My steps are fast as I walk to your part of the camp. You are standing like you always do, gazing into the fire. There is another fire in me making me walk. I can see you open your mouth.
Not this time, blasted witch! I'm not your plaything.
It is my turn to slap you. You stagger back in surprise, clutching your reddening cheek with your hand. The spell is broken and I take a step back, also surprised.
"I'm s…sorry," I whisper, "I don't know what came over me."
You look down.
"It is fine," you eventually say, but that causes the flame to rise in me once more.
"What do you mean it is fine?" I yell at you, "nothing is fine. Nothing. You are using me! You look at me with disdain in your eyes but you clearly don't mind sharing my bedroll. You kiss me, then you berate me. You slap me, you don't want to talk with me but then… then you love me. You… you… you. How dare you! How dare you treat me like this? I have been used before, I know this feeling."
You stand still as I yell at you and I realise what I have done. I have been used before, that is what I said. I don't want to talk about it; I don't want to tell you about it. I see it in your eye though, you have caught the scent of my secret and like the predator you are I don't think you will let it go.
"What are you talking about, bard?" you ask me, "hasn't it always been sunshine and butterflies with you?"
It is my turn to fall silent. Every one of our companions knows that I used to be a bard in Orlais, but no one but the Warden knows what Marjolaine did to me. I'm not ready to share this with you, I don't want you to look at me with pity; I don't want to give you more ammunition to use on me.
You look up at me, your yellow eyes unreadable. We just stare at each other for several minutes.
Your eyes are so beautiful, Morrigan. Your smile causes shivers down my spine and there hasn't been a night since our kiss since I haven't dreamt about you. I don't want to talk; I want to pull my fingers through your silky dark hair and I want to have your fingers on my body again.
"I don't want to talk about it," I say in a stern voice, "I'm just here to tell you to stop using me. I won't have it. Good bye."
I leave you by the fire before you have a chance to answer. I don't like talking with you, you make me feel uncomfortable. And your behaviour confuses and hurts me.
Your lips are so beautiful, Morrigan, I still feel them on mine. I want to touch you. I want you so much. My bedroll is empty without you.
…
"May I come in?" I don't know what time of night it is when I hear your voice outside my tent. Your voice is hesitant and careful, very unlike your usual mocking tone. I welcome your interruption. I hate the night, hate being alone with the silence. I want to fill it with happy chatter but at night there is no one that will listen.
I open the tent flap and let you in. You have never been inside my tent before and it is awkward and cramped; the small space requiring you to sit down. You sit down by my feet. I feel vulnerable, already changed into my night clothes and my hair is messy from having lied down. My tunic has fallen on the side, leaving my left shoulder bare. This is where your eyes land, staring at my naked shoulder in silence. I know what is going through your head; I used to be a bard, I know when somebody is seduced. But I am not trying to seduce you.
"Talk to me Morrigan, it is clear that you feel something for me. Please, don't be scared." You lick your lips, your mind long gone; so I cough.
"Why are you here?" I try again; my tone as neutral as I manage. You look up, broken from your trance and I lift up my shawl from the ground to quickly cover up my shoulders – I want to shield myself from you.
"I regret that you feel like I used you," I cannot believe my ears. What are you saying? "Flemeth seducing and using men, 'tis the only love I know of. I despise my many lovers, following me with puppy eyes; so pathetic. I can feel nothing but horror when I find myself craving for you in such a manner, 'tis repulsive. But 'tis not your fault and 'twas unfortunate that I hurt you. I… I don't want to hurt you."
You look so lost. It is so very clear that you didn't want to hurt me. I realise that this is confusing for you. Maybe even more confusing than it is to me. You don't just look lost, you look vulnerable and any irritability that I may have been feeling just runs off me.
Instead I open my arms and you gratefully fall into my embrace. There is room for us both on my bedroll. You lie with your back to me, your head on my forearm and let me hold you. It is nice, different from all our other interactions.
After a few minutes I have almost fallen asleep, but your sudden stirrings wakes me up. You move; turning around and put your arms around my waist. You seem hesitant for a few minutes but then you rest your head on my chest. Your breath on my skin causes my heart to speed up whether I want to or not. I curse silently; you don't need this right now. You notice, how could you not with my heart thudding against your cheek. I decide on a different approach.
"Do you feel that?" I whisper, "that's because of you. My body reacts to you in the way your reacts to mine. It is not foolishness and you are not pathetic." You don't answer but I wasn't looking for an answer. I just needed you to hear me, and I know that you did. That is enough for now. I feel you relax in my arms; sleep coming for us both.
I want to cry; for you, for me, for us – our wretched pasts and hopeless futures. There is only the Blight. And you. And me.