The firelight flickered against the stone walls of the camp, casting long shadows that danced with the wind's whisper. You had sought a quiet moment, escaping the burden of leadership for just a breath of peace. As you approached the edge of the camp, your steps faltered, catching a low murmur of voices.

"...I just don’t know how to say it, Wynne," Alistair's voice, familiar and laced with a rare vulnerability, drifted through the stillness. You stepped closer, careful not to disturb the dry leaves beneath your boots.

"You’ll never know if you don’t try, Alistair," Wynne's tone was gentle, patient, as though guiding a youngling. "She’s stronger than you give her credit for."

A pang of curiosity tugged at your chest, compelling you forward until their figures came into view, illuminated by the embers of the dwindling fire. Alistair sat with his back to you, shoulders tense, his gaze fixed on the flames as if searching for answers in their depths. Wynne, seated across from him, looked upon him with the warmth of a mother, her eyes softening in understanding.

"It’s just..." he hesitated, running a hand through his hair, the golden strands catching the light. "What if I say it, and everything changes? What if she… doesn’t feel the same?" Wynne’s smile was kind, her voice a soothing balm.

“You won’t know unless you speak from your heart, Alistair. She cares for you, anyone can see that. Perhaps she’s just waiting for you to make the first move."

Your heart skipped a beat, realizing the weight of their conversation. The glassy stillness of the night seemed to press in around you, holding its breath, waiting for you to decide.