Everything was quiet and still, belying the true meaning of the coming morning. The golden rays of sun were just beginning to appear at the edge of the horizon and peeked out over the high mountain tops beyond. Though the light had not yet penetrated the dark room, the eyes of the black-haired figure on the bed shot open. They were deep green and looked very much like emeralds. She remained very still, freezing her limbs in place.
Apprehension hung heavy in the apostate's chest. At the same time, however, she felt lighter than air. Images of the previous night flashed through her mind and she would forever hold onto them. Her stillness made her limbs feel heavy, but they were suddenly lighter than air and moving as she leaped at the feeling of something warm touch her arm.
The apostate leaped off of the bed and to her feet, staring at the warmth in her bed. Of course, it was just another person. The other person murmured and rolled over, revealing their face. However, the image confused the apostate more than it answered the many questions rolling around her head. Straightening up, she got back onto the bed, but was careful not to wake the other. Laying there, staring into the darkness, the apostate felt everything fall into place. She was going to die today. Nothing would change that.
Then, she felt the soft blanket carry warmth up her body. She two arms weakly lock themselves around her own. Looking over, after debating it for quite some time in her head, the apostate looked over at her bed companion, who still had their eyes shut tightly. The apostate, unsure of what to say, just kept her mouth shut and stared. Her companion shifted, as if feeling the apostate's eyes on her.
"Stop leering at me," The disgruntled voice said. "I liked it much better when you were sleeping, Brinly."
Brinly still refused to speak. She was almost certain this was some sort of sick prank or joke that someone decided to be an arse about and pull the day she was about to die. She mentally jolted herself to wake up, but whenever she closed her eyes and reopened them, she found nothing had changed until finally, her companion was completely awake, silver eyes open and looking back.
"You seem surprised," Her companion almost purred.
"Uh, yeah," Brinly muttered in a distant voice. "Surprised. Definitely."
"I suppose that makes two of us," Her companion said, now sitting up and straddling Brinly's waist. Her black hair hung across her pale shoulders wildly. "I did not intend to stay."
"Yeah, you told me that," Brinly said. "So why did you?"
"Always critical."
"Curious." Brinly said. "You wouldn't have done this for anyone else. Why me?"
"I suppose that's the answer." The pale woman answered. "It's because it's you."
"Very funny," Brinly said. "Why are you here? Wanted to get one last taunt at me before I die? Always wanting to have the last laugh, huh, Morrigan?"
"You aren't going to die," Morrigan said, suddenly very defensive and angry. Brinly swallowed nervously. It's not so much that she was afraid of Morrigan, but hurting the witch instead. "Do not say that."
"Well, I'm not going to live, that's for sure." Brinly said. "You heard the plan. I'm supposed to kill the Archdemon. I'm going to die."
"You kill the Archdemon?" Morrigan repeated in a surprised tone. "But that's . . . you're not a Grey Warden. You're lying." She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself. Brinly stared up at her, confused.
"Compassion told me to do it." Brinly said. "Compassion said he'd destroy the Archdemon and himself, but it would also destroy me."
"And you . . . agreed?" The witch would no longer look at the apostate.
"Faust is a good person," Brinly said slowly. "She deserves to live. She can do so much more good for the world. Me, I'm just a bastard prince. An accident." Brinly's fist closed around the sheets. "Nobody would miss me."
Morrigan was silent. After a moment or two, Brinly notice that she began to shake. The apostate wondered if it was because of anger or, if at all possible, sadness. Unsure of what to do, Brinly gently touched Morrigan's hand.
"No need to get so upset," Brinly said softly. "Besides, you have to leave soon anyway, right?" Her hand moved to slowly stroke Morrigan's stomach once, staring in wonder at it. "And make preparations for the baby." Without thinking, Brinly lifted herself up and planted a kiss slightly above the witch's naval.
"H-how did you . . ?"
"I'm a mage, Morrigan," Brinly laughed slightly as she lay back down. "You can't hide anything from me. It's Alistair's, right?"
"'Tis not important right now," Morrigan struck the question out of Brinly's mind with the urgency in her voice.
"What's wrong?" Brinly asked, trying to sit up, but was only pushed back down.
"Calm yourself, apostate," Morrigan demanded. "There are some things that you have yet to uncover about me."
Brinly's sheer strength could easily overcome Morrigan's. Soon, their positions were flipped. Morrigan was laying on her back on the mattress while Brinly hovered over her, pinning both of Morrigan's wrists down. The apostate's face was hard and twisted.
"Just for once be straight with me!" Brinly said in a commanding, hurt voice. "Just this once."
The witch glared at the apostate for a few moments. Then, her gaze softened and she looked as if she were about to cry. Brinly faltered, quickly releasing Morrigan's wrists, though they did not move.
"I'm sure you already are aware." Morrigan said softly, her hands gripping Brinly's arms.
Without hesitation, Brinly quickly pressed her lips to the witch's. Morrigan earnestly returned the kiss, pulling every emotion she could muster for the apostate above her into it. They separated, Brinly studying Morrigan's face and the witch looking away.
"Say it," Brinly said, her voice barely above a whisper.
At first, the witch refused to look. Then, a slight coloration appeared in her cheeks, bringing a smile to the apostate's face. Brinly planted a loving kiss on Morrigan's forehead before getting up and opening the windows. The curtains moved with the slight breeze and the golden-orange sun finally broke over the edge of the earth.
"It's going to start soon," Brinly said, looking outside and then turning around. The light moved as if to curl itself around her body. She smiled. "You should be going before the trouble starts. Wouldn't want you getting hurt, now, right?"
Morrigan nodded and began to dress. As she finished, she rummaged through one of the pouches on her belt. Brinly watched intently as the witch finally produced and ring and handed it to her. The apostate held the jewelry between her thumb and forefinger, inspecting it carefully.
"Thank you," Brinly said warmly.
"I haven't even told you what it does yet," Morrigan exhaled noisily. "It will allow me to sense you . . . no matter how far apart we are."
"But, I'm—,"
"If you are so intent on dying," The witch explained. "I will at least want to visit your grave. Promise me . . . Promise me you'll never take it off."
Brinly smiled and took her necklace off. She hung the necklace from the worn, black string with her pendant and replaced it around her neck. The witch was confused.
"'Tis a ring. You know that, right?"
"I know," Brinly said, placing her hand over her heart. "But this way it's closer to my heart. See?"
"You are truly . . ." The witch did not finish, but smiled despite herself. "I wish you luck, my love. Let's hope these pathetic people honor your sacrifice and do not waste it."
"They will not," Brinly said, kissing the witch one last time as she stood in the open doorway. "Of that much, I am sure."
"And one more thing," Morrigan said, gripping Brinly's arm. "All I ask of you now is that you do not follow me."
"I . . ." Brinly was silent for a moment, contemplating her answer carefully. She gave a crooked smile. "No promises."
"I suppose that will have to do."
The door closed and Morrigan quickly left the castle. Once outside, she transformed into a dusty gray wolf that ran quickly across the ground and disappeared into the brush. Brinly, watching from the open window, smiled and went back into her room. She quickly put on her brown and green leather armor and her blue shawl/hood around her shoulders. Picking up her staff, she caught a glance of herself in the mirror. Staring at her own reflection, she placed her hand upon the cold glass.
"Today is the day I die . . ." She muttered, watching her reflection do as she did. "Make save us all," She groaned and left her room at the sound of others moving downstairs.
