Disclaimer: I hold no claim to the characters in this story, or the world for which they live. I do, however, claim ownership of the sugar cookie on my plate waiting patiently to be devoured. And what a sweet devouring it will be…

A/N: I hate filler, to the very core of my being. And writing this chapter felt like hammering a nail through each of my fingers to secure it to a wooden post. It hurt my brain so bad…

Again, potential spoilers if you are playing, but have to beat, the game Dragon Age: Inquisition.

Trolls - bridge

Flames - bonfire with marshmallows and chocolate and graham crackers!

Somewhere Sideways

Chapter Two

April Rain

Count your blessings and prepare to change your point of view
All those days that you spend waiting won't come back to you

"Please Cullen? As a favor?"

"A favor? Which means you would owe me one."

"Not really. I got rid of Corypheus after all, we can call ourselves even."

"Playing the 'I saved the world' card are you now?"

"Yes."

"I should be here to help train the new recruits. Explain to me again why you want me to take this so called vacation to go traipse across to the Free Marches to hold a flag while you wave?" Cullen sighed.

"Well, of my inner circle most of my worrier friends have … that is to say… Well they're busy. And I trust your skill to be able to have my back if the worst came to pass."

"So what you are really saying is that you have already asked everyone else, and they turned you down. So I'm your last resort?"

"Noo." Lavellan drawled, though in truth that was exactly how it had been. When she had asked Casandra, her answer was that while she was in sore need to hit something, she was needed at the chantry for her coronation. Blackwall had just received news that the Gray Wardens were on their way to collect him, and he thought it best that he stick around and not be gone when they showed, to which she had agreed. That left Iron Bull, who, as it appeared, had already taken off towards the Storm Coast to meet with an informant of his. The chances were likely they would cross paths, but till then she thought it best to play it safe and have a well-rounded party. This meant she needed another warrior, and that was why she had just spent the last half hour pleading her case to the commander.

Cullen breathed out a sigh, "alright Inquisitor, it would be my honor to fight beside you should the need arise." He grimaced inwardly, there was going to be mountains of paperwork for him upon his return.

"The honor is all mine Commander Cullen, and thank you." She smiled up at him with a wink in her eye, thankful he hadn't thought to ask who else was going to be partaking in their little adventure.

Cullen smiled back in kind; he just knew he was going to regret this later. His eyes followed the form of the inquisitor as she turned and left, exiting through a side door instead of the door she had entered in moments before. A slight smirk splayed on his lips as he too turned and sat back down behind his desk. The smirk melted away to be replaced with a frown as he tried to situate himself on his new-to-him chair.

The afternoon sun cast its peaceful ray's on Lavellan's face, warming her skin from the chill in the air as she made her way from Cullen's office. The walk was welcome and she used the time to collect her thoughts. What an odd pairing of comrades she would be taking with her for her trip to the Free Marches. Cullen, Dorian and potentially Varric. If nothing else, the personalities between the three would prove to make the trip entertaining. Of course, she had yet to speak to Varric about the trip, but she doubted he would be unwilling to go. Especially since the journey would lead them through Kirkwall, and he had already made it known to her that he intended to leave them to return there.

Lavellan didn't hold it against the dwarf; he was just one out of many who wished to return home after the ordeal of Corypheus. That wasn't to say she wouldn't be sad to have him leave, he was a dear friend and had helped her keep her sanity.

She continued on, taking the long way back to the main hall so as to not cross through the rotunda for a second time that day. Once was plenty.

The great doors loomed before her and she paused, wondering at how many times before she had entered through them with her comrades behind her. How many times had their feet crossed the threshold? A number of times with laughter dancing between them, others with them limping their way in to rest and lick their wounds. Solas had always been with her then, every mission, every assignment, always there. But not this time, after this trip she would walk in through the great doors with even less friends at her side than before. Slowly, eventually, they were all leaving her.

Lavellan drew a deep breath and tried to push those thoughts away; they were quite negative and would land her in a place she would rather not go to. Instead, she took yet another step and made her way into the main hall.

The main hall was less lively now than it had been previously. There were still nobles clucking about, but the number had dwindled in the days following her victory. No, our victory, Lavellan corrected herself. She didn't have to look hard for her dwarf friend, the moment she entered through the large doors he was already at her side, a knowing look on his face.

His arms were crossed as he looked at her expectantly, and she half wondered if she kept her silence if that would mean he would stay. He didn't need to leave, perhaps she could order him to stay?

When had she become so selfish?

Lavellan felt herself breath out a small sigh, Varric had his own life to live.

"A little bird let me know that you plan to be traveling to my favorite part of Thedas." Varric finally broke the silence between them.

