"I would venture a guess that the Seeker does not enjoy being the subject of your musings, Varric." Solas said in an even but slightly teasing voice.

"I do not what?" Cassandra blurted, as she prepared the camp supplies for their breakfast. "Varric, what is he talking about?"

Seyna grinned madly when Varric chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "He's teasing you, Seeker. I am writing for posterity, to record some of the events along our journey before we get to Redcliffe. He's just trying to ruffle your feathers by making you think you're the next main character of my romance serials."

Seyna had a good laugh when she saw the violent shades of red that Cassandra turned, before yelling a string of threats and exiting the perimeter of their camp. Solas also seemed pleased with himself, taking the opportunity to bewitch some of the breakfast supplies and resume the work where she left off. She had tended to argue with any magical means of completing mundane tasks, so he must have thought of this as a workaround to her fussing.

With a glance around the circle, Seyna saw that the others were busy with their own tasks, so she dropped her focus back on the journal in her lap. She hunched over it and continued writing. She was working on a new song, but on the opposite page she worked on field notes. She wanted a plausible coverup if someone were to question her, not that they usually bothered anymore.

Once, Cassandra had made the mistake of asking Seyna to explain something she was fascinated with, only to be rewarded with a very long-winded technical explanation of some lesser-known properties of Spirit magic. Eventually, the Seeker walked off in frustration and muttered something about all mages being mad. Since then, they all rarely bothered to ask what she was studying when she had the somewhat crazed expression of being hyper-focused on something.

The song was coming along well, but she kept getting stuck. It was missing something. She needed to add something more intimate to the song, it wasn't personal enough. Usually when she felt like one of her songs was missing an element, it meant she had to step away from the problem and reflect inwards. She would need to ask herself: What was the uncomfortable truth that she had avoided writing?

So now, in trying to write what would be the anthem before they attempted to close the Breach, what was she avoiding? What was the feeling that she tried not to acknowledge or lend credence to? Was there something she was reluctant to admit to herself or her audience?

Well, there was Cullen, of course.

Even the thought made her feel warm and gooey. The apples of her cheeks and the tips of her ears grew hot.

Each of their slightly friendlier conversations lately had warmed him to her, probably a bit too much. She found it utterly charming that he would seem to waver between easygoing and comfortable, and suddenly awkward and shy. It was so easy to talk to him sometimes, she wondered if he forgot that she was a mage.

He seemed to be growing to trust her to a degree. Enough to answer her questions- even the personal ones. Suddenly she recalled the expression of shock and embarrassment when she had asked the Commander about the existence of celibacy vows. This prompted a giggle from her that she struggled to reign in. Varric looked at her over the campfire with a questioning brow.

"Giggling to yourself while you write in your diary and blush is a pretty cliché thing to do, don't you know Lucky?" He chided, seeming deeply pleased with himself when her face grew hotter still. "Whatever you're working on over there, do tell. It seems like it must be juicy."

"I don't think I will, thank you." Seyna replied indignantly. She turned her body away from them and stuck her tongue out. This prompted a soft laugh from Solas's direction.

Now it was impossible for her to stop thinking of the Commander… She had rather enjoyed replaying their exchanges in her head while daydreaming. There were plenty of opportunities for it on the long travels between Haven and the rest of Ferelden. If she closed her eyes, she could picture that moment when he had touched her on the small of the back as he came around the War Table. And the way that it made her breath catch when she caught his gaze while he passed by her.

Or the time when she had spied him coming into the Chantry and he did not know she was there in the alcove… She had stayed there pressed against the wall, watching him make begrudging small talk with a cleric for some time. It felt like a precious secret to get to watch him without tearing her eyes away. She had joyously watched every micro-expression that crossed his features, seeing when he was annoyed but staying polite. When he was bored senseless but nodding along. He had extended his arms over his head in an exaggerated stretch, shifting his breast plate and pauldrons all out of place as he flexed his shoulders comfortably. It was enough to hasten her pulse, even as innocuous as it was. Something inside her felt hot and very eager to see more.

Finally, he was then free from the cleric and proceeded further into the Chantry. Seyna had felt like she would catch on fire when he met and held her gaze when he passed. Apparently, her nook was not as inconspicuous as she had thought. Her expression was aghast, and her eyes had widened in horror. He had torn his eyes away and looked down, with what she could have sworn was a smirk and a laugh.

She wasn't entirely a fool; she knew why all these vignettes seemed so potent in her mind. She had long since admitted that she was attracted to him- to so many things about him. In short, she had a crush. It made their every interaction feel momentous and intense. She was always hyper aware of him, always feeling drawn to him. Wanting to feel the hum of his body near hers. Now, she let out a slow breath. Things would always be impossible for them; they were too different. Their lives could not intersect in this way.

But she did know what to put in the song, now.