"You did say that once the Inquisition is done, you're rather out of a job."
Maker, she'd put that awkwardly, stumbling right into the most hurtful part of it. He'd identified himself solely as a templar for so long, and now as the Inquisition's Commander. "I don't say it to wound you. Only that…your bringing it up has made me start thinking. Realizing. I clearly can't just go back to a quiet anonymous life as a lay sister myself. I suppose that's why I raised the topic of children, marriage, and such. I…have to become someone else, and I don't know who she is. And Maker, if that's a daunting question for me, I imagine it has to be even more so for you."
"It is," he confessed. "In truth, I…present matters have been so pressing that I genuinely haven't had space to contemplate anything beyond what's right there. But in still moments, sometimes, that same realization has come over me. My old life is ashes, and I don't know what's to take its place. And you're right. That's terrifying."
The thought struck her, brilliant as a flash of lightning in the darkness, illuminating the way. She found herself smiling at him. "Well. Maybe we ought to take your own advice? We ought to ask ourselves what it is we fight for, and what we hope for. Fight for and hope for something beyond achieving the Inquisition's aims." She nodded towards Darien, still peacefully asleep, for a wonder. "And I don't mean your siblings, or mine, or their children. We already fight for their futures." Though his seeing his family and reforging some bonds must have given his inner fire some kindling all the same. He seemed to burn a little brighter. "But I believe we have to consider and imagine something that's…ours alone." And try to squash that little voice that would insist it was selfish of her to do so.
He made a low, contemplative noise of assent. "Honestly, our soldiers fight for what the Inquisition represents, but they fight all the harder for having their hopes and dreams they keep close. To have something to return home to. Even something like Lena and Leliana—I know, or at least knew, Lena far better than Leliana even now, but it can only be hope that's sustained them both through all these long years. I…maybe it's foolish that we've both tried to keep ourselves from such things. As if we ought to be above them. Perhaps if we each find that path forward it gives us something even more to fight for, and lead our people all the better." His expression went taut, almost pained. "And yet it's a double-edged blade. If it's a future that can be won, it also can be lost."
She nodded, swallowing hard. "I know." Both of them had spent long years content, or at least resigned, to have nothing that would hurt too much to lose. Another terrifying thing to contemplate. "I'm not demanding we each come up with an entire detailed plan for our lives, you know."
"I know. Only…that we should both start to find something to hold onto. No, I think that's wise. We've each tried even these past weeks to surrender ourselves entirely to duty once again. We both know we're prone to those thoughts. There has to be something more. A tether of sorts that keeps us from that."
"So?" She prodded him, but teasingly, and from his half-smile, he knew it.
"Oh, come now, give a man some time to think!"
"Very well, but I expect a written report, with your usual exactness, detailing the entirety of your future dreams and hopes. Within the next week. You'll impress me even further if you include diagrams or inventories and such."
He laughed. It was an awkward, snorting sort of snickering laugh, entirely undignified and the furthest thing from chuckles and such she'd gotten from him before. She looked at him, astonished, and found herself laughing too, unguarded. I respect my Commander, of course, but Maker, I do like this man.
Like? Love, even. Not in the passionate swooning way of bards' songs and romantic novels, not quite in the way she loved her brothers, not in the broad way she cared for those she helped as a healer or those under her charge now as Inquisitor, nor in the sense of their being close-knit fellows in arms. It was a bond she couldn't quite define, something that she sensed had extended beyond friendship, but it was there all the same, easy and affectionate and full of care and warmth and trust. Something that, as he had said, she couldn't bear to lose now that she had it. If that wasn't love, she wasn't sure what was.