Cullen had just passed the first line of tents when Varric stepped into his path.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"It's not going to work."

The dwarf looked past Cullen, to the fire, "Why?"

He sighed. It was bad enough he'd failed, did he really have to explain? "There are too many people."

"So... take her aside from all the people. Come on, Commander. You've fought psychopathic blood mages and demon hordes and this is what scares you?"

He wasn't sure which was truly worse. In battle he knew what to do. There was a list of techniques and tactics at his disposal, and when it came to a fight, muscle memory and instinct took over. He had refined his skill over years. That's not to say he'd never been with a woman. He had been with women. But the stakes had never been this high. What if she was so horrified that she refused to speak to him again? He couldn't bear that. Even if it drove a wedge between them, any wedge. Friendship was fine, it was better than nothing.

The dwarf took his arm and turned him around. "Take a look, Curly."

Solana was sitting beside the Herald. She was leaning close, laughing at something he'd said. Cullen felt ice rush through him.

"I've written enough romances to see where that is heading," Varric said.

The glow of the fire made Trevelyan look even more attractive than usual. He was speaking animatedly, hands gesturing wildly. Solana's eyes were glowing, she was glowing.

Cullen jerked forward, not even sure what he was doing. His limbs felt alien. Images flashed in his mind of the two of them, what could happen if they were left alone together like that all night. It would be too late. It was now or...

She looked up at him and he was still surprised to find himself standing beside her.

He swallowed, cleared his throat. "May I have a word with you?"

Her brow creased. He'd interrupted Trevelyan mid-sentence. Sweet Andraste what am I doing...

"Of course." She stood, draping her cloak across her shoulders. Her hair caught the light and it looked like enchanted flame.

Cullen was only vaguely aware of Varric slipping in next to the perplexed Trevelyan and starting his own tale as they moved away, towards a patch of trees. His palms were sweating. He opened and closed his fists, not sure what to do with his hands. Eventually, he settled them on his sword hilt. Solana walked beside him in silence.

It was a clear night. The moon shone through the trees, dappling the snow, and every now and then stars peeked out between branches. He could still hear the chorus of the wolves, but they were far away and no threat.

What did he say? He had to say something. The quiet was stretching between them, stretching to breaking point.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

He turned to her so quickly that she startled. "What do you think of the Herald?"

"Max? I'm glad he survived. He seems brave, and able, and kind. The nobles and the common folk both seem to like him, which is rare. Why?"

Every word was like a blow. Why hadn't he seen this earlier? Why hadn't he acted earlier? He was already too late. While he'd been arguing with himself about his feelings, Trevelyan had been fighting archdemons, surviving the impossible, saving them all… even now they were stuck in the mountains, he'd been scouting ahead to ensure their survival while Cullen had been… chopping wood.

Solana touched his arm and it sent heat rushing up it, straight to his head. "Why, has he… has he done something I should know about?"

"No," Cullen said. He couldn't say more. He felt lightheaded. Curse that dwarf for making him do this.

"Then you suspect something?"

"No." Get a hold on yourself. "No, I just wanted to find out how you… you feel about him."

She stared at him. There was just enough light to see her expression. She frowned, a thin line appearing between her eyebrows. No, no, no he'd said the wrong thing again. She was offended.

"Who put you up to this?" she asked. "Is Leliana trying to play matchmaker?"

"No." Maker forbid.

"Her eyes grew a little wider with apparent realisation and he couldn't breathe.

"Did he send you to ask me?"

"No."

"Who put you up to this, who are you asking for?"

There was no air, it felt like the world was spinning. She was suspicious, upset and he couldn't think.

"Me!" He burst out. The word hung in the cold air between them. "I'm asking for me," he said. His throat was so constricted he wasn't even sure if she heard.

She took a step closer and he didn't know what more to say.

Then she stood on her toes and kissed him.

Tentative, soft, warm. And then over.

He opened his eyes and he must have looked as shocked as he felt because she frowned again. "I misread the… I'm sorr-"

He cut off her words with a kiss of his own, sliding his hand beneath her flaming hair and bringing his lips to hers. A proper, deep, kiss this time. And she returned it. Sweet Andraste, she returned it. He was flying, tingling, burning, his desire for her was the only thing that truly existed on that icy mountain. His desire and her hands tangling through his hair and the feel of her lips and his heart pounding against his chest. And her, the smell of her skin. Always like roses, even after all this time, even in the midst of such a long journey. He pulled away only when he was out of breath and he found her smiling. An answering smile tugged at his cheeks of its own volition.

