#the hug in the excision cutscene was NOT enough

[ikoraswife]

my honest reaction to the veiled threats lore:

when can ghost get a break bungo it’s not fair </3

it’s like that part in the hidden dossier all over again i’m sobbing

the fact that the witness’s invasion of ghost was so traumatic that he wouldn’t even wish it on the vex, the basically unfeeling robots who have hunted humanity for centuries. also the shivering :(

i think osiris and ghost really could have a good talk about it. ghost obviously doesn’t want to burden the guardian (even though it wouldn’t), and osiris’s trauma is similar (although not the exact same of course) and he’s good at giving advice people need to hear.

saint being a sweetheart and comforting him of course, the reminder that he’s safe <3

hey ghost :)) what do you mean by that :)) that you wish that your guardian had done what :))

another gut-wrenching lore tab by bungie! thanks, i had almost stopped crying from the excision mission

[raillue]

I thought i was done crying over the excision ending cutscene, and then i read the Timeless Bond and Veiled Threat lore entries

BUNGIE

BUNGIE WHEN I CATCH YOU

YOU CANT KEEP DOING THIS TO ME

There better be an Episode: Ghost gets Therapy after Echoes or I SWEAR

[authorellenmint]

Romancing Ser Barris

I wrote cutscenes as they would appear in-game were Barris a potential love interest. For all the Barris fans out there. More coming with every reblog.

First Flirt:

Positioned before the stables are a gaggle of children, each of them ranging in age from nearly 13 to a tender 4. The Inquisitor is drawn to the kids all saluting a fist to their tiny chests in honor of the man standing with back straight, head high before them.

"What do we do if we spot a dragon in the sky?" Barris asks.

"Wing the bell," a voice pipes out from inside a too large templar helmet.

"And then..." the man leading them continues.

"We run to the stone kitchens to take up our place, Ser!" a taller boy calls, his eyes never drifting from Barris'.

Curiosity fully piqued, the Inquisitor steps into the range of the templar. "Ser Barris?" she asks softly, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Ah, Inquisitor," he full on blushes.

"What's going on here?"

"We were...that is to say, I was attempting to teach the children preventative measures should Corypheus attempt to attack Skyhold."

The Inquisitor pulls even closer to Ser Barris, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Is that wise? Aren't you afraid of giving them nightmares?"

"Personally, ma'am, er...Ser." Barris wrings his hands over the hilt at his side, his eyes closed tight in contemplation. "I know what it feels to be too young and helpless in the face of an oncoming horde of darkspawn. The fear of not knowing what to do, not having a plan to take control of the situation induces far more nightmares than knowing evil exists."

"I had no idea," the Inquisitor gasps, a hand resting upon the emblem on his chest as if to soothe away the pain of the Blight.

"Preparing the children, the ones who survived Haven, forming a plan for them should the worst arise, I thought it to be..." He pauses in his personal thoughts, his striking green eyes darting to the woman before him. "That is, if it's all right with you, Inquisitor?"

She couldn't stop the smile rising up her cheeks, the Inquisitor bobbing her head. "Yes, it's...a good idea."

"Ser Bawwis," the child trapped inside of the templar helmet mewls. With a chuckle, Ser Barris drops to a knee and helps to excise the head caught inside, revealing a girl with braids scattering to her shoulders. Giggling, the girl places a quick kiss to the man's cheek, bringing an even brighter flush to his glowing skin.

With a hand curled over her chest right above her heart, the Inquisitor muses, "So adorable."

Barris rises to his feet, the helmet safely tucked into the crook of his arm. "They are rather cute," he says while watching the kids fall back into line.

"Yes, the children are as well," the Inquisitor smiles slyly.

"Ah," Ser Barris gasps, his sight dropping to the ground while the flush grows beyond capacity. The Inquisitor fears she might have overstepped her bounds, when those green eyes rise from under his brow to stare directly into hers.

