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Minor Edit: April 4th, 2014
Skinny Love
by Archristol
Disclaimer: I don't own Morrigan or the other Dragon Age characters. Ophelia Cousland's all mine, however. Song lyrics aren't mine.
Chapter 14 - God of Love
Ophelia adjusted her multiple cuffs, making sure her wrists had room to twist freely. She then reached for her gloves next, swishing it once to empty it of any debris. As she was about to slip her right hand into one, she detected a friend had come in.
In a few audible footsteps, she peered momentarily, "Hey Zevran, I was expecting you. Could you find Morrigan and make sure she's wearing enough layers for our trip?" she requested straightforwardly, not particularly looking at him.
Not wholly surprised of the order, Zevran grinned pleasantly, "Of course, my dear. I had expected for you to say that. That was exactly what I came for."
Ophelia snorted mutedly then mirrored his sarcasm, "I'm glad you know your place, slave," then she moseyed to him with a few things in her hands, "Bring these. Last I recall, she doesn't possess an abundance of clothing proper for extremely cold weather," she handed them to him simply.
"Oh. Attempting to get her to feel guilty again, are you?" Zevran chuckled while grabbing the objects, "Anything else?"
"Naturally," Ophelia answered his first question half-heartedly then she added, "And should she decline, tell her that I insist."
"Understood, my master," Zevran bowed obediently – to which Ophelia smiled and playfully pushed him, "I shall get to it," he finalized. He allowed her to pat him on the side once then he left promptly.
[-]
The thick cumulus clouds hid the unconfident sun and rendered a solemn tone, emphasizing the even more solemn morning. Tiny snowflakes sprinkled gently on Zevran's hair and navy cloak as he trudged downhill unto a shortened dock. The hooded woman on its wooden boards gazed blankly at the water's slight ripples, its subtle gloss leisurely dancing for her.
"Morrigan," Zevran called, waiting for the witch to turn before asking, "Is that all you will wear for our mission?" Under a cloak, she wore a variation of her regular outfit, covering her arms completely and flaunting less cleavage. It was more than her usual wear but it had only one layer.
"Yes," Morrigan's brow upturned, hinting her annoyance of the items she assumed was being delivered to her, "Is there a problem?"
"Wear these over your shirt. They are Ophelia's," Zevran offered, extending a hand out that held two black long sleeves.
Morrigan studied them carefully for a couple of seconds, her eyes matching their intricate golden trimming – she didn't need his words to know that they were Ophelia's. "I am not that cold," she declared in quick dismissal, waving a hand and pivoting away from eye contact.
Zevran planted a foot and contended a bit firmer, "As the mountain rises, it will be colder and you will need these. Ophelia insisted," he sounded almost caring, unfolding and gesturing the tunics for her.
"My magic will keep me warm," Morrigan checked her fingernails nonchalantly, faking for escape.
"And come the time when you must use your magic for something else?" Zevran quizzed, unfaltering in his stance.
Morrigan's eyes swung in a pendulum from the ground to him as she deliberated upon an answer. Frustrated, she snatched the articles of clothing from him tetchily, "Fine. If 'twould rid me of your pestering, I will wear them," she scoffed then undid her cloak and had Zevran carry it while she donned the layers hastily.
"Now, is that not more comfortable?" Zevran remarked when she finished, noticing that she had grasped them tightly and sniffed at their fabric in the transition. "Or..." he guiltily reconsidered, sensing that her cat eyes suddenly contained a sheen of sorrowful sentimentality, "Perhaps you prefer someone else's? If you wish, I can lend you mine."
"No. 'Tis sufficient," Morrigan adjusted them to prove it. Ophelia's shirts fitted perfectly over her own as overlays, plus they were luxuriously soft and had a pleasing aroma that reminded her of her cleanliness amongst the other things she cringed not to remember.
Zevran examined her intently, not fully convinced that she wouldn't be troubled by the thought of wearing Ophelia's wardrobe in the long run. But... He didn't really mind if she felt regret.
He smiled curtly and gave her back her cloak, then with a faint nod, he marched away peacefully.
Once he was out of sight, Morrigan draped the cloak on her body, tied its laces in a knot, then lifted the hood over her head once again. Under its thick material, she discreetly placed a hand on her chest, fingers curling fondly into soft cotton.
[-]
I long to talk with some old lover's ghost,
Who died before the god of love was born.
[-]
The Urn of the Sacred Ashes – that was what they dubbed their current quest. After obtaining the Orzammar dwarves and the Dalish elves' cooperation in the Blight, the only thing that remained was the Redcliffe soldiers' aid. And their soldiers could not help until their leader, Arl Eamon, was saved from his coma. But the sole method of saving him was with the Urn of Andraste, a sacred relic which contained the ashes of the prophet Andraste and was thought to possess incredible healing powers. It was securely secluded atop the frigid Frostback mountains, inside a ruined temple that they endeavored to discover.
