I had been back in The Pearl with my friends for almost a week, and they were just starting to treat me almost normally again. The only one of them who wasn't treating me any differently was Larry. He had knocked me on my ass in his enthusiasm when we were reunited, whining and bathing me in sloppy Mabari kisses, and he hadn't left my side since. He had even slept with me a few times. The Madame had initially protested, insisting that the hounds sleep in the hallways, but I reminded her that they were probably cleaner than most of the clientele who passed through and she conceded the point without much resistance.

I couldn't blame the others for being a little off with me. Between the week of torture and the sudden revelation that I was harbouring a spirit, it had been a lot for them to adjust to. Grayson had handled the whole thing admirably, as had Leliana and Zevran.

I could hardly get rid of Morrigan. She would sit on the end of my bed staring at me in silence, then flipping through pages of the grimoire she had picked up in Kinloch Hold, muttering to herself. When she wasn't staring and muttering, she was hounding me with questions ranging from the mundane to the downright personal. Despite her near constant presence at my bedside, at no point did it feel like she was a concerned friend. She was a mad scientist, tearing her hair out and searching for a eureka that I didn't seem to be providing.

Sten didn't say much, and he had kept most of his questions for Wynne. She had revealed the truth of her own spirit situation to the rest of the group as well, for which i was grateful. It took the heat off of me quite a bit.

I had concerns that Alistair wasn't quite as fine with this new information as he was pretending to be. I was quite certain he was putting on a front for my benefit. As a former would-be-Templar, I had expected at least a little resistance from him. I had expected him to immediately start looking for ways to "fix" me. When I first told him, he had asked a few questions: did it speak to me, could I feel it, was I okay, was I in any danger. When I told him I was still me, but with extra-special fighting abilities, his shoulders visibly relaxed and he had nodded. "I see. Hmmm. Have you tried the cheese? It's extra cheesy."

He had said nothing more on the subject, and it felt like an awkward thing to push and, given my recent absence, an awkward time to push it, so I had let it go. He was being incredibly sweet, loving and attentive during the day, and at night we shared several passionate kisses and each time I was more certain than the last that he would finally make his move, and each time I was left wanting. Whenever we were together, I couldn't help but notice him watching me when he thought I couldn't see him. He did that, sometimes. But this was a different kind of watchfulness. It was like he was waiting for...something. Some invisible sign. I suspected he was trying to see where I ended and Valour began.

I had been through a lot in the last week or so, but I rarely had a moment alone to dwell on any of it. During the day, anyway. At night, the demons came. I suffered them, silently, refusing to scream, refusing to give any life to the terrors that lurked in the dark corners of my bedroom and my mind. It was hard, and it was painful, but I endured it. More than once I wondered bitterly if my resilience was my own or if it came from Valour. I was almost certain this was all me. After all, where was Valour when I had woken every night in hot sweats, silent-screaming after uncovering Jordan Christie's body? Where was Valour when I sat stony-faced and unmoved at my sister's funeral? My relationship with trauma had been established long before Valour came to call.

Still, it was lonely. I knew I couldn't share my burden with my friends. They would have wanted me to. They would have been so lovely and compassionate in their efforts to help me. But we were saving the world. Nobody had the time or space to take on my trauma in any meaningful way, and I wouldn't let myself be a burden. They wouldn't have understood, not really. They would have tried to understand, I'm sure, but I knew it would just lead to frustration on both ends. I couldn't have that conversation. I felt exhausted by the very idea of it.

I thought of Cullen.

I had always felt sympathy for what he had gone through with Uldred and the mages, but I had never really understood it. Our experiences were incomparable. They weren't the same thing at all. But I thought I at least now had some frame of reference for understanding how he felt. The loneliness of it...I knew I had to reach out, to let him know that somewhere, someone was thinking about him and hoping that he was okay. I hoped it would be enough.

I was just finishing off my letter to him when I heard Leliana's gentle knock at the door of my bedroom and I called for her to enter. I looked up from my position, hunched over the writing desk in the corner of my room, and smiled gratefully when I saw the black bird perched on her forearm. At my request, she had procured a messenger raven.