Sliding back, her cheeks starting to burn, the Inquisitor says, "I shall leave you to it then, Ser Barris."

Romancing Ser Barris 2

Starting a Romance:

Cracks of broken wood and grunts are the only sounds to fill the air as the Inquisitor opens a door. She watches Ser Barris pry a rotted board off with his bare hands. When he turns to hurl it onto the pile he catches sight of her and smiles.

“Inquisitor. I did not hear you enter.”

“People rarely seem to expect to find me around Skyhold. Probably all of those random but necessary trips to Crestwood, or the Hissing Wastes, or the Emerald Graves, or all of southern Thedas really,” she laughs while stepping in closer.

“Quite,” Barris blushes. “I only returned the day before myself from Val Royeaux.”

Sliding up beside the tattered remains of whatever once stood in this ramshackle tower, the Inquisitor graces her fingers upon the next board to be removed. “We seem to keep missing each other.”

“I,” Barris smiles reflexively, his head bent in thought as if that might hide the flush, “I suppose we do.”

With all her strength, the Inquisitor yanks the board off, rusty nails spraying through the air for her effort. As the grunt of exertion fades from the stone’s echo, Barris takes the rotten wood from her. “You don’t need to, I was only trying to help prep the tower for the other templars…”

His chin drifts down to his chest, nearly banging against the armor that never leaves him. After twisting the board in his hands, Barris sighs, “This is beneath someone of your standing.”

She snorts, “How so? Seems all I do is run around solving everyone’s little problems.”

“But you’re a gift from Andraste Herself. You’re wise, and kind, with a beauty more striking than any sunset the Maker deemed possible.” His lavishing lips pause in their compliments barely a stone’s throw from her cheeks. Realizing what he said, Barris tries to shrink back, his entire face beet red. “Inquisitor.”

In a soft voice, she says, “I think you can call me by my name.”

“That would be disrespectful.”

Her fingers cup Barris’ warm cheek, practically on fire now, and she tugs his stuttering lips towards her. “Is this disrespectful?” her mouth whispers before plunging onto his. Barris’ pillowy lips mold to hers, his hands swooping around her waist as she cradles his chiseled cheeks in her palms. Heat stronger than any rage demon attack builds inside, her tongue finding safety inside of the templar’s mouth.

“Wait,” Barris turns his head to the side, breaking the kiss, but his hands remain upon her hips. “This isn’t right. Not, not in such a fashion. I should be, a woman of your grace must be courted.”

She blinks in surprise, “Courted? Why? I’m not sure what that even entails with a Ferelden/Human.”

“You deserve no less, my Lady,” Barris solemnly proclaims.

“Very well,” she steps back, accepting she can’t stop him and growing slightly curious.

Barris’ hands pool to the side, his eyes sweeping over the work before him. “I will need some time to prepare. Perhaps after I return from my next mission, and you are in Skyhold as well?”

The Inquisitor bows her head, unable to stop the smile at how serious he’s taking it. “I wonder, while in the midst of this courtship ritual, am I not allowed to kiss you?”

He smiles brightly, swooping his trusting arms around her body. “I believe we can make a few exceptions,” Barris whispers before tasting her lips once more.

Romancing Ser Barris 3:

The Gift:

The Inquisitor is so busy at the desk, she doesn’t realize someone’s entered her room until the armor glints from a sunbeam. Squinting, a hand shielding her eyes, the frown erupts into a great smile as she spies Barris standing awkwardly in the middle of her floor.

“My Lady,” he begins, hands hidden behind himself.

“You’re back,” she cries, leaping to her feet and rushing to his side. Where normally there’d be a hug, Barris steps back a moment, causing the Inquisitor to frown in confusion.

A huge breath fills his lungs, his striking green eyes shut as he seems to be girding himself. “Inquisitor,” Barris begins, causing her to fold her arms in consternation. When a smile toys with his lips, he whispers, “My love. I humbly ask that you…”

From behind his back swings a perfectly round shield the color of a lake by fall’s almost wintery morn. Into her hands he places it while finishing, “accept my gift of courtship.”

