All right. That's -- good. That's a start.

Alistair sighs again, quieter, as he draws Cullen close. I love you, he whispers against his hair.

Lavellan isn't dead yet. There's still a chance. It might be a foolish hope, but Alistair's always been good at playing the fool. And like he said, all they can do is work with what they have until they know more.

What they have: their love. Each other. A room of their own that, for now, remains quiet.

He repeats the words over and over in his head. I love you. I love you.