"His name is Flin." She said, brightly, striding towards me. She was dressed in her new armour, and I let out a low whistle of appreciation, gesturing for her to spin around. She did so with a graceful flourish, grinning. It was a knee-length dress of mail and lilac leather. The leather hugged her sides, emphasising the feminine curve of her hips, and the mail panel on the front glittered like gems in the sunlight streaming in through the open window. Violet leather leggings, boots and elbow-length gloves finished the look. It didn't look like armour, it looked high-fashion. I just hoped it was as functional as it was beautiful.

She walked to my side and glanced curiously at the parchment in front of me. I tensed, but quickly reminded myself I had nothing to hide. Why did I feel so guilty about this? I read over the letter once, quickly, uncomfortably aware of Leliana's presence just over my shoulder.

Cullen

I know this is probably a little later than you had intended when you asked me to write to you, but there were extenuating circumstances. Truthfully, my whole life right now is one big extenuating circumstance. It's been a weird couple of weeks. But I'm alive.

We're on the road, but I won't say where, just in case this bird is intercepted. I know it's hard to believe that someone as charming as myself would have enemies, but there you have it. You just can't please everyone.

I understood from your letter that you intended for this to be one-way correspondence going forward: I let you know I'm not dead and you carry on doing Templar things. The thing is, you're not the only one who worries. If you can find a way to respond, to let me know how you are, it would mean a lot to me. I'm never in one place for too long, but if you direct your letters to the same place you sent the first one and address them to me, I'll be sure to pick them up whenever I'm passing through.

Hoping you're well

Lauren

I sealed the scroll, clumsily, the wax seal less of a seal and more of a misshapen lump of red, and handed it to Leliana, watching with fascination as she tied it to the bird's leg and released it through the open window behind me.

"You didn't tell it where to go." I frowned in concern. She threw me a confused look, as if she couldn't tell if I was joking or not.

"It's a bird, Lauren." She said, slowly.

"Yeah, but it's a magic bird though, right?" I said, only realising the stupidity of the words as I heard them out loud.

"You said you wanted to send word to Kinloch Hold. That bird is trained to fly only to Kinloch Hold. They are raised there and then brought here in wagons. He only knows how to fly home." She said, narrowing her eyes. "Have you never sent a letter to anyone before?"

"No." I said, quickly. "I was a spoiled noblewoman, remember? I had...people for that."

"So...you thought the birds were magical and just flew where we told them to fly?" She asked, raising an amused eyebrow. Of course they weren't magic. Of course they worked just like homing pigeons, and not like the owls in Harry Potter. I silently cursed J.K. Rowling for putting ideas in my head.

"Well, anything's going to sound stupid if you say it like that." I grumbled.

"Who are you writing to, anyway?" She asked, with a barely suppressed smile. "Is it that Templar? The one we saved from Uldred?"

"Yeah." I replied, with a sigh. "He sent me a message when we were in Redcliffe, asking me to write to him whenever I could to let him know I'm...you know...not dead."

"He did?" She asked, curiously. "That's awfully sweet of him."

"I don't know." I said, dismissively. "I think maybe the Templars have a bet going or something. They looked at all of us as a group and thought, "That little skinny one, she's not going to last. Look at her little bird arms". And then they got a pool going. That's probably what it is."

"He must care about you." She said, knowingly. "Strange...you didn't spend a lot of time with him. You must have made quite an impression."

"I guess he feels some sort of debt to me for helping to free him or...I don't really know. I feel that I have a certain obligation to him too. It's like...do you ever meet someone and it's like you knew them in a previous life?"

"Oh, yes." She said, with a small smile. "I know exactly what you mean."

"Right. Well, it's like that." I said, frowning at the mischievous glint in her eyes and suddenly feeling like I'd said too much.

"He's handsome, that Templar." She said, with the smallest of smirks.

"Is he? I hadn't noticed." I replied, averting my eyes, feeling my face grow hot at the obvious lie.

"Does Alistair know you're sending secret love letters to another man?"

"Oh, come off it." I growled, as she burst into a fit of giggles. "The letters I've sent have been so formal they're practically reports."

"Letters? So there has been more than one, then." She said, slyly.

"Right. I'm no longer entertaining this conversation. Thanks for your help. Next time I'll ask Zevran. At least I expect him to be a pain in the arse."

"Oh, relax. I'm only joking." She said, settling down on the seat across from me. I leaned back in my chair and propped my legs up on the desk between us. "I think it's nice that you're keeping in touch with him. It might be beneficial to have a friend in the Templar ranks." She said, thoughtfully.

