This will probably be a few chapters long. I just had something I really wanted to get off my chest after playing Inqusition. :P

9:36 Dragon

Darkness. Corruption. Everywhere she looked, there was nothing but thick, impenetrable blackness.

It had always slithered about in the corners of her mind, like someone standing in her peripherals each time she shut her eyes, waiting - sometimes silently, sometimes whispering in her ear in a language she didn't understand. She had learned to accept it, to push the voices and the pulsing darkness away as it throbbed inside her head. At first it had been difficult, but feasible. Now the encroaching darkness seemed constant. It snaked down her face and into her eyes, blinding her, suffocating her; no matter how much she struggled against it, it seemed more and more in vain. It was something that clambered out of her very bones and dug into her skin. It had always been there, but only now did it become violent, tearing her apart from the inside out.

The Blight.

She wanted to scream, but instead, she listened. There were whispers. There were always whispers when she dreamed. But now they almost seemed to be in tune to...something. Like the inaudible, hushed words she had always heard were a silent symphony all along. She no longer wanted to struggle. She wanted to listen. She wanted to hear it.

The song.

It was faint. Very faint. Like the muffled sound that manages to reach you from a tavern two blocks away. She stopped struggling. She stopped breathing. Anything, to just hear it clearly...

No, no, no...

She had to struggle. She remembered the melody. She had heard its haunting, mesmerizing chorus before. The Archdemon. The whole time she had been on the tower, fighting for her life...her mind had been engaged in a similar battle. To shut this out. The very thing she felt herself slowly drawn towards now.

She had to do it again.

She screamed. As loudly as she could. But it made no sound. She struggled, as violently as she could. But it made no difference.

Just...one more...listen to it...

Aerya Mahariel awoke with a start.

She could feel the sweat trickling down her forehead and back, drenching the bed beneath her. She felt cold - bone chillingly cold, and her breathing was hoarse. Her bone-dry throat made her feel like she hadn't had a drop of water in days...despite the fact there was a half-empty waterskin on the table beside her. She felt like she'd been screaming for hours - despite the fact that Leliana was still fast asleep beside her, her breathing even and her expression calm.

She blinked rapidly, trying to expel the darkness that still crept up around the corner of her vision. She wanted to tear at her skin, rip the Blight out of it until her nails reached muscle and bone. She wanted to be free of the feeling that lingered inside of her, creeping up from the pit of her stomach and pulsing in her head like a constant, mind-numbing headache.

She had always had dreams. At times, they had been similarly violent to the one she had woken from now. They had never stayed with her after she awoke, however. Even during the Blight. She was always told Warden's dreams were particularly...vivid on two occasions; Blights, and when they acted as an omen to The Calling.

The Calling.

No, not now. Not yet. It's too soon.

"You have thirty years to live, give or take." Alistair had told her. He seemed so nonchalant when he'd said it, like it was nothing but a minor inconvenience, a small loophole in the hypothetical Warden job description. But she remembered the sudden, terrible fear that had washed over her in that moment. The stories of the 'Great Hero of Ferelden' often told of a woman of impossible strength and valour, unshakable in her resolve and unflinching in duty. Maybe it was true. She'd never think twice about throwing herself in front of an arrow in place of someone she loved, or giving her life for a cause. She was able, she was willing - but the truth of it all was that death terrified her. She'd leaped on the opportunity to avoid death to the Archdemon, because she was scared. The uncertainty. The blackness.

And now, it seemed upon her.

Without a word, she slowly pushed herself up, gently setting Leliana's arms that were draped over her aside. The redhead shifted slightly, moaning softly in her sleep, but never woke. The elf couldn't help but stare at her lover for a moment, a rising sadness growing in the pit of her stomach. She seemed peaceful; her mouth was opened ever so slightly as she silently breathed, her eyelashes fluttering as she dreamed. Of what, she couldn't guess. She assumed it was something more pleasant than her own night terrors.

Aerya sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her head between them as she steadied her breathing. She loved Leliana more than life itself. Wrapped in her arms, she felt like nothing else in the world mattered, that no one else mattered. She had been the first human to truly make her feel not only welcome in this strange, foreign world, but wanted. Something the Dalish elf had never expected when she so coldly brushed her away on their first meeting in Lothering. She had been desperate to feel validated on her judgement of the shemlen. Her whole life, especially after hearing of her mother and father, she'd been so desperate to paint everyone outside her own people with the same brush, that she'd entered the human world kicking and screaming, bashing her head against anyone and anything she could...but Leliana made her realize she was being an idiot. At first, she'd felt regret. Later, she'd felt love.

