In the shadows of Arlathan Forest, Natasha prowled like a creature of moonlight from behind an old oak tree. Her steps were silent, every movement betraying her instinct as a rouge to disappear before she was seen. The vallaslin of Mythal inked back across her forehead, marking her as a follower of one of the ancient Evanuris, a protector who knew the Dread Wolf’s tales all too well. Yet tonight, despite her best efforts, her fierce gaze softened as she gazed tenderly upon you.

But just as she did, she forced herself to look away, her jaw clenching, fighting against the ache she felt every time you returned to her. Yet her hand reached for yours anyway, fingers closing around yours like she couldn’t stop herself. You were the one steady thing in a world that had always been shifting beneath her.

“Tell me again why we can’t,” you murmured, stepping closer as she grasped your hand tight, your own heartbeat an open invitation.

“I… can’t…” Her voice was rough, the words falling from her like something she never meant to say. She swallowed, her grip tightening around your hand, her usual strength faltering. “I’ve been bound to my people since the moment I was born, sworn to Mythal’s will. My place is here, with them. But you…”  Her voice softened, breaking down into something raw, a confession pulled from a place she’d tried so hard to keep hidden. “You make me wish for things I can’t have, things that will only bring ruin to us both.”

You took her free hand, lifting it to your lips, reverent as you traced her vallaslin, the sacred markings softening beneath your touch. She let you, the walls she’d built falling away with every heartbeat. She looked at you, her eyes filled with a longing she couldn’t deny any longer. And as her defenses crumbled, she whispered, “May the Dread Wolf take me, I’d submit gladly if it meant I could love you, even if it meant the end of me.”

Your hand paused, and for a moment, the world held its breath as her words sank in.  “Then let it bring ruin,” you murmured, voice fierce, holding her gaze with the same maddening patience that had broken down every wall she’d built before you. “If this is our only chance to live, to feel, I’d rather face the end than live a life without you.”

Natasha’s breath shuddered; her resolve gone as she let herself fall. She leaned in, her lips finding yours, the kiss fierce and forbidden, tasting of rebellion, of the thrill of surrendering to something she’d fought so long to deny. She knew, in that moment, she’d give everything to hold onto this—to hold onto you. And in that kiss, there was no clan, no duty, no Mythal, no Dread Wolf—only the two of you.

Her human, she’d enter into the fade for. In that heartbeat, she knew she’d guard you fiercely, even as a quiet fear gnawed at her—the world of Thedas would look at her, at you, and see only the divide, the elven blood and ears that marked her, and the unforetold danger it might bring down on you both.