Ar Vir

Lathalam stood at the map in the center of the camp, tired eyes retracing the path Solas' fingers had taken through the mountain pass.

"Herald."

She looked up, smiling as Cassandra approached her with two mugs, their contents steaming in the chill air.

"Ah," Lathalam sighed as she took one of the mugs, holding it in her hands as the warmth seeped into her skin. "A woman after my own heart."

The Seeker chuckled, taking a sip. "Have you found something," she gestured toward the map.

Lathalam put her finger on the spot she had memorized from the night before. Cassandra frowned, her eyes narrowing at the empty area on the map. The only symbol to denote anything was there was the symbol for a ruin. "I don't remember hearing anything being in the mountains, there."

"Something is there," Lathalam tapped the spot with her finger to emphasize the point. "A place with walls to protect the Inquisition as it grows."

Cassandra's eyes locked with Lathalam's. "Who told you this?"

She pursed her lips. "I came to the map this morning, and the path was here, laid out in front of me as though by a guiding hand." She traced the route through the mountain passes. She hated it that Solas asked her to lie, but she knew that he spoke the truth. They did not trust him. Not yet. The only reason they trusted her, was because of the mark.

"It will be a long journey."

"We will make it, Cassandra. If we leave tomorrow at the latest, we will make it there before winter truly sets in." Lathalam furrowed her brow. "We have a week at best before the first storms blow in." She bit her lip, unsure of where her words were coming from.

Cassandra looked toward the horizon, the morning light hazily blurred everything twenty yards on all sides. "I think you may be right, Herald." She stared at the map again, her fingers tracing the route. "If the attack had come a few days later..."

The thought that this was all ordained was not lost on Lathalam, and the way Cassandra's voice had been reduced to nearly a whisper crushed her. As the Seeker left to confer with the others, Lathalam's eyes fell on Solas, his back to her. She had wanted to stand by him just to spend a moment where she wasn't pressured to be something she wasn't. To be near something familiar.

Her shoulders sank as she kept her feet where they were. He was already wary of her and last night did not help matters in the least. Lathalam breathed deep, schooling her face, erasing all signs of doubt and put on the smiling mask she had worn for half her life. None of those around her need know anything was amiss. It would do no good to complain. Her life belonged to the Inquisition, now. Her only comfort being that this master was far more fair than her last.

---

She stood to the side as Cullen and Cassandra directed the workers, packing up the entire city of tents in just a few hours. Solas had not spoken to her since the night of the attack. He stood away from the group, lost in thought.

"Herald." She turned her head as Cassandra addressed her. "We are ready."

Lathalam nodded, her staff in her hand as she turned to the east. She hesitated a moment, looking back at all the people who followed her. She prayed to whoever was listening that she would not lead them astray.

Taking the first step, she listened as the rest followed her with out question or complaint. She could feel their eyes on her. They depended on her for their very survival, now, and that hurt more than anything Corypheus had done. She stayed well ahead of the group, not wanting any to see her so weak. She was grateful for the wind masking any sound she made.

By the third day, she was exhausted and chilled to the bone. She stopped, eyeing the horizon. "Are you alright, Herald."

Lathalam furrowed her brow. "Is it still morning?"

She turned her head and felt mildly surprised that Solas was actually speaking to her, his gaze on the group following. "No, Herald. We have been walking for nearly the entire day." She must have taken too long to respond, because Solas gave her a quizzical look.

"Oh..." She trailed off. "We should probably stop since the sun is setting."

"That would be wise." Solas tilted his head as he looked into her face, closely examining her as she turned around and signaled for them to make camp.

It didn't take the workers long to set up the tents and start a cooking fire on a rocky out cropping. Before long, the entire camp was filled with the scent of stewed mutton. Solas took his bowl and sat on the edge of the camp, looking out into the darkness.

"Mind if I join you?"

Solas turned his head, watching as Lathalam slowly walked up to him. She stopped as soon as they made eye contact, her smile going from hopeful to so self-depreciating that it hurt him to look at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to trouble you." She turned to walk away toward the fire.

He watched her as she sat down with the large group, some hopping up to give her their seat. She tried in vain to find her own space, but they're insistence was too great. He watched as her shoulders sagged and she took a spot close to the fire, trying to seem happy. But looking closer, Solas saw that she was miserable. She had to accept another bowl of food and more blankets, because to refuse them would break these people's hearts.

Solas sighed as he ate quietly, keeping watch in the darkness beyond the fire. He could hear Cassandra trudging through the snow, armor clanking as she made her rounds and Cullen in the distance, supervising the handing out of blankets and bedrolls. Sera had started a snow ball fight with Iron Bull some where in the camp and several children laughed as they forgot their troubles for a moment to pile Iron Bull with snow balls, the great Qunari feigning defeat as he sank into the snow.

Even Lathalam laughed despite herself.

Solas realized that she hadn't laughed more than a few times since he had known her. The first time had been when talking with Iron Bull. He had walked by and caught just the tail end of the conversation, something about popping corks, but Lathalam had doubled over in laughter, tears in her eyes.

The second was around the fire in Haven. Her cheeks had been flush from the ale and her spirits high after her victory over Alexius, thwarting his plan to distort time itself to save his dying son.

This was only the third time he had heard her voice raised in laughter instead of twinged with fear, doubt and an aching need to reach out and connect with someone.

Solas pursed his lips. Every time she had reached out, she had reached for him. Whether it was to share in victory or quiet, companionable silence, she had reached for him. He looked back to the fire as he watched her attempt to extricate herself from the blankets while trying not to seem ungrateful. She folded them up as neatly as possible and sat them on the cart to be distributed through out the camp and headed toward her tent, holding her own coat close to her to ward off the cold.

Solas finished his food and handed the bowl back to one of the workers who was assigned to wash them. He spent a few minutes warming himself by the fire as the others retired for the night. The entire camp was quiet when he looked back at the Herald's tent. He made his way toward the tent, lifting a tent flap to see if she was still awake, needing to talk. Instead, he saw her asleep on the rocky ground, only her own coat keeping her warm.

"Cullen," the former templar turned as Solas addressed him, his face grim.

"Yes? Did you see anything out there?"

Solas shook his head, waving the warrior's concern away. "No. Did the Herald ask for a blanket or bedroll?"

Cullen tilted his head, the question an odd one. "No, in fact, she gave some back. She said that she had what she needed for the night." The look on Solas' said otherwise. "She isn't sleeping on anything, again, is she?"

"You mean she has been sleeping with nothing more than her own coat for warmth?"

Cullen shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I am sure she has her reasons, but this is getting ridiculous. Here," Cullen shoved a blanket at Solas. "go toss that on her. If she refuses, then tell her that I will nail it to the ground around her."

Solas took the blanket back to Lathalam's tent. The woman was still asleep, shivering even with the wool coat. Gently, Solas laid the blanket on her, careful not to wake the Herald. He stayed by her until she stopped shivering, her face pulling into a smile as she settled into a deep sleep. Against his better judgement, Solas reached out to pull a lock of hair off of her face, tucking it behind her ear. She was nothing like the Dalish he had seen on his travels. Nothing like the city elves.

He furrowed his brow, looking at her features more closely. She almost reminded him of...

He shook his head as he got up from the ground, satisfied that she was no longer in danger of freezing. He told himself that it was impossible, that she couldn't possibly be what he was thinking. But then again, her physically being in the Fade was impossible as well. He exited the tent and took up his position on the edge of camp, eyes returning to the darkness. Perhaps, Solas thought, it would help in understanding her more if he spoke to her in the morning.