Thoughts of the Warden started to creep up on her during her waking hours, not just flitting fancies of her dreams. She grew more and more bold with each passing conversation. While he was never overt or straightforward, which maddened her terribly, she was learning to see his subtle hints.
He was not the sort of man to shout his desires from the rooftops or pledge to slay dragons to curry favor. No, the Warden was quiet, simple and thoughtful. His praise of her beauty came as segues in their conversations. His fondness for her stories showed when he waved their companions to silence so that he might better hear her. He did not boast extravagant gifts to impress, instead opting to quietly offer or even leave outside her tent items that she had mentioned in passing as something of profound meaning: bouquets of her mother's favorite wildflowers, a pair of blue-ribboned shoes she had once desired back in Orlais, relics attributed to Holy Andraste and even a pet nug from Orzammar.
The problem with his subtlety was that she could not tell how deep his kindness ran. And she was not the only recipient. Morrigan had taken to sending Leliana hateful looks during their meanderings around camp. She even started making snide offhand remarks during their joint wanderings, just out of earshot of the Warden.
Morrigan started carefully, with light insinuations about sharing, then grew bolder to threaten consequences for Leliana's growing intimacy with the Warden. As the weeks progressed Morrigan's mood grew more and more sullen (even for her), and finally erupted in an argument in the marketplace of Denerim.
"You cannot possibly think he would prefer you?" Leliana was taken aback at this, but held her ground, "Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you." Even in anger Morrigan always kept her composure, appearing unruffled, "Oh, and what is it exactly that you believe you have to offer?"
Leliana watched the Warden's back as he approached a vendor and pulled out his purse to purchase sundries and considered a moment. Their nearly nightly conversations, both idle and rich, had stirred something within her that had laid dormant for many years.
She smiled faintly, turning back to Morrigan. "I don't know, but if we are together it will be because he wants me and he loves me. These things are real." The conversation quickly decayed into Morrigan's disdain for Leliana's childish notions of "love" versus Leliana's disgust towards Morrigan treating the Warden as a bedroom dalliance only.
The witch's tongue grew sharper still, retorting, "The way you look at him so intently, so hungrily... One would think you have never seen a man before." A direct hit, for Leliana blushed furiously. Was my watching him so obvious to everyone? Leliana tried to be nonchalant. "Where I look is not your concern." Morrigan would not be deterred, however, and struck back with, "It is almost as though you wish he would feel your gaze upon him and notice you." Leliana fumed. I am not so childish as that! But Morrigan continued, a chill smile on her full lips. "And maybe he does notice you, but what does he see? A girl, skinny like a boy with wild, ragged hair."
Her cold words hit home with Leliana. She had no false modesty about her appearance; Leliana knew she was rather beautiful with her full lips, bright blue eyes and lithe grace. Her training as a bard allowed her to switch effortlessly between a demure maiden and a confident lady of means; whatever her mark needed her to be in order to win the game. But she had opted to be herself and play this role of companion honestly, wearing her faith and guileless nature on her sleeve with no underlying intention to woo. She had been overjoyed when he had responded favorably to her and sensed a kindred spirit within him.
But Morrigan was a different story. She flaunted her beauty and reveled in the attention, but played coy and disinterested when it suited her. She wore her hair carelessly but her makeup accentuating her exotic amber eyes, chiseled cheeks and large mouth was meticulously applied. Morrigan also showed no interest in upgrading her clothing or gear, preferring to remain in Chasind rags that set off her voluptuous curves. In a contest of raw beauty, Morrigan was the superior opponent. And she knew it.
Leliana found herself suddenly bolstered, her insecurity washed away by peace. She internally thanked the Maker for strengthening her resolve. I will not be undone by this woman. "What is your point, Morrigan? That I am not attractive? I do not need to make disparaging remarks about other women to make myself feel better. I know who I am."
Morrigan's smug smile wavered, which encouraged Leliana to continue, "You say that I am the one who tries to be noticed, when it is you. He has ignored your advances, hasn't he?" Morrigan's yellow eyes narrowed, confirming Leliana guessed correctly. Leliana was relieved. He hasn't taken that fiend of a woman to his bed. This was the first time Leliana actually admitted to herself that she wanted the Warden that badly.
