It had been years since she had felt like this: her heart in her throat, chest hammering away as though a tiny squadron of soldiers were fighting a war for her salvation within her ribcage.

Salvation, the Inquisitor lamented silently. She stubbed the toe of her worn leather boot against the doorframe, noting the dust that descended from Skyhold's decrepit stonework. It had been little more than a week since they had taken refuge here from the smouldering ruin of Haven. This was no time to be wading through emotional turmoil. At least, that's what her brain reminded her. Her emotions seemed to have made other plans.

I'm supposed to be the one giving salvation to Thedas, and I can't even keep my own heart in check.

"You might want to loosen up a bit there, Giggles," Varric quipped, sauntering through the archway behind her and crossing his arms across his chest. "You look as though you just encountered a despair demon and lost."

The Dalish elf raised one fine brow and turned on him slowly, an enigmatic smile dancing upon her lips. "Me? Lose? Not a chance."

"Well something certainly has you down in the dumps," the dwarf pressed, sidling up next to her and giving her that look that said I can read you like one of my manuscripts. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Arida Lavellan had never been the type of woman to disclose her emotions openly. Nor was she the kind of girl who dissolved into tears at the slightest provocation. But when it came to one man in particular, both of those things were becoming frighteningly possible...

Varric caught the brief glimpse of uncertainty in her eyes. "You know, if we were playing Wicked Grace right now, I'd be calling you out on your hand – your bluffing skills are appalling."

Arida couldn't help but laugh. The sound rushed from her lungs like a gust of wind, but it caught on her throat on the way out. She felt tears sting her eyes and she looked away, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Varric."

"He doesn't mean to brush you off, you know."

The Inquisitor's head shot up, and she stared at the dwarf in shock. "What?"

"Oh come on, Giggles, I know." Varric shook his head, an amused grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. "I have known Curly for a long time, you know. And I see the way you look at him."

Arida's porcelain cheeks flushed bright pink. "You... You have?"

"You thought nobody would notice, huh?"

She stared at the floor, trying desperately to maintain her composure. "I thought I was being... Discrete."

"Yes, yes you did," The dwarf sighed, "You both did." Then, he took a step toward the other door, "You know, Giggles, if you truly want to know the answer to a question, you have to ask it first. Maybe you'll find the answer is not as bad as you think."

Arida couldn't help but gape, her cheeks burning furiously at the hint Varric left behind. The words hung upon the air like a mist, and she could hardly breathe from the way it squeezed at her lungs.

You both did...?

She furrowed her brow, running a slender hand through her red hair nervously.

What if... What if he's right?

Arida's stomach twisted at the possibility, but she straightened her shoulders and moved down the hall with determined strides.

"I do want to know the answer to this question," she decided aloud, tugging the creases out of her jacket. "I've had enough of one-sided affairs. I don't care what his response is – I just want to know the truth."

She bit her lip, blood rushing to colour the skin beneath the pressure.

That's a lie – I do care. But right now, it will have to do.

Creators, this was such a stupid decision.

What was she doing, pacing like this outside his office door? Building up her nerve? Since when did she become so weak?

She twisted her hands together as she hovered there the battlement, the sweat of her palms making her suddenly wish she had worn her gloves. That hideous scar on her palm grated against the smooth skin opposite. Arida unconsciously rubbed at it, her fingertips grazing across the mark slowly, the burning shudder it sent up her spine reminding her to pay attention, to not get distracted by fantasies...

Fantasies.

Oh she had many of those. Too many.

It had felt like an age since the Conclave, since her life was turned suddenly and horribly upside down. To think that it had only been a month.

The longest month of my life.

She turned sharply on her heel, only vaguely aware of the rasp of stone beneath the sole.

He had been there, she remembered it well.

Cassandra had all but dragged her from the dungeons, her hunter's cloak caked with mud and rank with the stench of musty hay and sweat. She and Cassandra had hiked up the side of the besieged mountain, fighting through demons and shades with as much efficiency as prisoner and guard could. At least, she had still felt like a prisoner – the cuffs were long gone by that point. They had not done badly, considering. Arida remembered the clamminess of her skin, the overwhelming agony when the mark had flared to life for the first time... And then, she remembered him.