“Of course,” she says automatically, her pinkie skirting along an etched vine that trails the edge of the metal. “What is it?”

Barris’ hand soothes over the middle of the shield, the metal fogging from the warmth of his body. “It is tradition in Ferelden, when a man wishes to proclaim to the village his intentions in another, he will forge for her a shield.”

“You made this?” she gasped, turning over the shield polished more smoother than a river rock.

“It took me some time to find enough everite to forge it, but I…” he gulps, his eyes meeting with hers, “I consider you worth the effort.”

With a smile, she fits the shield on her arm, impressed by the great weight. “Why a shield?”

“In the old days, before the Imperium invasion, when the man was pressed to defend his lands from invaders, his woman would be forever at his side using his gift to protect the family. Their love is said to be only as strong as the shield on the wife’s arm.”

“A beautiful thought. Do the markings mean anything?” she circles around another small vine section. While most of the shield is pure, about 10% of the edge is made up of the decorations.

“Yes,” he whispers, a nail trailing one of the vine etchings, “whenever a man thinks of his love too far from his arms, he will carve one.”

She gasps. There are a good hundred or so vines already, and he could not have had it long on his person.

Barris’ fingers slip in behind hers, the pair of them holding the shield together. The allure of his body pressing tighter to her back beckons to the Inquisitor. Leaning against him, she whispers, “I’m not exactly a shield person/This is far too lovely to use upon a Venatori.”

He smiles sweetly, his plush lips cupping near her cheek, “You could always store it upon the mantle.”

“I adore it,” she turns, greedy for the first kiss in a month of work. “It’s almost as breathtaking as you.”

Barris happily gives her another two kisses, each pulsing hotter with every return. “Then you accept my gift?”

“I already said yes.”

“Without knowing what it was. What it means…”

Together, they fold their hands, heads bent to watch how easily the fingers intertwined. “I understand,” she says, “what you’re offering. What you’re gifting me. What you’re asking. And I want nothing more than to be your shield arm.”

Greedily, the Inquisitor and Ser Barris fall into each other’s arms, both falling towards her bed. The fading sunlight glints upon her name etched into the bottom of the shield.

Love Scene:

A messenger stops the Inquisitor in the main hall. "Ma'am," he greets her before passing over a letter.

She opens it to reveal the words from Ser Barris, "My love, meet me at the docks in Redcliffe village when the moon is at its peak."

With a smile, she folds the letter in her hands.

*Fade to black.*

Moonlight glints upon the choppy waves, boats knocking against the blackened docks as the Inquisitor steps towards a man sitting in a stripped, two-seater rowboat. He catches sight of her and calls, "You came."

"Of course I would," she smiles while approaching Ser Barris. He's eschewed his templar armor for little more than an ivory tunic and tight pants. "It's been some time since you've last crossed Skyhold's threshold."

"I know," his half moon smile wanes, head dropping a moment before he leans out of the boat to take her hand, "but I have every intention to make up for my absence."

With a smile, she accepts Barris' hand and steps into the small boat. It bobs with her weight, the Inquisitor lashing out to grip onto the sides before she settles onto a bench. Her love sits towards the prow, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal the flexing forearms as he dips two oars into the water. Without another word, their boat silently trails away from the docks out onto lake Calenhad.

The churning waves fade to a pristine mirror, the Inquisitor watching Barris' reflection as he continues to glide the boat deeper into unknown waters. With a smile, she dips her fingers into the glassy reflection, brisk water beading up her hand.

"Ah, best be careful," Barris says, "there are shrieking eels hiding in the depths of this lake."

She yanks her hand out, stares a moment overlong at her fingers as if one might be missing, before frowning. "Shrieking eels? Are you messing with me?"

"A little," he laughs and she joins in.

"Where are we going?"

"I wanted to give you something," Barris says. The methodical tug of the oars, the glistening splash of water against his skin, the continual bulge of his muscles all enthrall her.

