Cullen stood on the rampart and breathed in the mountain air. From head to toe, his whole body felt refreshed by the biting freeze. The sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky. It was a good day. He was getting over a bout of lyrium craving, but it helped to know he did not have the lyrium kit to fall back on. Thank the Maker for Varric and his meddling ways.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cassandra approach. Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "I went to see you at your office, but you weren't there. The guard told me you were taking a stroll."

"Just around the ramparts." There was no criticism imbued in her words, yet Cullen felt compelled to add, "I also inspected the defenses."

Cassandra nodded and leaned against the parapet. "I am not going to begrudge you for taking a break now and then. You deserve to."

Another deep inhale, and the rest of the symptoms seemed to scatter to the winds. Cullen confessed, "Yesterday was bad."

The Seeker turned with an intent gaze. "How bad?"

"Bad enough to fall behind. But today's better."

"Good." Cassandra emitted a small hum before starting, "The reason I came to talk to you is because of Tharin."

Cullen raised his brow. "Oh?"

Cassandra looked around furtively. She took a step forward before beginning, "Yes. I understand he is with the Tevinter mage now, but I don't believe you should give up. You love him, do you not? You should persevere, find your way back to him." There was a thin grin on the Seeker's lips and her cheeks turned incarnadine. "Now that Orlais is safe and the Inquisition is in a good position and the arranged marriage is off, you can properly court him. Convince him to give you another chance."

The secret romantic was in full display, and a smile tugged at Cullen's mouth. In a moment, it turned into pealing laughter that had him hunch over.

Expectedly, Cassandra pouted. "I don't see what is so funny about what I said."

As the laughs died down, Cullen cleared his throat and apologized, "Forgive me. I did not mean to… It's just that you are wrong on one account and too late on the other." He expounded, "Master Pavus is no longer courting Tharin. And I came clean back in Halamshiral. Tharin and I, we… kissed."

Cassandra's face glowed and she gave a playful punch on Cullen's arm. "That was more than a week ago! How could you keep this a secret from me!"

"The thing is…" Cullen rubbed the spot the punch landed on. He did not hesitate, but neither was he enthused. "The thing is, Tharin said he needed time to consider. I've given him a wide berth since we departed the Winter Palace."

Cassandra looked away and began to count, touching her left thumb with her right forefinger. "Hold on. So, Tharin is not with Dorian."

"That is correct." There could be no clearer sign than the mage coming to Cullen at crack of dawn and berating him about how he could not have Tharin because of him.

She touched her left forefinger. "But neither does he want you." Cassandra's gray green irises focused on Cullen as she sheepishly said, "Sorry."

Cullen held his hand up and shook his head. "Not entirely correct." He briefly pondered before saying, "I don't know what he wants."

Still, those words did not have the usual effect of painting Cullen's mind dark and desolate. He nonetheless felt hopeful. "But he did tell me he loves me. And I love him. I trust Tharin to make the right choice, and I've no problem waiting."

It was now Cassandra's turn to raise her brow. "I see you are confident."

Cullen frowned, having managed to astonish himself. "I… really am." He sniffed. "Well, this is a novel feeling."

"I can see that."

A messenger appeared on the ashlar steps leading to the rampart, her head bobbing up and down as she climbed. She made a beeline to Cullen and Cassandra and held out a letter.

"Commander, a message for you."

Cullen thanked the messenger and took the sealed letter. When he tore open the wax seal, he found a familiar name. A friend's name.

In hindsight, he should have anticipated it. Cullen felt a renewed pang of a headache. He pinched the bridge of his nose and scrunched his eyes shut as he sighed, "Andraste preserve me…"

The Commander went to the Ambassador and asked her to explain the situation with Lady Renée's family, which resulted in a fifteen-minute lecture on the history of Theodosian vintners. He had forgotten the Montilyet family had a vested interest in wine and spirits. All he could do was nod along at what the woman said.

But she did eventually get to the important part, and the gist was that Renée's family, the Winthers, were not affected by the Land Parcellations Act because they were part of the mercantile class, not landowners. Though her father threw his lot with Gaspard, the family emerged relatively unscathed from the end of the Civil War. They paid their way out of political and social ruination, donating half of their fortune to the Empress. Conversely, it did mean the family retained half its wealth.

Josephine's face broke into an unmitigated amusement as she leaned forward and whispered, "I assume you are asking for a reason, Commander?"