He had stepped out of the mist, a fiery figure against a backdrop of snow. Those glorious pauldron-clad shoulders had been the first thing she had distinguished from the veil of grey that surrounded him. Then, a head of golden hair, eyes of honey, and a demeanour that could melt even the frostiest heart. Though the glare he had sent her way at first had been nothing short of terrifying.

And that glare had remained, much to her chagrin.

But that hadn't stopped her heart from fluttering every time he addressed her at the war table. That didn't stop words from failing her whenever she needed to respond to his suggestions. It didn't stop her from dreaming about him at night and wishing she wasn't alone in her cold bed. And it certainly didn't stop her heart from plummeting into her shoes every time she caught a glimpse of him taking deliberate steps just to avoid being near her. She had seen him do it three times now – turning on his heel and skulking away before he thought she had seen him.

Except she had. And now it haunted her.

Arida cursed under her breath. There is only one man alive responsible for this foolish agony. Commander Cullen. The man who had managed to accomplish what no other could: singlehandedly tear her self-respect to shreds and leave her whimpering pitifully at his feet. Now he was obliviously trying to destroy her heart too. She wanted to hate him for it, but she couldn't.

He doesn't mean to brush you off...

Arida snorted, tucking a strand of her shoulder-length hair behind her ear. "What am I even doing here?" She asked the sky then, shrugging at her own foolishness.

He won't speak to you, so you must come to him, her emotions responded with simplistic clarity. The man can't hide within his office forever. Demand an explanation.

Logic intervened then. I am little more than a child to him, a child with a silly infatuation. The man can hardly look at me. He can't even talk to me without evading or deflecting my questions. He would rather run away than face me. She turned her back to the tower door, almost groaning aloud. How could I even think that he would care for me?

There had been a time when Arida had thought she could read men with ease, observing their body language and their responses around her with silent amusement. It was simple enough after all, as the other girls in her clan reminded her incessantly that she was a beautiful woman. Perhaps she was, with her red hair, willowy figure and bright blue eyes. But Arida had happily ignored her own appearance for years; it was the challenge that truly fascinated her. Not the attention, not even the admiration: it was the exercise. She could have had her pick of Human and Dalish boys alike. For years she had been able to accurately predict every proposition's delivery down to an hour's accuracy. Her calculations and the subsequent rejections had become a fine art – and had annoyed her few friends to no end, especially when she had turned down their match-making. She had been involved with less than a handful of men over the years, but none of them had captured her heart or persuaded her to stay in a relationship much longer than a few weeks. Arida had thought her heart one of stone.

But now...?

Perhaps now she truly did long for the admiration, for the attention. But only from him.

At first she thought she might have caught a tiny glimmer of interest in the Commander's eyes, but after so many weeks of fruitless hoping, her confidence was utterly shattered. She couldn't even walk the keep without hoping she would pass Cullen in the courtyard, or perhaps hear his voice in the hall. And now she found herself standing here, outside his office, pacing the battlement and praying that she wasn't about to make a total fool of herself. She hadn't even told him she was going to come by – what if he simply walked away? What if he turned her down flat? What if he had known about her infatuation all along and was simply trying to ignore it...?

It would serve her right after all. She knew better than anyone that romance simply wasn't kind to her. The boys who liked her inexorably drove her away – and vice versa.

He wouldn't do that. Would he? Arida cupped her face in her hands, groaning aloud in self-pity. "Oh look at me, I'm pathetic. What am I even doing—?"

"Inquisitor?"

Caught off guard, Arida spun about on the spot and lost her balance. Toppling slightly, one slender arm shot out and landed against the tower's stone wall, catching her mid-fall. At least it wasn't a total loss. Finding herself propped up at a rather odd angle, the Inquisitor crossed her legs casually at the ankles and pretended the move had been a deliberate one. Arida forced a confident smile across her face and prayed her blush wasn't too obvious.

That was the other thing she had been notorious for in her clan. A brilliant hunter, adept at stealth and daggers, but utterly useless when it came to delicate balance or poise. She had always been more comfortable hiding up amongst the boughs of a tree than traversing a flight of narrow stairs. Heck, she couldn't keep her balance at the best of times, let alone when a face as handsome as Cullen's just happened to be staring back at her... Except this time, the glare wasn't just in her imagination.

Focus! Her brain screamed, and she forced herself to meet the Commander's stern gaze.

And Creators was it stern. Stern, strong, chiselled features that screamed for respect – and at the same time managed to produce a cold sweat on the back of her neck.

