They stumbled out of the eluvian, the world reassembling around them with blinding speed and too many colours. Holli nearly tripped over her own shoes, and behind her, the rippling surface of the mirror still shuddered.
Cole's hand found hers before she could even look for it. Not grabbing, not pulling. Just there, grounding her. She gripped it tightly.
They turned as one back to the mirror. The surface of the eluvian shimmered. Then cracked and Hawke fell through with all the grace of a tossed sack of potatoes, landing in a crouch with a grimace and a dry, "Well, that was charming."
A half-second later, Solas stepped through as well, steadier but just as tense. The moment they were through, Morrigan strode forward and raised her hand. With a wave of her hands, the eluvian's glow dimmed, then vanished. The mirror went inert, a still, flat pane of impossible glass.
It was over. For now. Corypheus hadn't reached them. The silence that followed was so sudden it felt loud.
They were back in Skyhold, safe and sound. Everything felt weirdly real again. They all stood there, catching their breath.
"Right…" Hawke finally said, adjusting his glove with theatrical effort. "Well... guess we'll have to wait for everyone else to get back."
Holli let out a short, breathless laugh. Not happy, exactly. Just... alive. That strange high after not dying. Again.
"That could take a while," she muttered. She took another breath, chest still tight, and said without thinking, "Hopefully Corypheus doesn't just mow down the rest of our people out there in some kind of magical destructive tantrum."
The silence that followed was immediate. Several pairs of eyes turned to her.
Holli felt them land on her one by one—Varric blinking slowly, Cassandra looking vaguely scandalised, Solas arching a brow, and Hawke straight-up gaping at her like she'd sprouted horns and started humming the Chant backwards.
Even Cole tilted his head like he wasn't sure if she was being ironic or preparing for a second, smaller apocalypse.
"What?" Holli asked, blinking back at them. "It's what I'd do. If I couldn't win, I'd sure as shit make sure the other guys won less."
There was a beat of stunned silence.
"Well," Dorian said, folding his arms with a smirk tugging at his mouth, "here's hoping an ancient Darkspawn Tevinter magister who wants to be God isn't as spiteful as a sixteen-year-old girl."
That cracked it. Varric snorted. Hawke let out a dry laugh and shook his head. Even Cassandra, though she looked like she was trying very hard not to approve, muttered something that might have been a prayer or a curse.
"Maker help us if he is," Hawke said, rubbing a hand over his face. "I had a sixteen-year-old sister. I barely survived it the first time. I don't need to relive it in god form."
Cole was still beside her. She turned her head slightly, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He was quiet. Watching the mirror like it might flicker again. His thumb traced slow, grounding circles against the back of her hand.
Her pulse was still galloping, ears ringing faintly. Behind her eyes, she could still see the Fade, still feel Corypheus's magic clawing after them. She breathed in through her nose. Out through her mouth.
The silence was stretching, too taut now. She broke it.
"Anyone else feel like they just got spat out of an eldritch blender?"
Hawke raised a hand. "I don't know what that is."
Dorian, somewhere to her left, let out a very dignified groan. "Well, I believe I bruised something unspeakable on that landing."
Holli looked at Cole, who was still holding her hand like he might lose her if he let go, and gave it the smallest squeeze.
He felt it immediately.
His fingers twitched like he hadn't meant to hold her so tightly—like he was always afraid of holding too much, of being too much—but then his eyes lifted to hers, and the worry melted into something gentler. He gave her that small, uneven smile she loved. The one that always started with his eyes before it ever reached his mouth. It was soft, warm, quiet, and just for her.
"I'm going to go get cleaned up," she announced, dragging her gaze back to the room with a breath. Her voice still felt scratchy from the magic and dust and the nearly-getting-murdered part. "Well done, team. We didn't die. Gold stars all round."
"Does this mean I don't get wine?" Dorian muttered behind her.
"I'll have yours," Varric offered.
Holli made her way toward the door, boots heavy, legs aching in that deep, bone-weary way that told her the adrenaline was running out fast.
Cole followed without needing to be asked. She didn't speak again until they were out of the eluvian room and down one of the castle's corridors, the doors swinging shut behind them with a satisfying click. The silence out here was blessed.
"Bath," she mumbled. "I need a bath."
Cole walked beside her, hands now tucked into his sleeves again. She could feel his attention on her, even when he wasn't looking directly. Always reading her, even when she didn't say a word.
"Warm water," he said quietly. "No voices. No colours trying to climb into your skin."
She glanced at him, lips twitching.
"You know, I'm really glad you're not like... I don't know. One of those boyfriends who just says 'you look tired,' and then goes back to playing video games. Or… what do boys do here? Polish their swords?"