Leliana finished her thought calmly, "Perhaps it's time you stop projecting your own troubles on someone else." Morrigan did not register the coup de grace and simply lazily shifted her gaze elsewhere, projecting an air of bored disinterest once more. Leliana turned just in time to see the Warden eyeing her curiously. She froze. How much of that did he hear? But he did not press the issue and simply continued about their business, the agenda for the day including a trip the Pearl brothel and clearing out some dangerous alley thugs.
As the day waned on, Leliana grew more and more angry. She hated that Morrigan was able to get under her skin and make her doubt herself. What if she's right? Leliana was not the sort to constantly fret and fidget over her appearance, and even less the sort to pine for a man like a simpering maiden. But the seeds of doubt had been planted, making Leliana wonder if he shared her interest or if she were fooling herself. Her anger had danced back and forth between being directed at Morrigan for her cruel words and herself for allowing this woman to rattle her.
Leliana sighed at the memory, remembering how immature she was just a few short months ago. The Warden's journal entry on the encounter warmed her considerably. It was dog-eared and well-worn, a memory the Warden had sought to return to often.
Denerim 2:27, 9:31 Dragon
Returned to Denerim following our harrowing trip through the Deep Roads. Thankfully the bustle of the city is so great and the threat of civil war so near that the guards within the city are stretched to their limits. They do not register a small cadre of armed apostates, killers and Grey Wardens sneaking around subverting Ferelden. We had one close call with an underground Grey Warden support group that turned out to be a trap, but thankfully they were ill-prepared for my team.
My favorite part of visiting new places is living vicariously through my companions. Each of them sees the world so differently from the rest and overhearing their exchanges is one of my favorite delights.
Not all exchanges are positive, though. Today as I was updating our packs with more poultices and lyrium reserves, the witch and the bard got into it. About me.
I had always found Morrigan's flirtations to be harmless. I assumed it was a natural condition for her, as she is such a profoundly beautiful creature.
Leliana gritted her teeth, but continued.
However, my heart hardened after Iona and I vowed to never again be distracted from my duty for a tumble. Morrigan was persistent, however, and I should have been more straightforward with spelling out my disinterest.
After all, she was not the one I wanted.
Leliana held her breath at this statement.
But I shall get to that. We retired for the night back at the outskirts for camp. I had been seeking an opportunity to speak with Leliana all day, but the time never seemed right. I could tell she was hiding being upset, for her brow occasionally furrowed and her marvelous dinnertime stories were absent.
I went to Morrigan first while Leliana took the first watch (I did not want Leliana to see me speaking with Morrigan and get a false impression). Morrigan was coy as always, and teased me that my eyes constantly wandered to the bard, an "agreeable sort of woman" for men who revel in "domesticated bliss." She even coldly asked if our dalliance was worthwhile and downplayed my inquiries if she was jealous. She then demanded to know my intentions if I were truly interested in her. I gave myself pause, feeling I owed her enough to appear to consider the choice. But in my mind, there was no choice at all. It had been strange to say aloud "I want Leliana" for the first time, but the words felt at home. Morrigan dismissed me with a wave of her hand and said she was fine to dispense with any further pretense of romance.
I lay awake in my tent, counting down the minutes for the early even watch shift to end so that I could speak with her when she returned from patrol. I practiced over and over in my mind what I wished to say, which tended to range from the insipid to the stupid. My words were never adequate around her but I could not stand to see her suffer Morrigan's verbal slings and arrows.
Leliana smiled in relief. She remembered she spent the watch internally debating with herself what to say, and was terrified that the Warden would admit he would rather wade through Morrigan's swamp. When she had seen him leave his tent and approach her, she resolved not to waste another moment in ambiguity.
Her first words to me, bathed in the warm glow of the fire, stopped the beating of my heart. I will never forget them. "I enjoy the nights at camp. The night always seems more peaceful to me, safer." I agreed that I knew what she meant. Night was our only chance to rest from our duty. She continued in her quiet, thoughtful way. "I feel the night grants us a reprieve from the troubles of the day. Silly, isn't it? The darkspawn never sleep, and they lurk in the shadows." Again I agreed, voicing what I had thought seconds earlier. Finally given moments to ourselves to lay down our burdens was anything but silly.
Her next words then sent my heart racing. "I enjoy those nights when we stand guard together, talking to pass the time in those small hours… Well, I talk and you listen, mostly," she had corrected with a smile. "Sometimes, I succumb and fall asleep, and wake to find you still watchful. And I know you're watching out for me." I could only murmur something inane like "You never have to feel afraid with me." Which was the truth, I would never allow harm to befall her.
