Chapter 2

"A stroll in the Wilds"

Six. Morrigan looked around, but didn't see any more. Six dead bodies. Two horses. Well, that did qualify as an ambush, didn't it? She counted to ten and took a deep breath. She had waited long enough in the bushes to be sure that there was no immediate danger. Time enough to investigate what had happened here. And I just wanted to take a peaceful walk…

She stepped out of her hideout and carefully moved closer to the scenery. It had been a nice day for a stroll. The weather was fine, the forest quiet – except the animals, of course, but that was the sound she was used to, the one she grew up with. She wouldn't want it any other way. And she bothered even less in her spider form.

But that had changed now, hadn't it? It had sounded rather faint and muffled in her other shape, but the disruption of the background sound had been clear to her human senses. Shouts. Screams. Weapons clashing. It hadn't taken long to locate where it came from, but when she arrived here at the narrow road somewhere through the lightest part of the forest, she had seen the sight of the ambush. Back being herself again, she had taken it all in, waited for a while – patiently, of course – but this here seemed to be over.

At least it is for them. The centre of the fight must have been there, where four bodies lay close to each other. The other two – well, they obviously didn't get to the heart of the action as the arrows showed. One of them had been hit right in the eye. Either a very lucky shot or a verygood archer.

The two bodies closest to the horses seemed to belong together, at least Morrigan thought so. One with a short bow, the other with a sword. Those could be the ones who had been ambushed, she decided – fighting side by side against the attackers. The swordsman seemed to have gotten one of the attackers, the archer another. Which was strange. He can't possibly have shot three men down until they finally got close to him. Not in a surprise ambush. Which left only one other explanation.These aren't all of those who had been attacked.

Hastily she looked at the bodies themselves. The attackers looked like simple every-day men. No soldiers, more likely some bandits. But then: the victims didn't look much different. And nobody seemed to have taken anything. Then why the attack? Unless they were after something else…or someone. Indeed she could see some fresh tracks leading right into the forest – someone was still being hunted…

"Well, told you 'twas a good idea to wait, didn't I?" Morrigan winced at the voice behind her and spun around, her hand already raised, the energy flowing through her. Steady, Morrigan. Concentrate!

"Said that she would come back, didn't I?" The hoarse voice belonged to a plump man, stepping out the bushes. He wasn't alone, Morrigan realized. Two others were there only a step behind him, catching up.

"But that ain't the one, we're looking for!" one of them claimed, before he caught a blow right into the stomach. "So what? Do I look like I care?" the fat man shouted at him, his fist ready to strike again. He turned back at Morrigan, grinning. "Then this one is for us only."

Morrigan put on a cold smile. Oh, this should be fun. With one quick motion she swung the staff around…releasing…. The shock of sudden insight (much too late) was there on the face of the man to the left: "Whoa, she's a ma—"

He didn't come any farther as the icy wave hit the group, there movements slowing down, coming to a stop. Not much time now. Quick, woman! But her reflexes worked even faster than her mind, it seemed: already, Morrigan was leaping at the group, the flow painlessly burning in her arm, as she felt the spirit-poison running through. One leap, two, three – and there she was right in front of the fat man in the middle pressing her hand against his temple. Release. It felt like a cramp fading away as the spell found its way into the man's body. Helplessly he stared at her, his eyes open wide. You feel it, don't you? The corrosion. Feasting. Growing. She stumbled a few steps back. As the power channelled once again, she felt it tearing at her – power, raw power. She barely kept her hold, running a few more steps. Just three. Two. One.

"—mage." she heard behind her. Damn, they broke out early. She spun around, her hand shaking from the force she was just trying to control, to focus – one last time. Time seemed to stand still as she stared at the three men, the plump one looking as if he was going to be sick. "You all right, man?" his companion asked, but he didn't seem to get a word out. He just waved in Morrigan's direction. Just one more second. The massive energy of pure, elemental stone poured through her arm. This was painful – very painful. It's this one or nothing at all. But the men had already straightened up and charged…too late. The fist of stone manifested and shot ahead, aiming for the fat man. The impact. That subtle moment only noticeable for one trained in the arcane arts when damage of the stone and the poison inside him met. The explosion of flesh. A sweet symphony.

Morrigan could hardly stand, but neither could the two men as the thrust hauled them through the air. It seemed endless, the moment of the two men flying before they finally hit the ground. Hard. One of them lay there without any motion, the other whimpered helplessly, holding his face – or what was left of it.

