"He's in here, nonono, I'm not ready, can't be, no."

"Anything else?"

"Hair."

"She's...worried about her hair?"

Lily has no reason to be worried; Straight, dark-blond hair is hardly anything to be concerned about and her doe-eyed expression could drag a gentle word or phrase out of even the surliest of templars.

No templars; not tonight.

I shake my head of the sudden thought. "I gave her the night off. Lily better not think about leaving."

"She won't." Cole assures me, swinging his legs from our perch. The banister around the second story of the Herald's Rest provides the ideal location for sitting and observing. From here we can see the bar, the front door, and-most importantly-Krem, who sits in his corner with a bottle of wine, observing quietly and yet always keeping one eye towards any Charger who wanders around the tavern, and Maker knows there are a lot of them. I only know six by name after sitting down with Bull earlier this afternoon to meet the company, but six is more than enough.

On the crowded floor below-today was some dwarven holiday I think, which means everyone gets to celebrate-Lily winds her way to the bar. Cabot spots her halfway across and has a mug full of something ready by the time she gets there. He gives Lily a reassuring nod, then turns back to the other patrons.

I glance over at Cole. "I can't believe you gave me permission to meddle."

"Help." He corrects. "Do you know what you are going to do?"

"Not a clue. We'll see how they do on their own." I watch as Krem sets down his bottle, then stands and weaves his way to the bar. "Where's he going?"

"I...don't know."

"You can't...? Okay, this is where I come in." I slide backwards off the bannister, circling around the second story to the opposite side to get a better view of the bar. Lily still sits at the far end, nursing her drink, but right now I'm more interested in what Krem is doing, so I lean forward and thank the Maker I remember what Father and the Dalish taught me about tracking. Krem's gait and gaze are straightforward, but his head is tilted slightly to the left, indicating interest to something in that direction. At the crowded bar, two seats open up at the same time; one to the right, and one to the left, next to Lily.

Krem veers left.

"Yes!" I grin, gesturing for Cole and perching on the bannister. The young man joins me shortly, and he too is smiling.

"But they're not talking." Cole eventually observes after a moment of content watching.

"I know, but...you want to see what I'm seeing?"

"How can I? Your eyes-"

"Look," I cut him off and point to each observation as I speak. "Krem left a half-full bottle of wine at his chair. Why would he go to the bar and order a drink if he has plenty of his own left? Then, when he was walking over, two seats opened at the bar there, and there; took the one next to Lily, but the other one was closer. And do you see how he is sitting? Torso angled to Cabot to order, and twisted so the rest of him is just barely facing Lily. He'll talk to her when he's done with Cabot. Watch."

And we do watch, I in smug satisfaction and Cole in fascination as Krem orders something, then turns to face Lily and leans on the bar. He says something, holds out his hand, and they shake.

"He's talking to me! Sweet, soft eyes, why did I expect any different? Polite, real, wonderful."

"That's what I wanted to hear, Cole." I grin, running a hand through my hair. Below, Maryden starts playing 'Sera Was Never' and those in her immediate vicinity join in, their voices raising past the din of the tavern to float up through the air. Beside me, Cole begins humming the tune-poorly, but it's still cute-and I softly join in on the first chorus, laughing because this, right here, right now, is just so nice.

It was only yesterday I found myself telling Varric the story of a young child caught and nearly drowned by a templar in the throes of withdrawal, with only one major omission: I claimed she was caught because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time; a mere coincidence, rather than because the girl had yet to be taught to suppress what was born into her.

Surprisingly, the dwarf understood. He listened, and nodded, and said it made sense, and promised to stay quiet, promised that nothing had changed, and I believed him. I believed him because the concerned look on his face was so sincere, and he finally looked comfortable; the sour expression Hawke had bestowed unto him was gone, replaced by concern for me, but I didn't feel like a replacement. I felt like a friend.

On the tavern floor, the song ends to raucous cheers and shouts; Krem and Lily lean closer, talking, laughing, occasionally blushing; in her room, Sera slams the door, annoyed by the song; cool spring air blows into the building as the front door opens, admitting two new participants to the fray. I strain to see the front door from our new perch; one disadvantage, I suppose.

Beside me, Cole frowns. "Hollyn."

I cant my head towards him absently, still trying to find whoever entered. To my dismay, they are staying by the entryway, just out of view. "Hm, da'sa?"

"Should have known, should have noticed. Obvious now, why not then? Shouldn't have to hear it from him."

This gets my full attention. "Is something wrong?" I glance down to Lily and Krem. "Is she alright?"

"Not her." Cole shakes his head, pointing down to the main floor. "Why wouldn't she tell me?"

In my moment of concern for my maid, I had missed Cullen and Varric break from the entryway and make their way through the Herald's Rest; the dwarf speaks loudly in his typical manner, greeting drunken patrons and sober acquaintances alike, while Cullen remains silent, following beside the dwarf. A clear table waits for them by the fireplace, and they sit.

"Cole," I whisper, voice darker than intended, never taking my eyes off of Varric. "Who were you listening to?"

"Cullen." Is his simple answer.

The rage that wells in my chest is quick, a sudden burst that tightens and pales my knuckles against the railing. Then the fire is gone, as quickly as it came, replaced by disappointment.

