A/N: This has taken me a horribly long time to complete, and for that, I apologise profusely. Without further ado, I present to you the final chapter of When You Hurt Me The Most. Enjoy, review, criticise, eat cake, ride a unicorn.
Arielle attempted to struggle against Morrigan's hold on her, but it was no use; she barely had enough energy to hold her own head up. She didn't quite know what she was hoping to achieve by leaving the tent and going out into the cold, especially whilst she was in agony from the wound to her shoulder, but the fact that the witch had even come to her aid in the first place was proof enough that she cared, to a certain extent.
Morrigan lead Arielle back into the tent and carefully lay her down on the pile of blankets and furs she'd fashioned into a bed. She readjusted the large blanket around her to keep her from the cold, and checked the bandaging to make sure she hadn't ruptured the puncture wound too severely. There was a gentleness to the witch's ministrations that Arielle had rarely seen before, and a sense of disquiet in her eyes that seemed somewhat unfamiliar. She touched the girl's forehead with the back of her hand, feeling fire. She reached for the cloth and the bowl of cold water she left next to the opening of the tent and tenderly dabbed her brow to soothe the poison's fever.
"As I said before, once you've recovered, you must leave me," Morrigan said quietly, again unable to bring herself look at Arielle as she spoke.
Arielle was silent for a few moments, finding the pain in her heart far more agonising than the pain in her shoulder. She wanted to simply break down and cry, but her pride would not allow it. She determinedly fought away the tears that were beginning to well in her eyes, finding it almost as testing as killing a Hurlock.
But what she said next was more difficult to utter than even battling the Archdemon itself, "I will."
She turned her head away to stop Morrigan touching her forehead with the cooling cloth. She was feeling so betrayed by the witch that she didn't want her anywhere near her, even if that meant she was forced to suffer through the fever.
The witch suppressed a sigh of frustration and set the bowl down next to the bed. "I'm sorry, Arielle." She reached out to touch her shoulder, but then thought better of it and allowed her hand to drop to her lap.
When Arielle spoke, her words were as cold as the Frostback snow and her voice was unwavering and firm, "It would have been easier for both of us if you'd just left me to die out there."
Morrigan grimaced at the girl's candour, and shook her head. She spoke sombrely and sincerely – more so than she had ever done before, "You know I could never do that."
"Don't you understand?" She turned back, then, to look into the mage's tawny eyes. "Without you, my life… it just doesn't mean anything to me anymore…"
"Don't say things like that."
"It's the truth," Arielle said.
"What about your brother? Or Alistair, Wynne, Oghren, or…" Morrigan paused, forcing herself not to allow any vitriol with the next name she spoke, "…Leliana?"
"They all have their own lives to lead now the Blight is over," Arielle said miserably. "My brother is to be Teryn of Highever; Alistair the King of Ferelden… Wynne is likely going to return to the Circle; Oghren to Orzammar… and Leliana…" She trailed off, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt when she thought of the redheaded bard again. "Leliana will almost certainly return to the Chantry; perhaps even to Orlais... There is nothing left for me here, except to go down into the Deep Roads and slowly wither and die with the last of the Darkspawn."
"You could go to Highever with your brother, could you not?" Morrigan suggested. "After all, every noble house needs a woman's touch to keep it in order."
Arielle shook her head sadly; the witch's attempt to make her smile overlooked, "I don't belong there – not anymore… I'm a Grey Warden now, not Lady Cousland. Things will never, and can't ever, go back to the way they were before. I was foolish to think otherwise."
"You could never be foolish, Arielle," Morrigan professed, wishing she could take hold of the girl's hand to let her know she meant every word she said. But she wouldn't. She didn't want to give her the wrong impression, and more importantly, she didn't want to play with the Grey Warden's feelings. She'd done it before, but she refused to do it now. "You are wise beyond your years."
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Say things like that. Pretend to be nice to me," Arielle said. In a quieter voice, she continued, "You planned it all along, didn't you? The ritual… Alistair… the Archdemon. It wasn't to save me at all; it was so you could harvest the power of that… thing growing inside you." She paused for a moment, collecting herself. "I believed every word you said about Flemeth, and what she was doing… but now I see you are just the same as she." The Grey Warden turned to look at the Witch of the Wilds again, and let out a short, dry, laugh. "That is what they say, isn't it? Like mother, like daughter."
Morrigan's eyes flickered with fire, juxtaposed with glistening tears. "Is that what you truly think?"
"You haven't given me any reason to think otherwise."
The red-hot blade of the Warden's words embedded itself deep into the witch's heart, and the pain almost felt so physically real that she nearly reached up to clutch at her chest. The tears flowed mercilessly down her cheeks, now; free, just like the birds. It was cathartic, and for the first time in her life, she didn't care that someone could see her like that – exposed, vulnerable. "The ritual was for selfish reasons," she muttered, her voice shaking slightly, "not because I desired the power of an Old God, but because I couldn't…" she looked into Arielle's shining emerald eyes, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, "I couldn't bear to lose you." The words hung heavily in the wintry air, and all Arielle could do was simply stare expressionlessly at the mage.
Morrigan turned away, suddenly overcome by shame and anger. She hated being at the mercy of her own emotions, and loathed the way the young woman lying before her was capable of causing them to swirl around inside her heart and her head like a ferocious, unrelenting squall. She got up to leave, craving the punishing chill of the winds outside the tent to force her to regain control of herself. She didn't look at Arielle as she rose, afraid of what she might be able to read in the Warden's eyes.