The witch allowed herself to slump down. That was – very much. Very quick. She felt exhausted, but that would fade away. It had to. As fast as possible. As she raised her head, her eyes fell on the footsteps again. Someone was still out there, running for his life. And they had a head-start. She couldn't possibly outrun them now. At least not in this shape.

She grimaced. Well, it was the only way, wasn't it? Morrigan didn't like the wolf-form very much. It could be rather – intense. Harder to control than the spider she was used to. Still: what else could she do? She gave herself one minute. Resting. Regaining focus. The screams of the dying man were faint background noises in her ears. None of her concern; he had brought this upon himself the moment he decided to step outside the bushes with the fat man. She found the flow again, carefully trying to concentrate. It was supposed to be peaceful walk.

Her legs were gaining ground as fast as they possibly could – not quite fast enough. Not for the first time, Leliana regretted her poor choice of fashion. The Chantry robes. Of all disguises, she had chosen that one. Yes, the robe had been cut out rather widely – just in case she had to run (she had learnt that running could be rather useful occasionally). Nonetheless, in this terrain, it kept getting stuck on the bushes and thorns of the Korcari forest.

Well, the idea hadn't been half bad: dressed as a Chantry Sister, no one would seriously question her whereabouts – least of all some bandits on the road. And bandits were the only real problem she had expected here. Most of the attackers should have been cowed by her clothes. A Sister and two armed adventurers at her side – no normal bandit would have thought of any loot worth the trouble in this constellation. The few coins one might have expected to find on them were hardly something to risk your life for by testing if those armed lads knew how to use their weapons. But she hadn't expected a coordinated ambush like that. Not an attack led by her.

Marjolaine. Merely recalling that moment when she had first seen that beautiful, familiar face appearing behind those men still send a shiver down her spine and seemed to make her run even faster. She had already shot down one of the attackers and was aiming for the next when she had recognized her standing there, raising her hand. Dagger! Out of a reflex she had jumped left – probably saving her life. Marjolaine had always been good throwing knives and daggers. Leliana's leap had made her miss this one time. And she hadn't wanted to challenge her luck by trying to repeat it.

It had all gone too quick from that moment on. When Leliana had been back at her feet, she had started to run for the forest instinctively. If Marjolaine was behind this, it was her that she wanted, not her companions. She had hoped that darting away would send most of the attackers after her, luring them away from Syes and Doryl. That's all that she could have done to improve their chances of getting out alive. She hoped that it had been enough.

After that, there had been only running.

Dodging a branch at her right, she glimpsed behind her. She could still see Marjolaine – gaining ground. Of course, she was much faster than Leliana in her robe. It was only a matter of time. A swift motion right next to her startled her. Another dagger? Maker, protect me! Run, girl. She won't miss for a third time.

Silently, she cursed herself. Why hadn't they just ended it back in Denerim? Oh, she had wanted it to end. Maybe she would have even killed Marjolaine herself. But Elissa had been there, too. The Warden had always been so kind-hearted – just killing the woman had never been an option for her. Leliana had agreed, partly to impress the Warden, partly because Elissa's shining example of humaneness had reminded her of what she wanted to be herself. Better than before. Before it had happened. The Great Betrayal… and its consequences. The Darkness in me. The one which can never be purged. And of course better than Marjolaine. Not a murderer.

She had hoped that this had finally shown Marjolaine that she was not the girl she had been before, that the past lay behind her – and most of all: that she wasn't interested in her anymore, one way or another. Maybe her former mentor might realize that Leliana certainly was no threat anymore. Maybe that might make her stop chasing Leliana, sparing herself the trouble.

Fool! You should have known better. She almost stumbled as she made one wrong movement. Of course, Marjolaine wouldn't let it go and you knew that. She had waited for the right moment to strike, and you have given her that. 'Never let down your guard. Always expect a trap'. Those were lessons Marjolaine herself had taught her. And she had carelessly neglected them. Hope has gotten the better of me. Should have followed my instincts instead. Instead she had given Marjolaine the chance to do what she was best at: waiting, scheming, planning. And striking at the right moment.

Her eyes scanned the surrounding situation. There had to be some way to get rid of her. Disappear somewhere in the undergrowth. She sure couldn't outrun Marjolaine. Once again she risked a look over her shoulder, only to realize that her huntress had gotten closer, ever closer. She could even see the self-satisfied grin on her face now. So, Leliana turned around again – that was the only direction that mattered. No use hoping that Marjolaine would just magically disappear. Once again she almost stumbled over her own feet, cursing the robe again…

It was just then when she realized that something was terribly wrong.