She cannot look away, even while saying, "You're too generous. Every moment I see you, you're there with another gift." Her lips twist from the smile in her heart into a pang. While thoughts of him bring joy to her soul, there's always a vein of pain -- the two of them often on opposite sides of thedas regardless of her wants.

"This one is special," he whispers while turning the boat to the west.

Rising from her spot, the Inquisitor sits beside Barris. He lets go of the oar just long enough for her to catch it. Together, as if forever in tune, they begin to row the boat. Splashes of wood sundering water are all that speak between them. She feels his body winding through the silent air, not even an inch away from hers.

"I've missed you," she says, her eyes closed.

"I fear for you," he answers back. Tugging his oar in across his lap, Barris turns to her. His glistening palm cups her cheek, tugging her to him for a kiss. As the heat burns through the crisp night, their tongues twirling a more intimate dance than in any orlesian ballroom, her fingers hunger for his body. She swoops both hands to his jawline, Barris' hand cuddling the back of her head as he pulls her ever tighter.

A kerplunk breaks through their kissing, the Inquisitor's eyes opening wide as she turns to watch her abandoned oar sink to its watery grave. "Oh no," she gasps, trying to reach for it despite being far too late.

"It's all right," Barris assures her, "we have another," he lifts up his oar. "And besides, we're where I hoped to take you."

He twists her to look behind, watching as the prow of the ship parts through the glassy water. First it crosses a large white orb, so great it nearly encompasses the boat itself, reflected from the sky above them. As they continue, the boat barely drifting, the second smaller moon appears from behind the great one. At the aft rests the giant, impressive, named moon. At the prow, the tiny, often forgotten and sometimes misplaced moon reflects upon them both.

"This is..." she gasps, "beautiful." She watches the twin moons shiver in the lake's embrace, her own skin trembling at the awe-inspiring image.

"You're," Barris' lips press to her shoulder and continue higher with every word, "far more beautiful." When he reaches her lips, he pauses to say, "You've struck my heart since our first meeting. The fall from that arrow is the most delectable pain I've ever known."

Her hands wrap around his shoulders and she pulls him to her for a kiss in the middle of moonlight.

*Fade to black*

The Inquisitor's head is nestled upon Barris' bare chest, barely bobbing with the waves as the boat creaks around them. She too is as naked as the day of her birth, one hand keeping her body pressed tight to him as they stare up at the sky. The moons have long since moved on, not bothering to stop for two people sharing in each other.

"I've never done that before," she sputters, her voice exhausted, "On a boat, anyway."

His smile could shame the moon, brighter than any constellation in the sky. He turns his eyes to sweep over the woman resting upon his body. "I love you," he whispers, lifting her hand to press a kiss to each knuckle.

"I love you too," she says back.

"There was a mage I knew in the circle, claimed to be able to predict future events," Barris' voice drops, his green eyes shut tight in memory. "I wish I knew what happened to her, so I could ask..."

She turns on her stomach, her chin dipping into his pec while her eyes hunt him out, "Don't."

"Do not what? Worry for you? Fear for what will happen next in this war against a false god?"

Her palm presses to his chest right over his heart. "Only focus on coming back to me. On walking back through Skyhold's gates into my arms. On knowing I'll come back for you. Please."

Barris cups his hand over hers, the fingers folding together in perfect formation. As the boat rocks under them, the stars dance through the sky, he whispers to the world, "I swear it."

After the Wilds

The Inquisitor walks into Skyhold’s infirmary, her eyes fully upon the man trapped in a chair as a healer winds bandages around his propped up leg.

“Ser Barris?” she swallows down the concern in her voice, but just barely. His head lifts and his brow shifts from joy at discovering her face, to a frown as he glances at his injury, before shying away to one of distant protocol.

“Inquisitor,” he tips his head to her in deferment, both of them watching as the surgeon finishes up the last of her ministrations.

