Chapter 6
I wished I had never posed the question. Morrigan is so important to me, so dear, so loved. Love is not asking silly questions, trying to know everything. Love is the knowledge that everything is nothing, except for the someone you hold in your arms. All mystery is accepted; all actions justified. As it should be. As love is in its true form.
But I had violated this law. I was the one who attacked my own affections out of pure curiosity. What had I done? I've never been this before. I used to be so carefree, a woman who hoped, who saw the light where others found blood, who believed in the Maker's mercy, knowing that he would set things right. I had let life go as life should; unadulterated, free-flowing, guided by a loving hand. I never asked Morrigan why she could not love me, not back then; I couldn't stand to hear her rationalize me away. I never questioned it, and I let myself be free. What changed? Why had I chosen the complete opposite of my previous life? When everything was right, I made her cry.
She looked up at me. Tears were flowing from her eyes, but she was trying her hardest to pretend that nothing was there.
"I'm sorry, Morrigan. I'm so sorry."
"What for? This is my burden to bear. This is my atonement. I am the one who wronged."
"I don't understand."
"I hurt you, Leliana. I tried to harden you. You are a beautiful flower, next to a storm, not fighting it, but living with it, and growing alongside it, and never withering in the face of its oppression. Even as the greatest threat we've ever faced bares its teeth down upon you, your warmth radiates, even into me. Me, the blackened soul, the one who tried to cut the lotus from its stem. What have I done to you? What suffering must I have caused? What repayment can I give for the way I burned you?"
I could not understand. It was if I never made her cry. Is this why this night had happened? Was she trying to be forgiven? Maybe my question was being answered; however, I had no desire to think upon it.
She raised her lips to mine, but it was different. Now, I was the one who kissed her. She looked upon me, vulnerable, asking for a gift. It was no gift, not from me, it was not a benevolent choice. It was necessity, to love her, and to show her that atonement would not be found, because none was needed, as long as the moment lasted.