._.~`~._.Morrigan._.~`~._.
She stood outside the door and hesitated, though why she wasn't quite certain. This was what she was meant to do. It was always supposed to end this way, her mother had told her so, yet now that the moment was upon her, fear gripped her once cold heart.
We are friends, the Warden had said, though the word seemed very foreign. A friend. Perhaps even a sister. Those words had come from her own lips, though she did not understand at the time. And at this very moment she had no doubt her friend was suffering in the silence of her room while her lover helped perform the ritual that would save their lives.
A ritual. Performed n the eve of battle in the dark of night. It is old magic, from a time before the Circle of Magi was created. Some might call it blood magic, but that is but a name. There is far more to fear in this world than names. They understood. It took little convincing with the Warden, and she gathered it took even less convincing with the would-be King. Their lives spared, their future renewed; such a small price to pay, was it not?
All the sacrifices she had made had come down to this moment; leaving her mother, months on the road with strangers that would become familiar fixtures in her life, it was all for what would happen within the next few minutes. She looked down at the breastband that barely covered her chest and adjusted the lacey fabric. She pulled at the two sticks that held her hair in a tight bun and removed them, allowing her black silky hair to fall onto her shoulders. A few deep breaths would give her the strength to move forward, and save her friend from dying a needless death.
She wasn't doing this to create some Old God. She wasn't doing this for her mother. She wasn't even doing it for herself. The Warden had shown her what it meant to have a friend, and she would not see this woman suffer the loss of her life or the one she held dear.
._.~`~._.Alistair._.~`~._.
He hopped on to the bed in nothing but his smallclothes, laying on his back with his hands folded behind his head. Easy enough, one quick ritual and all would be right with the world.
No, not easy at all. Gut wrenching panic spread through his body and he leaped out of bed as if it were on fire. He had placed his armor and clothing on a chair in the corner; now he moved it to the desk. No, keep them near the door in case an emergency exit is required. His clothing changed position more times than he had eaten cheese in the last week; and that was a lot!
A candle near the bed; an oddly romantic gesture? He lit it with a small piece of wood he dug out from the dancing flames in the fireplace. He had no idea why he had bothered to do so, but brought the candle back to it's position near the bed.
He lay back down and rested his head on the small pillow. His thoughts drifted to his Warden, wondering what she was doing at this very moment. Was she as uncomfortable as he was? Was she regretting her decision to convince him to be here? I love you, you know that right? Her voice so sweet, so innocent. It wasn't fair how her soft lips would produce such a question and then ask him to do the unthinkable.
But her eyes showed desperation and fear; two emotions he didn't even know she was capable of feeling. Since Riordan had told them someone had to die, she hadn't spoken a word until she came into his room and asked this of him. Is this really what you want me to do? Are you sure?
Of course she was. He was too. He would do anything for her. As the door opened and the witch walked in, he gave her a warm smile. For all her faults and deceptions, the woman before him was about to save his life and the life of the one he held most dear. That was a gift he would do anything for.