He sat on the edge of his bed, not facing Lilith who hummed softly where she sat. She was waiting for him to speak, for him to ask the inevitable question, for him to say what he was no doubt thinking. She counted on it, really.
"I need to find her," he said finally. "Can you help me?"
She smiled wide, giving him a coy look. She batted her eyelashes innocently.
"Oh, I do not know," she said. "Can I help you?"
He frowned, stood. He looked at her sincerely, eyes honest, soft. They never had been before.
And then he had a hand around her throat, once again draining her of magic. And he pushed her against her chair, choking her.
"I will kill you," he said. "Do you understand? No more games. No more lies. I'm through with that. I have to find Morrigan."
She nodded, as well as she could given the hand clenching her throat right now. He released her, and she gasped, trying to suck in air. He sat back down, crossed his arms.
"I can," she said. "You… are feeling magic more keenly, yes?"
"Yes."
"But you cannot feel her through the ring?"
He nodded. And she tried to smile, but saw that he would really prefer that she didn't.
"She has deactivated it," she said simply. "So you would not be able to."
He looked down at the ring, frowned.
"Why?"
Lilith shrugged. "Perhaps she is in danger and doesn't want you running to save her?"
He tensed up at the thought. And he looked at Lilith, rage coiled behind his calm exterior.
"Can you fix it?"
Lilith nodded. "Certainly."
And she reached out for the ring. Lance removed it from his finger, held it out to give it to her. But he hesitated.
"You should know," he said. "If you do this, if I set down this path, it won't end until I get her back. You understand what you're doing? Everyone between me and her will die."
Her lips twitched. She wanted to grin wide, to enjoy every bit of this. And she wet her lips, searching for a neutral thing to say, to urge him on, to encourage him.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked. And as Lance let the ring drop into her hand, he whispered harshly to her.
"Because you need to know."
"What about the rest of us? The ones that are on 'your path'?"
"Get off it."
And she took the ring, held it in her fist. Her magic hummed, made a low sound, a small red flash. She handed the ring back to him, and leaned forward on her knees so that her nose almost touched his. He recoiled, taking the ring and hugging it greedily to himself.
"Is that it?" she asked. "Is that all you desire?"
He frowned, scowled, glared at her. He wanted to hit her now. She seemed to sense this, and stood up abruptly, slightly taller than him now. She looked down at him, arms folded.
"Come now, Warden Commander," she said. "I've seen you look at me. I look just like your dear, sweet Morrigan, do I not?"
He growled, squelching any number of curses he could have flung at her. Instead, he stood, looked her in the eye.
"Get out," he said. Lilith looked insulted, for only a second. Then she donned her usual cheery demeanor and politely exited.
She opened the door and was a little surprised to see Velanna standing there, hand raised as if she were going to knock. Lilith pushed past her, left the door open for Velanna to pass through.
Velanna looked at Lance, a little confused and a little angry. She perhaps thought that something tawdry had occurred and she was interrupting. Lance shook his head as he slipped the ring back on.
"Don't," he said as she entered. She shut the door behind her, standing with her arms crossed in annoyance. "Nothing happened."
"I wouldn't blame you," said Velanna. "According to Leliana she looks just like your… woman."
He nodded. She stood there for another second, the air between them becoming thick with tension. Lance looked up at her.
"Did you need…"
She looked at him, still angry. And then her features softened and she shook her head.
"I just wanted to see you," she said. "This is it, then?"
He nodded, looking at his ring. He could feel something now. Fear? He didn't know. It had been too long since he felt real fear to remember what it felt like. If it was, then he knew that he had to get to her and fast.
The child, Urthemiel, was doing something, something bad. This was what he had to do.
Velanna stood there for such a long time. He almost forgot she was there. He realized where they were, the low candlelight. He glanced at the bed he stood beside.
"No," he said. She stepped closer, slow, tentative. She tried to touch his arm, hesitated and stopped.
"Would it be so bad?" she asked. He hesitated before answering. He did care for her, as much as he fought the feeling. He did feel things for her he thought himself dead to. No, it wasn't so bad. But it wasn't good.