Since dropping her Sister of The Chantry facade, Leliana the Bard and future Spymaster of the Inquisition had become all the more apparent. It was almost impossible to put my finger on what exactly had changed, but she was different. The way she moved, the way she spoke...she was still Leliana, there was just more to her now than there had been before. It was infuriatingly sexy, and I knew I couldn't be the only one who had noticed. If Morrigan kept up her cold shoulder act with Grayson, I was certain it wouldn't be long before the bard caught his eye, if she hadn't already.

"Grayson is on his way." She said, as though reading my mind. "I think your armour's ready."

"Finally." I said, throwing my head back. "Does that mean we can leave this Maker-forsaken town?"

"I believe so." She said, watching me closely. "You're concerned that Howe's people might still find us here."

"Aren't you?" I asked, shooting her a thoroughly poisonous look. If she was taken-aback by my vitriol she didn't show it, but I checked myself. "Sorry. That wasn't...yeah, I'm concerned. To say the least, I'm concerned. We embarrassed him, Leliana. He had me, and he could have given me to Loghain right then and there, but he wanted a full shiny set of Wardens. I escaped his dungeons and killed his favourite monster, not to mention the trail of bodies you lot left behind in his halls when you busted me out. The streets were already plastered with our reward posters, what lengths do you think he'll go to now that he knows we're here?"

"My sources tell me he thinks we have left the city." She said, reassuringly. "It makes sense. It would be madness for us to stay in Denerim after that. I've planted some rumours that we're on our way to Gwaren. With any luck, that should keep him occupied for a time. Right under his nose is the safest place for us to be right now."

"Yeah, well, Alistair told me he's raised the bounty on our heads now. We're only as safe as the company we keep. Any one of the girls here could sell us out at any time."

"I don't believe we have anything to fear from the women here. They have seen enough nobles in their line of work to know that they can't be trusted."

"I hope you're right. It just makes me nervous. The sooner we're on the road again, the happier I'll be. Never thought I'd say that, but there you go."

"And what of the elf that you mentioned? The one that you were hoping to free?" She asked. I shook my head, miserably.

"Nothing. Zevran put some feelers out through his new-found servant connections. It seems he's either been moved elsewhere, or…" I trailed off. It didn't bear thinking about. "Well. It can't be helped. I tried to take him with me, but he was too afraid. Whatever became of him...I just hope it was quick."

"Most likely they questioned him about your disappearance. Prisoners talk to each other. They probably thought he had some idea of where you-" Leliana cut herself off when she saw the look of horror on my face. "Sorry. I didn't mean to...it's unfortunate, but you mustn't blame yourself."

"Well...I was trying not to." I said, frowning. "Fuck...you know, one day, I will see Howe again. And on that day, my face will be the very last thing that he sees."

"I do not doubt it." She said, solemnly. "Lauren...I know you were upset that I…"

I waved her off, realising what she was going to say.

"No, it's fine. I was upset, but I was also...just...insane. From trauma and blood-loss...a lot of blood-loss. And the rage I felt...I still feel remnants of it, if I think about him. But you were right to kill Daryn. He needed to die, and he did. End of story."

"I wasn't thinking." She said, apologetically. "I had just bound your wounds, I had seen what they did to you. When you said he was the one responsible and that he had to die, I only saw my own anger, and what needed to be done. It wasn't until later that I realised I had taken something from you."

"You didn't." I said, sniffing. "Not really. Killing for killing's sake...that's not me. I've killed in self-defense. Even when I took out Gort...yes I wanted him dead, but I also had to protect myself. If I had been the one to put Daryn down, it would have been because I wanted to kill him. I don't know if there's a way back from that. You were my arrow, and my bow arm, and I'm grateful you took the shot when you did."

"I'm...relieved you feel that way." She said, with a tight smile.

"Knock knock." Grayson called from the open doorway and I waved him in. Leliana flashed me one final smile and rose to leave as he approached. "Hey, kitten. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm fine. You know me. I'm always fine."

"That's the Spirit." He grinned at his own pun, and placed a cloth package on the desk in front of me. "I come bearing gifts."

"Thanks." I said, studying my fingernails. "How mad was Wade that I wouldn't come in for a fitting?"

"Oh, he refused to part with it without a proper fitting at first, but a few short, sharp words from Alistair soon persuaded him." He said, with a slow grin. I raised my eyebrows.

