A curious rodent nosed through the grove, its whiskers twitching to find food. It dug through the fallen leaves, unearthing the few remaining acorns buried below the crunch of boots. Terror locked up its small body when it spotted me, my arms held aloft as I tried to concentrate through the veil and into the fade. I'd tossed one of the grimoires across a stump, but didn't need it, memories of the pull returning to me with ease. If I only plucked upon this string, I could draw forth not a note of music but a small flame of fire. Change the key and it altered into a bolt of lightning striking off my fingers. All were minimal movements to what I was trying to accomplish, a student's recital to a master's symphony.

Sounds of the tiny rodent feet scampering away caused me to open my eyes even as my hands remained threaded inside the veil. Something else had startled the little rodent.

"Vhenan," a voice spoke behind me. I didn't turn to face him but I couldn't stop the smile climbing my cheeks. Solas stepped closer, so quietly I could barely hear him over the crackle of forest leaves breaking in the wind. "What are you casting?" he mused more to himself than me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but his body slipped behind mine - the taut strings of his muscles pressing against my back, his arms slipping below mine. Our fingers threaded together as he fit around me, his hands splaying and winding to trace the same movements I'd been working on for a half hour. His hips pressed so tight against me, I could feel the edge of his bones through not only his pants, but my own robes.

"Ah, let me see," he whispered, his chin resting upon my shoulder. I felt the veil pull with his curious fingers, far more elegantly than I could ever manage. Where I tramped through a river, Solas seemed to part it with his hands, every drop of water obeying him. "Realigning the aura of your multilevel casting card with an inverse spell. Interesting..." warm breath tickled down my ear, trying to yank me back to the baser needs of the physical world. "And you can maintain it in spite of distractions," I saw the smile without seeing his face, the fade slipping even more into the world from our tugging upon it, "most impressive."

"Did you only come here to rate my skills?" I joked, wanting to give in to the temptation molding around me, but the fade held firm. "I could awe you with a firestorm lancing up the waterfall."

"No," Solas whispered, his hands falling off my own. "You do not need my approval. You are a formidable force on your own." Slowly, he scooped one arm around my stomach, reaching inside the gap of the fur to find my skin trembling below a thin shift. His breath danced along my neck as he placed a kiss right where my collar bone attached and moved his way to higher ground.

"Ah," I chuckled, leaning back to give him more grazing room, "I think I see why you came."

"Bal emma mala dir," he spoke, always quick to voice the depths of his heart but terrified to enact them. Even now his hands only skirted across my stomach, cupping the area with his elegant fingers as if heading north or south was too far, too dangerous to venture. It was the slowest dance I'd ever begun, and some days I feared what'd I find at the final stanza of the music.

Solas either didn't pick up on my dark thoughts, or - in his enigmatic way - did and wanted to prove himself to me. Releasing his tender grip upon me, I dropped my hands and twisted to face him. Crystal grace, that was the color of his eyes. It drove me mad to conjure up the comparison, Varric needing anything better than ice blue or creepy. He settled on something else I couldn't remember, also refusing to let me know how he spun my looks in tale form. But there could be no doubt with Solas, his eyes dipped down in a compassionate grace, but glinting with the cold blue of an unbreakable crystal.

Now they crinkled ever so slightly at the edges, lifting along with his smile as he gazed down at me. His hands worked around to my hips, one having to burrow under the belt of tonics I forgot to take off. Maybe I could have some help with that. Sliding my own hands around his thin waist, savoring in the worn down softness of his sweater, I rose up on my toes and lightly parted my lips.

Solas didn't need more than that invitation before he plunged towards me, his lips tenderly brushing against mine, each attempt increasing the heat, the urgency. His own fade tongue cautiously lapped around my own, lightly tapping against my lips. My fingers slipped down to roll across that luscious backside that may have caused me to stumbled into a few walls on accident. Once while Cassandra watched and struggled to not snicker behind her hands. Creators only knew how he didn't catch me rubbing my nose and swearing it wouldn't happen again.

I'd heard the whispers of approval of his cushioned backside from across Skyhold. No one knew what to make of the strange apostate mage painting the walls, and cooly watching from the ramparts, but his ass could cause distractions. I suspected he was more than aware of his power, and chose those faded green leather pants on purpose. Somedays it felt as if Solas played the Game better than the Orlesian court, and he did it so well none of us even knew his Game existed.

His lips broke away from mine, his head twisting. For a moment I feared he'd rear back, my boldness scaring him away, but his fingers climbed up to brush some stray hair back behind my ears. After lightly thumbing the point, he smiled those bold lips so sweetly my conscious thought melted away.

But then my brain had to get in the way, as it always did, "You know, we're far from alone. The others are just down that path in camp."

Solas glanced back down the winding rock where I left the rest of our party. Trees dappled in sunlight waved from the winds, obscuring us from anyone not standing in the clearing. "They may as well be thousands of miles away," he said, returning to me for another kiss.

Maybe it was the forest air, or a rare red templar free day, but I could get used to this carefree Solas. He took his time, peppering me with even more kisses, not about to miss an inch of my skin.

"Hey, there's a, uh...well, this is awkward," Varric's voice broke through our lusty haze. I popped back away from the warm arms, trying to soothe off a blush burning through my cheeks, but Solas wore an inner smirk only the tips of his eyes crinkling from the joke.

"Varric, we were just doing, um..."

"Don't need to tell me boss, I got the gist. Anyway," he shook his head, trying to wipe the image from his mind, "there's someone back in camp looking for you."

"Oh, who is it?" I asked, trying to smooth down my robes as if I hadn't been caught trading tongues with our resident apostate.

"Not sure, very tight lipped that elf is. And uh, Inquisitor," a glimmer of concern shone in Varric's eyes, "It's a Dalish."