The trees ahead were…not right. They were as far away as a few seconds ago. The trees. Marjolaine. My stumbling. I am too slow. Another false step. Again, she almost fell. All her motions – far too slow, clumsy, wrong. What was going on?

Again she turned around, only to be scared to death. Marjolaine was just a few steps away, her wicked smile growing broader. "Leliana. My sweet Leliana. Finally you're coming to a rest."

In one last desperate attempt, Leliana tried to run. It was like moving in a dream, her legs not doing much more than a walk. In the corner of her eye, she saw something she had missed when she had looked behind her: the cloth on her shoulder – wasn't there anymore. Instead she stared at a cut on her shoulder. The dagger.Of course she didn't miss. What were you thinking? She never misses.

It was then that she actually fell.

As she tried to get up – it was an attempt doomed to fail – she could hear Marjolaine's steps beside her. She wasn't even running anymore. Just walking. I have to move on…

"Crawling? Seriously? Where's your dignity?" When Leliana looked up and her eyes met Marjolaine's cold stare, she instantly knew that all was lost. Still. Have to try. Can't let her win.

Marjolaine hunkered down a few steps before her, looking fascinated at her clumsy movements. "Though," she moved a finger to her lips. "Though I must admit that I always liked you on your knees. Good memories, you know. And I'm glad that this is at least one feature you didn't change in that little new life of yours, non? I mean, you do pray a lot nowadays, don't you?" Her words were taunting, her grin triumphant.

"What did you do to me, Marjolaine?" Leliana managed.

Marjolaine made an almost-innocent look. She was good at those, too. "Me? I haven't done anything, my dear. You brought this all upon yourself." But the smile returned only seconds later. "But if you are wondering about your condition, I have two words for you." Two words that echoed back in her mind, killing the last glimmer of hope.

"Antivan poison."

Morrigan took a deep breath and leaned against the tree, the stench of blood in her nose. The actual blood was in her face, as she observed. She tried to wipe it away. Oh, it had smelled so sweet just a few minutes ago. That was another problem with the wolf-form: Killing while being in that shape made it even more…demanding. Not that Morrigan had really cared about the man sneaking around. She was sure, that he had been just another of those attackers, looking for his prey. Well, wasn't that a surprise – becoming the prey yourself? But the wild blood lust, the intensity of the wolf…it had taken a lot of effort to break out. Becoming herself again. Of course she was always herself, even in other forms. But shapeshifting…it did always change something about her perception. Instincts tended to be much more powerful when she was in another form.

Again she took a deep breath. She was very close now. There were noises just ahead. Carefully she sneaked closer, patiently (of course), not making any noise. She knew how to move here. This was here terrain, her world. My home. One step. Another. Taking cover again. A women's voice…

"…didn't change in that little new life of yours, non? I mean, you do pray a lot nowadays, don't you?" An Orlesian accent.Far from home, woman.

"What did you do to me, Marjolaine?"

Morrigan gasped. That voice. Impossible!She peered behind the branches right in front of her – and her heart missed a beat. Itis her! What is she doing here?Her mind raced, processing what she had just heard and seen. The voice. The accent. The hair. There was no doubt that the woman crawling around was Leliana. Another thought popped up. Marjolaine. She said 'Marjolaine'. Morrigan didn't know much of her. Only that she must have been an old friend of the bard…before she had decided to kill the girl. In her experience, 'old friends' sometimes did things like that…

Years ago, Morrigan had been there when assassins had tried to ambush the group, trying to kill Leliana in Marjolaine's name. It hadn't worked out. Instead they had been able to trace back the scheme to Denerim, finding out where she was hiding. Leliana and the Cousland girl had faced her there. Wynne had been there, too. And Alistair…or the Qunari? She wasn't entirely sure. Either way, they messed up. Let her go. Made her swear to be good or something. Knowing the girl, there were probably some clever Chantry sayings involved as well. 'And, lo! Be nice to your enemies of old for they shall be friends of new. And there shall be cuddling and dancing and everything shall be just fine as long as ye all heed His name'. Fools.

"Me? I haven't done anything, my dear." There was very much pleasure in Marjolaine's voice. Why doesn't the bard do something? She just crawls around like a dog."You brought this all upon yourself." Another thought crossed Morrigan's mind. Maybe the girl was hurt? Maybe that's why she acted so weird. A voice in her head shook her. And why do you even care? It's just Leliana. You don't like her, remember? And we're long past the point where she is of any use to you. Just turn around and go.