"Wow, that boy has really stepped up his mean game lately. Losing his temper with you, getting ratty with Wade...I think I heard him telling Zevran off yesterday as well."

"I think it's your influence." He said.

"Yeah, because I'm such a raging bitch on wheels that it's contagious." I retorted.

"I'm serious. He said a couple of weeks ago, before…you know...everything, that he felt like since he's been spending more time with you he's been standing up for himself more." He said, watching for my reaction.

"Really? He said that?" I asked, frowning. "That's...kind of nice, actually. He was a bit of a Royal Doormat when we first met him, wasn't he?"

"You're good for him." He said, kindly. "He really loves you, you know?"

"Yeah…" I trailed off, biting my lip. "I think...he's kind of afraid of me. The whole Spirit of Valour thing has thrown him for a loop. I can't say I blame him. It's not exactly thrilling to discover your girlfriend is an abomination."

"You're not an abomination. And he's not afraid of you. He's afraid for you."

"He's spoken to you about it?"

"He's worried about you." Grayson said, taking a seat. "Honestly? We all are. You barely eat, you look like you haven't slept in days. You don't talk about anything that happened to you. And then this whole Valour thing gets dropped in your lap, on top of everything else? It's a lot, Lauren. You can't blame him for being a little bit on edge."

"Yeah, well. I'm the one going through this. I don't have time to hold his hand and coach him through my trauma." I muttered, quietly. Grayson blinked, taken-aback.

"Well. That was…"

"Mean?" I said, meeting his eyes in a challenge. He held my gaze, and his expression shifted from surprised to stern.

"Uncalled for." He said, firmly. "I know you've been through a lot, Lauren, and I can only imagine what you're feeling right now. But Alistair is a good man, and he cares deeply about you. He's only hurting because you are."

I glowered at him, but his gaze didn't waver. Eventually, my resolve crumbled. That had been happening a lot over the last week. My moods had been erratic and fleeting. I would say something horrible with utter conviction, and then the moment would pass and I realised that I didn't actually feel that way at all.

"Fine. You're right." I said, softly. "I know he means well. I love him too. I do. I just...I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you." Grayson said, fiercely, as though willing it to be true. "You just need time to heal."

"I don't have time." I snapped in frustration. "Maybe I just need to kill some Darkspawn. Take the rage out on something that does deserve it."

"Well, that can be arranged." He said, with a smile that did little to mask the concern in his eyes.

"When are we heading out?" I asked, eagerly. "Today?"

He peered out of the window at the sun, chewing his lip in thought.

"It's getting late. Best that we spend one more night here and leave at first light."

I groaned in frustration and he nodded.

"I know. I don't want to be here any longer either. But it doesn't make sense to leave now. The streets are busy at night. They'll be quiet in the early hours. Less of a risk. And it means we have one more night in a bed. Maker knows how long we'll be travelling for. I can't say I'm relishing the prospect of hiking through the Frostbacks."

"On a deserted mountainside, with a whole country between us and Howe? Sign me up." I said, darkly. The fear I had initially felt at the prospect of facing a High Dragon now seemed almost trivial. Men were the real monsters. At least Dragons were up front about it.

Larry had been snoozing by my feet and he sneezed, waking himself up with a start. I smiled, affectionately, reaching down and scratching his ear. He pushed himself up to sit and rested his giant head in my lap, looking up at me with baleful eyes.

"Are we going on an adventure?" I said, excitedly. He wagged his tail, enthusiastically. "Yeah, that's right. Who's a good boy? Who's the best boy in the whole world?"

"Well, this is awkward." A familiar voice drawled from the doorway, and I looked up to see Alistair leaning against the wall, arms folded, a playful smirk on his face. "If I'd known you two were talking about me I'd have knocked first."

"You're a good boy too." I grinned, rolling my eyes.

"The best boy?" He said, raising an eyebrow. I nodded, exchanging an amused look with Grayson. Larry growled low in his throat, and I chuckled, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

"You know you're the best boy, but we don't want to hurt Alistair's feelings." I said, and his tail thumped loudly on the stone floor.

"Well, that's my cue to leave." Grayson said, springing to his feet. "Make sure to try your armour on, in case it needs any adjustments."

"Don't worry. It'll fit. I'll make it fit. I'm not stepping foot back in that place." I said, with a sweet smile that did nothing to offset the derision in my voice.

