He approached her slowly. She sat under the tree, reading as usual, resting her head in her hand.

He felt sick with apprehension, his stomach churning and twisting, threatening to show his last meal. He couldn't help but feel anxious over what might happen, he didn't know how she would react. It was all ready, Vivienne made sure of it, but he was still terrified of making a mistake.

She looked up, a small smile stretching the scar on her cheek as she saw him.

She was beautiful, the kind of woman he could only dream of having. He smiled back, extending his hand to her, "Ready?" He said in a low voice.

She took his hand, hers ten times smaller than his own and nodded. He lead her outside of Skyhold, a few short miles to the west where a small grove was sheltered from the constant snow drift. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, threatening to burst out and run away from the fear he was feeling.

He tightened his grip on her hand to stop their slight tremble.

When they arrived, he let her walk the path of candles that were laid out towards the clearing. He watched her as she looked around in confusion, hesitant to see what lied ahead. Adaar took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and followed her, pulling out the small poetry book he'd been practicing with.

"On aching branch do blossoms grow, the wind a hollowed breath." He started slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. She turned to him, eyes widening with surprise.

"It carries the scent of honeysuckle, as sweet as the lover's kiss." He continued on, trying to keep his voice from quivering.

She brought her hand up to hide her smile. Adaar gave her a teasing smile, leaning close only for her to push him away with a quiet laugh.

"It brings the promise of more tomorrows, of sighs and whispered bliss." His confidence built as she let out more soft giggles and a slight blush appeared on her high cheekbones.

She shook her head at him, and for dramatic effect, trying to loosen the tension he felt, he knelt down in front of her with a teasing grin. "You can't be serious." She said, shaking her head with disbelief. He shrugged his massive shoulders, his grin nearly splitting his face as her radiant smile brightened, her chocolate eyes alight with something he had never seen before.

"And that's the poem you chose?" She mocked, and Adaar felt his earlier anxiety build once more. "What's wrong with it?" His smile faltering slightly. He handed her the book and she snatched it, reading the title.

"Carmenum Di Amatus, I thought this one was banned." She shook her head, the smile on her face never wavering.

"His lips on mine speaks words not voiced, a prayer." Adaar held his breath, the line bringing up their earlier encounter in the war room. She turned from him, continuing to read. "Which travels down my spine like flames that shatter night."

He walked around her, as she leaned against a nearby tree, watching the beautiful warrior before him lost in the kind of poetry she loved.

"His eyes reflect the Heaven's stars, the Makers light." Her voice dropped to a whisper, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he moved behind her. "My body opens, filled and blessed, my spirit there."

He leaned his arm on the tree, his warm breath near her neck sending a shiver down her spine. He grinned, watching her shudder.

"Not merely housed in flesh, but brought to life." He finished the next line for her, his voice low and hoarse with want. He rested his giant hand on her waist, leaning close to her ear.

He couldn't stop himself, he needed her, wanted her, had dreamt of this moment for months now. "Shall we read another?" He asked, the question giving her an out in case she didn't want this.

She shuddered once more, a sigh escaping between her lips as she turned around, reaching for his neck and pressing her lips to his. He hummed happily, loving the way her soft, small lips felt against his own, the way her tongue teased his and her teeth nibbled at his lower lip. He gripped her waist, trying to cushion her fall as she dragged him down to the grass.

A soft whimper filled the silent night as his lips traced her jaw line and down her neck. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him on top of her. A growl rumbled in his chest as she whispered his name, tugging on his horns and what little hair he had. He lost himself in her touch, her moans, and her heat. Nothing mattered with her in his arms, listening to her heavy pants and sighs. With her, everything was right in the world and for once since the Conclave, since he could remember, he could finally breathe.

He could finally live.