Cullen grunted and handed her the message he had received earlier. Josephine glanced at it before she picked up a parchment from sheaves strewn on her desk, her sly smile still intact. "I received a similar missive from Renée Winther announcing her intention to visit. She sounds awfully interested in you."

He felt the pit of his stomach drop. Having received a message from Renée herself about her plan to come to Skyhold, he had been hoping she would keep a low profile. Alas, she was coming with fanfare. "Maker…" Frustrated, Cullen ran his right hand over his face.

Josephine raised her brow. "I will say there is little to no political reason for you to marry her, and, most importantly, she cannot force your hand." The corners of the Ambassador's lips lowered into a sympathetic countenance. "Would you like me to refuse her admission to Skyhold?"

Cullen considered. This was his fault for not having been more direct at the Winter Palace. He owed Renée some answers. "No, don't do that. I have not been forthright with her. I need to resolve this once and for all."

The Ambassador intently nodded. "I agree. If you are still interested in Tharin, which I assume you are, it would be prudent to inform Lady Renée of that fact. And I would argue this is not the time to shrink from the truth for convenience's sake." Josephine's eyes were stern, piercing even. "This is the time to be brave, Commander."

With his eyes firmly affixed on Josephine, Cullen said, "Yes, indeed it is."

"Now," Josephine emphasized as she visibly relaxed. With her right arm leaning against the plush armrest and her left holding onto her right wrist, the Ambassador intoned, "May I inquire about what is happening with you and Tharin?"

Cullen's initial reaction was to befog and conceal. Yet, he realized he cared not a whit for other people's opinions. To him, whatever negative things Josephine may say about his relationship with Tharin was like a fly buzzing around: no less annoying, yet just as inconsequential. And equivocating would not achieve anything if her intention were to say something positive. So, he straightened his posture and announced, "We are not together yet, but Tharin is aware of my intentions."

Like the Seeker, the Ambassador raised her brow too. "Oh." She winced. "So… does that mean Tharin is not enthusiastic about you two courting?"

Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. For Maker's sake, what was with all this doom and gloom from his friends? And as much as he was glad of it, why did their less than encouraging views fail to deflate his confidence in any way? He spoke, quiet yet firm in his conviction, "I can wait for him. I do not doubt his love for me."

Josephine scrunched her face and bobbed her head, obviously surprised. "I see. Well, if you would be so kind as to keep me apprised, I would be eternally grateful. After all, I will be the one who has to decline all marriage proposals for you and Tharin from now on."

There was something so casual and airy about the way Josephine said her piece that it made Cullen laugh. He said without any reservations, "That's a promise, Madam Ambassador."

It occurred to Cullen he should inform Tharin of Renée's imminent arrival. He must not leave anything to chance, especially Tharin's perception of the events to transpire.

Exiting the Ambassador's salon, Cullen saw Tharin slowly traversing the great hall toward him. He took a deep breath and approached the man.

Cullen bowed lightly. "May I take a minute of your time, Inquisitor?"

And Tharin was just as formal as he gestured the man toward his quarters, though there was a hint of a smile underneath. "Of course, Commander."

When the door to the loft closed and the two men turned to face each other on the steps leading to the Inquisitor's quarters, Cullen realized this was the first time they were alone since their return from Halamshiral. Cullen's newfound confidence notwithstanding, he felt rather awkward. He emitted a hushed "hello." With an unsure foothold, he stepped forward and pecked a light kiss on Tharin's cheek. Though Cullen realized he had overreached and regretted the decision a moment after.

Yet, Tharin did not seem perturbed. That hint of a grin bloomed into a full smile.

Cullen swallowed hard and turned away. He spoke fast, "I wanted to tell you in person that Lady Renée is coming to Skyhold… to talk to me."

Tharin tensed. "Wait, the Royan debutante?"

Cullen forced himself to directly face Tharin. "Yes."

After directing his gaze to the floor, Tharin asked in a low voice, "What does she want with you?"

"She may be…" Cullen contemplated. Fudging the truth would not do. "Well, no… She is interested in me." He held his hands up. "But I am not interested in her at all. You are, that is, you are the only one for me."

"I see."

"I love you and only you. Please believe me when I say I shall not vacillate. I shall turn her down."