"It's hardened leather. Good luck making it fit." He smirked, leaning across the desk and ruffling my hair. I brushed him off, combing my fingers through the hair that he had messed up with one hand and making a dismissive, shooing gesture with the other.

"Be gone, demon." I muttered. "I cast you out."

He and Alistair exchanged grins as they passed one another. When Grayson was gone, Alistair turned to me with a flirtatious smile.

"You're a difficult woman to get alone, you know." He said, breathily. In my current mood, I didn't pick up on the purr in his voice, and I sighed in exasperation.

"Okay, if that's another Spirit of Valour joke, I swear-"

"No, no, no, it wasn't." He said, his demeanour changing instantly back to the awkward, bumbling Alistair I knew. "No, I was trying to…let me start again." He cleared his throat, reassuming his previous posture against the wall, and I locked eyes with him, finally recognising the fire that burned in their depths. I felt my mouth go dry. "I finally have you all to myself." He said, in a low, deep voice that made my hair stand on end. "Larry, out you go."

Larry shot him a filthy look before looking up at me as if to say "who does this guy think he is?" I grinned down at him and nodded my head towards the door. He groaned, thoroughly unimpressed, but hauled himself up and padded across the room, stopping only to give Alistair another look of disgust before leaving. Alistair closed the door behind him, and my heart skipped a beat when I heard the lock click into place. He turned back to face me, with a smug smile on his handsome face.

"So." I said, clearing my throat, struggling to maintain my composure. "Now that we're alone...did you want to talk about something?"

"No." He said, firmly, and I looked up, startled by the authority in his voice. "I don't want to talk."

"No?" I asked, suddenly nervous. He seemed to sense my anxiety because his expression softened instantly.

"Unless you want to talk? We could talk?" He said, quickly. "I'm sorry! I was trying to do a...thing. This is all wrong, isn't it? Well, I suppose that's what I get for taking advice from Grayson and Zevran."

"No, no, it's fine, it's me, I'm...wait, you went to Grayson and Zevran for advice? About...this?" I asked, suddenly annoyed at the idea of the three of them sitting around discussing me in that manner.

"No, of course not. It was unsolicited. But still, they...well, they both seem to know what they're doing when it comes to...this sort of stuff, don't they?" He finished, his face flushing with embarrassment.

"Oh, Alistair." I sighed, rising to my feet and closing the distance between us, wrapping my arms around his waist. He reached up, resting his elbows on my shoulders, but his eyes were averted. "You're not Grayson, or Zevran." I said, softly, and he gave me a wounded look. "No, that's a good thing." I assured him. "Listen, if I wanted Grayson or Zevran, I would be with Grayson or Zevran. I don't. I want you. Just be you. What would Alistair do right now?"

He gazed into my eyes, and I saw the longing there.

"Well...I suppose he would do this." He said, lowering his head and tilting my chin up to plant a soft, sweet kiss on my forehead. "And this." His lips grazed my cheekbone. "This." He kissed the dimple at the corner of my mouth.

"Yeah?" I whispered, feeling my breath quicken at his touch.

"Probably this." He breathed, finally capturing my lips in his. It was gentle, at first, but it deepened almost instantly, neither of us able to hold back any longer. My hands roamed over his broad, muscular back, pulling him closer. He wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me to him, cupping my face with his other hand, his thumb caressing my cheekbone as his fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck. I felt his tongue part my lips, slowly, silently begging for entry, and I opened my mouth with a moan as our breath mingled.

Our bodies were pressed so close that I could feel his heart beating through his chest, but somehow it wasn't close enough. I wanted to be closer, and the warm hand pressing against my lower back told me he did too. This dance was becoming familiar, but each time was more exciting than the last. Each time, it grew more and more difficult to know when the music had stopped, and every time we parted, the disappointment and frustration was such that it had almost reduced me to tears on more than one occasion.

Just as he had done the night before, he broke the kiss first, and an unbidden whimper escaped my lips. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead on mine, panting breathlessly.

"Lauren…" He whispered, and I watched as his brow creased in concentration as he tried to regain control. I didn't want him to. I didn't understand where his strength was coming from. I knew I certainly didn't have the same restraint that he did. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." I gasped, moving to capture his lips again, but he turned his face away and straightened up, out of my reach, resting his chin on the top of my head as he pulled me into an embrace. I felt tears spring forth at the silent rejection. I clung to him, my mouth ajar at the juggernaut of emotion that was tearing through my self-control. All rational thought had abandoned me. I sniffed, suddenly annoyed with myself for letting the same damn thing happen again and somehow still being surprised when it did.