Ophelia, Leliana, Zevran, and Morrigan plodded accordingly uphill under menacing swirls of chilly hail, their whole bodies covered by their large cloaks that flapped frantically behind them. Besides the climate, another bothersome hindrance was the steep, rough, and snowy terrain that slowly drained their energy. Then, of course, there was the occasional brawl against darkspawn and other aggressive creatures that didn't want them there.
As per usual, Ophelia would frequently glance at her teammates to ascertain that they were doing well enough to continue traveling. She had a generally content air about her, creating petty conversations along the way with Zevran and/or Leliana.
On the other hand, Leliana lost her typical optimism and was apprehensive, revealing that she was exhilarated to see the Urn but was strangely perturbed.
Lastly, lagging at their rear, Morrigan was entirely soundless, except for her staff's negligible thumps.
Once they had finally arrived inside the dilapidated Temple of Andraste, they gawped at its remarkably intact interior, regardless of its walls being swathed with sheets of ice – it was a magnificent landmark.
Like anything magnificent they've dug up, they fought through innumerable adversaries. Undaunted, they slew the crazy cultists and demonic wraiths that emerged from its ominous yet mystical hallways, which eventually led them to a desolate cavern. There, they clashed with additional monstrosities such as tall drakes and minuscule dragonlings.
It was at the end of the cavern that they met Kolgrim, the leader of the violent cult that dared to oppose them. He announced that Andraste had risen from the dead and that they were her guardians. When Ophelia refused his proposition to pour blood into the ashes (that could defile it) and become a brother or sister to the cult in exchange for their disparaging intrusion that the cultists wished to punish, he brusquely attacked and they had no choice but to slay him and his mob.
In due course, they pressed forward and made it out of the cave then into a sunny mountain top – where a high dragon taunted them but didn't aggress. Walking unhurriedly past the resting colossus above their heads, they exposed a detached temple with a similar structure as the first. Lurking inside, they identified that the ancient sanctuary was inhabited by a guardian knight, bearded and clad in grandeur armor.
"I bid you welcome, pilgrim," the guardian greeted as they advanced to a secured door. His voice was like a resonance, the sympathetic vibration repeating but not because it was rebounding on the derelict walls which were elaborately decorated.
"I am here for the Urn of Sacred Ashes," Ophelia stated, her upper body slanting authoritatively.
"You have come to honor Andraste, and you shall, if you prove yourself worthy," he tolerantly disputed.
"I need the ashes to cure a noble man," she attempted once more.
"Still, you must prove yourself worthy."
She crossed her arms and bent her head rearwards transitorily, fairly annoyed, "So~ I have to fight you?" she underlined with a sarcastic tone.
"It is not my place to decide your worthiness. The Gauntlet does that," he elucidated judiciously, "If you are found worthy, you will see the Urn and be allowed to take a small pinch of the Ashes for yourself. If not…"
Ophelia interrupted, enquiring about the matter with spontaneous curiosity, "What is the Gauntlet?"
"The Gauntlet tells the true pilgrims from the false. You will undergo four tests of faith, and we shall see how your soul fares."
Tests of faith? How nostalgic. Hopefully it was not to be analogous to her childhood Chantry trials.
"Can you tell me anything else about this Gauntlet?"
"You will understand what it is when you face it."
She shrugged and sighed passively, "Very well. I will enter the Gauntlet." Picking up her feet, she promenaded ahead.
As she was about to get through the door the guardian protected, he precipitously divulged, "Before you go, there is something I must ask. I see that the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past – your suffering, and the suffering of others…"
Ophelia halted and her mien immediately plummeted from good to bad, her facial features sinking fast.
"You abandoned your father and mother, leaving them in the hands of Rendon Howe, knowing he would show no mercy." He scowled empathetically then probed, "Do you think you failed your parents?"
She glared at him, her eyes' scorching veneer emphasized by the immortal torches fastened on the surrounding ruined masonry, "My answer is my own, guardian."
"I will respect your wishes," he coolly submitted, "But what of those that follow you?" he pried with such compassion that it aggravated.
"Our answers are our own," she concluded and gave him a swift once-over then beckoned her team onward.
As they barged in without a signal, the guardian didn't wane with his kindness, "The way is open, good luck, and may you find what you seek," he imparted lastly, though useless.
The door slammed deafeningly compared to the stillness of Leliana, Zevran, and Morrigan's surprise. They scrutinized Ophelia speechlessly as they strode inside the next area, hesitant whether to chat amongst each other or her.
