Fantasy art of a man and woman embracing on a horse in a sun-dappled forest.

He reached up, gripping her waist as he helped her onto the horse first this time. She settled into the saddle, oversized tunic still clinging damply to her frame. Her hands hesitated on the reins, unsure. Before she could speak, Varric swung up behind her in one smooth motion. She gasped as he pulled her gently but firmly against him, her back pressed to his chest. “You’re still shaking,” he murmured near her ear. She stiffened. His arms came around her—not tight, not possessive, but steadying, warm. Protective. “I’ll be fine,” she whispered. “Don’t lie to me, Princess,” he said, voice low. “I’ve spent a lifetime spotting lies. You’re not fine.” The words sat between them for a moment, heavy and true. Still, she didn’t pull away. Slowly, she let herself rest back against him, her head brushing his collarbone. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For saving me. For the clothes.” He snorted. “Don’t get sentimental on me now. I only did it because a shivering royal would be bad for morale.” She smiled, though he couldn’t see it. He nudged the horse forward at a lazy pace, letting them fall behind the others. The forest was quieter here, sunlight dappled through the branches. The warmth of his body soaked into hers slowly, a quiet reassurance. After a few minutes, he said, “We’ll get your friends some clothes too. When we make camp tonight.” She turned her head slightly. “Why?” “No sense advertising that royalty’s traveling with us,” he said. “Someone less charming than me might try See more