As it turned out, she hadn't been incorrect with her assumption that Varric would be willing to travel to Kirkwall with them. Nor had she been incorrect in her thinking that he would leave their party and stay in Kirkwall. A sad bridge she would ultimately cross when she came to it.

Later that night, after the nobles where safely tucked away in their little corner of nobleness, Lavellan creeped into the cellar and confiscated two bottles of wine: one red, one pink. She was pretty sure that Josephine would notice the loss of the two, but at that particular moment, her friend seemed the lesser of the two evils.

With a bottle in each hand she made her way to Dorian's room silently so as to not draw undo attention to herself. She really was in no mood to explain why the Inquisitor was sneaking wine into a man's room. Never mind the fact that she was a grown adult and could almost do as she pleased, or the fact that it was to Dorian's room that she was heading. She lacked the proper anatomy, in all truth, to make the visit inappropriate.

Her pace quickened when Dorian's door came into sight. Finally, with what seemed to have taken a life time, she stood before the door and thumped her knuckles against the hard oak door three times. The door creaked open, and Lavellan was presented with the face of Dorian in the crack between wall and door.

A mischievous look danced across Lavellan's face as she raised the bottles to eye level. "Special delivery," she spoke softly.

The door opened further and she walked inside the sparse, yet unusually elegant in design, room. She had to hand it to him, his living area made hers pale in comparison. Dorian's seemed almost natural in its beauty, where her furniture grandeur appeared almost forced. She didn't mind though, after 27 years of living the Dalish life she could have had a room in the barracks and it would still seem grandiose to her.

The candles burned low, casting shadows to play at the walls. The look and feel of the room created a sort of calming ambiance. Dorian wasted no time, quickly popping the cork on the bottles and filling the two glasses with their respected choice of wine. As he did, Lavellan moved to the center of the room where two plush chairs sat facing each other, a small wooden table between them, and took a seat. Dorian joined, taking the seat across from her and handed her a glass full of the pink wine. Taking a tentative sip, she noted how the liquid was a very pleasant mixture of sweet and bitter. Lavellan smiled into the glass, and savored the feeling of the alcohol as it made its way to her stomach.

"I wonder, whatever did you see in that man?" Dorian asked as he leaned back in his seat, tipping the glass to his lips to swallow the crimson colored liquid.

What a way to start a conversation. No hello, nice to see you, how was your day? Just start in about her almost lover and the luckless romance. Lavellan glared the glare of a 1000 daggers. If Dorian noticed, he showed no signs of it.

She was silent a moment, reminiscing her and Solas' early and innocent flirting. What had it been that drew her to his person time and time again? Something to do with the way he had carried himself, it had mystified her. So strong and straight, confident and sure, and yet it his eyes had looked as though they belonged to a man who had seen too much, had felt too much. Leaning forward in her seat she rested her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together around her glass. "Sadness, I guess I saw sadness in him." Her eyes traveled down to stare at the pink wine. "I suppose that's not what you meant though. Knowledge, maybe, then? He just always seemed to know everything, you know?"

How sad was it that she really couldn't pin point what it had been that had turned her on to him. What she did know was whenever she was near him, she had felt an overwhelming sense of belonging, as if by his side was where she was meant to be.

"Yeah, a regular walking encyclopedia he was. You don't even know though, do you?" Dorian let out a mock laugh.

Perhaps he felt pity for his Inquisitor?

If she had been holding anything other than a glass with her precious pink colored wine, it would have been giving a lesson in flight. The wine didn't deserve such a fate however, so it was safe within the confines of the glass. Until she drank it, that was.

"Well what about you? What do you see in Iron Bull?"

"I often wonder that as well." Dorian paused; his unblinking eyes stared into her own, boring holes into her very sole. "All jokes aside, he never deserved you."

"Apparently he agrees with you, but that's neither here nor there." A snort escaped her then, "after all, I'm here and he's there." The hand that wasn't currently swishing the wine around extended a finger and traced a circle above her head, ending its train to point to an area off to her side. "I hate him just as much as I love him, and no, I don't forgive him. But let's talk of something, anything else, please Dorian?"

Dorian leaned forward on his chair, a wicked gleam dancing in his eyes and eyebrows waggling. "What you need is someone to take your mind off him. What about our commander? I dare say he wouldn't mind."

Taken aback she gave a nervous bark of a laugh, "Cullen? No Dorian, just no. He's like," she paused, looking for the right way to describe her relationship with the commander. "He's like the over protective older brother that I'm not sure I ever really wanted."

The gleam didn't leave his eyes as he continued to stare into her own, "it's okay, I'm sure we can find someone out there willing to share your bed."

A laugh erupted from her then as she leaned forward to swat at Dorian's shoulder playfully. He made a show of it, making it look as though she had hit him with her full strength.