Cole blinked. "You do look tired. But you feel tired more."
Holli huffed out a small, breathless laugh.
--
The bathwater had long gone tepid, but Holli stayed in there, arms draped along the wide copper rim of the tub, her legs floating listlessly beneath the surface. Her skin was wrinkled and pink in places, scuffed in others.
She could still hear other people behind the curtains and dividers. Voices murmuring low, the slosh of water, the occasional soft thud of boots hitting the floor. Cassandra barked something about towel etiquette in another stall; someone—Blackwall, probably—grunted a laugh.
The room was humid, lit by flickering wall sconces that made the stone walls sweat. Holli tipped her head back, wet hair clinging to her neck, and stared up at the dark wood beams of the ceiling.
Tramping through the Arbor Wilds. Meeting ancient elves. The magic. The well. Running from Corypheus. Not dying. She was so tired. How did the others manage it? Was it because they're all trained... fighters? Did that just make you better at forcing your way through apocalyptic catastrophes?
Eventually, she forced herself to move. She stood slowly, water streaming down her limbs in lazy trails. The air bit at her wet skin, raising goosebumps. She dried off with one of the slightly coarse linen towels stacked nearby, then pulled on her leggings and her hoodie, slightly damp but comfortingly familiar.
She sat on the edge of the bench to slip on her Converses. The laces were frayed now. The stitching along the sole was starting to pull. One shoe had a scuff near the toe that looked like a dragon if she squinted just right. She tugged the shoe on and sighed. They were getting a bit raggedy. Could Master Harritt make something similar? Or... a seamstress? Did they have a cobbler here? There had to be someone who could replicate 21st-century Earth footwear using medieval tools and guesswork.
She loved them. She really did.
As she stepped out into the hallway, the cool air hit her flushed cheeks, and her first breath felt clean in a way the bath hadn't quite managed.
Cole was waiting. He leaned against the far wall, his coat traded out for a softer tunic, his freshly washed hair damp around his ears. His boots were clean. His eyes were bright.
And when he saw her, he smiled.
There was always this little thrill of pleasure in her chest when he did that. Like something fluttering awake.
"Hey," she said, like it didn't matter. Like it wasn't a tiny miracle to see him there, waiting just for her.
He didn't answer right away. Just looked at her with that intense, quiet way of his. Reading her. Feeling her. Probably seeing right through her.
"You're cleaner," he said, which made her snort.
"Observant."
"Less weighed down."
"Give it a minute."
He tilted his head, smiling a little wider. "You'll still be tired in your room, but the tired will be quieter."
"Come with?" She asked.
--
Holli stepped inside, the familiar scent of old stone and old books hitting her nostrils. Her bedroll lay on the other side of the desk, sprawled across a rug she'd stolen and covered in her chaotic mountain of blankets. She liked her little nest, layered and soft, where she could hoard warmth.
She sighed as she toed off her shoes and dropped to her knees beside her blankets and peeled back the top layer. Her body ached in that dull, post-survival way. No sharp pain, just a full-body throb that made every inch of her feel used up.
She climbed in and immediately curled toward the centre of the pile, pressing her face into one of the softest ones.
Behind her, she heard Cole close the door and the rest of the world fall away. She turned her head slightly and watched him crawl in beside her, careful not to pull the blankets off as he wiggled in, limbs folding neatly. He settled facing her, just a breath away.
The candlelight caught the edges of his hair and the shadow of his lashes where they flickered as he blinked at her. Quiet and open. Not trying to say anything. Just being there.
She liked that about him, how he never forced noise into silence. It used to feel awkward for her, but now she didn't mind it. They pulled the blankets up over their heads. It was warmer that way.
"Better," she mumbled, her voice thick and low as she stared at him, eyes already half-lidded. "Still tired. But better."
His fingers brushed her knuckles beneath the covers, tentative and soft. "Your heartbeat is slower now."
"That's a good thing," she murmured.
He nodded, as if that were something worth noting and tucking away. Then, softer, "You're here. You're not lost."
She watched his face for a long moment. The slight furrow in his brow, the curve of his mouth, the shadow of worry that still lived in him, always watching her, always aware.
She inched closer, resting her forehead against his. "I like it when you say it," she whispered. "Makes it feel more true."
"It is true."
They lay like that for a while. Just breathing. Just there. Wrapped in a fortress of blankets, with only each other and the dim and the warmth.
And for the first time in what felt like days—maybe longer—Holli's shoulders finally loosened.
The blankets pressed warm and heavy over her shoulders, her body tucked into the cocoon of their nest, and Cole right in front of her, his presence steady and calm.