“How bad is it?” the Inquisitor asks, her heart throbbing in her chest. She hadn’t received word from anyone in her army since leaving the Arbor Wilds via mirror – including any of the templars.

“Broken, but in time it should take to mending nicely. Provided you follow my instructions to the letter,” the surgeon waves a finger at Barris and he shakes it away while easing his splinted leg off the chair to the ground. The Inquisitor flinches the same as her love, sharing in the pain.

“What happened?” she puts to Barris, but the surgeon interrupts.

“Damn fool leapt from a cliff to save a mage caught in the middle of two red templars.”

Barris purses his lips, those verdant eyes darting to the floor, “It was all I could think to do.”

“Coulda damn well broken your neck!” the surgeon continues to harangue him even as the man shrugs. The Inquisitor knows that feeling well – making a decision even knowing how it might end in your death without question or regret. She flexes her hand, remembering the terror rising in her heart when the Grey Warden corpse’s flesh began to crack open into Corypheus.

“May I,” she coughs, turning to the surgeon, “have a moment with Ser Barris?”

The woman bows her head, wipes her hands off on a stained half apron, and slides out to the other section of the infirmary. The Inquisitor waits a beat – trying to be certain no one else will come through – before she falls to her knees, her body swaddling around Barris’. Nuzzling into her cheek, his nose sniffs deep as if to remind himself she’s real and alive.

“When I didn’t hear anything, I was…” she gasps, tears blinding her eyes.

His warm hand cups her cheek, keeping her pressed against him. With a soft whisper, his breath caresses her skin, “I feared for you as well, my love.” She slides back from his hold, staring into the endless depths of his eyes. “And I yet do.”

Barris glares at his splinted leg and begins to rise. The Inquisitor offers a hand to him, helping the wounded warrior back to the sky. He smiles a moment, proud of the progress, but it is short lived. Hissing in pain, he begins to sink.

“This isn’t right,” he gasps, his hands clenched in fists. “I should be by your side for this final fight!”

“Not if you’re injured.”

“A broken leg is nothing, my arm can yet lift a blade,” he insists as if that’s all that’s needed. “Who knows what you will face from that monster? I cannot let you go it alone.”

“And I will not let you risk your own life for mine,” she cries back, two weeks of worrying herself into a knot unwinding upon him in one snap. No word would come from the Wilds, and it would have been unseemly for the Inquisitor to show preference for one soldier out of the army. All she could do was wait, and it nearly did her in.

“My love,” Barris sighs, his palms comforting her cheeks and hiding away any errant tears. “My life is yours.”

“Your life belongs to the templars, the Inquisition.” She knew he’d do it too. If soldiers are needed for this last push, he’d go. He’d be there, and he could die right before their victory just as assuredly as her.

“Perhaps,” he draws his fingers over her palm, “but my heart rests in one woman’s hands.” Smiling through the pain, he says, “And nothing, not even a false god, would change that.”

She falls forward, her hands scooping around her love for one more hug. One more kiss before the end, whatever that may be. “Promise me something,” Barris’ words breathe against her neck. He reaches behind his chair to unearth a shield, their shield. “Promise me you will take this into battle with Corypheus. So I will protect you and be by your side.”

Her fingers roll around the edge of the shield, her eyes never leaving Barris’. “I will,” she vows before leaning towards her love to fall into his kiss. Barris slots the shield onto her back while melding their lips, revealing that after these few months the surface is completely coated in entwined etchings of vines.

The Final Fight:

All of Skyhold celebrates in the slaying of Corypheus. The Inquisitor glances amongst her most trusted companions all imbibing with glee in the main hall. A single, fiery glint off of steel catches her eye and she turns, her smile breaking wider than the moon.

"I can't believe it's over," she says, sidling next to the man holding a drink instead of a crutch.

"I can," Barris smiles, his full attention upon her. "I knew you'd be the light to pull us from the darkness."