"So you're going to smack people around who are here working their asses off for you?"

"Ha, abuse and violence is just another day in the lives of the inquisition. I even get the added bonus of leading everyone to their grisly death."

"Because you're doing the kind thing by destroying them before the world can? How gallant of you."

"Cheers to that my friend."

The rest of the night passed by in a drunken haze. If she tried hard enough to recount all that had happened, she could almost remember stumbling into Sera's room. That would make sense, seeing as she had just woken up in that very room sprawled out on the floor.

Curse Dorian, she blamed him for the pounding headache the night of wine had graciously gifted her. It wasn't exactly like he had forced her to partake, she conceded, but the thought didn't stop the pounding. In fact, just thinking was making it worse.

"Ugh." Lavellan groaned, bringing her hands to rub the sleep from her eyes.

Her mouth felt like she had just tried to eat a desert.

Her head felt like a giant had it in a vice.

Oh, this was going to be a miserable day, she should have known that it was perhaps against better judgment to have snuck back into the cellar for more wine. Another groan passed her lips, there were going to be rumors as her second trip had been a tad bit less stealthy than her first with all the laughter, the cursing of Solas, leaning against the wall for support… oh creators, she may have even tripped over a chair once or twice on her way.

Maybe the Free Marches could wait a day? Lavellan pulled the blanket back up over her head.

"Comfy are ya?"

Meanwhile, Sera had been quite comfortable sitting on her cushions before the bow windows; one leg bent beneath her the other swinging back and forth. Her fingers were nimble, her hand movement deft as she fletched her batch of arrows and rubbed a new layer of wax into her bow string. The last thing she needed was for her bow to suddenly decide enough was enough, and send her arrows flying crooked.

"What time is it?" Came a muffled inquiry from the blankets.

Without casting a glance out the windows to her side, Sera responded "I donno, I guess somewheres between breakfast an supper."

"I guess I can pretend I'm not late then."

The mountainous terrain was too unsteady to ride out on their mounts until they made it down to the valley floor. Lavellan turned to look over her shoulder, a last glance back toward Skyhold. Each time she left there was never a guarantee she would make it back, a morbid thought perhaps, but one that kept her feeling grounded. Especially after her battle with Corypheus, after saving the world, it was good to remember that above all, she was just one elf. A smirk took her face as she brought her eyes to look forward once more; she was just one elf, but one elf with a big sword and strong friends.

The company traveled in relative silence for the majority of the day, each lost in their own thoughts. Lavellan was thankful for the peace, still sporting a headache from the previous night. It had lessoned after Sera had given her a cup of … well there hadn't been a name for it per say, but suffice that it must have been a putrid concoction of Rashvine Nettle and Elfroot. With the way it had burned when going down it made her suspect that Sera may have added a shot of whiskey … or two. After swallowing the substance she hadn't known if she was supposed to find her death bed or retch. A shiver ran up her spine thinking back to the laugh that had come from Sera at her distress.

They had long since left the Frostback Mountians behind and were traversing through the forest beyond. Travel was slow in these areas as the woods were thick with brushes and brambles. Eventually, Cullen came back from scouting the trail ahead and they all decided it was time for a quick break. Their stomachs all growled with a collective rumble that food was required. It wasn't long before they found a place suitable for the short rest. The trees, though still thick gave way to a moderate sized clearing. The sun shined brightly across the yellowing grass, tree stumps dotted the clearing and gave the impression the clearing wasn't exactly nature made.

Cullen dismounted his horse first, casting a wary scan about the tree line before tying the reins on a low stooped branch and heading into the glade. Dorian and Varric followed suite, each securing their respected mounts to nearby branches. Lavellan was the last to follow, holding back to double check the reins on the mounts and to do a quick surveillance of the area.

Her training as a hunter demanded no less; it had been ingrained into her subconscious that the feeling of safety in the wilderness was no more than pretense. Be swift, be precise, and always respectful. Those were the words her trainer had made her repeat every time they would head out, a mantra of sorts.

Nothing appeared out of place and so she made her way to the middle of the glade where her friends were setting about pulling out their meager rations.

Bread and cheese.

She was so very tired of bread and cheese.

Graciously she accepted her portion from Cullen's out stretched hand, and sat on the grass between her two human comrades. Silently, she listed to the three of them as they exchanged stories of first loves, more than once drawing a burst of laughter from her. Until, that was, images of her most recent love flashed before her mind's eye.

"Excuse me? You think I'm a squirrel?" Solas questioned, his eyes narrowing to show his displeasure in the comparison she made between him and a rodent.

"What? You're twisting my words, I didn't say that you were a squirrel, just you know… reclusive and maybe just a little bit nutty, like a squirrel." Lavellan laughed, enjoying the playful banter with her otherwise stoic fade expert.