Tharin crossed his arms tightly and chewed on his lower lip for a moment before mumbling, "I do believe you…" Still, his tone grew stony as he added, "If that is all, I should get to work. Josephine expects me to read through a tall stack of letters and reports today."

The Inquisitor's expression turned opaque, hiding whatever thoughts the man held. Cullen wondered if Tharin was jealous, if he had hurt him somehow. Some part of Cullen wanted to probe Tharin to see if he was jealous, and it infuriated him. Because their relationship deserved more than the foolish push and pull that the young and insecure would engage in to test their fledgling love.

What Cullen felt, what they felt for each other had to be stronger and sounder.

"Of course, Thar–" Remembering he had to be cautious around Tharin until the other man made his choice, Cullen exhaled and corrected himself, "Inquisitor."

After three firm, evenly spaced strokes of knocking, the door to Cullen's office opened. At the entrance stood Leliana.

Cullen looked up from his desk only to immediately revert his gaze to the requisition request for more primary metals. A surge of chilly air from outside broke against his face and made it tingle, but no matter. Serenely, he intoned, "It won't work."

He heard the door creaking and clicking to a close and Leliana approaching. "What won't work?"

"By now, I am sure your spies have informed you about Lady Renée Winther visiting Skyhold. You are here to encourage me to propose to her, which somehow would benefit the Inquisition."

Leliana's breezy Orlesian burr reverberated through the cold ether, "Clever. The Winthers controls a number of important trade routes to and from Val Royeaux. Marrying into the family could be fiscally advantageous to the Inquisition."

Annoyed, Cullen lifted his face and stared. "So, you do want me to marry her."

A half smile floated on Leliana's visage. "Relax." She padded to the Commander's bookcase and ran her hands over the book covers. She randomly tilted a tome and pulled it out. Rapidly flipping through the pages and surely not taking in any passages, she explained in a cool tone, "Your guards at the Winter Palace included my agents, and they saw you kiss the Inquisitor."

Leliana pressed the book close with a dull thud and looked at Cullen. "My intention is pure, though I will admit this isn't a mere social visit."

Cullen huffed, letting a deep irritation transform into barbed sarcasm. "And I suppose you have an agent planted by Madam Ambassador's side as well, ferreting out information?"

"No need. Josephine's attendant has a big mouth on her." Leliana put the tome back and folded her arms. With her brow creased in the slightest yet menacing way, the Spymaster intoned, "Would you like me to take care of Lady Renée?"

Aghast, Cullen inquired cagily, "Take care… You mean, assassinate her?"

Leliana snorted and droned, "I will have you know, I've yet to assassinate anyone of such import during my tenure as the Inquisition's Spymaster. I did not mean to imply I would start a streak with your admirer."

"Good. I am relieved." Cullen leaned back in his chair and weaved his hands behind his nape. "So, you mean to help Tharin and me. Is this your way of apologizing for meddling in our affairs at Haven? Because you are doing the same thing only in reverse."

"Perhaps you are right."

Cullen lowered his hands, puffed his chest, and nodded. "I am right."

Leliana crossed her arms and looked away. "I've made you and Tharin very unhappy. I was trying my best for the Inquisition, thinking the Inquisitor needed to achieve herohood alone. But now I see I was… wrong. The Warden did not become a hero by himself. He had us the whole time. And clearly, Tharin needed you."

Cullen stood up and drew near Leliana. "I had my part in making Tharin unhappy and angry as well. I could have ignored you, but I didn't. I drove him to the arranged marriage and lyrium. Some part of me still thinks I do not deserve to be happy with Tharin."

"You know you do deserve happiness. We all do. That is why we fight against Corypheus."

Cullen chuckled. "Yes, I know." Feeling quiet determination and confidence fill him, he spoke, "Now, as much as I appreciate your meddling in service of my relationship with Tharin, we neither need nor desire it. I shall handle the situation with Lady Renée on my own."

Leliana pursed her lips. But their corners lifted in a wide smile. Or at least, something that could be construed as a wide smile coming from Leliana. "I wish you much success at your endeavor."

He beamed, genuinely. Because he understood that succinct answer was Leliana's way of promising not to interfere anymore. He said with total conviction, "Thank you, Sister."

Lady Renée arrived at Skyhold two days later. She must have departed Halamshiral right after the Inquisition left.

