leave at all. Saying that their leader is forcing them to trade lyrium for regular food, saying that they need it to survive."

A low whistle came out of Varric. "Pretty far gone if you don't want to eat."

"Just a bit." I said, picking out the best drawing of the idol. The rest of the sheets were tossed into the fire, all of them quickly beginning to darken as the flames consumed them. "So we heard north starting tomorrow. Any hints on numbers?"

Both men read quickly, flicking back and forth through the pages, but we weren't quite that lucky. Nor did they find a convenient map that might have helped us beyond the vague direction, and a name that none of us recognized. I supposed we could have headed back to Kirkwall, used the Chantry library or asked Thrask to check the Gallows one to figure out where that Thaig might be. That would have meant a long trip back there, then an equally long trip right back here.

Yeah. No. Knowing Kirkwall, we'd get stuck in some kind of mess within hours, and we wouldn't be able to leave again.

"Well?" Varric prodded. "Come on, fearless leader. What's the plan?"

I scoffed. "I'm neither fearless nor a leader. Save your exaggerations for your books."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Giving him a rude gesture, something that only made him let out a chortle, I gave them my thoughts. "No point in heading all the way back to Kirkwall just to try and find a name on an old map, then come all the way back out here. Let's see what we can find on our own first."

Anders let out a soft snort. "You've mastered a leader's ability to state the obvious and make it sound profound."

"It's not that hard, which is why you get to-"

"No." He smiled. "You're back, you're giving the orders, Maeve."

Grumbling, I grabbed a stick, poking at the bits of paper that hadn't properly burned up, nudging them deeper into campfire.

We sat in silence for a time after that. The boys doing a few final checks of the journals we'd taken from the dead, and I got up to feed a bit more fuel into the fire. With little else to do until the others got back, I threw out my sleeping roll, getting it and our packs settled. After a bit of thought, I did the same for Fenris, but I made sure to kick a few rocks under his first.

He'd know it was me, and he'd know I'd done it to protest what he'd called Merrill. Not that it would change his behavior, but it was the principle of the thing.

Anders got up as well around then, heading back to tend to the horses. I followed him once everything else was settled, the two of us feeding them an apple each before getting their bags filled with oats. Or maybe it was grains... or grass. Whatever it was that horses ate.

Brushing them down was more therapeutic for me. I even took the time to give my mount a nice little braid in his mane, the short horse seeming to huff around his munching when I finished and called him a fancy lad.

After that it was a quick trip to a nearby stream to refill our canteens and water-skins, then a walk back to shelter.

It was still another hour or so before Fenris emerged from the woods; a young buck draped over his shoulders, Merrill happily skipping along beside him. Varric finally did some work around then, heading out to help gut and skin tonight's dinner. Anders and I got the cooking gear out, along with what salt we had, and were ready when the first steaks were brought our way.

Munching on slightly burnt venison over a campfire wasn't exactly fine dining, but after days of nothing but bread, fruit, and nuts, it tasted heavenly.

"Merrill." I chided, unable to stop a grin as she tore off another piece with her teeth, trying to lighten the mood by teasing her. "I know it's your favorite food, but less sex noises while you eat, lethallan."

She reddened at once, nearly choking as she worked to swallow. "Maeve!"

Laughter and snickers ran around the shelter, Varric's chortling lasting the longest.

My Elven sister scowled at me. As usual it was about as threatening as a puppy's growl, and was further ruined by her crimson cheeks. "I was not!"

"You were." I smirked. "Your chin is covered as well."

"Is not." A hand rose, touching her chin, smearing the juices that had dribbled down. "Oh. Um..."

Still grinning, I grabbed a handkerchief and leaned over to clean it off. Merrill let me, even if her blush didn't fade. Tossing the cloth aside to wash later, I turned back to find Anders smirking at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Just thinking I need to put coin on Merrill winning apparently." He drawled.

"Anders!" Merrill yelled.

"Anders!" I echoed her, my good mood going up in flames as I realized just how much I'd probably encouraged her. "Really?"

Our yells just had him laugh, "What? I thought it was a tender little moment. What did you think, Varric?"

"Extremely." Varric nodded, a hand rubbing at his broad chin. "Yeah. Yeah, I can use that little look they had."

I turned my glare to him. "There was no little look."

He tutted. "There definitely was. If the rest of us weren't here I'm pretty sure one of you would have leaned in a little and-"

Merrill grabbed the nearest object, her water skin, and chucked it at him. Cold liquid promptly soaked his pants, making him yelp. I think he tried to jump upright, got himself tangled up with the straps of the bag next to him, and promptly fell right back over with a comical wave of his arms that sent his steak flying.

Fenris snapped a hand up, grabbing the food a the same time as our dwarven companion face-planted amid another round of laughter.

Varric joined us, shaking his head as he pushed himself back up, proving still able to chuckle at himself.

He edged a little closer to the fire to dry off, Fenris wordlessly handing him the rest of his steak, and our banter resumed late into the evening.