Her heart burns to pull him to her for a kiss, but there are various nobility and diplomats watching. She settles for letting her hand brush against the edge of his, both staring across the partying throne room.

It was done. They were safe.

"There is something I wished to tell you," Barris turns to her, his voice preternaturally serious. "I've decided to follow the Commander's lead and stop taking lyrium."

"Is that safe?" she gasps. While Cullen yet stood his ground, at the moment his hands pawing through the few small cakes to find a strawberry one, she knew it'd been hard on him. There seem to be days when even he isn't certain if he can last through the challenge.

Barris' blinding green eyes hunt through hers, pinning down her worry, "It is a risk, one that could cost me given the Order remains that rest upon my shoulders. Perhaps it is selfish of me to say, but I do not want to lose a single memory of you. The Commander is proof that I can still do good even with my powers..."

"Ser Barris," she interrupts him, tears glistening as she smiles wider, "I order you to do what you feel is best."

He too grins, "As you say, Inquisitor." For a beat the two lock eyes, his tongue darting to his lips, "But I have kept your attentions for too long. Please, you should mingle with the rest of the heroes."

Accepting her duty, she wanders out to speak with the next in a long line of congratulations. But for a moment she glances back to her knight in shining armor.

After a long night of laughing, drinking, feasting, and talking, the Inquisitor begins to retire towards her quarters. As she reaches the door, she's stopped by a familiar face.

"I hoped you'd like some company for the evening," Barris begins, his body pressing closer, the intoxicating heat enveloping her.

She takes her hand off the door handle and places it upon Barris' forearm. "There's nothing I'd love more," she darts her eyes up and down his body. At the bottom she pauses, "How's your leg?"

"Worried about injuring me?" Barris finds her fears hidden in the question. Before she can voice the answer, his sturdy and safe hands swoop around her ass. A single yelp erupts from the Inquisitor as the Knight-Commander lifts her into the air, securing her body in his arms. She winds her legs around his waist, her chest crushed to the armor as they fall into the kiss of survival.

A kiss worth fighting for.

Barris' lips slip away and he whispers, "I think it'll do fine for the evening." Giddy, the pair of them open the door and vanish into the long stairwell to the Inquisitor's quarters. Not once does he put her down.

As the sun rises over a new dawn in thedas, Barris brushes his hand against her cheek. With no eyes watching, no orders, nothing but hope before her she happily curls her face into it.

"All that and you're still standing," she muses. Even with her eyes closed in joy she can feel his protecting gaze watching her.

"I could say the same of you, my love," Barris whispers back.

With a languid turn, the Inquisitor walks out to her balcony. Rosy streaks of the sun turn the snow a glistening pink. As she places her hands over the banister, she says, "Everything's going to change."

Warm hands slide over her stomach, tugging her away from the long fall and back into his embrace. Barris' chin caresses her shoulder, his lips whispering, "And I shall be by your side for all of it."

Trespasser

In her red velvet finery, the Inquisitor approaches the scope overlooking the lush Orlesian fields. She bends down to peer through it when a voice coughs from behind her.

"I'd hoped to catch you before the talks began."

Smiling wide, she spins in place. Her eyes drink in the man in the finest uniform he owns, his hair worn long with locs spilling to the right. She aches to envelope him in her arms, but keeps both at her side.

"You're here," she all but leaps in joy. "I feared, what with the problems along the border..."

Barris steps forward, his hand picking up hers and swaddling it, "I would not be a step from your side, not when you need me."

"I know, love," she sighs, trying to keep on a brave face even as her heart swells in gratefulness at his mere presence. "But I suspect the only thing I need worry about is my legs falling asleep as the talks carry on."

"Will the word of the Knight-Commander carry any weight to honor the good deeds of the Inquisition before the council?"

"Some," she tips her head in thought, "I hope so."

He smiles, his teeth blinding in the bright southern sun, "Would the word of the Knight-Commander be enough to provide the Inquisitor a momentary escape?"