Josephine would swear to her family's honor that she tried her hardest to keep Renée busy and away from Cullen. She guided the guest through every single piece of significant architectural structure, every single mural and mosaic collections displayed at Skyhold. She even introduced Renée to Solas, hoping his high-minded lecture on the Fade would distract and entertain her for a while. The hedge mage did, though after much grumbling about delaying his departure to attend to some personal business and under-the-breath mutterings about the human inability to fully grasp the intricacies and the beauty of the Fade.

The Ambassador then asked Renée after her family's business. It made for a truly engrossing conversation. Renée had a sharp mind, an intuitive understanding of commerce, and Josephine was certain she would achieve great things if she were given the chance within the Winthers' business. Not that many Orlesian women were given leeway, though perhaps Josephine could somehow intercede on her behalf after Cullen's inevitable rejection.

But Josephine could keep this up only for so long. Eventually, she ran flat out of repertoire to keep Renée engaged. Over their dinner, Renée requested a meeting with the Commander, and Josephine was out of excuses.

"Is Commander Cullen available? I was hoping to talk to him before the day was over."

After sipping from her wine glass, Josephine held on and wagged her forefinger. "That would not do. It is already too late, and the Commander is a busy man indeed. Why don't you explore the rest of Skyhold by yourself tomorrow while I send a message to the Commander asking for a meeting?" She knew her mouth was running away from her, that she was blabbering, yet she could not stop. "Presumably, the response will come right away. I guarantee you will have your meeting in two days."

Renée looked peeved, which Josephine took as a sign of independent thought. On top of her brain, it was a feat, to be sure. Most nobles had peculiarities, of course. Habits and requirements and predilections that had to be catered to by Josephine. Nonetheless, those were not borne of independent thought but simply what was deemed fashionable at the time. Renée, however, could think for herself. And that made Josephine feel sympathetic for the woman.

In a moment, Renée's exterior turned placid once again as she drawled, "If that is the earliest at which I could talk to Commander Cullen, that would have to do. Thank you so much for the tour of Skyhold and the message to the Commander, Madam Ambassador."

Josephine pressed down the urge to roll her eyes and upturned the corners of her lips instead. "You are most welcome. I hope your stay at Skyhold proves fruitful."

Of course, the Commander assented to the meeting with Lady Renée when the Ambassador finally got around to sending the message.

Cullen had been wrestling with the Winter Palace after action report all morning when she entered his office. Feeling cooped up and trying to stave off a light migraine, he suggested they venture out to talk.

"I wonder if you would be amenable to a brief walk."

"Of course, lead the way," said the woman brightly.

Cullen was not much of an outdoorsman, but the outside did nourish his soul. The wintry chill that surrounded the rampart felt welcome on his overheated forehead, and the sunlight, despite its seasonally appropriate paleness, frolicked on his exposed face and prompted his mind to declare – I'm happy.

And he wondered what Tharin was doing right now.

Yet, Cullen realized it had been a blunder and a faux pas to force Renée to take a constitutional. The freezing air that made him feel whole again obviously had the opposite effect on the woman. Even with her fur hat and drape and muffs, Renée still shivered. The tip of her nose was bright red.

Feeling terribly guilty, Cullen took off his surcoat and swathed Renée with it. As he fussed to make sure the surcoat covered whole of Renée, he susurrated, "It's colder than I'd expected. Let us head back."

With her whole face now red from cold, Renée simply nodded.

When the two returned to his office, Cullen bitterly regretted the lack of a fireplace. When Renée tried to give back the surcoat, Cullen waved his hand, hoping it would help her warm up quicker.

Cullen sat on his desk and watched Renée as she rubbed her hands together and blew on them in a flimsy chair. Eventually, she no longer looked like a ripened apple and began, "At the Winter Palace, the change was palpable just like that. With the Inquisitor siding with Empress Celene, my family became social pariahs overnight. My father tried to remedy the situation by pledging half of our wealth to the Empress, which I suppose worked.

"In the meantime, the offers of matrimony have completely dried up. I am free. For now." She got on her feet and approached Cullen. "I am certain you must know by now, but that is why I came."

With Cullen sitting on his desk, the height difference was rendered nil. Renée began to lean forward, which forced Cullen to tilt back.

Undeterred and indomitable, Renée proclaimed, "I am in love with you, Cullen. Will you please consider accepting my offer of betrothal?" She took off her lace gloves and laid her hand, the renewed warmth overcompensating for the coldness, on Cullen's scarred cheek.