Rendon Howe? The Arl of Denerim which they had heard rumors about? She had kept that agony a secret for how long? The speed of her evasiveness… Since when did she lose her parents? Recently? What else did she hide from her friends that should've been expressed?
[-]
I cannot think that he who then loved most,
Sunk so low as to love one which did scorn.
[-]
The first challenge they were presented consisted of riddles given verbally by distressed spirits. They were, no doubt, miserable spirits, riddling with remorseful anecdotes performed like a rhythmic poem.
Ophelia began with Brona who assessed, "Echoes from a shadow realm, whispers of things yet to come. Thought's strange sister dwells in the night, is swept away by dawning light. Of what do I speak?"
Ophelia effortlessly answered 'dreams' for the preliminary conundrum then was informed that she was the mother of Andraste who wept bitter tears for the daughter she couldn't save.
Moving on, she answered the rest correctly without much help from her companions, notwithstanding her enigmatic and unfriendly condition.
But – it was finishing that and moving on to the succeeding chamber that proved to be the actual challenge.
Their boots clicked on stone floor as they paraded down a narrow hallway, Ophelia's distinguishable steps separating hers from the others' less assertive ones.
Then in a whirlwind of tiny particles, a middle-aged man materialized in front of her without warning and disabled the confidence she held with each stride.
All of a sudden, the room was claustrophobic, standing was difficult, and breathing was noxious.
Where her eyes should've widened and her mouth should've fallen agape – she didn't. He wasn't real and she knew. Nevertheless, her full immobility was demoralizing for those that observed.
"My dearest child, Ophelia…" Bryce Cousland christened like she had just emerged from the womb of her mother and he had cradled her in his arms. "You know that I am gone, and all your prayers and wishes will not bring me back," his pale cobalt eyes were tender and loving as he solaced, but it produced no visible effect on his daughter. "Pup… I know you miss me, but my death, and my life, no longer have a hold on you. This is how it should be. Set your eyes on the horizon, do not look back, and do not falter. You have such a long road ahead of you, and you must be prepared. And so I leave this in your hands…"
He drew out a hand and dangled a modest amulet, the mirror on its back reflecting a shy gleam of luminance on her marginally quivering lips. To her unseen astonishment, she drew out her own hand and allowed the amulet to precipitate smoothly on her palm.
"I know you will do great things with it," he reassured with a faint smile. As soon as she had closed her fingers over the accessory, her father gradually vanished.
Her chin lowered dismayingly then she ogled the jewelry with her fingers. She clenched her teeth and kicked herself, the unanticipated meeting was done before she could even mutter a word.
She failed… She did. She shouldn't have slept that early that night and slept through the invasion. And she shouldn't have left.
Shaking off her despondency before it grew, she brashly treaded further after the brief letup.
Cognizant of her torment, they mimicked her movement bereft of a concerned apology.
When should they speak? Should they speak now? Would she be infuriated if they did?
About twenty feet from her prior engagement with the more than familiar spirit, a sweet sound graced her ears and sent a jolt to rush through her stiffened spine.
It was too much.
"Hey Ophelia…"
The amiable articulation of the greeting struck a needle in her soul.
It couldn't possibly be... Why here?
Ophelia's whole body was stagnant as she merely rotated her irises to take a peek on an obscured side of the passageway.
She seemed just like she was before... A svelte brunette with tenacious but fond amber eyes.
"The little gnat's not so little anymore, I see."
If only she could revert to that little gnat, headstrong and ignorant of the world's perils – she would never let her go.
"Still annoying… But I suppose you've grown to be quite the charmer at least."
Ophelia inhaled in severely needed air and her lungs weakly convulsed out of her control.
"Listen…"
She practically recoiled as the reverie loomed nearer at arm's length and virtually within her grasp.
"It is not your fault… Let it go. You can't be like this forever."
The caressing hand that was reposed on her cheek felt like the genuine feeling but she couldn't revel on it for too long...
"Ophelia, please… Do this. For me... Okay?"
A single tear raced down her broken visage as the reverie imparted a heartbreaking wink and smile for her then faded away from the nauseating atmosphere, only sparkles of ethereal light lingering as a sour reminder.
But since this god produced a destiny,
And that vice-nature, custom, let it be,
I must love her that loves not me.
The flabbergasted bystanders circled the crestfallen Grey Warden as she evidently swallowed her grief but didn't sob like she should have.
That girl... Resembled Morrigan.
As with Zevran, Leliana took notice but was the first to vocalize it, "Are you..."
But the second the two words came out of Leliana's mouth, Ophelia smeared her tear away and wore her impenetrable façade. She then instructed without compromise, her voice emotionless, "Let's go. I want to finish this now."