She didn't. Morrigan stayed and watched – just out of curiosity. Naturally.

"But if you are wondering about your condition, I have two words for you: Antivan poison." Marjolaine waved her arm around annoyingly happy. "And what a lovely poison this one is. The Antivans, they have so much…style, don't you think?" That's when Leliana fell straight to the ground. Just as if her arms had lost grip. Curiously, Morrigan realized that she herself was already focusing again, feeling the flow, ready to unleash… What am I doing?

Marjolaine clapped her hands, acting surprised. It looked ridiculous, Morrigan decided. Orlesians… "Oh, sweet Leliana. Look, what happened! Here, let me lend you a hand, poor thing." Without much effort, Marjolaine grabbed the girl under her shoulders and slowly pulled her to a nearby tree, leaning her against it. There was not the slightest hint of defiance or protest from the girl. That's some strong venom indeed. "What – what is it, Marjolaine?"

The dark-haired woman raised her index finger admonitory. "But, I already told you, dear: It's poison. You do have to listen more carefully, girl." Her voice sounded as if she was talking to a little child. She is really annoying, Morrigan noticed once more. I guess they must have been a perfect match back in the days.

Marjolaine knelt down before the helpless bard. "The Antivans use this one for a long, safe kill. Not that painful, don't you worry. We wouldn't want to hurt you…much, would we?" She grinned. "But still: It takes its time, paralyzing the victim while still leaving him or her conscious. Do you know why? I'll tell you: The assassin and the victim can have a nice little chat before it ends. Maybe deliver a last message from the person ordering the kill or something like that. That's the beauty of it, dear. It's so much more…personal, don't you think?"

"It's cruel, that's what it is." Leliana replied defiantly…well, more or less defiantly, given her position. Her captor made a sad face. "Oh, Leliana, when did you stop being fun? There were times when you would have enjoyed a thing like that."

Now this might be interesting. Morrigan had always known there was more to the bard than met the eye, but she hadn't been told much of Leliana's history.

"I would have never liked something like that." Leliana said. "Leaving someone helpless like that. Feeling the end coming for a long, long time. That was never the way. My way was good and quick and – clean."

Marjolaine looked at her, then shook her head as if trying to shake away some thought. "I'm sorry, dear. I didn't listen. I was just looking at your breasts." Leliana gasped, which Marjolaine obviously found hilarious for some reason. "But not in that way, my dear! I'm still a lady, you know," she said as she moved closer, grabbing something around Leliana's neck. "I was just wondering, what a nice little necklace you're wearing here." – "You leave that alone," Leliana shouted, "It's not yours." So much…passion. This is interesting.

"Maybe not," Marjolaine replied amusedly, "But it surely isn't yours either, since you – my most cherished friend – are just a dead body to be. And corpses don't own anything." Carefully, almost gently, Marjolaine pulled the piece of jewellery over Leliana's head. "I, on the other hand, am very much alive – and I could use the gold this thing might be worth. You know, this whole thing was pretty expensive. The bandits, the poison…"

"But why, Marjolaine?" Leliana said sadly. "I already told you back then that I wasn't interested in you anymore. I am with the Chantry now. I don't care about the past or you. I'm trying to be – just good."

Marjolaine shook her head. "Ts, ts. Oh, sweet Leliana. Always staying in character. You learned well." – "I am not playing anymore! Don't you understand? This is what I am now!" But Marjolaine only smiled. "Oh please. Trying to be 'just good'? Who are you trying to fool, girl? You're only waiting for your moment to strike."

Leliana almost screamed. "I already had that moment, Marjolaine! Don't you remember Denerim?" But then her face changed and she stared at Marjolaine incredulously. "But you don't see that, do you? You really believe that this is still the old game? That's… You – you are crazy! You are actually paranoid, aren't you? I am being killed by a crazy person." How ironic is that?Morrigan couldn't help but wonder. Many people who have died by one of Leliana's arrows might claim the exact same thing… Still the girl was right: Marjolaine was obviously crazy. Her laugh did seem to emphasize that point. Not exactly a manic laughter, but there was a subtle hint if you knew where to look.