"I apologise. I didn't mean to interrupt you."

She laughed breathlessly. He backed her against a tree trunk and returned his attention to her mouth, unable to resist her lips now he could finally taste them. And oh, how sweet she tasted. Even better than he'd imagined.

She moved her mouth from his to kiss along his jaw, up towards his ear.

"Max and Cassandra are involved," she whispered.

He pulled away to look at her. She was clearly trying to keep a straight face, but she was failing. The corners of her lips were twitching.

"Since when?" he asked.

"A while now. You didn't think it strange how she knew her way around his quarters? She knew just where to find his breeches." She grinned. "Cullen, they're sharing a tent."

"Varric knows?"

"Varric keeps threatening to put it into one of his books."

He wasn't sure whether to be amused or angry. The dwarf had played him. He'd simply insinuated… and Cullen had been utterly convinced. "I'm going to have to have a word with him."

"Oh really?" she was leaning back against the tree. She hooked her arms around his neck again and, as she brought his lips back to hers, he thought maybe he could forgive Varric. This time.

They spent a long while in silence, kissing and touching. He had gone too many years without touching her, now he never wanted to stop. Her lips moved to his ear again.

"Would you like to join me in my tent?" she breathed.

"Maker, yes."

Alistair had been all hands and enthusiasm. He'd needed gentle guidance and his attempts had been hit and miss, but Cullen approached lovemaking with military precision. He knew exactly which places to assault with his lips, his fingers. He left Solana gasping, wanting, needing and she had to bite down on her tongue to stop herself crying out and alerting the whole camp to his efforts.

Still, he managed to coax sounds from her that she couldn't recall ever making before. Primal sounds that matched the rataplan of her heart. He silenced her with kisses and held her close to his chest as if she was the most precious treasure, more valuable than the weapon of Tyrdda Bright-Axe, more sacred than Andraste's Ashes.

"Why did we never do this before?" she asked him as her breath came back to her. Their limbs were still tangled together, their faces inches apart in the small space where she usually slept.

He smiled in the dim moonlight and her stomach tugged with fresh desire. "If I'd known you'd be amenable to the idea..." He trailed off, hand reaching up to stroke her hair from her cheek. When he spoke again his voice was low and soft. "You know how long I've wanted this."

"So that thing about wanting to be my friend..."

He chuckled, ducking his chin. "I panicked. I... I'm not very good at this."

"I don't know, you seem quite adept to me."

His eyes rose to meet hers again. "Honestly, I am glad to be your friend. I like being close to you. Not just... like this. Back at the Circle, you were this..." He swallowed, and his brow furrowed.

"This?" she propped her head up on her arm.

She could see he was struggling to put his thoughts into words. "I watched you - I mean, we watched all of you. I never meant for it to be... I mean there was never anything inappropriate."

"You never stole a peek at me changing robes?"

He looked horrified. "No!"

"I was joking."

He took a deep breath, rolling onto his back. "We lived so close together. I saw the way you handled yourself, the way you treated everyone with respect and kindness. Even my - associates - who were less than civil." He glanced at her. "The day of your Harrowing was the most terrifying day of my life."

"Mine too. Well... up to that point."

"But I could never be close to you. Even as friends. I knew it was wrong for me to feel the way I did. And if anyone found out, you could be in danger and I never would have forgiven myself for that."

"I hate to break it to you, but everyone knew."

"What?" His head snapped to look at her and she was sure he'd gone a shade paler.

She tried not to show her amusement. She touched his chest, tracing the line of a scar that stretched from his collar bone to his heart. "I was teased mercilessly."

"I'm so sorry." He seemed genuinely contrite. "I never would have wanted -"

She placed a finger on his lips. "I was flattered."

That smile again. The jagged scar didn't detract from it, only emphasized the curve of his mouth, the dimples that few ever got to see. And now she was able to touch it, touch him.

"I wanted you too," she said. A confession she'd never imagined herself making. She had thought many times of asking him to meet her somewhere private, risking everything. But she'd been too much of a coward. Always the good girl, following the Grand Enchanter's commands to the letter. Even when they had meant betraying her friends.

