Morrigan

When it was over, Morrigan sought out Solona.

It was an irrational act. She had almost decided against it, knowing that Alistair would want to find her and make his apologies. Then she had been engulfed by sudden, inexplicable anger. The fool had a whole lifetime to spend with Solona thanks to her actions, whereas she must leave soon and in all likelihood never see her friend again. He could wait.

She found her in the courtyard, sitting cross legged on a small patch of grass and staring up at the sky. The stars were a comfort to her, Morrigan knew. Until she had been recruited into the Wardens, Solona's whole world had been restricted to the narrow confines of the Circle Tower. She was happy to escape what Morrigan had always thought of as a prison, but occasionally she mourned the loss of the only home she had ever known. When the world became overwhelming, and the task ahead of her too daunting, the unchanging sky was the familiar part of her life that she latched on to.

Solona's head turned slightly at the sound of her approach. She caught sight of Morrigan and for a moment there was silence, an uneasy tension that neither seemed sure of how to break. Then Solona smiled at her.

Morrigan almost smirked, but managed to bite it back when she realised that in this situation it could be seen as gloating. What had she really expected from Solona? Tears, hysteria, violent accusations and reprimands? Public displays of emotion weren't part of her nature. Many mistook her distance for aloofness, and Morrigan could see that Solona's innate reservation could easily have turned into that had her life been allowed to run its course. Her coolness did not stem from disdain but from isolation: it was the almost inevitable result of having to lead a broken order in a hostile world because the only other of your kind was unwilling to take control.

Solona silently extended a hand to her. Morrigan hesitated for a second, unable to completely shed the suspicion that she would be yanked roughly to the ground, before taking it. Solona squeezed lightly, almost like a mother trying to silently reassure her child, and tugged gently, urging Morrigan to take a seat next to her. Sitting on the grass she stared down at their entwined fingers, somehow so much more intimate than what she had just done with Alistair.

There was only one thing she could think of to say. She fought against it. It was completely asinine, clichéd, but there was a possibility that it might make Solona feel better about what had happened.

"He loves you."

And as she said it, she couldn't help but remember:

He fumbled his clothes on in the far corner of the room, fingers made clumsy by trying to dress as quickly as possible without exposing his nakedness to her eyes. The look in his eyes went deeper than guilt, bordering on something that was akin to grief.

"Must you wear that ridiculous expression?" she snapped, driven to distraction by the headache pooling behind her eyes and his apparent inability to understand the situation.

His eyes were almost surprised as he turned his face to her, as if he had forgotten she was there. Morrigan realised that he was already gone: he was thinking of returning to Solona, of what he would say to make things right between them. "I don't expect you to understand," he said in a voice far colder than she had ever expected to hear from him. "That would require having a heart."

"I know," said Solona quietly.

"Does that make it easier or harder?"

Solona's lips twitched. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

"You are taking this remarkably well."

"The ritual was necessary. Getting angry about it would be irrational."

"I have been given to understand that love isn't rational," said Morrigan, raising her eyebrows.

"You have done a lot for me, Morrigan," said Solona, and Morrigan stared at her with barely concealed surprise. Of all the things she had expected Solona to say to her tonight, this was not one of them. Apparently she was not quite through with surprising her, for she continued, "You have given me – and Alistair – a chance of life where before there was only the possibility of death. More than that, you've given us a chance of a life together. Circle mages live a restricted existence, particularly when it comes to love. I never expected to be able to love a man like Alistair."

"Indeed, who could predict such misfortune?" said Morrigan drily.

To her surprise, this elicited a genuine bark of laughter from Solona. "I know you don't understand what I see in him. To be honest," she continued, sobering slightly, "I'm quite glad of that at the moment." Abruptly her back grew rigid and she tilted her head slightly, as if listening to a distant sound. "He's looking for me," she said softly. "He's worried."

"And of course you must go to him," said Morrigan, surprised by the hint of bitterness that tinged her voice.

Solona waved her hand in the direction of the building, apparently dismissing Alistair for the time being. "In a minute. I want to thank you for now everything you have done, in case..." she trailed off, and Morrigan's mind automatically began to suggest endings for that sentence. In case you disappear before I can talk to you. In case I die. In case you die. Solona cleared her throat and continued. "In case we don't get the chance to speak before the battle."

Morrigan glanced down at their hands again and said quietly, "I must thank you too, Solona."

"You're welcome. Although," she laughed, "I'm not quite sure what it is you're thanking me for." She sprang lightly to her feet. "Until tomorrow, Morrigan," she said, smiling almost sadly, and turned to find Alistair.

As she watched her leave, Morrigan, like Solona, wondered exactly what it was that she was thankful for.

There were many things to choose from.

Valuing her unique skills despite the frequent and vocal disapproval of Alistair and Wynne. Offering respect when all she had expected was derision or fear. Risking her life to slay Flemeth and secure her grimoire. Mostly, she was grateful for those strange and precious months of her life where Solona had shown her what it was to have a friend, a sister.

The longing for companionship was so strong that she was suddenly seized by an almost overwhelming desire to stay. To forget the inevitable consequences of the ritual she had performed, resign herself to Alistair's idiocy and Oghren's drunkenness, and allow herself to be happy in a relatively normal life.

But no. Morrigan had already mapped out her destiny, and it did not include her friend.