I pulled away, gently at first, more forcefully when the strong arms around me started to feel like a cage. His eyes flew open and he looked down at me in confusion as I stepped back. I tried to keep my expression neutral. I didn't want him to see that I was hurt. I couldn't let myself be that vulnerable, not when he had just rejected me for the fourth night in a row. I just kept putting myself out on a limb and he just kept chopping the whole damn tree down. I forced a smile, but it felt like more of a grimace and he frowned in concern.

"What's the matter?" He asked, urgently. Realisation seemed to dawn on his face, followed by a look of deep shame. "Did I push it too far? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I got carried away."

"No, Alistair. You didn't push it too far." I said, in what I had meant to be light tone but even I could hear the bitterness in the words. "I'm tired. I think I'm going to call it a night."

"You...oh." He said. The mixture of hurt and confusion on his face almost broke through my resolve, but the lump in my throat was growing painfully large and I knew I couldn't hold back the tears for much longer, not with him standing so close. "Of course. I didn't…"

"Well, goodnight then." I said, shortly, turning my back to him and making a show of walking to my bed and fluffing up my pillow. He didn't move, and the feeling of his eyes on my back, the tension in the air, the way he lingered with one hand on the door knob and the other scratching the back of his neck, it was all too much. I felt my pain harden into something that was more like anger. Before I could stop myself, I spun around to face him again. "I almost died, Alistair."

"I know." He said, sadly.

"No. You don't. Clearly, you don't know. I almost died in your arms. For a whole week before that I lay in the dark, cold and alone and hurting, certain that I was going to die down there, and do you know what the worst part of it was? Do you know what my biggest regret was? It wasn't that I wouldn't be around to stop the Blight, it wasn't that I would never find out what happened to Emily. It was you."

He looked momentarily stunned, before an anger that seemed to almost match my own shone from his hazel eyes.

"How can you say that I'm your biggest regret? When you tell me you love me? When you kiss me like that? Is this all just some game to you?" He spat, with more venom than I had imagined him capable of. I was so shocked by his demeanor that his words didn't immediately register, and the rage on his face cooled and morphed into one of forced indifference. "That's fine. I thought this was...obviously I had it wrong."

I blinked, realising how he had taken my words. He was already unlocking the door when I found my voice.

"You do have it wrong. That's not what I meant, Alistair." I said, lowering my voice, my anger quickly dissolving. He half-turned to look at me, his face a perfect mask of calm. It would almost have been convincing, but for the storm in his eyes. A sudden sob racked my chest and I sniffed, forcing the tears back. His eyes softened and he turned all the way, leaning against the door, waiting for me to continue. "How could you think that of me? Don't you know me at all? I know I'm difficult. Okay, I know I'm a bitch. But none of that's real. What I was trying to say, was that when I thought my life was over my biggest regret was all of the things I wouldn't get to do with you."

"Oh...oh, Lauren." He murmured, striding across the room towards me and taking me in his arms. "I'm so sorry, I-"

"No, I'm sorry." I gasped, unable to hold back the tears any longer. "I didn't mean to...I don't know how to do this. I hate this."

"Look...I think maybe we do have to talk." He said, softly. "Come on."

He dragged me down to sit on the bed beside him.

"Don't cry." He pleaded, wiping a tear from my cheek. "If you cry, I'll cry. And neither of us wants that. I'm an ugly crier."

"Are you?" I sniffed, laughing through the tears. He nodded, his face sincere.

"Definitely. All red-faced and snot bubbles...a bit of drool. It's not pretty."

I swallowed, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, forcing the tears to stop.

"So." He started, looking down at me. "I think perhaps our ravens have gotten lost."

"Pardon me?" I asked, frowning in confusion.

"I mean, I think maybe we haven't been communicating with one another very effectively. It's probably my fault."

"Why is it your fault?"

"Oh, you know. Most things are. So let's communicate."

"Okay." I said, chewing my lip. I knew how I felt. I didn't know how to say it. I wasn't this girl. This insecure, snivelling mess. My dad told me that I had had the confidence of a ninety year old man since I could talk. I had gone through a couple of shaky years in my early teens, like all young girls do, before my boobs grew in and I was covered in pimples, but I was past that stage. I was so confident most of the time that it definitely veered towards arrogance more often than I would have liked to admit to myself. But this situation was different. There was so much at stake, so much that was new and scary. I had never had to deal with rejection before, and the prospect that I could tell him exactly what I was thinking and be shot down was bone-shattering.