Cole's gloved hand slides over mine, bringing me back. "He didn't want to tell."

"I'm sure he didn't, da'sa." Hopping off the railing, I make my way to the stairs. "Watch Lily for me, will you?"

"Where are you going? Don't hurt Varric, please. I like Varric."

I laugh slightly. "I won't, Cole. Watch her?"

"Yes."

By the time I'm at the foot of the stairs, both Cullen and Varric have spotted me, and Varric gestures me over with a grin.

"What's the occasion, Varric?" I ask once I reach the two men, gesturing around at the overcrowded tavern. Cullen sits in a stewing silence, so I let him, unsure of what to say.

The dwarf shrugs. "Some Paragon's name-day, I think. Shouldn't you be getting ready for the Approach?"

"We have time." I point over to Lily and Krem, who haven't moved from their place by the bar. "Cole and I were meddling."

"Cole?" Varric tilts his head, then looks up to the second story. "Oh..."

"Yeah, he's really been a help tonight." I stare at Varric. "Learned all sorts of things." The way Varric's face falls, there is no doubt in my mind that he knows that I know. "Anyway, I was just about to leave. Gentlemen."

Outside, the air is warm, suggesting that Summerday might be closer than anticipated. I close my eyes and let the wind ruffle my hair, moonlight washing over the courtyard. Skyhold sleeps so early in the evening, the Herald's Rest is like an uncooperative child in comparison; but out here the noise is less, dulled by distance and pressing thoughts.

Varric told Cullen about my breakdown; about my negative reaction to such a personal issue. I can almost understand why Cassandra threatens to stab him so much; Varric asks for it sometimes.

But Varric isn't without his reasons, surely. The dwarf has more sense than most of my companions, so he wouldn't go whispering my fears to a ready ear for mere amusement; or so I prefer to believe. Truly, it's the potential reasons that scare me; what was so monumental, Varric felt my weakness needed to be shared?

"Inquisitor,"

The formal title hurts. Internally, I curse, then scold my heart for jumping at the sound of Cullen's voice. I glance over my shoulder, raising a brow. "Commander."

Cullen comes to stand beside me in the bright courtyard. For a moment, we stare simply up at the moon, rising just past the peak of Skyhold's tallest tower, large and full in all its glory.

Wind whispers past, and I open my mouth. "You needn't apologize, Cullen, if that's what you're here to do."

"I feel I must." He insists. I risk a glance; those gold eyes, pale now in the white light of the moon, hold guilt in volumes. "Had I noticed your apprehension to the topic-"

"Terror." I correct, and the words escapes my lips before I can next breathe. "My terror towards the topic."

Cullen takes in a long breath. "I ask that you forgive me if our conversation yesterday brought up any...difficult emotions."

Beneath the moon, I feel so small, insignificant, and open. "You are forgiven, but may I explain something?"

"Anything."

"I am terrified of lyrium withdrawal, and water because of one templar. That was years ago, when I was a child, subject to circumstance. Despite being older, I still suffer from the memories when the topic comes up, but I control it, and I have enough sense now to recognize that you are not the templar from my past, Cullen. The idea-concept-terrifies me, but you do not."

Once again, Skyhold is silent, my words echoing off the space between me and my commander. An explosion of noise radiates from the Herald's Rest as the door is thrown open and two dwarves stumble past, on their way to the barracks.

"Thank-you." Cullen mumbles once they have vanished. "In the future, perhaps you will consider telling me these things?"

The side of my mouth quirks up. "Tell you? My commander? How unprofessional would that be?"

Cullen's laugh is a wonderful thing; deep, rich, yet light enough to bring a smile to my own face. Moonlight flickers as a rogue cloud engulfs the moon, shrouding the courtyard in thinly veiled darkness. We stand there, laughing, until we have enough sense to perhaps finally look at one another and breathe normally again.

"You just had to, hm?" He asks, looking down at me.

I run a hand through my hair, shaking my head. "We were being much too serious. "

"I suppose. Truthfully, though..."

The moon emerges from its hiding place, capturing me in Cullen's firm, pale-gold gaze. His scarred upper lip suddenly seems too close, like at some point we had drifted towards a much more private distance. I can still count the breaths between us, but cold lies there too, making our accidental atmosphere that much more noticeable. I shiver.

And apparently I'm not the only one to be affected. Cullen clears his throat, still keeping the eye contact steady, then tries again. "Truthfully, will you consider telling me these things? Or must I remind you of the night you were named Inquisitor?"

His tone has taken on a deeper register. Whispers of lyrium and addict threaten to leak into the moment, but I fight back. "I remember. And if I say I will come to you, can you say that you will come to me?"

"Of course." The lack of hesitation from Cullen is a surprise, but the warmth between us spreads, chasing away the chill that threatens to take me again. This is comfortable, but somewhere deep inside, the warmth worries a small fear, a question of 'why?', wondering why merely a man's voice drove off the cold.

"Then you have my word as a friend, Cullen."

"And you have mine."

A/N: Update: I forgot to fix the text so Cole's italics showed up. And I went through and fixed Cole's nickname again. Hopefully I got everything. I apologize. Again.