"Depends on what you had in mind." Forgoing the eyes behind masks watching her, fully forgetting the warnings Josephine bathed her in, she slips her arms around the back of Barris' neck. It'd been too long since last they were together.

The man whistles once, causing a horse to trot up from behind. He brushes a hand against the steed's flank and smiles. "Trust me."

"I always do," she answers, leaping into the saddle.

*Fade to black*

In the distance, she can make out the Winter Palace along with all of her people fretting over the coming talks. But here is sunshine, velvety grass caressing her knees, and no diplomats to pry her away for miles. "I hope no one panics because they can't find me for a few minutes and thinks this an act of war," she mutters to herself.

Barris ceases grooming their amenable horse long enough to glance once back at the Palace as if to make certain a battalion of chevaliers aren't coming for him. "We should have a little time to ourselves before any declarations are made."

With a hand placed to her hip, she cocks her head to the side in the direction of a blanket stretched over the ground. "Whatever did you have in mind?"

Both of his hands scoop around her cheeks, preparing her for the onslaught of love he unleashes from his lips. The kiss is so deep, so heartfelt, so soul-meltingly warm, she nearly tumbles to the ground in surprise.

"I've missed you," Barris whispers.

"Me too...especially at night," her fingers begin to wind their way towards the templar skirt.

Her love gasps, letting her try to undress him a moment more before he fumbles to catch her hand. "Wait. There's...something I want to say."

Leaning down, Barris rustles through the grass to lift up something hidden beside the blanket. She crosses her arms and sighs, "You did not pull me all the way out here just to give me a gift."

"No," he insists, then his eyes dart to whatever is in his hands, "I mean, I..." His fingers draw over the edges of his would-be gift. "Old habits."

"I don't want them to die," she insists, cupping her hand behind the back of his.

"I believe it is time I step away from the templars entirely," Barris whispers, his eyes shut tight.

"Relapses happen," she races to comfort him, "All those days around the others taking lyrium. I don't blame you for..."

"That is not why," his smile nearly rends her heart in two. It was a hard climb out of that hole whenever he fell, but she was always there with a hand to help.

Barris scratches his fingers over his gift before passing it to the Inquisitor. "Here," he announces as if she had no idea it was for her.

Into her weighed down palms he drops a brick, white stone with both of their names carved into it. "What's this for? To bean the Ferelden diplomat in the head?"

He laughs at her mocking throw of the hefty brick at the Arl. "No, it's the cornerstone for our hearth."

"Our hearth?"

"You deserve a mantle for our shield, a heart for a home. Not a keep, not a hold, a home."

Her breath catches as he too draws her palm over this no longer unassuming brick. "Delrin...?"

"I don't care where in thedas you want it to be. Ferelden, Orlais, the Free Marches, Nevarra... I'll even build it in Skyhold if you cannot imagine giving it up, but please, my love," he clasps his hands under hers, both holding their future in their palms, "let me give you a home."

"Will you be there?" she gulps, tears rising in her eyes.

"Every day."

"Yes," the Inquisitor gasps, her lips cupping his in a kiss. Tears of joy drench both their cheeks as Barris tugs her ever tighter.

As he pulls away, Barris' bright eyes drift to the ground a moment, a blush dabbing his cheeks. "Then you accept...?"

"Oh for the love of," she hurls the brick behind her to the ground where it safely thuds to the grass. With both hands, the Inquisitor grabs onto the man who'd been by her side in both flesh and spirit for two years.

"I'm never letting you go," she says, her voice full of command. With a shove, she and Barris both tumble onto the blanket, the man laughing as his armor jangles from the fall. Her hands part down the templar emblems clinging to his body, her fingers aching to wrench them off.

Barris cups her chin, tugging her to him for a kiss. "Nor I you." As the pair roll through the sweet grass, trying to make up for lost time, the summer light shines a single ray down upon the brick.

Carved upon its surface under their entwined names is the date 9:44 and the phrase "Our Home."

THE END