I.
Leliana is full of secrets - it's part of her job as spymaster, he supposes. She knows everything about everyone, only because she has to. He admires her, that's true. Somewhere down the road, they've come to a mutual agreement of not talking about themselves, about their own secrets and memories they keep locked away. It's not weird to find himself being drawn to her as the Inquisition keeps fighting Corypheus and his seemingly never-ending forces- she is a good friend, if one could reach her underneath the Nightingale's mask.
That's why he wonders if she'd accept to listen to his secrets for once. If opening up too much too soon would end up ruining something he never believed he could get - the people in his inner circle are his friends, even if they disagree here and there and Vivienne and Sera still can't be in the same room together for more than five minutes, but whatever he has with Leliana is just different.
It's not about romance, really. She has her reasons to stay away from love ("the world just became dull after her death", she had confessed once, and he decided to never ask again) and Dorian is someone special to him and his mended heart. Whatever their relationship can be defined as at this point, it's never been about romance and never will be. Their friendship isn't just comforting, it's almost a beacon of light he'd cling to whenever he was lost in the dark.
(And it seems he gets lost more often than before nowadays, but that's another secret he keeps deep inside.)
She laughs freely at something stupid he says, and he can't help but smile at a side of her most people would never see. Tonight isn't a good night to bring dark subjects into conversation. A gloved hand slips into his and the mage smiles, pulls her hand close to press a gentle kiss on her knuckles. Moments like these are rare nowadays-locked in one of the countless towers of Skyhold, hidden away from prying eyes and sharp ears, worrying about nothing regarding the Inquisition or Corypheus.
"The Chantry still debates about their decision on the next Divine," Leliana says, and Maxwell takes another sip on his wine. He's almost sure Cole slipped some honey into the bottle, but the thought is easily forgotten. "The Inquisition's opinion on the matter won't be taken lightly."
"Well, now that you mentioned…" The mage smiles secretively, nursing his chalice. His tone is anything but serious, but he still tries- he doesn't know why, but maybe it amuses her. "I've heard some scandalous rumors about a message to the Capital saying that the Inquisition declares full support to Sister Leliana as their chosen one. Outrageous."
"Indeed. The grand clerics might be crying themselves to sleep as we speak, for sure." The spymaster replies easily, amusement hidden under the most serious face she could manage in that moment- but then the mask cracks and she just laughs again, patting his hand. "Jokes aside, I appreciate your trust."
Their eyes meet and they smile at each other before a comforting silence falls over the room, conversation ignored as they drink together, watching the sky and its endless stars. It'd be a good time to open up and he knows that-but he doesn't trust himself to say the right thing, he doesn't believe he has the right to force yet another burden on her shoulders when she always deals with too much all the time.
The mark on his hand cracks and pain flares up through his arm and up his shoulder, treacherous and overwhelming as it's always been. Leliana's gaze falls on the green light until it disappears, yet the feeling remains-echoes of wild, untamed magic forcing its way through his body mercilessly. It doesn't last long, just like always, but it's enough to leave him shaken to the core.
She doesn't comment on it, she doesn't ask.
(She'll have a word with Solas later, because of course she will.)
When she holds his hand again, her touch on his scarred skin is gentle, feather-like even as if she could cause him more pain than the mark itself-and he appreciates her delicacy, how much she cares. The Inquisitor smiles once more, pushes the pain away and pretends nothing has happened because they still have to find and fight Corypheus and he can't-he won't die before the self proclaimed god is gone.
"Talk to me." Leliana demands, and her eyes are fierce and almost dangerous-but her voice betrays her, and she knows that. He holds back a soft chuckle and her grip on his fingers falter for only a moment. "Not as the Inquisitor."
The mage knows what she means by that, and the idea is as terrifying as it's comforting. And he wants to talk to her- but the hesitation always speaks louder than his needs, always did and always will. And truth to be told, he'd rather face Corypheus alone and weaponless a thousand times than lose her friendship over a selfish matter. But he knows, deep down, that she won't leave him alone until she knows what she wants to know.
"I will." He finally says, offers her a reassuring smile before pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. It's late and tomorrow will be a busy day, like all of their days are in Skyhold, and they both should get some rest. He won't sleep tonight, but it doesn't mean he should keep her awake either. "But not tonight. May I walk you to your quarters, Sister Leliana?"
"I'd appreciate the company, Inquisitor."
(She's smiling when she takes his hand to stand up- he's so, so dead.)
it's been ages since i decided to write something but i sold my soul to DA:I once more and the idea got stuck in my head for days so, yea. the next chapter will be longer, i promise! thank you so much for reading and see ya next time!