Anger is manifested in the individual who spurns love and opts instead for fury.
It is also known as wrath.
Envy is the desire for others' traits, status, abilities or situation.
Lust is an inordinate craving for the pleasures of the body.
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Leliana envy Morrigan.
This wasn't some sudden, blinding revelation ; more like a gradual acknowledgement of the truth.
A fact that only maker her angrier.
Morrigan had everything she wanted to have...
Whatever it was the beauty, the magic or...maybe...his affection.
She had never favoured anything resembling tenderness or compassion and adapted all too easily to life as a witch. Her speech was brash and her beauty incarnate :
her lips crimson blood, her raven hair, her ivory snow skin, her eyes were always alight...Everything about her appearance was magnificent.
No wonder, men always lusted after her...
But it wasn't the source of her anger.
What make Leliana's blood boiling with anger was the fact that HE was maybe attracted to her.
Yes...him.
Aedan Cousland.
The grey warden that has recruited her to fight the dark spawn.
He who has always been there for her when she needed someone.
The one who supported her when she faced Marjolaine.
The one who has been listening to eveything she said (even the part with the shoes) without judging her.
The one who made her innocent again.
The...the man who she has growing to love more than anybody else.
And now he was taking away from her.
By a thieving witch !
There is a darker side to everything.
Leliana know it better than anyone.
While the bard's heart brimmed with love for the young Cousland, She also had been filled with a lust for him so raw it pained just as it satisfied, so great it consumed her.
She thirsted for the pleasure that would braid itself into her veins, to run in dark and seamless line between platelets and oxygen.
It was a strange feeling, this subtle joy, a confidence in something more. She had possessed it before...but was it this intense? she doesn't remember. It changed her, now, little by little.
It made her tremble. It made her feel like she was bursting with energy, ready to leap into song as if this was some ancient tale told by a fireside. It made her weak, yet it made her strong.
She was vulnerable, very vulnerable, concerning that. And yet, these feelings gave her a sense of complete purpose and contentment. Restlessness became a feature of the past when she dowelled on it.
A feeling, a sense of knowledge spoken of in many tales. A feeling rebuked and rejoiced in. Described in every way, in the blooming of a flower, in the birth of new life.
It was agonizing that she couldn't have him all for herself. She was being selfish and it wasn't supposed to be like that, it wasn't right.
What was worst was that Morrigan knew.
And found it delightfull to make her angrier.
She continue to flirt with him in any occasion and then she turn to Leliana and smirk.
When Leliana was about to do something...unpleasant to her, she would always feel Wynne's hand on her shoulder to remind her that it would do no good.
Instead of feeling anger, she felt despair, depression and sorrow.
Late at night when she was alone in her tent, she would cry herself to sleep and dreaming of a familiar grey warden leader who would be with her, showing how much he wanted her and loved her.
In these dreams she felt like she never wanted to wake up. In the end, when dawn was there, she always wake up alone.
Opening night drowned her in her illness once again; the pain that always locked itself inside her bones. When her eyes opened, she was afraid of plunging again into the obsidian terror, with not a soul there to break her fall.
Until one night.
As if the maker heard her pleas...
"Leliana? Are you alright?"
She opened her eyes.
He was here.
He was looking after her?
"Yes...I...I am fine."
He smiled, such beautiful and honest smile full of concern.
"I am relieved...Looks like you don't have a fever anymore."
"F-Fever?"
"Yes, Wynne told me you weren't feeling too well, I was concern so I came to see if you were alright but I saw and felt that you had a fever so I took care of you all the night."
He...He did...what?
"I...see. Thank you."
She didn't know if it was the fever again but Leliana felt her cheeks burning and her heart soar with joy.
"Well, you seem fine now."
What?
"I will take my leave."
No.
Oh maker, N-No.
"I'll see you tomorrow Leliana."
Before He could leave her tent, Aedan felt someone grabbing his arm forceful. He turned his head to be face to face with a crying Leliana.
"...?! Leliana?"
"Don't leave..."
She doesn't want to be alone again. She doesn't want to feel unrequited love again.
"What do you mean 'leave'? My tent is next Alistair's and yours."
"Do you yearn for her?"
"What? Who?"
There was no turning back.
Suddenly her throat feel dry and her hands uncontrollably shaking.
"Morrigan..."
The name sound vile in her mouth.
"Do you yearn for her? Do you...like her?"
...
"Of course I like her, Morrigan is my friend, why wouldn't like my friend?"
A small, nearly inaudible sigh of relief escapes her mouth.
He heard it anyway.
Leliana...
His thumbs skim her cheeks and trace her jaw, leaving behind buzzing nerves and a desire to touch him back. Her hands fly to his waist and clamp into him possessively
He chuckled softly.
"You are rather a selfish woman."
She tried to figure out the right thing to say, but nothing came out...And she is forced to look away like a child caught in an act of mischief.
"But you know what?"
She looked back and he kissed her.
It has taken her completely off-guard.
Into the kiss she could taste everything, his desires, his fears, all the love he beared for her.
It felt like heaven.
"I am selfish too."