I could scarcely believe when she confessed, "What I am trying to say, is that I trust you. I'm comfortable around you. I know that you will be there when I need you," for it mirrored my thoughts perfectly.
She started her next words in such a rush that she nearly tripped over them. "You are our leader, and my friend, and sometimes I think that maybe.. we could be more than that... Maker! Look at me, stumbling over my words like an ill-educated peasant girl. Some bard I am..." She had smiled and shrugged in embarrassment, trying to lighten the mood. I was struck with worry, afraid she was going to take her words back. Part of me needed her to, because I could not, should not, be distracted from my dark path. I decided to give her an out and retreated to complimenting her on how cute she was when she was embarrassed.
I saw her familiar spark return, charmingly attributing any flush to her cheeks to being too near the campfire. I admitted that one such as her being interested in me was flattering. She had teased me, acting wounded that I implied her taste was poor, and followed up by a curious string of half-compliments. "Why can't I like you? You're a good person, a great listener, a remarkable warrior. And… you're fairly good-looking. Most of your facial features are in the right place." I had sarcastically commented back about how complimentary she was, which she took in stride.
"There isn't much more I can say. My feelings have been laid bare: you are very special to me." And there it was. She stood before me, her eyes shimmering pools of light. I considered her words carefully, afraid to answer. Would reciprocating be a betrayal to my vow to stop the Blight? She would be by my side to face it, surely there was no harm? I let the silence carry on a little too long, and I saw her face start to fall. No, I would not live another moment being coy about my intentions. I touched her shoulder and told her what my heart knew ages ago: That I always wanted us to be more than friends.
I thought she would be happy, but she was so cross! I was stunned by her accusations of poor manners and leading her on. She was right; a true gentleman would have made his intentions clear and I had cultivated the false impression that I cared for the witch. Two mistakes already! I could only sheepishly ask if she still liked me, after all I had put her through.
She lightly teased me again, declaring my poor communication was the death of chivalry.
I decided I would not be accused of saying the wrong thing again. She was right, I had been cowardly with my inaction. I won't make that same mistake again.
I still remember that kiss as though it were a moment ago. I had stepped forward and focused my gaze, daring her to turn away. Her skin was so soft as my hand reached up to hold her face, her lips so inviting in the moonlight. I still remember her surprised expression which quickly softened as she tilted to meet me and her arm wrapped around my neck.
It was, in one word, heavenly.
When we finished I saw a blush spread across her cheeks. But not with embarrassment this time. She quietly said that settled it then.
I could not help but breath into her ear, "And you are not a skinny boy with ragged hair. You are beautiful, and the best thing that has ever happened to me." I saw she was taken aback, probably upset that I had been eavesdropping. But it was worth the faux pas to see her confidence return and understand that the witch's otherworldly outer-beauty was incomparable to Leliana as a whole. There was no one part of her that sent my heart racing. It was her entire person, her smile coupled with her kind eyes, sweet Orlesian inflections, porcelain skin, grace in battle, firm beliefs and strength of character that drew me in and left me breathless.
I don't know if what we have will last. But if my end is to be at any moment, I wish to face it regretting nothing.
Leliana sighed wistfully. Had their love been doomed from the start? She didn't realize he had carried such a fatalistic viewpoint on his shoulders. He hid so much from her and the rest of the companions, determined to maintain a strong, unwavering façade.
As she turned the pages, a loose sheet of parchment slipped into her lap. She unfolded the paper and her breath caught in her throat.
It was an incredible likeness. During one of the times she had mentioned falling asleep, he had used the opportunity to preserve her on paper to keep forever. This Leliana was reclined along a tree trunk, her bow resting under her fingers. Her hair draped over her face and there was a faint attempt in the brushstrokes to capture the lighting of the campfire as it danced over her curves.
The deep creases and crinkled texture indicated he had revisited the sketch very often. She held it to her lips, and her nose detected his familiar scent: a mixture of sweat, metal and a light antiseptic musk from the constant presence of poultices and healing herbs. He must have kept the drawing on his person during their battles. Suddenly a drop of moisture appeared on the page, smudging the delicate ink lines. Leliana had to pull the paper away to keep her tears from damaging the drawing further.
The drawing was dated in the winter, only a month after she had joined the group. He had kept her close all this time. And she would keep him close forever.
Ren's Note:
This is something I illustrated. Yes yes, writing is all about painting a picture with words. Or I could just paint a freaking picture. Please see the PROJECT UPDATES section of my profile for the link.
