Don't be sorry. [ To emphasize her point, she turns so she's now facing him, nuzzling her forehead to his briefly. ] Cullen, you didn't-- That was my fault. I should have left you to your dream.

[ Rather than taking on the role of awkward specter in the corner of his happiness. Cecily swallows, searching his face, guilt more than plain in her own expression, even in the semi-darkness. ]

I don't know. [ She confesses, fingers curling a little more tightly around his. ] Even without... what I want, or how I think I might be as a mother, don't you worry about having any children... with me? That-- [ Her heart thrums in her throat like a rabbit's. ] With who we both are, it may never be safe.

[ The offspring of the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, and a former templar, the former Knight-Captain of Kirkwall, the current Commander of the Inquisition's armies. He knows as well as she does that they have enemies beyond Corypheus, that there are still Venatori in the world, not to mention nobles and dozens of others who just dislike their missions and methods.

She would always see daggers in the shadows, hear wolves at the door. If their child were hurt or worse because of its parents, because of her-- ]