Leliana was tempted to disagree, but in the spur of the moment, she timidly complied, "...Okay." She walked laggardly with Zevran, their faces scarred like they were the ones that had received the bulk of tests.
Past ten frail torches and in approximately five minutes, the Antivan couldn't maintain his muteness and whispered to the Orlesian, "Did you know?"
Leliana eyed him with shame, "No, not at all," she uttered low and doleful.
"This must be why you were anxious," Zevran presumed with the same amount of woe.
"Yes..."
"Do you think Morrigan knew?" he speculated.
Leliana sustained the skeptic rivet with Zevran, both by some means aware of the truth.
Morrigan did know to some degree. She partially knew and she did nothing about it. So she was veiled under her hood, stifling herself from crying as she shadowed them.
[-]
But every god of love will now extend,
His vast prerogative as far above,
To reach, to lust, to fight, to defend,
The territory of this god of love.
[-]
Ophelia endured and proceeded without complaint, doing her job as a Grey Warden and their esteemed leader. She discerned that business was business, and they had to see the Urn.
Entering a humungous room, they paused and became perplexed because it was vacant. Under a deliberated minute, they wandered about, scratching their chins or tapping their feet inquisitively while surveying the expanse.
Every side had a row of lofty embellished vases, elevated by a couple of stairs. Midway of one side was a dignified statue, displaying a broad shield. The cold tiled flooring was cracked open at some sections, showing the rich soil underneath.
Uncertain, they rendezvoused somewhat at the middle of the room and conversed for some seconds 'til they spotted four gloomy apparitions manifest into physical flesh and bone.
At the other end of the chamber were themselves – only they were carbon copies of themselves.
"Are they… Us?" Leliana pointed out the bewilderment they shared.
"Is she...?" Ophelia grasped that the other Morrigan had begun swirling her hands above her head. "Watch out!"
BOOM!
They gasped then instantaneously flew backwards, enormous searing flames engulfing their vision.
Once the hellish blur subsided, they learnt that Morrigan's doppelganger had relinquished a volatile ball of fire in their direction, forcing them to disperse.
As late effort to strategize, Ophelia screamed, "So not to make mistakes, fight your duplicate!"
And that commenced the second challenge.
Ophelia tracked her double, sprinting fast to her position diagonally across the zone. However, the double perceived her plan and smirked deviously, running from her and to Leliana who shot arrows at her own twin.
Leliana was focused on slaying her foe with her arrows, unleashing a barrage of rapid shots while she dodged the projectile flurry against her. Determined, she pulled one resolute arrow back then flung it precisely to spear the flesh in between her rival's brows, defeating her. The victory was short-lived as Ophelia's duplicate ambushed her as soon as the arrow had landed.
Ophelia roared for warning, "LELIANA!" Her forehead wrinkled in frustration and fret, inspecting the scene that unfolded before her.
Her counterpart bombarded Leliana with lightning ripostes, and the surviving archer could only dodge the onslaught for a diminutive duration.
"NO!" Ophelia bellowed when her counterfeit stabbed Leliana on her torso.
The red head shrieked as the stiletto got embedded on her shoulder and grunted as she struggled to retain her clutch on her assailant's other hand that aimed to pierce her abdomen.
Thankfully, Zevran abandoned his task and snatched the attention of her attacker by imposing a duel with her.
Leliana dropped to her knees in pain, applying pressure to the muscle that bled.
Ophelia had rushed to try and help, but in a parallel fluke, Zevran's doppelganger confronted her and imposed his own duel.
She granted the imitation what he wished, sending him a fusillade of dominant strikes. Unable to totally match her, he reeled back bit by bit until his stamina couldn't uphold it anymore and he acquired a diagonal thrust from the side of his neck and directly into his heart.
Ophelia didn't thoroughly witness her achievement and briskly returned her concentration to her friend. "Zevran!" she called with her jaw agog while she dashed, dumbfounded by her replica's identical tactic on her friend – like a replay of her preceding mêlée.
The assassin endeavored to incapacitate the faux rogue with near misses, though it wasn't adequate and Ophelia's double sliced him horizontally on the abdomen.
"ZEVRAN NO!" Ophelia growled in utter rage, a mere second late and finally converging with her equivalent in a lock of daggers that rung their eardrums when they clashed.
"That was a splendid hit, wasn't it?" her clone snickered evilly in their scuffle, inciting peculiarly confusing sentiments inside her.
Was she that extreme?
Their blades clinked and clanged repetitively, some contacts creating sparks of intensity. Their fighting stances were exact mirrors, unyielding and ruthless.
They tussled for a prolonged duration, neither winning. Till Morrigan broke them apart with a cone of streaming fire.