She used to keep the dreams at bay. Wrapped in her arms, the Darskpawn seemed like a distant thing, even when they were in the thick of the Blight. Now, it seemed nothing could. It was a decisive barrier in their relationship that Aerya had realized early on; she was a Grey Warden. Leliana was not. She could provide comfort and a moment of respite when the dreams hit, when the weight started to feel like it was too much to bear...but nothing more. She couldn't sympathize. She couldn't understand how she felt, with impending oblivion looming over you and growing closer with each passing night. She didn't know if the thought of it haunted Leliana as much as it haunted her. Perhaps it did. Perhaps she'd just wanted to live in the now instead of staying focused on the future. Unlike Aerya, she could do that.

She remembered those years following the Blight. No matter what hardships they faced, she felt like they'd be together forever. The Calling had been far from her mind, for a while - all that had mattered to her was Leliana and the days ahead of them. They were simpler times, but she missed them every day.

Then it felt like everything had changed overnight.

Leliana was Sister Nightingale now. Aerya was there when that first came to be, in Valence, a small Orlesian village on the coast of the Waking Sea. It had just been a suggestion then, a potential path that Leliana and her had discussed extensively. Then, not a year later, Dorothea ascended to the Sunburst Throne - and next thing Aerya knew her greatest friend and her love was the Divine's Left Hand. They still saw each other often - as often as they could, anyway. Aerya would sometimes arrive in Val Royeaux unannounced, attempting to sneak into Leliana's chambers in the Grand Cathedral and sweep her off her feet (as best as she could manage with her height, that is.) without the bard noticing. She never succeeded, but it never failed to put a smile on the redhead's face.

A smile which became increasingly strained as time went on, she noticed.

There was something different about her as Sister Nightingale. She still had the same giggle, the same smile, the same mannerisms...but Aerya could never help but notice the small tinge of stress. Sadness, sometimes. She looked like somebody with a threatening amount of weight on their mind, which was always on the verge of crushing it. She'd asked about it more than once, implored her to tell her the thoughts and concerns that bore down on her, but each time she was brushed aside. Leliana would never have done that to her before. Each time it happened, she'd been hurt - and she could see Leliana was too, deep down. There was some kind of wall between them that had never been there in the years before she'd become the Divine's Left Hand.

She thought she'd tell her all the things that troubled her one day, when she was ready. Ease both of their minds. But now it seemed as if it might be too late. Before too long Aerya was going to be marching off to an early death. Six years later. Not thirty, six.

She silently slid out of bed, reaching for the white nightgown piled on the ground and slipping it on, her movements noticeably stiff as she staggered forward towards the washbasin and mirror. She let out a long sigh as she slapped the cold water to her face, her murky vision clearing ever so slightly. She was almost afraid to see what would be looking back at her in the mirror as she lowered her soaking hands.

The elf let out an audible sigh of relief when she saw it was not, in fact, a hideous tainted creature. A sleep deprived one, perhaps. But not tainted - not entirely, anyway. Her messy, brownish blonde hair was bedraggled and lashed out at all angles after her tossing and turning, save for the soaking bangs that clung to her face and dangled over her deep, emerald eyes. Her olive-hued skin was paler than usual, in sharp contrast to the pronounced vallaslin tattoos that snaked around her forehead, cheeks, nose and chin - the symbol of Ghilan'nain, the Halla Mother. The bags around her eyes made her appear to have not managed a wink of sleep in weeks, but other than that, she looked fine.

That was until she peeled down the strap on her left shoulder to scratch an itch, and saw it. Black skin, blotched and tainted. It was small enough she would have easily overlooked it in the dark, but her heart skipped a beat as her fingers ran over it. Three spots, small, but rough. They didn't feel like her skin as she ran her fingers over them - they felt wrong, unnatural. They felt almost like scabs, raw to the touch but numb and unfeeling as she brushed over them. Her heavy breathing began again as she dug her fingernails into them, feeling the blood drawing up and coursing down her fingernails. She wanted them gone. She wanted to rip them out and never see them again. She dug, ripped, ignoring her watering eyes as she felt the skin peel. She closed her eyes, aggressively tearing her fingers into the blighted skin.

But the pain was too much. Her chest racking, it was only then she realized she was crying. Hot, messy tears streamed down her face and dripped into the washbasin, mixing with the clean, cool water and the black, unnatural blood drifting in it like smoke. She'd cried a lot as of late, more than before - she used to all the time, by herself, when the emotions she insisted on bottling up became too much to bear. She had when she was a child. She had when Tamlen died. She had when she'd left her clan. She had when Tamlen came back, and was gone again.

She never told her, but she had whenever Leliana and her had parted ways. Sometimes they didn't see eachother for months at a time. Each time, it hit her harder.