"You know you can tell me anything. Anything at all." He prompted.

"You first." I said, quickly. He looked skyward, muttering under his breath for a moment, before looking back down at me.

"Very well. You're right, Lauren. You did almost die in my arms. For a terrible moment, I thought you had. When you came back to me, I knew that I had never loved anything more than I love you. And that first night you were back, all I wanted was to take you in my arms and show you exactly how much I had missed you. But...you had been through so much. I felt ashamed of myself for even thinking like that.

"I wasn't thinking about what you needed, I was blinded by my own selfish desires. Every night since then...Lauren, every night, leaving your room has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I'm not saying this to...I didn't want to voice my feelings because I didn't want you to feel that I was pressuring you. I wanted to give you time, I wanted to wait until you were ready. But Maker's breath, it's difficult. I want you so badly...but I want it to be right for both of us."

I processed his words, slowly, hardly daring to believe what I was hearing.

"So...I think that makes it your turn." He said, clearing this throat awkwardly as the silence stretched on.

"Right. My turn." I said, with a small smile. I rose to my feet and stood facing him, nervously. He watched me with an apprehensive look on his face, and I reached out, using his shoulders for support as I straddled his lap. "I love you. I want you. In every possible way."

His eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

"You mean…?"

"I mean."

"Are you sure?" He breathed, his gaze fluttering between my eyes and my lips.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life." I promised. Apparently that was all the encouragement he needed, as his lips claimed mine with the same urgent need I felt for him. This kiss was desperate, raw; it was wild and dangerous, and now, for the first time, neither of us was holding back.

His shirt was the first thing to go, followed by my own. This led to a brief pause in the frantic kissing, as he held me in his arms, marvelling at the sight of my body. I had never felt more beautiful than I did then, seeing myself through his eyes, seeing the look of wonder on his incredible face. When his lips found mine again, the kiss was slower, less frantic, but deeply passionate.

We spent a long time, slowly, carefully exploring each other's bodies. It took me a while to work up the courage to touch him where I knew he needed it most, and my courage was rewarded with a shuddering gasp of desire from Alistair, and he reciprocated in kind. We drove each other crazy for a while, touching and kissing and discovering one another for the first time.

When we finally made love, it wasn't anything like I had expected it to be. I had never understood people like Zevran, who seemed to live for sex. But in the throws of passion with Alistair, I decided that it was entirely understandable.

We were so caught up, eyes closed, breathing each other in, savouring every new sensation, that when our eyes met as he moved over me, I was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. The only way I can describe it is to say that it felt like there was another presence there with us. Like our two souls had formed a third, a whole other entity outside of ourselves that was greater than each of us and belonged only to the two of us.

Maybe some would feel that presence and call it God, or Destiny, but I knew that it was nameless, timeless, new and ancient, foreign and familiar, all at once. I called it love, but I didn't know that love could exist like this. I didn't know that love was something you could touch. Something you could breathe.

When we finally collapsed into one another, exhausted and spent, he held me close, so tightly that it might have been uncomfortable if it didn't feel like the strong prison of his arms was the only thing holding me together. We whispered sweet nothings in the darkness until sleep claimed us both, and for the first time since the last night we had fallen asleep in each other's arms, I slept soundly. He was my dreamcatcher. My nightlight. My Templar, keeping all of the demons at bay.

AN: Thank you to my beta reader, Kira Tamarion, for being the best.

And thank you for your reviews on the last chapter! You guys have some really interesting theories on Valour and Emily! I have big plans for both of them, but I don't want to say an awful lot on the subject right now...no spoilers!

Soooo, they finally got down to business. 44 chapters in. Let me know your thoughts, your reactions, your feelings. Do you ship Lauren and Alistair? Are you curious to see where the Cullen storyline's going? Would you rather she just stopped writing to Cullen altogether? I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Thanks for everyone who's reading, subbing and favouriting this story. We're all here because when we finished the game we just needed to spend more time with these characters that we all love, so I hope I'm doing them justice and giving you an adequate fix. If there's anyone you'd like to hear more from that you think maybe isn't getting their fair share of dialogue, let me know that too!