I'm sorry, I can't stay. I can't. We are close to the end now; I can feel it in my bones. The arch demon grows nearer every day and soon I need to fulfill my quest. My body is not my own, and therefore I cannot give it to you.

I know now. Now I know your big secret. I wish it made me understand you better but it doesn't. I feel worse for treating you so badly before, surely it ripped open old wounds. Marjolaine was even more vulgar and Orlesian than you, with her perfume and soft fabrics. I find myself foolishly envious of her, 'tis not because of her pretty things or beautiful hair, 'tis because she got to meet you at a time when your smile was still sincere and you didn't carry the big rock of sadness inside. I find myself wishing the best for you and in battle I worry, dreading that something might happen to you. If you bleed, I bleed, if you cry, I will cry also and damn the person who tries to hurt you; I will destroy them in the most painful of ways. I hate the warden for letting that Orlesian wench walk, she deserved to die. When all this is over I will go and take her out, I promise. I can't give you affection, but I can bestow vengeance on your enemies.

I find myself pacing, wondering what I should do next. I feel sickened at the sight of my skin, my stomach or my breasts. I am just a vessel; if not to accommodate Flemeth 'tis to accommodate the spawn of the archdemon. I find myself hitting my abdomen in frustration and muttering to myself over and over, "I am a vessel, I am a vessel". Insomuch, I am nothing. 'Tis why I can't love you, because there is nothing in me that can feel those feelings.

I avoid you during the day, it is better that way but when darkness falls and I see our comrades go to bed one by one I join you in your tent and you always receive me with open arms. I know you don't like the night and it makes me happy to think that I am giving you some comfort before we part. Whatever words are on your lips I simply kiss away, I have no answers to give. I don't always let you touch me so instead you grab my hand and place it on your bosom, you want me close. But my body can never be yours; instead I will give you my heart. 'Tis smaller than most and doesn't hold much but you can have it. Do with it what you will.