The march to the Arbor wilds was a far more hurried affair than the march back from the Western Approach had been. Leliana already had scouts meeting up with other allies closer to the wilds to try and slow Corypheus and his own army down. But they were still days away from reaching them. Corypheus had quite the head start.
With the pace they kept, Holli wondered how any of the soldiers were even supposed to have the energy to fight by the time they got there.
Holli also wasn't entirely sure why she was coming. This was a battle, and she was not a soldier. Though... maybe they had brought her for healing.
From her place at the campfire, she looked around at the others. Everyone had come, and maybe she was a little glad she had been brought too. Skyhold would be quite empty and quiet. Beside her, Cole straightened up, his eyes finding hers, and he offered a small smile, which she returned.
Ugh, she really did love that jacket of his. Did it come in black? Or the baby pink she favoured? No, that jacket didn't suit pink. Black then.
"What's the matter, little bird?" Varric asked.
She hadn't even noticed he'd been looking at her. She plucked at the fabric of Cole's sleeve.
"Do you think this jacket would suit baby pink? And a more feminine fit?"
Cassandra snorted. "Really?"
"Yeah, I suppose, black would be better," Holli agreed. "But maybe hot pink accents?"
Varric chuckled with a shake of his head.
"Seriously, Holli?" Hawke asked. "You want to dress Cole in black and pink?"
"No, you numpty, I want a similar jacket in black and pink." How had that not been obvious? "It's a cool fucking jacket."
"We're about to walk into battle in a few days," Blackwall pointed out.
"Then if we're going to die, I want my ghost clothes to be kick-ass."
"That is a very good point," Hawke admitted.
"Well, I'm prepared then," Dorian said, gesturing to his own outfit.
"You are. I very much like your sense of style," Holli told him.
"I know, and thank you," he crooned.
"I think I'll just plan to... not die," Bull told them.
"We have ourselves an optimist," Dorian smiled up at him indulgently.
"And we all know how well optimism works out in this world," Varric added, swirling whatever approximation of whisky they'd scrounged up. "I'm just hoping to die somewhere that's not muddy. Or on fire."
"No guarantees," Cassandra muttered, eyeing the flames like she could divine answers in them.
"Ugh," Sera groaned, flopping onto her back and waving an arm dramatically. "Can't we die somewhere fun? With one of those dumb noble fountains someone chucked soap in – bubbles everywhere! And custard pies? Why's it always fire and stabbing and screaming?"
"You say that like you wouldn't cause most of the screaming," Fenris drawled, his voice dry as the smoke rising into the dark.
"She'd enjoy the custard pies too much," Blackwall said with mock solemnity. "We'd never hear the end of it."
"Oh, piss off, beardy," Sera grinned.
"I like custard," Cole said quietly, sitting cross-legged and watching the fire. "It feels like sunshine. But people are usually sad when they eat it. Missing someone. Missing simpler things."
The campfire fell quiet for a breath.
Then Holli nudged him gently with her foot. "You can have all my custard rations. We'll make custard pies and throw them at Corypheus. At least we'll go out laughing."
"Maybe that's our secret weapon," Solas said mildly, arms folded as he leaned against a rock. "Custard. As ancient elven warfare intended."
"Would explain the murals," Varric said, straight-faced.
"Oh yes," Dorian added, eyes glinting. "The Custard Rebellion of Halamshiral. A turning point in Orlesian warfare."
"Velvet and custard," murmured Hawke. "That sounds like a very niche Orlesian bordello."
"Velvet Custard," Sera repeated with a cackle. "That's what I'm naming my next horse!"
"I will not ride into battle on something called Velvet Custard," Cassandra snapped, scandalised.
Bull stretched and yawned. "Look, all I'm saying is: if I do die, someone better make up something impressive. I don't want to go out in some story where I tripped on a root and got stabbed."
"Noted," said Varric. "Death by griffon. While shirtless. Saving an orphan."
"Better," Bull nodded.