Cullen was staring at her, unmoving, and he seemed to be holding his breath. Her revelation had affected him more than she'd expected. Perhaps she shouldn't have said anything.

"I've upset you."

"No... quite the opposite." The corner of his mouth twitched. "All these years I've felt like some kind of degenerate, infatuated with someone who could never possibly return my feelings."

She moved in close to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"Hmm?" His arms encircled her. She felt safe and warm and sleepy.

"What might have happened had I stayed?"

"I'd rather not think of that." It took her a moment to realise he was referring to Uldred's plot.

"You know I'd never perform blood magic, right? Never."

"I know."

"It isn't like you said back then. Back when..." back when she'd found him after suffering those days of torture. She couldn't say it. The memory of her nightmare was fresh in her mind. "Not all of us give in to temptation."

"Solana..." he caressed her hair, "Let's not speak of this now. I didn't mean you would have... I meant you may have been... I'd rather face these wasted years and have you here than imagine you trapped in that tower, imagine that any of those screams I heard could have been yours."

Solana woke to a cold, dark tent. The place where Cullen had been was empty and there was no residual heat on the blanket.

She rubbed away the last traces of the nightmare from her eyes. Something about demons and blood. The usual fare.

The cold had woken her. Usually she slept wrapped in layers, not naked. She pulled the blanket around her. It smelled like him.

Cullen…

Unbidden memories from the hours before came to her. The way he'd caressed her skin, the way he'd felt when they'd joined.

Oh, she was far gone. There was no coming back from this.

But could he ever truly love a mage? It was one thing to say he wanted to be close to her. But how close was close?

That he was gone said something. She shouldn't have mentioned blood magic.

There was no chance of going back to sleep now. Their earlier activities had provided a nice distraction from the Calling, but now it was back, pressing in on her, setting her teeth on edge.

Cold and anxious, she dressed quickly, wrapping the blanket around her over her clothes. Would the fire still be going? She needed warmth and comfort and the central camp fire would be the only place to find those things before dawn.

There was already someone hunched over the fire as she approached, no more than a silhouette. He was poking it with a stick, trying to coax the embers to life. As she grew closer, her stomach clenched. She recognised the shape of him before she saw the dim light of the coals illuminate his face.

He heard her boots crunching in the snow at the same moment and looked up. He froze and she didn't know how to read his expression.

"I hope I didn't wake you," he said.

She let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, and drew nearer. "When did you leave?"

"Not long ago. I… I suffer nightmares, sometimes. I didn't want to disturb you."

A weight lifted from her heart. It was easier to breathe now. He didn't seem upset. Still… "I want to apologise."

He straightened. "Whatever for?"

"For bringing up the Circle and what happened there. I know it's not something you want to remember."

"There's no need to apologise. I remember it daily, regardless." He looked away from her, back at the fire where a flame was licking the wood he'd added. "I know you wouldn't have been a part of that. I hope you believe I wasn't implying that."

"I do."

She settled on the log near him. "I know that many Templars truly think that if you put any mage into a tight enough corner, they'll always turn to blood magic."

"It's not such a crazy thing to believe." He sat down beside her, but he was still looking at the fire and Solana thought that maybe he was avoiding looking at her. "If I had access to a fantastic weapon, a weapon that could get me out of any situation… I don't know if I'd be able to avoid using it if I felt I needed to."

"I would."

He glanced at her and she knew he was unconvinced. It was all very well and good to say that, when you were relatively safe, in the glow of a campfire.

"I know I would because I have."

His lips parted and his expression changed. She dropped her gaze to her lap.

"There's something that I've never told anyone, about that night, that night we ended the Blight." She took a deep breath. The ring glinted in the firelight. With the smell of the smoke it was easy to imagine she was back there. "I could have saved him."

"Alistair?" Cullen prompted.

"Yes. History has no doubt recorded that we were travelling with a Witch of the Wilds."

"I have heard so."

"The night before we rode into battle, she offered me a bargain." Solana twisted the ring. It was still so difficult to speak of it. "We could both live, she said. And it wasn't really blood magic so much as old magic that involved blood."

"That sounds... bad." An echo of her own words when he'd told her about Kirkwall.