"Ah, so an acorn then." A finely chiseled eyebrow quirked and a smile threatened the corners of his lips.

"I could have said fruity." Her lips turned from a smile to a pout as she nudged his shoulder with her own.

Shaking her head to clear herself of the unbidden memory she noticed Cullen suddenly spring to his feet, his sword griped in his hand, ready to draw.

"The horses… are fearful."

The sound hooves pounding on the ground hovered over them, enshrouding them in a veil of dreed, threatening.

Lavellan's ears twitched, listening to the forest for tells.

A twig snapped as Varric too stood from his stump, holding Bianca at the ready.

The tension in the air snapped with the howls of the hungry predators just out of sight.

Wolves.

In a flash of dark fur, the wolves rushed from the tree line, their attack plainly focused upon the four of them. Dorian leapt from where he had been sitting, staff in hand, and started casting ice magic. Lavellan spared a thought about how she would have to thank him for not burning the forest down later, before she too was up and running at the nearest of the wolves. Drawing her sword, she dropped into a defensive position as one wolf lunged at her, its fangs aimed for her throat. Nimbly, she spun to avoid the attack, swinging her sword in a downward arc as she finished her spin. She missed the body of the wolf but managed to catch its hind legs as it tried to leap out of the way.

She groaned, she hated fighting wolves, they were very agile creatures, and her fighting style didn't work as well with such creatures.

"Inquisitor!" She heard Cullen yell out from somewhere to her right. His words drew her attention and her head snapped in his direction. A streak of gray darted left then right, she heard the snarl and instinctively raised her sword up to block the attack she anticipated. As if on cue, the wolf darted right one more time before lunging for her, its mouth open to reveal glistening white fangs. She braced herself for the impact, but it didn't come. Instead of colliding with her sword, the wolf laid sprawled on the forest floor, an arrow protruding from its skull. Lavellan gave a quick nod to Varric in thanks, before turning to meet with another of the wolves.

A memory came to her then, uninvited, of Solas. She had felt a measure of enjoyment while watching him wield his weapon; the way his clothing would pull across his form, accenting the ripple of muscle. With him at her side, she had always felt safe, untouchable. He had been a physical manifestation of courage for her, driving her to strive for more, to be more.

Too late, she realized, the thought of Solas had made her unconsciously lower her guard, and braced herself for the inevitable attack. How pathetic, if only her trainer could see her now.

She cried out with the pain, almost dropping to her knees if not for the adrenalin that rushed through her veins. She could feel the teeth tear through her armor and into the delicate skin beneath. The jaws of the wolf clamped down tighter, its front paws braced against her chest, hind legs still on the ground.

The beast started to shake its head to and fro, wrenching her shoulder as it went. Her sword dropped from her hand, fingers going numb from the pain in her shoulder. Lavellan brought her other hand up to try and pry the jaws open, to land a punch to an eye, anything. She had to do something!

Her knees finally gave out as the power of the wolf overcame her and forced her to topple over onto her back. It was a dire position to be in she knew, but could hardly spare the thought, knowing that at any time the wolf would let go of her shoulder and try for a kill bite to her throat. Frantically, her eyes darted around, looking for her sword. Instead, she caught a blur of yellow and silver, felt a jerk, and the weight on her chest was suddenly gone.

Rolling over onto her side, she put her weight on her good arm to lift her up to see what had happened. Cullen was wrestling with the wolf in the dirt to her side. Fearing for him, and with a new surge of adrenalin, Lavellan staggered to her feet. She found her sword no more than a foot away and leaned down to grab it with her good had.

One step, one swing.

Blood and gore splattered across her face, and for a split second she worried she may have missed her mark.

Cullen heaved the wolf carcass off his chest with a grunt, but didn't stand until Lavellan offered her hand to him. She watched him shake his head and stand on his own, not accepting her help.

"How bad?" He asked, indicating with a tilt of his head to her shoulder.

"I'm fine, just a scratch." Lavellan waved him off. In truth she knew it was worse than a scratch, but she saw no need to show her weakness to the commander. Instead, she turned and searched with her eyes the battle field to find her friends, and see how they fared.

She watched as Dorian froze the last of the wolves, and Varric shatter its body with a well-aimed arrow. For the most part, they appeared unscathed.

Pink lips frowned. While she was glad no others seemed to have been hurt, she was a little annoyed with herself.

Stupid wolves.

Tbc.

Fanfic by Inca.

The one last memory flash back I actually wrote for the first chapter, but it didn't get used. It made me giggle, though so I couldn't just drop it… Also, Oh Solas, Solas, wherefore art thou Solas?