"Cullen," she returned, swallowing against the slight tremor in her voice. "I know you are busy..."

"I am." That voice, strong and yet mellowed with wisdom, edged with frustration and the slightest rumble of authority – it was enough to drive her mad just listening to him. "I have a meeting with the other advisors in the keep. There is much work to be done, Inquisitor, as you..." He glanced down at the roll of parchment in his gloved hands, and then back up at her face. "A-as you undoubtedly know." Cullen forced his shoulders a little straighter and glanced at the stairs.

He's looking for a way out. Stop him!

"It will only take a moment," Arida managed to get the words out despite her mouth feeling as dry as the Hissing Wastes.

Creators guide me, this man is beyond magnificent – and yet whenever he is around me he looks as though he wants nothing more than to run!

True to her observations, Cullen certainly seemed to be appraising his escape route. But at the supplication, he hesitated. "A-a moment, then," he agreed reluctantly, slipping the parchment into his belt. "Was there something you needed?"

She glanced to her right, noting that they were being watched by several curious Inquisition recruits who had taken up station on the bulwarks. "I thought we could talk... Alone?" She queried, schooling her voice to sound smooth and confident. Inside, her stomach was flipping to the tune of a mad Orlesian jig.

Please don't say no.

"Alone?" There was undoubtedly a tone of panic in his voice now. Cullen glanced down at the courtyard below, then back to her. His shoulders stiffened and his whole posture screamed resignation. "Of course, Inquisitor."

Arida led the way, her mind suddenly blank now that this imposing figure of a man was actually walking alongside her. How had that even happened? It seemed surreal. Though she took a care not to look at him directly – he couldn't be allowed to see her watching him after all– she couldn't help but admire the view from the corner of her eye as the late afternoon sun bounced off his golden curls. He was so close that she could smell his deliciously masculine scent.

She felt positively lecherous.

Had she truly just coerced her advisor into this? It almost felt wrong, as though she were dragging a whining puppy along behind her on a leash.

Say something? Please?

"It's a nice day." Cullen laughed tensely and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, looking away from her – again.

Arida wanted to scream; the shame was killing her. "What?" She asked, her eyes taking their cue and locking onto his face, or the little she could see of it.

"I said, it's..." Cullen was clearly distracted. He all but grimaced at her, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment. "You... There was something you wished to discuss."

Now that he asked her directly, Arida's mind went utterly blank. She floundered, grasping at the severed threads of thought in her brain for any coherent – respectable – phrase. All the while, those bright amber eyes were locked steadfastly on her face, waiting anxiously.

I will never be able to face him again anyway.

Arida swallowed back her dread. "I find myself thinking—"

Voice steady – point to me.

"—About... About you." She took a deep, shuddering breath, and forced herself to stare resolutely into his eyes.

It's all or nothing now. Please, Cullen, please don't make me regret this!

"About... Me?" The Commander looked positively terrified.

"I can't stop thinking about you," Arida blurted it out, perhaps a little too quickly. "I... I've tried, but... Uh." She felt like a criminal, cornering him like this and rambling about her most dearly guarded secret as though it were a guilt-riddled confession to a crime. Eloquence had wholly abandoned her by this point. Blushing fiercely and feeling like a complete idiot for her own puerile fascination, she finally admitted, "But I can't. Cullen, I... I care for you. And... And I wish..." she wrung her hands together and broke her gaze. "Uh, that is I hope... You could care for me too."

A long pause overtook them then. The Inquisitor was staring down at her clenched palms, and the Commander was deathly silent. Too rose in her chest, threatening once more to drag her beneath the surging waves of angst that pounded her lungs.

What have I done?

After several long, tense moments, she risked looking at his face.

Cullen was standing before her, his eyes blown wide – whether out of horror or awe she could not quite tell – and his arms dangling limp at his sides. His mouth hung open, struggling to form some kind of response.

"I..." He gaped, his face almost ashen in disbelief. "I..."

"You didn't know?" Arida blinked. "You honestly didn't know?"

"I hadn't thought... I mean," He rubbed at the back of his neck again – a rather adorable nervous tick, Arida noted. "I didn't think t-that you could... I-I hadn't thought..." He blushed then and stared down at his gloves. "I hadn't thought it possible."

It was her turn to be dumbstruck. "What? But you ran away all those times—"

"So I wouldn't make a fool of myself!" Cullen admitted, grimacing. "Oh Maker, you thought... You thought..."

