4. f!Surana / Morrigan - tragic flaw
On some nights, before the crackling fire, Surana would look across the camp to see the swamp witch preoccupied in her personal studies. She loved the way the fire glowed on Morrigan's black hair, the way she would brush her bangs aside while she read the grimoire in total concentration. She wouldn't realize she had been staring until Morrigan's eyes had caught her own and raised a lovely brow.
Quickly the elf would return to the conversation before her, pretending to have been engaged by whatever cheese-related topic that Alistair had been prattling on about, not realizing it was now a discussion about something Leliana heard about the Maker.
She would then miss the smile on the witch's face before she resuming her reading.
"Tis a curious thing. I don't know how else to describe it."
The mage is confused. Describe what? Is something wrong?
Nothing is wrong. It's something else entirely.
"I am aware that I have... little talent for forming friendships, to put it lightly. 'Tis something I know nothing of, nor ever thought I needed. Yet when I discovered Flemith's plans, you did not abandon me. Whatever your reasons, you must have fought what must have been a terrible battle without hope of real reward."
Reward? Was her happiness not actually a reward? Because to her, it was. That's all she ever really needed, much less wanted. The knowledge that she was the reason for the witch's safety and happiness was enough. Though she would love warm press of the witch's lips upon her own, the warmth of her brilliant smile was all that was needed. That was what friendship was, right?
She did it because they were friends.
"And that is what I do not understand. Of all the things I could have imagined would have resulted when Flemith told me to go with you, the very last would have been that I would find in you a friend... perhaps, even a sister."
Her heart clenched. A sister. Yes, that's what that feeling must have been. While it was certainly different from her relationship with Amell or Jowan, the need to protect someone was just as strong within her.
"I want you to know that while I may not always prove worthy... of your friendship, I will always value it."
She froze. How could she not be worthy of her friendship? From the very beginning, in spite of Morrigan's initial hesitation to leave, they'd gotten along incredibly well. Not every instance was met eye to eye, but the logical reasoning behind each decision easily persuaded the witch that she knew what she was doing and that the party was in capable hands. Morrigan's own insights were invaluable throughout their journey together.
Realizing the other woman had stopped talking, she pulled her close, into her arms. The witch stiffened at the sudden physical contact, unsure of what to do next. Hesitantly she moved her arms around the elf.
Snapping out of her reverie, Surana stumbles back from the awkward embrace. The sound of the fire crackling slowly is the only sound between them before she can find the proper words.
"Morrigan, I- ... I mean, if it were not for you- ... "
Both women are oblivious to the eyes, some discreet while others not so much, upon them.
"Thank you," is all that she can make out. But that is all that needs to be said.
Oghren has already passed out by the time she makes her way to the main camp. All eyes had returned to their previous distractions before she'd even managed to notice them. The camp is silent for the rest of the night.
"So we head into the city together, as it should be. Once this is done, no matter how it turns out, I will be gone. You are aware of this, yes?"
She wants to beg her to stay. She wants to travel all of Thedas with her, just the two of them. She want to wake up after the battle and see she never left, the two of them taking off and seeing the world.
But she can't. It's not like her to say that kind of thing. Morrigan would not even hear of it. So she does the only thing that she can do. She thanks her. For everything she has done, all that they've been through together, all of it and more.
"You are most welcome. It is the very least, I think, I can offer you. Allow me to say only one thing before we go," a sigh weighs down on her lips. "I knew nothing of friendship before we met. And I will always consider you such." Her voice begins to tremble. "Live well my friend. Live gloriously." She takes a breath to calm herself. "Now let us see this finally done. The Archdemon awaits."
It is difficult for the mage to breathe. She knows that is because she is uncertain whether she will succeed or not. She knows that it is because it is the final battle and everything they had prepared for has led up to this. It is not because she fears the inevitable loss of her human witch. It is not because every moment closer to defeating the Archdemon means a moment closer to her leaving. It is not because from this point on, she will have to live her life without her.
They march into the city. The final battle awaits.
Surana cannot hear the music or the banter of the people celebrating around her. She cannot see the bright banners decorating the castle not smell the feast in the room next to hers. She can only feel the empty pang of longing. She responds to those around her, attempting to engage in conversation, but the energy required to smile seems to rise exponentially every second.
Behind every pillar and in every dark corner, she looks for a face she knows will not be there. They have finally reached the end. The story has finally reached its conclusion. So why does it feel like there was something left to be told?