"Oh, please, Leliana. It is the Game. It always has been. Why can't you just accept that I simply beat you at it? Again. I win, you lose. No hard feelings." She started to pace up and down before the girl, probably looking nonchalant to the untrained eye. But Morrigan knew that walk. More like a predator before its prey. "Why do you always have to be so serious nowadays? We still have a few minutes before you shut your eyes and take your last breath. Why not enjoy being together? Why all the contempt? There used to be a time when you loved this stuff – and me." Oh, this is where we are going? Some heart-breaking love-story. Oh, girl, you really know how to get yourself into trouble.

Leliana's voice was fainter, cracking. "There is nothing left of that, Marjolaine," she said dead serious. "Not after you betrayed me, not after you – you turned your back on me and gave me to…to those evil men. Not after – after those vile things, they did to me…"

Marjolaine stared at the bard. "What did you say? 'Evil men'? 'Vile things'? Maker's breath, you're sounding like a little girl, Leliana! Those were not 'evil men', they were monsters! Harwen Raleigh was probably one of the sickest men I ever met. And his soldiers were scum. For crying out loud, girl: they raped you, humiliated and tortured you. How long, Leliana? Days? Weeks, more likely!"

Oh.

"How often? How many? Damn it, those were bastard sons of whores, Leliana! And you speak of 'evil men'? What are you – a six-year-old?"

Morrigan stared at the scenery as the words echoed in her mind. Humiliated. Raped. Tortured. For weeks.She looked at Leliana as she lay there – helpless, defeated, dying. For weeks! As she looked at the grimace of Marjolaine while the woman kept ranting on, Morrigan realized that something had changed here. "You know, what you are, dear? You're weak. Pathetic. If it had been me who suffered through that – and if I had escaped like you did – it would have made me stronger, fiercer, more deadly than ever. But you? You decide to be a little child again. Being 'good'! You know what? You deserve this, you deserve every second for your pathetic weakness – it really suits you."

That was when hot anger started to rise in Morrigan. There was...something in those words. An oddly familiar sound. Strength by suffering. That sounds like something she would have taught me. The thought of Flemeth had suddenly been there in her mind. The witch could almost feel the lightning inside her hand, pushing hard to be released. Pushing to end that woman's wild rant. But as she looked at Leliana, she could see her lips moving. The girl was talking silently. What was she saying? Her voice was too weak, almost intelligible.

"What is that?" Marjolaine asked, as she leaned over. Her eyes grew wide as she listened closer. "You're kidding me, aren't you? Are you actually praying, Leliana? Do you really want to play this charade till the bitter end?" Laughing, she moved a step back and spread her arms wide open, looking up to the skies. "Fine with me. Let's see it then. Let's see how your precious Maker gets you out of this! Will he make the earth shake to devour me? Will fires rain from the sky to burn me from this world? You should better get some divine help really soon, my dear. Because now you really need it."

Morrigan rolled her eyes. Great. 'Divine Help'. I'll never hear the end of that. Well, I'll be damned…She rose up from her hiding place.

Marjolaine's head spun around, but in the middle of her movement, Morrigan had already released Lighting. "What the –" was all that the woman managed before the bolt hit her and knocked her from her feet. Wordlessly, Morrigan moved towards the Orlesian woman, already refocusing. I'll enjoy this. Very much.

"Who – who are you?" Marjolaine stammered.

"Well, I would be the one who killed quite a few of your men in the last ten minutes or so," Morrigan stated, still approaching the woman on the ground, "Oh, and I also did the very same thing with your assassins, too, some years ago. Come to think of it: You really should invest in more capable goons. It does pay up in the end."

Careful, Morrigan. Not too much gloating. That was the mistake she made. Just finish it off.

Marjolaine sat straight up, staring at her. "Oh, isn't that a surprise? You're that wild apostate friend of Leliana." She had heard the word before, but this time it actually hurt. 'Friend'. Of Leliana. It almost shook her.

Marjolaine had already gotten back her wicked grin: "But not that much of a good friend, it seems. I can't remember you being with her in Denerim when she finally confronted me. I wonder, why she didn't want to have you around that day..."

Seriously? That's the way you intend to play this? Manipulate me by implying that the girl doesn't like me? Yes, that should hurt me very much indeed. Morrigan grinned back. And do you really think that I don't see you reaching back at your belt?

"You know what I think?" Marjolaine said, making conversation. "I think she didn't trust you. To her, you were good enough for killing my men – doing the dirty work. But not trustworthy enough to be there when it came to facing the truth. I can't blame you. She does that – manipulating people. That's why you shouldn't…"

Morrigan stood right before her now and almost tenderly she touched that woman's chin. "You're right, Marjolaine. She did not trust me. She did not want me there. None of them did. For one very simple reason." – "And what might that be?" Marjolaine said rather confident. Already reached your dagger? Or are you just very sure that I won't kill you in the next ten seconds?