Her bold moves left Cullen speechless for a moment. "Lady Renée…" Grasping her naked hand and lowering it with care, Cullen sighed, but not unkindly. "You are not in love with me. You may like me or maybe like the idea of being in love with me, but you do not love me. We've never courted."

"Yes, I do. I know what I feel, and it is love." Her expression was solemn.

Renée was shrewd and quick in business matters but also young and innocent in matters involving her heart. But it occurred to Cullen that the young woman sounded exactly like he did back at Haven. He was so infatuated with Tharin back then that he could not see reason. He pushed in, hoping Tharin would love him back from the sheer force of his own love toward the young man.

The embarrassment was enough to dye Cullen's cheeks crimson. Could he have been more boorish if he tried?

Past or present, no matter when, he could not help but be ungracious. It was time to disappoint Renée yet again. Cullen knew he must even though his guilt spiked like there was no ceiling. "Love is about considering what is best for the other person. Working to make your person happy. You and your person both know you belong to each other and are in lockstep." He added shyly, "That is what I believe. And… I fear your idea of love comes from your desire not to marry for title or money. I cannot marry you."

Renée could not hide the devastation. She whispered, "Could you come to love me?"

The Commander bit his lip. "Perhaps. But I shan't try. I mustn't."

Renée's eyes widened. "Did you… lie about not having anyone at the Winter Palace? Are you in love with someone else?"

The question stopped Cullen in his track. Warily, he affirmed, "…Yes, I am."

"With whom?"

Cullen's first thought was to protect Tharin at all costs. He must not divulge. He crossed his arms and stressed, "I do not believe the answer pertinent to our discussion."

Yet, Renée persisted. She closed in. "Is it someone in the Inquisition?"

Their lips were close enough for Cullen to feel each word uttered by the woman. Cullen twisted out of the way, leaving the desk and pacing to the other side of the room before letting his voice rumble in a warning, "Lady Renée."

Renée turned and started toward Cullen with her hands outstretched. "It is, isn't it? Is it one of the advisors? Ambassador Montilyet mayhaps? I understand Sister Nightingale has a history with the Hero of Ferelden, so she couldn't be… Or is it one of the Inquisitor's companions?"

"Please desist. I am not playing this game with you," added Cullen in an even tone. He could not escalate the situation further.

"I must know!" stressed Renée.

More so curious than irritated, Cullen asked, "Why?"

"Because… Because I must know who I am losing to…" Renée began to take a step before halting. Staring at the floor, she gathered her hands and tapped her thumbs. "If you won't say who it is, at least let me know. How long have you been with this person?"

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. Not that he did not feel like obfuscating, he felt that question merited a frank answer. He could allow her that much. "We are not together."

Renée's face seemed to convey a mixture of different emotions. Horror, fury, disappointment… She opened her mouth, but no words came out. After a moment of silence, she haphazardly took off his surcoat, folded it once over before laying it on the desk, turned around, and left a bemused Cullen.

Stretched to its operational limit, the Skyhold kitchen ceaselessly pumped out food for the citadel's residents. Most of it consisted of some sort of soup or stew due to the convenience of cooking in bulk.

But the quality and the taste of food had improved substantially over the months. The cooks have become more skillful, and more money in the coffers meant the Inquisition could expend some effort on improving the quality of life for its fierce warriors and mages.

Tonight's main fare was chestnut purée soup with bacon and chives. An especially delicate soup that was fit for any Orlesian ball. Having finished their days, Tharin and Varric sat with bowls of soup and steamed buns in the great hall.

They were discussing matters relating to a "missing" Marian Hawke when Tharin heard loud click-clacks of high heels on masonry. He turned toward the sound and found the Orlesian debutante coming at him with an intense look. She looked about ready to devour him up.

She halted just short of burrowing into their table and asked in a sharp tone, "You are the Inquisitor, are you not?"

Tharin nodded once. "I am." He held his hand up at the woman, the palm flat. "And you must be Renée Winther."

"Indeed, I am. I came to inquire you after the person the Commander yearns for."

Tharin's heart skipped a beat. It was followed by heavy thrums that made his ears pulse. He turned to Varric and said, hoping his voice would not crack, "Sorry, will you leave us?"