"This isn't working!" Was all she remarked after the spell, insinuating that she was also at a stalemate with her doppelganger.
Taking initiative, they switched adversaries – Morrigan casting an enveloping frost and Ophelia hurling minor throwing knives.
The leading Warden deflected the primal elements the witch double threw at her, exploiting her high quality cape and cunning circumvention.
Then – white beams of telekinetic force collapsed around her.
Her hearing muffled.
And her body became paralyzed.
Then her interpretation blacked.
She irrepressibly blanked out.
[-]
O, were we waken'd by this tyranny!
[-]
When Ophelia came to, she was still upright, her feet planted firmly on the floor – but there was no floor, it was just emptiness.
Dribbles of bright dots evaporated upwards and Morrigan arose from the depths of nothing. "I regret my decision…" she acknowledged then sauntered for her, guilt daubed on her face, "You meant everything to me and I should've loved you…" she lifted a hand up, aspiring to touch her, "Please forgive me…"
"Oph..lia!"
Inches from the impending connection, Ophelia's mind throbbed.
"She isn…me!"
She gritted her teeth and clasped her temples. Morrigan… The real Morrigan was cautioning her.
"Don…let her foo…you!"
The haze dissipated and before the copycat could fondle her cheek and ingrain an entropic mutilation on her, Zevran impaled her from behind and the sword jutted through her chest.
"Uggh...!" her blood gushed for a second and she viewed the damage done to her, then every part of her disintegrated into an eerie explosion.
Ophelia's eyebrows upraised in astonishment for the elf, "Zevran, you…?"
"Feigned my death," he simpered, gesturing at the shallow cut on his abdomen.
Their reunion was cut short from recognition of Morrigan's incessant vociferous snarls, launched with incessant spell casting. She managed to keep the bogus Warden at bay with a combo of stumping grease then befuddling earthquake.
The duo promptly jogged to her aid and gave the faltering blonde no time to react. They outnumbered and overpowered the weakened counterfeit without much difficulty, Ophelia executing the killing blow with a beheading.
They wallowed in their triumph for a while, indecisive of how to respond to the head that spun on the surface.
Detecting a grumble that hinted for assistance, they hurried to Leliana who was sitting, propped against a wall.
Ophelia made it first and assuaged, "Leliana..." she went down on one knee and checked her injury caringly as her fingers stroked her weary face.
"I'll be… Okay..." Leliana persuaded, shifting to become more vertical, "It is not as bad as I thought."
Regardless of her exhausted stature, Morrigan proposed generously, panting constantly, "She will be fine… If... I heal her now."
Ophelia grazed a concluding brush of her fingers on Leliana's jawline then regarded the sorceress and appealed gravely, "Do it quickly, if you can." She stood and untied her ponytail then moved past her, swaying and combing her shoulder length hair with her fingers momentarily to fix it later.
On a whim, Morrigan was transfixed by the subtle deed and looked at her.
So in that split-heartbeat, Ophelia's eyes pinned Morrigan's, staggered golden irises shuddering...
And steel irises like rain clouds that wouldn't shower.
[-]
Ungod this child again it would not be,
I should love her, who loves not me.
[-]
In spite of the lacerations...
In spite of the lamentations...
In spite of the deprivation...
In spite of the whole tribulation...
Still, they must move on.
Shockingly, the third challenge had been the easiest emotionally. They simply had to stand on pressure plates on a specific sequence to summon individual blocks of a bridge then go over it. Luckily, even in their sensitive circumstances and thanks to their combined intelligence, they had no quarrels in solving the puzzle.
The last challenge had been the easiest of all, just an altar with a riddle that essentially described to walk through a wall of fire without their armor and equipment. Clearly, none were in the mood to fool around, so they obeyed the riddle without problems.
Ultimately, they arrived at the pinnacle of their expedition and attained a pinch of the ashes. Everyone was relieved to have completed the undertaking but only Leliana had conveyed her appreciative amazement on the Urn.
Exiting the Gauntlet and backtracking to the open mountain top, not one had urgently ventured to recall the burden that must have been weighing on their leader. They wordlessly tailed her for ten minutes, one foot after the other under the freezing dusk.
But then Leliana embraced bravery…
"Ophelia..." she began, delicately breaking the constricting silence and sliding in front of her for a halt. Her eyes flickered anxiously while stammering a little, "I just… Y-your parents and... That... Girl… I'm so sorry..." The wind blew harder and she pinched the fluttering flaps on her hood.
"We had no idea..." Zevran added softly beside her, rubbing his elbow before slightly extending a heartfelt hand out to reach for the stubborn Warden, "For what it is worth––"
"No need," Ophelia sharply veered with an icy shoulder, dodging the contact, "Stop pitying me," she commanded mutedly, her tone strict.