"You haven't heard what it was yet." Twist, twist, twist. "She wanted a child. Alistair's child."

"I see… no, actually. A child, as in…?"

"As in she wanted to lie with him and conceive his child, yes."

"I'm sorry Solana, I'm not sure I follow. This child would have ensured he lived?"

Of course, he wouldn't understand. He didn't know about the Taint. He didn't know what she really was. She should tell him now, to the Fade with Warden secrets. They were literally killing her.

She swallowed. "There's a reason that a Warden has to kill the archdemon. It's not about strength and skill. That's what they say, but it's a lie."

She had his full attention, those warm brown eyes seemed to bore into hers and he was frowning with concern for her.

Could he look at her the same way if he knew what she carried in her blood? He was of the Chantry. Would he think her some twisted form of darkspawn?

"I can't speak of it." Coward. "But this child would inherit it. And by Morrigan's rituals, all three of us would live."

"What did Alistair have to say about this?"

"I didn't tell him."

She let the words hang until the silence was unbearable.

"You think I kept the offer from him because I was jealous, because I didn't want them to lie together."

"I didn't say that."

"That's not why. I… I didn't tell him because I knew he'd agree. He was so good, so kind… but he wouldn't understand. There was no way he'd comprehend the stakes beyond the fact that we could be together. Morrigan said it wasn't real blood magic, but it was, just old. And the child, that innocent that she would raise as her own, what kind of life would it live? She insisted Alistair was not to know it. What if it was some evil beast that we – I – released upon the world out of my own selfishness? It was blood magic. That was what mattered. After seeing everything that blood magic could do… I made my decision. If it came down to him or me, I would die. My whole life had lead up to that moment, to slaying that demon. My mage training, my time as a Warden, building my army… everything culminated in that final strike. It was mine. I'd made my peace with it. Choosing between a blood magic ritual and my own life was easy."

"But he made the strike instead."

"Templar-trained. He suppressed my magic."

"Maker."

She nodded and closed her eyes. Her emotions were close to overwhelming her and she didn't want him to see that. "Tell me I made the right choice?"

"Of course you made the right choice."

His arms wrapped around her and her breath shuddered as she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his breast plate.

"I know I should have told him. I shouldn't have made that decision for him."

"It was blood magic. It was evil. It wouldn't have mattered if you'd told him, because you wouldn't have let him do it. Would you?"

No. "I tried to tell him. But I couldn't. I couldn't give him that hope knowing it was false, knowing that if he said yes, I'd have to refuse. But he knew I was hiding something from him. He kept asking and –" she drew a deep breath. Cullen wasn't the person to tell about how they'd spent that final night apart, about how Alistair had coolly excused himself to go to bed when she'd refused to tell him.

Cullen stroked her hair and held her close. "It's not your fault he died."

She didn't respond.

"It's not, Solana. It was the Blight. He was a Warden. He did his sacred duty, he died a hero. It was his choice."

"He didn't know there was another way…"

"There wasn't. If you'd felt there was, you would have offered it to him."

"Don't tell Leliana."

"Leliana would agree with me. Or did you miss the Chantry insignia she wears on her breast?"

Solana let out another shaking breath.

Cullen took her hand and it was a moment before she realised he was staring at the ring. She'd just slept with him, and yet she was wearing another man's ring. She cleared her throat, moving away.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

She bit her lip. "It's not what you think. The ring. It's not… It's not a promise ring or anything like that. He didn't give it to me."

"I wasn't going to –"

"I took it from his corpse."

The way she said it sounded even more heartless than the act itself. She wanted to take the words back. She stared at Cullen, in horror at herself. But his eyes were full of sympathy, as if she hadn't just admitted to something so awful.

"You wanted something to remember him by."

"I…" How to put this into words. "I wasn't ready to say goodbye. This… this is all that was left."

She pulled it from her finger and stared down at the familiar crest. The Grey Wardens, the Wardens now out to perform blood magic. Leliana was right, the ring wasn't Alistair. It wasn't even a part of him. It was habit.

She lifted her arm to throw it into the flame, but Cullen caught her hand. She looked at him, askance.

"Keep it."

"Why?"

His hand closed around hers. "We all have our scars, Solana. You should be able to bear yours, the way I bear mine."