"...That you were avoiding my company," Arida finished the sentence and exhaled noisily. She crossed her arms in disbelief.

"Not because of you." He corrected her, stepping forward and bowing his head. "Well. Not for the reason you think."

"Then explain it to me." Lavellan's blue eyes turned mournful then. "Because I don't know if I truly understand anything when it comes to you, Cullen. You confuse me so badly—"

"I don't want to confuse you – Maker's breath, that's what I wanted to avoid. Confusing things." Cullen took a deep breath and turned so that he was facing her directly. He tried to hide his shaking hands behind his back, but Arida saw them. "I didn't think you wanted me, not in that way. I... I didn't want to be a disruption."

"Ar'felas!" She threw her head back and let out a string of curses, all in Elvish. Stomping away to one side of the parapet, the Inquisitor left Cullen standing there mute and stunned. She returned after a moment, her chest much lighter for releasing so much pent-up frustration. "Forgive me, C... Cullen." Her shoulders slumped just slightly. "I don't think you realise just how much of a disruption you have become for me. And I to you, it seems. Oh Creators, I can't believe I didn't realise what was happening... That you could think of me that way..."

Her commander's face coloured in embarrassment. Then he murmured, "I could."

She froze mid-tirade, suddenly realising that she was so caught up in her own emotions that she was utterly neglecting his. Arida struggled to compose herself. "You... You do?"

"I could..." It was Cullen's turn to pace now. He strode away for a few feet, his pauldrons giving him an impressive stature against the soft, golden sunlight of dusk. He ran a hand through his hair, weighing his words carefully. "... I do think of you, and what I might say in this kind of situation." He turned on her, hemming her in against the stone parapet, but not daring to touch her. "Inquisitor—Arida."

She shuddered, the way he pronounced her name was utterly spine-tingling. "What's stopping you?" She pleaded when he fell silent.

"I have hoped – and still hope – that you would care for me. But you are the Inquisitor, and we are at war." Golden eyes, brimming with hope, melted into hers. "It didn't seem possible."

She shivered beneath his gaze, her hands bracing unconsciously against the cold stone. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"So you are."

Cullen leaned in then; intent, Arida thought, on reducing her to a quivering, broken mess. So far, it was working.

"It seems too much to ask..." His lip curled up, that scar quirking delightfully – was it amusement sparkling in his eyes? Or something more? "But I want to."

All doubt fled from her mind. Definitely something more.

Cullen was so close now that she could feel the heat of his body radiating against hers.

This has to be a dream, Arida berated herself silently. I should be awake by now, surely. Isn't this the time I usually wake up...?

But when his hands reached and grasped tenderly – soothingly – at her hips, urging her closer to him, Arida realised with a shudder that this was no dream.

He's really holding me like this.

It was a small movement perhaps, but one that prompted her to trust and to relinquish to him. The Inquisitor's breath rushed from her lungs when Cullen ducked slightly, tilting his head to the side and brushing his nose against hers softly. Arida's whole existence suddenly reduced to the throbbing desperation in her chest. An aching need rose up within her and she let her eyes flutter closed, her strength ebbing away.

Oh Creators, he's going to kiss me.

"Commander, you wanted a copy of Sister Leliana's report."

Arida jumped in shock, bumping her nose slightly against Cullen's as she did so. A fierce heat worked its way across her cheeks. Their moment had been broken after all.

The Commander pulled back slightly, his eyes shutting in frustration at the intrusion. He did not step away however. Nor did he release Arida from her pinned position against the battlement. For several seconds he merely breathed – slowly – as though trying to work himself down from an explosion of anger that would surely leave either himself, or the intruding party, lying on the ground with a bleeding lip.

And somehow, Arida realised, I don't think Cullen would be the worse off in that fight.

Just as that thought crossed her mind, Cullen spun on his heel toward the intruder – a young recruit – with his shoulders arched almost dangerously. "What!" The word sounded more like a curse the way he delivered it. The growl was meant to be harsh, but to Arida, his fury being channelled in such a way was a downright turn-on. And to think that she was the cause.

"Sister Leliana's report...?" The recruit stammered, "You wanted it delivered without delay..."

