"One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can't utter." - James Earl Jones
'Twas not as if she loved him. Oh, yes, he was symmetrical of feature and regular enough of complexion, and he had a head full of hair and white, strong teeth. But what would that matter in the darkness, whether he be of stock good or ill? Or so Flemeth had chuckled as she detailed to her daughter her Plan. Who could tell? After all, was he not just a tool to be reserved for a higher purpose? It was why Flemeth had saved him, of course, and it gave his life greater purpose, whether he knew it or not. And even with Flemeth gone, he was still equally a tool; for her own purpose.
Morrigan stirred the campfire with the end of a log and watched the man sleeping by the red firelight. He stirred slightly at the sound, muttering something indecipherable before sighing as if in great relief. The fire cast red roses across his cheeks and lengthened the shadows below his eyelashes. The streaks streamed like black tears across his face as the fire flickered.
A tool, she told herself. For a greater purpose.
Author's Note: This story is an art trade with PolymorphicGirl on deviantArt (Polymorphe here on ). She requested a fluffly Morrigan x Alistair fic. Checkout her dA page for the comics that were the inspiration!