Varric looked at Renée and then at Tharin before shaking his head. He spat tartly, "Fine. But you owe me a story." He grabbed his half-full bowl and left, muttering to himself.

Tharin did not move to welcome Renée or have her sit down. He was not munificent enough to indulge Renée and have her be comfortable in front of him. No, he wanted her to feel awkward for this ambush.

And awkward she looked, standing with her delicate, long fingers constantly twiddling. When Varric was out of the earshot, she began anew, "Cullen turned down my proposal of marriage. It seems I've come too late for him."

Pushing down a decidedly juvenile impulse to stake Cullen out as his, Tharin enunciated each word carefully, "I do not know who has caught the Commander's attention."

Predictably, Renée was dissatisfied with his answer. Her words were prickly, "I would have assumed the mighty Inquisitor has a better idea of what goes on in his domain."

Tharin fumed, "You do not have the right to interrogate me, and neither do I have to answer to you."

Renée creased her brow. "No matter. I know I am beaten. My bags are packed and my carriage ready to depart. I shall leave at the first sign of the sun. I just…" She shook her head. "Please forgive my insolence. I know I should be more graceful in my defeat, but I cannot help… I just want to know the person Cullen is in love with."

Before Tharin could reply, Renée whirled around left with quick parting words, "Thank you for indulging my curiosity, Inquisitor."

Renée was giving up. And the heady jealousy and antagonism frozen in Tharin's heart began to thaw along with his worries that Cullen preferred Renée or that Renée may succeed at stealing Cullen's heart.

As if to ground himself in the incontrovertible truth, Tharin whispered, "Cullen loves me. And I love him." He realized he did not care who heard him. No more hindrances from Inquisition duties and no more obstacles placed by his overprotective heart.

He was ready to leap.

When Cullen opened the door to his office, Tharin walked past him with a supper tray. The darkness of the winter night gave way to flickering candlelight that warmly accentuated the hint of wrinkles on Cullen's face.

Tharin was not afraid. Nor was he anxious. But his heightened emotions threatened to spill over, like the shadows that poured forth from the dim corners of the chamber. After setting the tray down on Cullen's desk, Tharin took a beat before turning around and admonishing, "I've brought you your supper because you keep skipping meals even though I told you not to."

Cullen upturned his lips genially, and his eyes crinkled. "Good evening." There was a glimmer of self-assuredness about his mouth that incensed Tharin. Cullen padded toward him and smoothly weaved their hands together.

Swallowing hard to ensure his voice would not quaver, Tharin emphasized, "I hear you've turned down Renée Winther's proposal. But you could've lived in luxury. Any regrets?"

The soft grin remained etched on Cullen. Looking unbothered, he shrugged and chortled. "Probably not." The next moment, Tharin found himself ensnared in a hug, firm and unrelenting.

Tharin knew his voice was out of control. He continued with squeaks and hitches, "So you aren't completely sure…?"

Cullen stroked the locked hand with his thumb. Tharin felt the spot burn. Instead of answering his inane question, Cullen susurrated in his ear, "You are wearing the gloves I made you."

Eventually, Cullen let go of his hand, but instead of releasing Tharin, he looped the free arm around and the embrace continued. He breathed, "Tharin. See me. I am here. I am yours. I am not letting go."

A vow.

Against Cullen's chest, surrounded by his scent and heat, Tharin fell silent. A hot mass rose from his throat.

Cullen leaned back and tenderly caressed Tharin's face, though his fingers trembled just enough to be perceptible. Maker, their mingled breaths were so hot as to combust, to immolate them. With their lips impossibly close, Cullen asked for one last time.

"May I kiss you now?"

As the back of his nose began to sting, Tharin sniffed and chuckled.

"Yes, please."

Their first kiss at Skyhold. Tharin savored everything with his eyes closed. It was so radically different from their first kiss at Haven. Cullen was hungry yet the kiss was controlled. Cullen was elated but it did not sweep them away in an indiscriminate wave of pleasure.

Careful and gentle, Cullen was loving. That was the only word to describe him. Loving.

When their lips parted with a soft smacking noise, Tharin let the moment linger before murmuring, "I am yours too."

"I know," his love cooed with a bright smile.

Next up, the Inquisitor and the Left Hand go on an adventure on Sunday, June 19!

Comments and reviews are never obligatory but give me life! Thank you for reading!