"You're all very confident we're going to die," Fenris observed, but there was something softer in his voice, watching the firelight catch in everyone's faces.
"No," Hawke said. "We're just making peace with it. Or... laughing in its face."
"It helps," said Solas, gaze distant for a moment. "To laugh. Even now."
"I'm not planning to die," Holli added, voice firming. "I still have plans. Friends to embarrass. Dorian's wardrobe to steal."
"Please do. I'd pay to see that," Hawke grinned.
"She'd pull it off," Dorian mused. "But not the boots. The boots are mine."
"Mine now," Holli teased.
"You'll have to pry them from my elegantly cold corpse."
"Or just wait until you're... occupied," she said sweetly, eyes flicking to Bull for an exaggerated second.
They all laughed again.
-
The campfire was burning lower now, warm embers crackling beneath the occasional pop of resin. The laughter had faded to contented murmurs. Someone—Sera probably—was humming under her breath, tuneless but soothing. Holli stretched her arms over her head with a groan and stood, brushing imaginary dust off her thighs.
"Right. If I'm getting stabbed later, I'd like to be well-rested for it."
Cassandra gave her a small nod. Hawke lifted his drink in salute. Dorian blew a kiss. Iron Bull said something about dreams involving Mabari and flaming swords, but Holli was already turning, her shoes crunching quietly over the gravel as she walked away from the firelight.
She wasn't surprised when she heard the footsteps behind her, soft as shadow but unmistakably purposeful.
She glanced back, met Cole's eyes, and didn't speak. He fell into step beside her, hands tucked into the sleeves of his coat, his head tilted just slightly as he looked at her.
"You weren't laughing as much as the others," he said after a moment. His voice was soft but not uncertain.
"I was laughing on the inside," Holli replied with a wry smile. "My insides are just full of doom, that's all."
Cole blinked. "I can feel it. The edges of you are frayed. You smile with your mouth but not your chest."
She gave a short, breathy laugh, looking away. "That's poetic. And also a bit grim."
"Because you're afraid."
She stopped walking. They were far enough now from the fire that the night pressed around them, with only moonlight filtering through the trees. Camp was still in sight, but only just. Holli looked at him.
"Of course I am," she whispered. "People die in wars."
He stepped closer. "Don't be."
She opened her mouth to say something sarcastic, maybe, or flippant, but then Cole reached out, not with awkwardness but with surprising confidence, and took her hand. His fingers were cool and gentle. She felt her stomach dip.
"You're not going to die," he said. "I'll make sure of it."
Her throat tightened. "You can't promise that."
"I can," he insisted, softly but with a steadiness she rarely heard from him. "I see things others don't. The fade around you, the shape of your fear. But I won't let it take you."
She stared at him, trying to summon another quip, something that would let her float over the depth of that statement. But then his other hand came up to brush a lock of hair from her cheek, fingers trailing against her skin like a spell being cast.
"I want you to keep existing. In the world. Where I can see you," he said.
And then he kissed her. It wasn't tentative. Cole usually touched gently, like he was afraid she might break, but not now. His mouth found hers like it was inevitable, like it was something he'd decided. And holy shit, Holli responded like she'd been waiting for it all night.
She leaned into him, one hand curling into the edge of his coat, the other at his jaw. He smelt like wild air and faint smoke and something softly electric. His hands slid to her waist, holding her like he couldn't bear to let her drift even an inch.
The world shrank down to skin and breath and heat. Her heart pounded against his chest, or maybe it was his she was feeling. Either way, they were moving in tandem now, mouths exploring, learning each other.
His lips parted from hers just enough for him to breathe her name. "Holli..."
She pressed her forehead against his, catching her breath. "This is definitely better than sleeping."
"It's not just the war," he said, voice lower now. "It's you. I… I want you to stay."
Her smile was softer now, more real. "I want me to stay, too."
He kissed her again, slower this time. Less fire, more gravity.
She didn't know what the Arbor Wilds would bring. She just hoped it wouldn't take anything. But for the first time in hours, maybe days, she didn't feel quite so frayed at least.