Leliana took a second to muster her will then successfully placed a consoling hand on Ophelia's bicep and reminded gently, "Bottling your emotions inside will make you ill, you know that."
"Yes. Let us not repeat what had happened before," Zevran advocated sincerely.
Ophelia screwed her eyes shut then assured firmly, "I'm fine. And that won't happen again..." Her countenance preserved the blind apathy as if to refrain from releasing her frustration. With her breathing calm, she steadily admonished, "Besides... Would it have been that much better if everyone knew? That because my parents died I had become a Grey Warden? You would share your condolences then what? I had coped just fine." She huffed heavily and turned to face them sternly, "Would you have kept your judgments the same, knowing that someone I deeply cared about resembled Morrigan?"
Tentative azure and bronze flinched at indomitable silver. Ophelia stared Leliana and Zevran down questioningly for an extended amount of time, ignoring the dark headed woman she had just mentioned. When they had supplied no answer, she proclaimed, "I thought so..." With hardened platinum eyes, she imparted them a last glower then instantly pivoted around to trudge downhill.
As Leliana took an impulsive step forward to follow her, Morrigan projected in somber intervention, "Leave it..." then she continued when Leliana twisted and challenged her with stiff sapphires, "Do not provoke her any further."
"We are not provoking her. She is grieving, Morrigan. Do you think she had properly mourned her parents' death?" Leliana jutted a coercive hand and tested, "Of all of us, you should give her the most sympathy after everything we've discovered." Her red head drooped down slightly as she reminisced about what happened before the third puzzle. The restrained grimace... The small trembling of shoulders... And... "The way she gazed fleetingly at you... Needily... I couldn't bear the excruciating look on her face..." she tilted her head despairingly as she admitted, "She truly wanted you..."
Zevran chimed in, "Even you saw her pitiable stare for a moment there, did you not?" He derided in lighthearted but credible accusation, "A desperate call for your attention that you easily shrugged away by swerving your cold eyes to the ground."
Morrigan cringed inwards with guilt. But knowing exactly what she was certain of, she tried to explicate, somewhat confrontational, "I had said everything that must be said to her. I cannot speak to her any further... No matter what..." she exhaled profoundly to calm her concealed anxiety, "I cannot. 'Twill only lead to a chance of more unease between us and... Heartache."
Leliana immediately disagreed, "That wholly depends on how you approach her."
"You have no idea how she is around me when she is emotional, even when she thinks that she is in perfect control," Morrigan rebutted. In truth, the conversations she had with Ophelia at the Brecilian forest scared her... Haunted her.
Morrigan had seen Ophelia's predatory – even borderline devilish – aspect many times before, mostly against their foes. In the midst of battle, how she sometimes smirked a sinister smirk or giggled a morbid giggle during and after a kill. It wasn't a bother the first time it was used against her – served with a bittersweet kiss. Or the other times, while they had painful but pleasurable sex.
But her mentally and emotionally asphyxiating encounter with the rogue underneath the waterfall... She had never anticipated that she would be assaulted in such a manner. It frightened her... Yet also fascinated her in a helpless masochistic fashion that she strove to dispose.
"Whatever. We didn't expect you to talk to her. In fact, I do not want you to," the bard announced with mild disdain for the witch.
"Judge me as you please..." Morrigan supposed in monotone, looking off apathetically to the mountains as she abruptly ambled downwards to leave. She did care. She knew she did care. She didn't need anybody else to know. If they thought otherwise, she wouldn't let herself get affected.
Zevran glanced at Leliana and they traded stares, telepathically telling each other to solve the issue at a later time.
Leliana sighed feebly then they started to trail Morrigan leisurely down the path. Zevran studied the walls of jagged precipice around him as they descended, its countless crevices somehow absorbing him.
She would be okay. She had to be. Their journey was almost at an end.
Then with subdued thuds from small pebbles, Zevran remembered the monumental fiend lurking just up above and tilted his head upwards. "The high dragon... She's moving..." he established, examining the tail that swiped across an edge and swept a pile of rocks to tumble boisterously beside them.
"Where?" Leliana inquired, attempting to copy where the elf gaped at.
"There," Zevran made known, despite Leliana already finding out by herself.
"Is she planning something? What should we do?" Leliana queried then realized a more significant question, "Wait. Ophelia?"
Before Leliana could scan the surroundings, Morrigan overheard and spoke analytically, "She's running at the middle of an open space," she scrunched her eyebrows at the view, the blonde merely halfway to a safe spot in the vast snow, "She's in danger…"
"We should reunite with her," Zevran asserted then hastily sprinted with Leliana.
