Donal began to count backwards in his mind. Morrigan's eyes were frozen, icy daggers trained on him. Several minutes had passed since their friends had ventured into Orzammar and it was growing difficult to feign indifference to her accusatory glare. He released a long exhale and continued to flip through the tattered tome on his lap. Ten, nine, eight, seven...

"Where did you find that grimoire?" Morrigan said finally.

"Oh, this old thing?" He pointed to a yellowed page with his first two fingers. "I've had this for years."

"Do not lie to me." She stalked over to him and crossed her arms. The shadow her body created in the sunlight cut across the pages and made it difficult to read. "It is leatherbound and has a leafless tree on the cover. That grimoire does not belong to you."

Donal tilted his head up to look at her hovering form. "Yes?"

"You should not have that in your possession."

"You're right, you got me." Donal closed the book and patted a spot on the ground next to him. The sun warmed grass was soft and smelled sweet. "It was in the First Enchanter's office back at the Circle. He wasn't there to tell me no, so I just took it."

Morrigan sat in the spot he had gestured to. "You stole it."

"Borrowed it," he said. "I fully intend to return it to the First Enchanter, someday."

"You should not, for it does not belong to him." She reached for the grimoire and Donal pulled it away from her grasp. "Tis my mother's."

"This text is ancient," he snorted. "You expect me to believe it's your mum's?"

"I expect you to do nothing," Morrigan said. "But tis my mother's. That's the truth. Now, give it to me. It is of no value to you, you cannot even decode the cipher in which it's written."

His nostril flared. "Sure I can." Donal opened the tome to a random yellowed page and pointed to a symbol. "See that? It says that Donal Amell found the grimoire first, so deal with it."

Her eyes narrowed. "You obnoxious, foolish man!"

"Hey, I'll have you know I come from a long ancestry of well-to-do nobles in Kirkwall," he replied, his finger still pointing at the line of cipher. "There would be plenty of women lining up for this obnoxious, foolish mug."

"Are you trying to incite jealousy from me, or pity?" Morrigan asked. "I feel neither. Although, perhaps that explains your entitlement and refusal to give back what is more rightfully mine than yours."

"Nah." He shut the grimoire and dropped it back onto his lap. "I was picked up by the Circle so young, I hardly have any memories of Kirkwall. Just the freakish ginger complexion and horribly crooked nose to suggest generations worth of noble breeding."

"Does all this self-deprecation actually attract women to you?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Probably not, or I suspect I would be married with a few mistresses by now," he replied. He could feel the raw sting of a blossoming sunburn on the back of his neck. "Why should I lend you this grimoire when I haven't had a chance to read it, yet?"

"You will never succeed in reading it, because the only two who understand the cipher are my mother and myself," Morrigan insisted.

"Well, I don't know about that." Donal reopened the grimoire and pointed to a jagged symbol at the top of the page. "I'm fairly confident that this one means 'spell,' given how often it makes an appearance on the title ledger."

Morrigan's lips twisted into a petulant little frown. "So the skills of deduction are not lost on you, I see."

"Let me ask you something," he said. "How exactly do I go about getting on your good side?"

"My good side?" Her eyebrow shot up. "If we're to entertain the idea that I have one, how about a compliment, then? Is that too much to ask?"

Donal's jaw hung loose until his words caught up with it. "I already told you I liked you, isn't that a compliment?"

"Don't be stupid."

"You are beautiful," he said through clenched teeth. "You are brilliant and you are dangerous, but you already know this. I don't understand why you need me to voice things you already know."

Her frown turned into a smile. "That will do. Thank you."

There was a slight breeze that served as a reprieve from the sun bearing down on them. "Why is this grimoire of so much interest to you, anyway?" Donal asked. "The magic is useless to anyone who isn't an abomination. Unless you're planning on hosting a demon anytime soon?"

Morrigan's amber colored eyes widened a brief moment before her shock was replaced with suspicion. "How much of the cipher do you understand?"

"Only snippets," he admitted. "But enough for me to be concerned."

"How?" she asked.

Donal smirked. "Given my exceptional social skills, I've had plenty of time to read and decode by myself in the Circle's massive libraries."

"I see," she said. "It could beneficial to conceal your intelligence with the mask of a fool from time to time."

"So why is that you want to know what's in this grimoire?" he asked a second time.

"My mother has always been secretive," she said. She scooted closer to him, closer to the grimoire. "I wish to know what she knows. I wish to become as powerful as I can. I assure you, however, that I have no intention of becoming an abomination."

He nodded.

"What of you?" Morrigan asked. "Why do you wish to read the grimoire?"

"I just like to know," Donal said. "Sometimes possessing knowledge can be more incredible than doing anything with it."

She stared at him. "That's all?"

"That's all." He turned back to the first page. "I can share. Teach me the cipher."

Morrigan nodded. "Very well."

She began to read aloud, then, with her finger trailing the text. They read until the sun dipped below the Frostback Mountains and forced them to set up camp. With their tent set up, Donal attempted to read by the firelight and Morrigan would impatiently correct his errors. When exhaustion overtook them both, they were only a quarter way through the text.

Donal woke in the morning with a crick in his neck and drool on his sleep sack. Morrigan was gone, but the grimoire was still in his tent. He smiled as he readied himself for the day to come.