A/N: My first attempt at a true romance turned into more of an adventure than I'd intended, so this is my second attempt at the genre. Please feel free to tell me what isn't working, if it strikes you, or if you want to simply read, I hope you enjoy it! Note that I'll probably be side-stepping at least some of DA:I's endgame implications to avoid heading too far back into adventureland. Many thanks to the incomparable JayRain who read a couple of chapters and gave me the confidence to post and continue!

Ellana Lavellan slipped once again into the comfortable blanket that was home. Her clan still wandered, as was their way, and so nothing around her was familiar, except for the things that mattered. Her mother humming as she fletched the arrows with an easy, practice hand. Her father laughing softly as he held a child and rocked her to sleep. That had once been her sister, ten years younger than Ellana and very crabby, but now it was her beautiful niece. His granddaughter. While the children of the Clan belonged to all, grandchildren were still held in an esteem rarely bestowed by the outwardly emotionless Lavellans.

She wondered what her friends would think of her here. In her time in the human world, she'd come to understand that they saw her as stoic, if easygoing. Ellana didn't know how to tell them that her feelings were no less deeply felt for being private. She had no words to describe the way that they sang inside of her so quietly that they couldn't be ignored. Her friends, human and dwarf and city dwelling elf, were like the waters of the Storm Coast. They roiled and crashed and sent themselves out across the shore of the world without any regard for what they might erase. She loved them for it, for that energy that beat the world away when she ruled in Skyhold. They were the heart she could never show, the closed fists she would never make, the open face she would never wear. Nevertheless she was glad to be here, with her Clan, feeling emotions instead of hearing them across her tender ears.

Even Leliana, the one human she'd met who could easily slip among the Lavellans were it not for her own blunted tips, didn't understand. She was outwardly calm, always, but her feelings were hidden from herself as well as the world. She saw them as unimportant distractions. Ellana agreed they were distractions, but they weren't unimportant.

And so the lack of communion they had, for all they loved her, meant that the last two years at Skyhold had been a crushing weight on her soul without anyone being the wiser. When her brother's child was coming, when it was at last time for a trip away to the quiet forest, she'd never been so relieved. The Clan would be a place where the ceaseless ache could finally change shape. Maybe vanish.

Maybe she could walk through the path from Cullen's office to the War Room without closing her eyes against the pictures that showed her past, painted by the one who would never be her future.

Even as she thought it, her father passed her the child in unspoken comfort. Her heart tightened. Though they didn't understand the nature of her grief, and hadn't asked about it, they felt and shared it all the same. She relaxed again, looking at the perfect child in her arms. Alia. Who would have thought her clumsy older brother could produce something so graceful.

"She will be a strong hunter," said her mother. Her voice was the clear bell of a human Chantry, but with none of the fear it invoked. Ellana fell asleep each night, near and far, hearing it sing the hunting songs that she knew so well.

"Or a powerful crafter," said her father, as he said every time. He smiled at his wife with so much love that Ellana could barely breathe for the sight of it. These familiar arguments were everything warm inside her, and she wanted to stay here with them forever. Oh Alia, she thought, find me the magic that will bring me back here. Away from the Inquisition, from the pain, to just be a Lavellan daughter again who knows nothing of a hurt that won't heal.

The baby slept peacefully, and she stood carefully and passed her back to her grandfather with a nod of thanks. His eyes rested on her newly bare face, and she knew he wanted to ask her about it again. They'd been reassured that she didn't want to become as a human, hadn't changed so much as to be done with her heritage, but they still wondered what it meant for their sad, empty daughter.

"The humans ask too much of you," he said carefully.

"No, Father, they ask exactly enough." She smiled at him. "The ones with me are wise. Even you might learn something from them, if you could stop gawking at their merchants' booths long enough."

Her mother laughed musically, and her father sat back. "I'm going to see the Keeper," Ellana said. "He asked me to stop by today."

She stepped out into the dappled sunlight and breathed in the scent of the forest. It wasn't wild, as it should have been, though her clan didn't believe the stories she'd told them of the Arbor Wilds and the life that grew out of the earth without end. This tame woods was all they were used to, but that was no shame. It held its own kind of comfort, to be among people whose view of life was so small. It kept her small with them.