Morrigan scoffed irritably, "She knows, but we shall remind her," then she nippily transformed into a hawk and zoomed into Ophelia's location.
"Hurry. The dragon's leering at her!" Leliana worriedly yelled above the noise of their scrambling feet. Their efforts were soon proved worthless by the mighty screech of the beast and Leliana: "She's swooping down!"
"OPHELIA!" Zevran shouted, watching the monster dive down in a flash and hook his friend in her talons while tripping on an unseen obstacle on the dirt, and stumbling to a fall.
"NOOO!" Leliana desperately yelled with Morrigan who squawked a loud and harsh cry, echoing in the dimming blue skies.
[-]
I long to talk, I long to feel love.
[-]
Facedown, Ophelia pressed her gloved hands on the coarse yet slippery surface then pushed herself up. Vertigo from her involuntary plunge and roll overcoming her, she dizzyingly stumbled to her feet.
Contemplating the flat horizon, she distinguished that she was on a higher plateau and that the sneering high dragon a hundred feet from her had brought her there.
Wheezing irately, she unclasped her cloak then unsheathed her twin daggers and twirled them tauntingly, preparing for the inevitable one-on-one.
The creature jeered in threat, puffing air out of its nose. Her devil eyes tapered then she stomped towards her target, the earth quaking as she did.
"GHAA!" Ophelia groaned frenziedly when she got within range, her eyeballs enlarging along with her opened mouth as she jumped and delivered a downward thrust on the serpentine head.
It scraped the fiend below an eye, causing her to withdraw with an unruly growl.
Disconcerted, the dragon licked her gash clean and then instinctively lunged again, serving it with a bite.
Ophelia twirled, avoided it, and swung a counterattack but missed.
"Let me help."
The tantalizing invitation reverberated in her thoughts as she fought hard for minutes against the massive monster, her lesser daggers versus greater claws and teeth.
"I can help you…"
"Why wouldn't you want my help?"
"All you have is me."
Exasperated to continue fighting, she interrogated, "Will you kill me or what? What else do you want from me?" She spread her arms out intimidatingly, "HUH?"
The demon replied with an earsplitting roar and resumed to charge her.
Ophelia's breathing was in a wild pace, her speech coming out in ragged segments, "I cared… For you!"
Worn-out, she gathered her breath and let loose her inmost resentment on the brute. "I put my life in the line for you!"
She reproached as if the high dragon was the woman that had blatantly broke her heart. "I LOVED you!"
"I'VE GIVEN YOU MY ALL!"
Then a tail whipped her body transversely, heaving her far unto a hefty boulder and knocking her unconscious.
[-]
I sank so low to love her scorn.
[-]
…
…
…
…
…"Ophelia..."
…
…
…"Answer me."
…
…"Ophelia."
"M-Moira...?"
…"How come you're never afraid?"
"Afraid?"
"But..."
"I am afraid..."
…"Not like I was."
…"I couldn't face all my challenges like you did."
…"And you have been through a lot more than I have."
…"You are hardly ever afraid."
"I thought I could do this..."
"I can't anymore."
…"Yes you can."
"I'm not sure..."
…"You can."
"Will you be there for me if I can't?"
…"Of course."
…"But I know you can."
…
…
…
…
"I miss you..."
[-]
To reach, to lust, to fight, to defend.
[-]
After laying an Andraste's Grace by a mound of organized stones, Ophelia got on her feet and reflected on the four separate burial sites she and Leliana built on top of a pronounced hill.
The evening was tranquilizing, an overall ambient atmosphere. The precipitating snowflakes were hospitable and alleviating, the stars were bountiful and brilliant, and the moon bulbous and beautiful.
Leliana pored over the taller woman next to her, tempted to sneak her unrestrained arm into the noblewoman's.
Ophelia tucked her hands in her pockets and sighed, staring out into the landscape, "When that door flung open and my father appeared before my eyes, bleeding profusely... A puddle of blood... It was as if a terrible thunderstorm had suddenly crashed and I couldn't fathom why. Why was it storming outside? Why did it have to take everything I cared about away?" she shook her head, exerting to keep her tear ducts from functioning, "But inside... I already knew what it meant. I was ready to stay there and die, defending him and my mother who also chose to be left behind." Stressing the absurdity, she chuckled lightly, "But Duncan had to talk..." While adjusting the bandages on her arm, she carried on with the disclosure, "He convinced my father to have me join him as if in order to be tugged away safely from harm. And with heavy feet, I trudged on to follow Duncan to Ostagar. Lost in each step yet somehow managing to find my way through the predicament… For the first few days, I had no drive to live my life. I just went with whatever was told of me to do." She bit her lip in short meditation, "But after I met Morrigan..." then she gazed at Leliana, a pleasant curve developing in the corners her lips, "A new light flickered inside of me. It seemed like I was given a new glimmer of hope. That I..." she bobbed her head in sync with her self-correction, "That someone who looked and acted like Moira had been presented to me." She observed Leliana ardently and clarified, "I harnessed my strength using her as my inspiration. But it was wrong to blindly draw my utmost courage from her... I realize this now..."
