His words draw her face away from his, so that she might examine him closer. Her expression is open, easy to read: and it is full of love. Soft, inexorable devotion and affection. It is easy for her to wear a smile like an Orlesian's mask, but for Solas, her joy in him and in his presence are all too transparent.

Her fingers rise to his face, gently tracing each dip and rise on his skin, each wrinkle of worry, his proud, strong nose, his soft lips, too often turned in a frown. She traces him like she wants to memorize the feel, like she wishes to recall every inch of him by touch alone. Only when she is satisfied do her hands move to cup his jaw, thumbs gently brushing his cheeks.

"I have no gods left to swear to, so I can only swear upon myself. I love you beyond measure, beyond time and space. And I will not let any of those stand between us. Sileal, I am yours, as much as you are mine, and nothing will part us, until time and all worlds cease to be. And even then, perhaps, when all is void, my hand will still find yours, and we will walk it together."

And then she kisses him, as deeply and thoroughly as she is capable of.