"I can't," he said. "You wouldn't like me."
"I like you," she said. That elicited a snort from him. He wasn't looking at her. He was staring outside the small window into the darkness of Val Royeaux. He might have been pretending to scan for guards or assassins if it weren't too dark to see anything.
Velanna took another step towards him, still debating whether or not to touch him, if the gesture would be welcome. She wanted to.
"Don't know why," he said. "I'm kind of an asshole."
"Be that as it may," said Velanna, a trace of humor in her voice. "I still manage to find things about you that are… endearing."
"Like what?"
She smiled, as she thought of a good example. It was harder than she would have expected. And that made her life, getting a glare from Lance.
"See?" he said. "You're drawing a blank."
She shook her head. "No. I can think of something."
And she tapped her lip in thought.
"You can be kind," she said. "When you try to be."
He grunted, disbelieving. She let out a small laugh.
"You are… quite understanding."
He shook his head.
"You are a professional. Very serious."
He accepted that one. And she stepped even closer to him.
"And I like you," she said. "Isn't that enough?"
"No," he said. "It never is."
And he looked at her. He wasn't smiling. He never did. She had never ever seen him smile.
"It's never been."
She drew her lips up into a thin line. She wanted to smile, if only because she was nervous now. He frowned again, looked at the bed.
"I'm going after her," he said. "I'm going to find her."
"Are you sure that would make you happy?" asked Velanna. "Are you sure this is what you want? What she wants?"
Lance remembered how adamantly Morrigan had been when he promised to seek her out. She had told him not to. Was this okay? Was he really going to find her?
And what did he expect? To sweep her off her feet? To live happily ever after?
No. He already knew better than to hope for that.
"I think that's what she wants, yes."
"And it's what you want?"
He nodded.
"I see."
"Is there something you want?" he asked. And she smiled. That's precisely what she liked about him.
"I cannot say," she said. And took that final step towards him, nearly touching him. Hand glancing against his.
"Why can't you?" he asked. She let her smile drop away, eyes went to half-mast. He was afraid now.
"Because I am afraid of the answer."
"You're never afraid."
"Not true."
"Fear is for the weak," he said. And was tersely reminded of a time not very long ago, in a camp in the woods.
"I am a little weak."
"So am I."
She reached up, touched his cheek gently. He flinched.
She looked away, an apology rising to her lips. And then he returned the touch.
"I can't do this," he said. And he put one arm around her. "I don't wanna."
She nodded to him. "I will do only what you want."
"I want you," he whispered. And he kissed her. She returned it. "I shouldn't."
"It is okay," she said. She reached up to put her arms around him, to lay her head against his chest. "You should be happy."
He breathed out, shaky. She listened to his heartbeat, listened to it pick up. She held him a little tighter.
"I don't wanna be," he whispered.
Leliana stood outside the door, hesitating. She wanted to knock, but the low voices from within begged her not to. So she stood, listening.
She wanted to tell Lance something important. She hoped he would be satisfied with her. She feared he wouldn't be.
It had come to her as she sat up talking with the cute Elf mage Neria. The girl talked quite a bit about becoming a Grey Warden, about being a real hero, about traveling with the legend himself. The Blight-Queller.
And then Leliana had come to a decision.
She was tired of finding something else to do. She loved the Chantry, and missed it, but she also missed the excitement and adventure of her bard life. She certainly didn't miss Marjolaine, and was glad that this was to be their last job together. But she desired more.
So she had made the decision to ask Lance to recruit her.
She waited outside, hesitating longer than she had meant to. She heard Lance speaking, his hoarse, crude voice contrasting with Velanna's passionate, smooth tone. And then she had hesitated too long.
The light went out. She was curious about that; Velanna didn't exit his room. And then she stopped wondering when she heard the first breathy moan. It was quiet, but she recognized it just the same.
So she turned away from the door, looked back over her shoulder at it.
And she wondered what must have been going through Lance's head to forget about Morrigan, even for an instant. Not the Lance she knew. He never would have. But then, perhaps this wasn't him at all.