He watched her for a moment, like he always did. Then, without a word, he leaned in and kissed her. Holli melted into it easily, already reaching for him, sliding her hand up to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his still-damp hair. His mouth was warm against hers, familiar and new every time. Every kiss felt like something they were still discovering.
He shifted closer, their bodies brushing fully now under the blankets, and his hand found her waist. Not above her hoodie, but under it this time, calloused fingers brushing bare skin. She sucked in a breath, not startled, not nervous—just lit up. Like a fuse had been struck beneath her skin.
Her own hand moved without thinking, slipping beneath his tunic, sliding over the planes of his back. He was all smooth warmth and lean strength under her fingers, and she marvelled at how natural it felt, how much she wanted to touch him.
He made a soft sound into her mouth as her hand splayed across his back, and it sent a little thrill through her chest. She kissed him deeper in response, tilting her head, pressing her body closer. There was heat building between them, but no urgency. Just that hum of wanting, of knowing each other a little more.
His hand moved slowly up her back, palm flat, then down again to her hip, thumb brushing a line along her skin that left goosebumps. She buried her face in the crook of his neck for a second, breath shaky.
"Holli?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his nose brushing her temple.
She nodded. "Yeah. Just… this is cool."
Fuck, she was a dufus.
"I know." His voice was soft and sure. "I think so too."
They stayed that way for a while, kissing slowly, skin against skin in small, burning places, no pressure to go further. Just breathing each other in. Fingers tracing patterns, lips finding mouths and jaws and temples. Her heart thudded in a rhythm that didn't feel like fear.
She kissed Cole again, deeper this time, and felt him respond with that same gentle intensity she was coming to crave. His hands splayed across her back, not over fabric now, still under—his fingers brushing bare skin beneath her hoodie. She shivered, but definitely not from cold.
He was smooth and lean, and her fingertips trailed the curve of his spine like she was trying to map him.
The kiss broke for a breath, just long enough for her to hook her fingers at the hem of his shirt and tug. He hesitated only for a moment, eyes meeting hers as if checking one last time.
She nodded, and he pulled it over his head, tossing it aside.
Her mouth went a little dry, even as her lips curved in the smallest, awed smile. She hadn't seen him like this before. Not fully. And there was something… grounding about it. No pretence. Just him, in what candlelight made it through the blankets, looking at her like she was the only thing that existed.
She swallowed, heart racing, and pushed her own hoodie off over her head. She wore only her tank top beneath it, and somehow even that felt loud in the stillness. Her skin prickled with the cool air, even under the blankets—but then Cole was touching her again, and that was all she could feel.
They came together slowly, chest to chest now, the warmth of skin against skin dizzying in the best way. She kissed him like she needed to hold onto something, and he kissed her back like he was that something.
Her hands found the bare skin of his waist and slipped around to his back again. His palms rested at her hips, thumbs brushing just under the fabric of her tank top, like he was memorising her one inch at a time.
This was further than she'd gone before—with anyone.
And she was nervous. Of course she was. There was a flutter in her chest that didn't entirely settle. Not from fear, but from not knowing.
Cole stilled for a moment, just long enough to press his forehead to hers.
"You're shaking again."
"I know." Her laugh came out soft and unsteady. "Not a bad shake."
"Too much?"
"No." She exhaled slowly, then smiled. "Just… new."
She kissed him again, grateful and open, and he deepened it with that same gentleness, his hands moving with care, with patience, with knowing. Her nerves didn't vanish, but they softened, edged out by warmth and the safety of him.
They lay together, kissing, touching, learning the shape of one another in soft motion, under their blanket cocoon.
—
She was so warm. Cole hadn't expected that. Not just skin-warmth, not just body-heat—but the kind of warmth that settled deep, low in his chest, like he was being filled from the inside out. Her fingers on his back, the gentle weight of her legs tangled with his, the rhythm of her breath against his collarbone, it all felt real in a way nothing ever had before. Real and good.
He liked the way she kissed him—unafraid, even when she was nervous. She leaned into him like she was choosing him with every breath. And every time she touched him, it made something quiet and golden bloom inside.
He could feel her heartbeat. Not in the obvious way, not just with his hands or where her chest met his, but in everything. In the way her pulse tripped when he kissed her throat, in the slight catch of her breath when his fingers skimmed her waist. He felt her emotions before she spoke them, and it made him go slowly. To want to make sure she felt safe and wanted.
It was new. All of it. The softness. The heat. The gentle, tangled ache of it. And more than anything, he liked how close they were. There was no space between them, not really. Just skin and breath and the feeling of something opening between them.
He pulled her in a little tighter, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She made a soft sound, barely there, but it shivered through him.
He was here. He was hers. And this—this—was everything he wanted.