Cullen's pauldrons almost visibly bristled then. He loomed over the young soldier, drilling into him with a withering glare that left the poor boy shaking in his oversized boots. Abruptly realising the precariousness of his situation, the messenger began to back away slowly.

"...Or to your office!" He let out a nervous laugh, staring up at the Commander from beneath his hood. "Right!" Then, without waiting for confirmation, he turned tail and fled.

Cullen's shoulders seemed to deflate slightly, and Arida's hopes sank with them. She licked her lips, bracing herself for what she was sure was going to become a rejection. "If you need to—ummf!"

She gasped in panic when Cullen pressed her back against the wall, hemming her in with his arms. One hand now cupped the back of her neck, tilting her head back and encouraging her mouth to submit to his. Cullen's lips covered hers then – a move which made her head spin – and an eager sigh escaped him at the contact.

Arida flailed at first, but her terror rapidly turned to amazement. After a few moments, she allowed her hands to wrap around his strong waist. Her body couldn't help but weaken at the sounds he made as he took what he wanted. Her knees buckled beneath her. Arida knew she was at his mercy, and oh Creators what sweet, agonizing mercy it was. His fingers stroked the ends of her hair, trailed down the back of her neck. If it were not for the stone at her back, she would have collapsed entirely. Cullen's lips, so wonderfully soft against the harsh grazing of his stubbled jaw, plundered hers so completely and relentlessly that she simply could not draw breath. Instead, she sank into the kiss, her body flooding with dizzying warmth that she could not fathom, let alone describe. Weeks of bewilderment, hope and longing echoed through her, the sudden realisation of her hopes pushing her to return his action with as much fervour as she could muster.

Cullen responded to her reciprocation with a desperation Arida had not anticipated. When he pulled away, Cullen's eyes immediately filled with self-doubt. He released her, concern and confliction flickering across his face.

"I'm sorry, I..." He ran a hand through his hair anxiously. "I... I didn't mean to force that... That was really... Really nice."

It was all that Arida could do to stare up at him in awe. Her mouth still hung open, her muscles slackened and eyes wide in wonder. Finally, after gawking for several seconds, the elf had to remind her jaw to move.

"Forced...?" She repeated, apprehension gripping her – did he really think that he had forced himself upon her? "Cullen, you didn't."

"What?" He almost jumped when she spoke, as though he were expecting to awaken from a trance at any moment. Now he beheld her for the first time – not a mortal of flesh and blood, but as another soul which yearned for love, and one that seemed as magnificent to him as some glorious nymph or sprite of legend. Cullen's eyes almost seemed to reach out to her now, as if begging her to return his soul before it was too late for him to reclaim it. "I didn't?"

"Not at all," Arida breathed slowly, gazing at him through a dreamy haze of her own. But her heart lurched when she saw the consternation in his eyes. "You... You don't regret it, do you...?"

"No!" The Commander returned perhaps a little too abruptly. His eyes softened then, and his hand cupped her jaw tenderly. "Not at all."

He renewed the kiss softly, and this time Arida wasn't hesitant. Bumped noses and embarrassing interruptions were forgotten. She wrapped her hands about his shoulders, trailing her fingers through his pauldrons and into his hair. He swept his tongue against her lips in question, and a soft moan ripped from her chest when she responded in kind. Cullen rewarded her by sliding one arm around her waist. In that moment she couldn't get close enough to him, couldn't taste enough of him, couldn't draw enough sounds from him. Reminding herself that others could probably see, she restrained from going beyond the boundaries that Cullen had already set – she wouldn't push him; not yet. But it was like trying to restrain a wildfire with little more than one pail of water. Arida could feel the heat spreading from her cheeks down to her very toes.

When they finally separated, Arida whispered, "How long have you..."

Cullen sighed, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "Far longer than I should have... Maker, Arida, you're remarkable."

Shivers of pleasure racked her. "So are you."

They stood there on the rampart for what felt like an eternity. The Inquisitor watched through Cullen's furs, perfectly content to feel his breath warm on her neck and to watch the sun lowering toward the mountains. Somehow, Arida realised, they had spent weeks avoiding each other out of fear. Somehow she had convinced herself that despite her torment, Cullen would never have her – and it seemed that he had done the same. What was once unrequited was now permitting them a moment of joy. Now they were not quite as different as Arida had first thought. Cullen was here at last, holding her in his arms and content to whisper his once-secret longings in her ear.

Now, perhaps, they stood a chance after all.