Leliana settled a smooth palm on her cheek and compassionately asserted, "Please don't let yourself get hurt anymore... I'm here for you..." she wrapped her moveable arm around her shoulders and hugged her, murmuring to her ears, "Zevran, Wynne, Alistair, and everyone else... We're here for you..."
"I know..." Ophelia ratified, "I'm better now," she pulled away from the clinch then kissed her fervently, startling the unsuspecting bard.
She was too nice. Nicer than her. She just hoped she could follow through with this.
When Leliana was freed, she tasted her own lips then prodded coyly, "You found a new source of inspiration, did you?"
"Yes..." Ophelia beamed at her, "I did."
[-]
To die before this god was born.
Song
"God of Love" by Stereo Alchemy
Feedback for You Are The Forest
Arf-Arf-Psycho: I always romanced Morrigan too. I just think her attitude and background just make her a more fun and interesting woman. I know that irl I probably couldn't handle a woman like her and go for someone more like Leliana. But really, if I could, that's the woman I would want. Or just hope I get lucky. XD
Dalish Elf: I'm slowly recovering from this block or whatever you call it, I suppose. I do hope to finish this fic before my birthday. Haha. Hope that I update faster because I actually can't believe it took me this long...
Moral Attention: At the moment, their relationship makes things better. Even if it is unhealthy in the long run, they know and they just want to finish their journey. But things will get complicated before that, so stay tuned. :)
lunavixen: Aww... This is heartbreaking. Is this your first review? Why couldn't you sugarcoat it just a bit and maybe say the other chapters all got a 5? Huhu. Anyway, I hope this one's better and I hope you came back. :)
whiskered oranges: Haha. I go back to Orzammar multiple times when under the Deep Roads. XD If I do make a sequel, the first few chapters would be prepared. To complete the story, however, I still need to daydream some good ideas. Lol. I named her Ophelia because I like the name and the song "Opheliac" pertains to her quite accurately. Having a name that a Claymore (anime) character also shares is awesome. And doesn't Ophelia just sound dark and badass? Idk but I think so. Haha. And that chapter on the first page of google? Wow. Well, Jack Hooper isn't popular yet, so...
cas.92: Niiiice~ A new reader. I'm so happy. Did she surprise you with this chapter? I hope so. Thanks for the compliment. :D
Lord Tubbington: Thanks for the rating! Yes. You're right. If there was a reunion, it would be amazingly satisfactory. Keep that thought in mind and tell me what you think with what I do in... Hmm... Two chapters. XD Btw, new reader? Yes? Well, I'm just so happy that new people are reviewing. XD
Cstaf: Thank you! I'm so glad you made that review because now... It's on the summary for this fic! Lol. Hope you don't mind. Keep reviewing. :D
MakeshiftParadox: Oh don't worry. I'll finish this fic. I'm just a little uninspired to write sometimes. I think I'm getting over it though. I'll try and update faster. Definitely not gonna take me another month. :) Thank you for all the compliments! It's really nice to hear that people agree the characters are more developed. And tell me about thesauruses... I use word counter too... To make sure I don't use unique words more than twice or thrice. XD
LunarOphelia13: Omg. Your account name. Haha. Anyway, thanks for the compliments and well wishes! I am well, I just get busy and lose the mood to write sometimes... I assure you, it's never taken me this long to update this story. Huhu.
Thanks for reviewing everyone! Review again please.
A/N: Yea... Sorry for the REALLY LONG wait. I know. It'll never take that long again... I think. I've just been hecka busy and on top of that, not feeling like writing when I get the chance. :(
"To die before this god was born." What does that mean? Haha. I'm such a tease. This song is one of the songs that I've already set long ago for this particular chapter. The following chapter songs are gonna be the same deal, so you can say... I know exactly what I wanted to happen for those chapters.
Also, did anyone see the horror movie Martyrs? It's my favorite horror movie and you should go see it if you want to know what similar scene I've used for this chapter.
And btw, the cover art for this story is actually something I drew so go fokin check it out if you can and tell me what you think, will ya? Thanks. :D
Ophelia and Morrigan Artwork - archristol . deviantart . com
Rate this chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)...
5 - Totally Entertaining
4 - Entertaining Enough (But missing a thing or two...)
3 - Good (But can be better.)
2 - Meh... (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)
1 - Redo Everything Bitch
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