Bard
Leliana
It's like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders, telling her.
Their dear Alistair, having unceremoniously crashed through various shrubs and hurriedly brushing leaves out of his hair, stands and listens.
She sees Morgana frown, still breathing heavily after her earlier outburst. "She was your lover?" At seeing her worried expression, hearing her hasty half-explanation, her friend swiftly adds, "That was common in the Tower. I'm not quite that naive, Lel."
She gestures for her to continue, and she does, sketchily, leaving out some of the more... interesting details.
After a while, Morgana nods. "I assume you'd be safe, seeing as you're in Ferelden now..." She sighs, giving her a small smile. "Thank you for being... somewhat honest with me."
She returns the smile, and, as the two Wardens crash back through the woods ahead of her, she catches Alistair's comment. "Explains why she's so good with a blade, at least. I wish she'd told us sooner - her past could be... well, dangerous."
"You're one to be talking about keeping secrets." There's a long, uncomfortable silence, clear hurt emanating from Alistair's direction, before Morgana speaks again, her voice quieter now. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. It's been... an odd night."
"No, it really wasn't." A pause. "But... I might forgive you, if there's cheese involved."
Morgana attempts a laugh. "Of course. And, Alistair? What I said in Redcliffe - still true. Doesn't change anything for me. It just... might for Ferelden."
He sighs. "How many times? I don't want this. I'm a bastard, I wasn't raised to be king."
"I know, and I'm sorry. None of this is right, or fair, and no-one can choose which parents they're born to." Her voice drops, the last sentence quieter than the others. "Life isn't fair."
Silence follows them back to camp.