She was just pushing aside the flap of the opening when the girl spoke softly. "If you couldn't bear to lose me, why did you leave?"
The witch turned her head slightly in acknowledgement, but her body remained positioned to leave the tent. "This is the way it must be."
"You're wrong." Arielle's voice was strong despite her weak condition, and she determinedly heaved herself to her feet despite a painful protest from her shoulder. She held the bulky blanket around her as best she could, and stepped towards Morrigan. "It doesn't have to be like this, and you know it." She could see the mage's shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. "Why did you go to so much trouble to keep me alive if you never planned on seeing me ever again?"
"I… do not know what this child may be capable of, Arielle… I cannot risk it hurting you. I couldn't forgive myself..." She turned around slowly, taking in Arielle's features – memorising them – as if it may be the last time she might look upon her. Her heart squeezed in her chest, for even though she was frightfully pale, red-eyed and dishevelled, the witch still thought her extraordinarily beautiful. "I can't forgive myself."
"Morrigan, I don't…"
Arielle blinked, swaying on the spot. Her eyes closed, and she toppled forwards. The mage stooped to catch her and carefully lowered her back down onto the furs. The poison was taking its toll on her body, even despite Morrigan's magic keeping it in stasis. She needed to draw it out, and quickly, for she already feared she may be too late. She knew it was best for the Warden to be awake during the process, but she wasn't sure she had time enough to wait for her to wake up again, and she certainly wasn't prepared to take that risk. Uncovering the vicious wound again, the mage held her hand over the puncture, feeling her magic tingle in her fingertips. Slowly, she began to siphon the poison that lingered in Arielle's bloodstream. The girl writhed and struggled in her insentient state, prompting Morrigan to have to restrain her with her free arm and cast another spell to temporarily stop her body from moving. She cried aloud; the pain so raw in her screams that it almost brought Morrigan to tears again, and she bit down hard on her lip to stop herself. She needed to concentrate, for Arielle's sake, and she couldn't do that if she was a sobbing wreck.
Once the remainder of the poison was drawn out, the girl seemed to rest peacefully. The witch slumped, drained from the large portion of mana she'd consumed, but relieved that it was finished; relieved that Arielle was going to be okay. She leant forwards, brushing her lips gently against the Warden's forehead, and walked wearily out of the tent to refresh herself with the cold mountain air.
Morrigan spent the next few hours outside next to the fire, occasionally checking to see if Arielle was experiencing anymore discomfort. She sipped the herbal tea she'd made, the warmth radiating through the ceramic gently warming her cool hands. The frosty air was relatively calm with only the slightest of breezes, upon which the snowflakes floated like tiny little white birds. There was something beautiful about the isolation of the snowy mountains that couldn't be found anywhere else, but up until that point, it had been lacking something she hadn't been able to put her finger on. Now, she knew exactly what it was.
Arielle.
She was three-quarters of the way through her tea when she heard movement behind her. Conjuring a small flame in her hand, it would serve to waylay her possible assailant long enough for her to get to her staff, and, failing that, she always had a small knife – no longer than her middle finger – tucked inside her boot.
"I'm ready to leave."
The flame in Morrigan's hand dissipated as her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. "Very well," she bit out, unable to hide the strain in her voice. She set her cup down on a flat rock she'd been using as a table, and forced herself to stand up.
"Thank you for the help," Arielle said coolly, formally. The witch didn't turn around, so she continued to talk to her feathered back. "I don't expect we'll see each other again." She paused, waiting for the older woman to at least acknowledge her. Not even the slightest twitch, just as she'd expected. The tiny sliver of hope that had been lingering in the back of her mind now vanished, once and for all. "Goodbye, Morrigan."
The apostate could hear the snow crunching behind her as Arielle started to walk away. All of a sudden she seemed to realise the certainty of the situation, and it frightened her. The thought of losing Arielle again frightened her. She turned, taking a few brisk paces to catch up to her, "Wait."
The Warden froze, her heart pounding ferociously beneath her ribcage.
"I can't lose you again. I won't lose you again." Words that she would have once found difficult to say flowed easily from her lips and off her tongue. "When I left after the battle with the Archdemon, I thought I was protecting you. I thought you would be better off without me, knowing what I'd done; how I'd betrayed you… that I'd be better off on my own…" She closed her eyes tightly, trying to maintain her composure. "I realise now that I was so very wrong. I love you, Arielle. I love you, and you are the only person I have ever loved, and will ever love."
The Warden turned around, then. Her cheeks were glistening with tears, but she was smiling. She crossed the gap between them swiftly, capturing the witch's lips with her own. "I love you too, Morrigan." She took a step back, her gaze lowering to the mage's stomach. "This child; God… whatever it is. We can face it together. Raise it together. I don't care. All I know is that I don't want to be apart from you again."
Morrigan was already smiling, but now it grew wider, and lit up her eyes. Her mother had told her a story when she was a child – though she wasn't usually one for soppy tales – about how all people used to have two heads and four legs, until the Maker split everyone into two parts. Each half then had two legs and one head, but only half of their soul. And so, from then on, each person would spend the rest of their life searching for their soul mate – the one who possessed the other half of their soul.
Arielle was her soul mate. Of that, she was certain – more so than she'd ever been about anything in her life.
"We won't be apart again," she said, pressing her lips softly to the Warden's. "I promise."
End.
A/N: Thank you so, so much to everyone who's read, followed and reviewed this story. It means such a lot to me. I hope you've all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.