As always she waited for a moment, slightly uneasy, until she remembered what was missing. No Inquisition soldiers around her. No guards to hem her in, no swords at her back. As a mage, she was never unprotected, but rarely did she feel so exposed these days. It was freeing, but unsettling. Ellana knew that the Nightingale had likely turned some of her people into her own agents, as naturally as breathing, but those shadowed eyes weren't the same as a metal prison she couldn't help but see. She laughed to herself and walked to the Keeper's shelter across the camp with an easy step. Ellana Lavellan, Inquisitor, come home.

The Keeper sat on the ground with his staff over his crossed legs, deep in thought. He'd aged considerably since she'd seen him last, and she wondered again why he hadn't passed his title on to his First. She knew she wasn't the only one to question his continued leadership. The Keeper seemed to be waiting for something, but what it was no one knew. They were hoping the Inquisitor would wheedle him out of it, as she had so many things when she was a child, but the pathway of innocent persuasion was well-closed to her now. When she spoke, the power of a military movement was behind it, whether she wanted it to be or not.

She sank next to the older elf without making a sound. Nevertheless, as he always did, he greeted her by name without opening his eyes. "Ellana. You are late, child."

"I wasn't aware we'd made an appointment," she said, smiling. "Can I be late to something with no fixed time?"

He opened his eyes and smiled back. "To the ancient, youth is always late."

"Well, when I find an ancient person, I'll be sure to be more punctual. You're too young to speak of such things." Ellana plucked a blade of grass and spun it through her fingers. "So what did you wish to discuss with me?"

"Such haste. Have the quicklings taught you nothing but speed? A teacher needs no reason to speak to a student but that he requests it."

"The humans have taught me more than I ever desired, but they could never make me unlearn the deepest lesson of my childhood. Namely that my Keeper would choose to stay silent all the days except that he has need to speak."

He gave a rare laugh, and she swelled with pride. She'd never been in line to be his First, or even the Second. Lavellan had too many mages, and she'd been sent to the Conclave to alleviate a burden that was never openly acknowledged. Nevertheless, he'd taught her as carefully as the others, and she was grateful to him for his generosity. She'd met other Dalish mages who hadn't been so lucky.

True to his nature, he went straight to the point. "You've abandoned Sylaise."

Her fingers flew to her eyes, where the vallaslin had been. She'd only worn them for five years, but she could trace the memory of their lines as if she'd been born with them. She forced herself to lower her hand and find calm. "No. I follow her path always. I heal the world in her name. But I have a new mark to remind me of my duties now." Sparks rose off of the anchor at her gentle nudge.

"So the new replaces the old so easily?"

Ellana thought again of telling him what she'd learned, that the marks were slavers marks instead of holy, but she didn't know the words and truthfully she didn't want them to know. If they didn't believe her, she'd only cause turmoil. If they did, they'd lose one more thing to believe in. Where was the harm in keeping them innocent? She certainly wished she'd never learned of it. As if on cue, the always-ready image of his violet gaze on her empty, hateful face rose behind her eyes. She pushed it away with a vengeance. Let her people stay clean.

"It's not replacement. It's just different. I'm different now, Keeper, and that will always be true. But my path is no less honorable for all that. No less Dalish."

He nodded. "I agree. But it's good to hear you speak so plainly. Forgive me, but you've seemed lost since you arrived. I had to be sure you understood yourself."

She looked at him, surprised. "I've always understood myself." Before he could answer, a whoop came from behind the tent, and her younger sister skidded around the side.

Ellana heaved a sigh. Nuriel was no quieter now than she'd been as a small child, even though she was just past the cusp of adulthood. Sometimes she wondered that such a child had been born into her controlled clan at all. She'd spent several afternoons playing with her little sister's pointed ears, convinced she was human and they were sculpted, but they'd remained stubbornly elven. And any hope she was a foundling soon to be claimed by her true parents had been dashed when Nuriel grew old enough for braids. In spite of their opposing personalities, they looked like twins born ten years apart.

And as Nuriel jumped through the air to tackle her in a hug, she couldn't stop a smile. She was impossible not to love. "Be careful, little monkey. One day I'll put up a barrier that will bounce you right off."

Nuriel rolled and stood in a one fluid motion. "You never would. Not to your most adorable sister," she said, grinning, then spun to the Keeper. "It's the day, isn't it? He's coming!"