"Well, you see: That girl and the Warden, they are the kind of people always busy doing the good thing. They tend to hesitate when it comes to doing what has to be done." She stared into that woman's cold eyes, knowing that her own weren't any warmer.

"... I, on the other hand, don't."

Marjolaine's skull couldn't resist the raw primal power of the lighting burst as Morrigan released it.

What a mess.

And so, the corpse just slumped on the ground, as Morrigan tried to wipe away pieces of Marjolaine from her clothes.

At least she didn't get any last words this way.

"Well, that was my favorite dress, you know," she announced loudly as she turned towards the bard. "You do owe me a…"

The words stuck in her throat. The girl just leaned there lifelessly against the tree, her eyes closed. "Perfect," Morrigan uttered hoarsely, moving over to Leliana (just a tiny bit more rushed than intended). "I am the one taking care of your problems and just when I do cover myself in your girlfriend's blood, youthink that it would be just the right time to die?" She felt a weak pulse. At once, she started focusing again. "Well, I don't think so, girl." She concentrated on her Healing. It took a moment to change to that pattern. Didn't have to use it much lately… Still louder - as if to reassure herself, too - she added: "You will not die today, girl."

"Well, and I am rather confident that that was merely it." Morrigan finished. "Grabbed the girl, thought that there might be some Healing mage in a keep full of soldiers…and you know the rest."

Wynne's eyes fixated her own. "I believe you, Morrigan" she said.

The witch frowned. Really? That would be new.

As if she had read her mind, the mage added: "That is: I do believe that it is generally true. I'm very sure that you changed bits and left others out. And I am sure that you were lying when you said that you didn't understand a word of what Leliana and Marjolaine talked about."

"'Tis the truth," lied Morrigan. Of course she hadn't told the old woman about the dark secrets of Leliana she had learned of – which was not an act of compassion, she assured herself. It was more like that there was no actual reason why Wynne should know about Leliana's torment.

"Still," The mage continued as if she hadn't even heard Morrigan's protest, "None of this explains, why you did that."

No, it doesn't. But I most certainly will not let you know that I don't have any answers to that myself. Morrigan put on a cunning smile. "Why, old woman, and I was so certain that we were clear on that point long ago: my motives are none of your concern. Nor will they ever be."

There was no way to tell if Wynne spotted any sign of her insecurity. "I am not concerned about you, Morrigan. Leliana's health is all that matters to me – while I am rather sure that you only care about that magical necklace of hers that you kept."

So you did realize that it was magical, Wynne. I should have known. Still, the mage's mentioning of the necklace was helpful. Maybe that's it. Maybe that is why I hope that she will pull through – because I need her to learn more about it.

Well, that was a potential way of rationalizing it. And she was certainly more comfortable with that explanation than with the fact that it were Marjolaine's revelations of Leliana's past that made her see the girl with different eyes now. She wiped that thought away.

"Well, it is powerful, you must have seen that, too." She took up Wynne's theory graciously. "And that delicate pattern doesn't look familiar. It might be from Tevinter even. Don't you think that it is slightly strange that a Chantry Sister would run around with an artifact like that? That she would run around with something like that?"

Wynne looked at her for an instance. Then, all of a sudden, she rose up, shaking her head. That arrogance. She doesn't even need to say it out aloud, her eyes shouted it out: 'I knew it'.

"I pity you, Morrigan," Wynne stated as she turned toward the door. "You really are a heartless creature. We are talking about a woman's life here. And all you care about is some piece of arcane jewelry. Not once in our conversation did you even care to ask how she is. If she will live." She opened the door, but looked back with that sad look she could pull off so easily. "You truly deserve that lonely misanthropic life of yours. Go ahead and leave. Or stay. It doesn't matter to me. Just stay away from Leliana. She is a good person. And even in the peril she was in, she deserved a kind-hearted savior, someone with a soul. Not…not…" She looked away. "Not you," she finished.

The door shut behind her. Morrigan was stunned. That had been an outburst by Wynnes' standards. How dare she? Hot anger rose in her. So, now it is my fault that no valiant knight or good-natured heroine was there when she needed them? Well, it was just me that was there when things needed to be done. And, as usual, I did them, for reasons that are mine and mine alone. This is what I am, old woman. You should have known.

Her muscles started aching again as she fell back on the bed.

This is what I am.