Now, she did again, when she felt like her whole world was crashing down on her head. What had seemed like a distant anomaly rather than a distinct reality had come early, crashing down on her swifter and sharper than any Darkspawn blade. She stifled her tears, pushing against the counter for support with her good arm as she slid her now completely loose nightgown back onto her shoulders, ignoring the dark blood now seeping into it from her shoulder. Wiping a few stray tears from her cheeks as they persisted, she gathered herself and stood straight. She took one last look at herself in the circular mirror, grimacing at her now blood-stained left shoulder, before tearing her gaze away and stumbling to the balcony overlooking Val Royeaux. It was barely morning yet, the morning chill creeping in alongside the first trickle of light through the opened window in Leliana's estate. It was a fairly decadent place; small, but distinctly 'Leliana.' Fancy Orlesian finery, various bits of decor ranging from Chantry related to Orlesian to Ferelden, and a constant fragrance Aerya couldn't quite place. Vanilla, perhaps. Rosey.

Andraste's Grace.

She sighed as she overlooked the city corner, only now beginning to shift from the night-life to the market day. She'd been to the bustling Orlesian capital more than a few times now, but had never quite grown accustomed to it. She'd felt overwhelmed when she entered Denerim; the crowds, the various clashing scents and odors, the shouting from every direction...it had made her head spin. But Val Royeaux made Denerim look like a quaint, secluded village. There were times when Leliana had to drag the elf outside into the fuss and flurry of the city. She'd lived among humans for so long now...but she still longed for quiet seclusion often.

Deep in her thoughts, tears still streaming down her face, she hardly heard Leliana begin to toss and turn behind her. She was evidently half-awake now, pulling the blankets up to cover herself as she became distinctly aware of the morning cold on her naked body. Aerya's eyes lingered on her for a second, more tears beginning to stream down her face before she shut her eyes tight and turned away.

What am I going to say?

It wasn't long before the shifting sounds seized, and she knew Leliana was awake. Her eyes were still closed as she suppressed more tears, but she knew what she was likely doing. Gently running her hands down where the elf usually lay, expecting to feel her soft body shifting in response to push up against her. Leliana would smile, give her a kiss on the back of her head and pull her close, breathing in her almost minty scent. Sometimes they'd fall asleep again. Sometimes they'd just lay there for a while, not wanting to get up quite yet. It was usually the same. It was always peaceful.

When she wasn't there, the shifting began again. She could hear her rise gently, slipping on her own nightgown, and begin to stretch as she rose to her feet. Gentle footfalls as her bare feet hit the hard, cold floor. Aerya was completely silent as Leliana meandered to the washbasin herself - but she knew what would give her away. The redhead let out a small but clear gasp as she undoubtedly saw the black, tainted blood in the washbasin. She hadn't even thought of that - she didn't want to think about what might have happened if she'd used it.

"Aerya!?" She called out, before turning and finding her on the balcony, slightly hunched over and using the railing for support as her tears started again.

The redhead swiftly closed the distance between them, stopping in the door-frame. "...love?" She said cautiously, her voice thick with concern. "Talk to me, please."

The elf didn't respond, but Leliana could no doubt hear the sobs she was fighting back now. Frowning, Leliana stepped forward, putting her hand on her shoulder only to gasp yet again when she felt the sticky, wet blood building up on it. "What-what happened? Are you-?"

Aerya collapsed, Leliana lunging forward to support her before she hit the ground. The smaller woman didn't even bother to fight the sobs anymore, they just poured out freely, undoubtedly echoing across the still-silent city. For a solid four minutes she buried herself in Leliana's breast, hot tears soaking into the thin fabric as she convulsed. She held her close, confused, but swiftly coming to the point of tears herself.

When it finally subsided, she gently pushed away from the elf, still holding onto her tightly, and her blue eyes met her green.

"Aerya, please. What happened?"

There was a moment's hesitation, before Aerya stepped back, sniffling and wiping a tear from her eye. With a deep sigh, she peeled her nightgown down slowly, feeling goosebumps shoot up as the now naked flesh met the outside air, but otherwise seemed eerily nonchalant. She let it slide off and pool at her feet, closing her eyes before she could see the bard's expression as she caught full sight of her. She felt unclean. Blighted. Vile. She wanted to coat herself in heavy armour and not make Leliana look at her like this, but she kept her eyes closed and breathed deeply as her lover took in the blighted blemishes on her nude form.

"That's...Aerya, what is-" The bard seemed to struggle with her words. The elf opened her eyes to see tears streaming down the redhead's own face at well.

"The Blight." Aerya said flatly. Her words seemed to cut clean through the silent atmosphere. She half-expected Leliana to back away, to see her as some dangerous tainted creature and run...but she should have known her better. Of course she wouldn't. Without a word the bard pulled her close, not caring that the blood still trickling from her shoulder began to seep into her own gown, and held her there - refusing to let go. They both teetered there for a while, the elf feeling the taller woman's tears drenching the top of her head. Before long, her own tears began to stream out again.

"I'm sorry." She whispered into Leliana's chest. She wasn't sure she heard her.

To be continued...