When the Keeper nodded the younger girl whooped again. Ellana sat up and covered her ears playfully. "Who's coming? I hope it's someone hard of hearing or they'll be deaf by the time you're done with them."

Her sister twirled in a circle. "The mysterious stranger. He's so handsome!" She danced away, humming a court song she must have picked up from traveling humans. Ellana stared at the Keeper, bemused.

"A stranger once, but now a friend, has visited the Clan these past several months. He brings us aid, news, or warnings when they're needed. He's very punctual, unlike my former students."

"Well it seems he's captured a wife for his Clan, if that was his intention," she said, laughing.

"There were some who wondered," said the Keeper. "But he's never mentioned it if so. He never mentions much of anything beyond what is needed and keeps himself close, but he's done us no harm so we will do him none."

"As Sylaise wills so we follow," she said absently, traditionally, but she didn't mean it. She stood with a worry in her stomach she couldn't name. Strangers in her family's home, with no explanation. Maybe Leliana would be able to help set her mind at ease if she could get enough to go on. "Does he seem to want information? About the Inquisition, or me?"

The Keeper looked up at her. "No, never. I don't believe he even knows of the Lavellan who's been raised so highly in the world. But I was hoping you would stay to meet him. You have seen much of the world, child, and can perhaps bring wisdom where we have none." He smiled. "Besides, he too keeps face bare, on a path that may also be different but honorable."

Then her stomach was no longer worried, but terrified. She twisted underneath the fear, looking for escape, but time seemed to slow as Nuriel called, "He's here!" Her sister's hand waved but oh-so-slowly, trailing eagerness in the air as a counterpoint to Ellana's own nausea. She tried to stop herself, but her head followed where her sister's eyes led. Of course it was Solas.

Solas stopped short, a smile of greeting dying on his lips. He stood as still as a deer when it scents danger in the trees, and his heart ached a little at the loss of his assuredness in this camp. Clan Lavellan had become a place he felt comfortable, as comfortable as he ever felt with the Dalish. He liked their gentle curiosity about the world, their quiet and introspective natures. Only a few visits had been needed to understand how an Inquisitor with so much wisdom had risen to save them. The Dalish were always wrong in how they lived, but they were more right in who they were than he'd believed.

But now comfort was gone, lost in the gaze of a woman he'd thought he'd forgotten. Of course, the Inquisitor covered Thedas, and could never truly be left behind by anyone with an interest in it, but Ellana had become a distant memory. Only out of obligation for his mistakes had he come to her family, to help them. The Inquisition could no longer desire his help, nor could he give them anything they needed, but a small clan in a woods was always in need. He gave them small kindnesses to pay for all, far away from Skyhold and the life that no longer fit. Far away from her.

He cursed himself for his liar's nature. Lying to himself, even now, when every line of him knew the truth. Hadn't he come here, month after month, for this? To see her again, watch the curve of her lips as she spoke, to feel her spirit strong and alive in the world, not just in the dreams he couldn't stop himself from conjuring? But he'd only meant to see from afar, unnoticed and unobserved. This was too much. The temptation was too strong, and he wasn't prepared.

He wished it was full dark now, where the moon would put silver lights in her hair, and he could melt away like a dream she would barely remember. Instead they stared across the bright camp at each other, and he felt the current between them rising and falling, in time with the rise and fall of her breathing. He rejoiced fiercely in the bareness of her face. She was still free. And beautiful beyond compare.

Ellana, he whispered in his mind, and as if the thought were the key to a spell they'd been weaving, she moved.

Her stride was predatory, but he couldn't bring himself to even shift on his feet. He tore his eyes from her face and watched the movement of her hips, smooth and mesmerizing. He'd forgotten what it was like to see her lit from inside with so much purpose. She was formidable. Indomitable. Real. He wanted, then, a blazing want that engulfed him. He wanted his hands on those hips, fingers exploring their sharp curves and relearning everything they'd lost. His mind raced. Would she accept him again? How could he make a beginning? How would they ever make an end?

The desire for her caught him so strongly that he was blindsided, completely unprepared for the resounding slap she gave him across the face. Her amber eyes were fire as the echoes died away in the sudden silence of the camp.

She turned and left without a word. He felt heat on his cheeks, not all from the force of her hand, and he was more grateful than she would know for the clear reminder of what he was. Harellan. Traitor. This wasn't his home. He had none, and certainly not with her.