He opens his mouth to protest, and she kisses him. She tells him that she does not care, that all his excuses are moot, that his grief and regrets are nothing to her. Each time, punctuated with a kiss, until he relents and silences her with one of his own in return.

No ephemeral, lighthearted caress, this: he is obligated to stroke one hand up into her hair, and by the other draw her close, just to keep balance.

"I have heard this tale before," Solas reminds her, tenderly, when it is done, "But I object. To love you is the easiest thing there is. It is frightening, how quickly, and how completely you came to possess me. I have lived a long and terrible life, Vhenan, and I know nothing of happiness. You must have patience with me."