Chapter 3
"Confrontation"
"Are you sure about this?" Wynne's face looked worried. "I understand that you want to talk to her, but your condition… It has been a serious poisoning, Leliana. And you've only been up for…not even an hour."
"I'm fine, Wynne." Leliana said softly. Well, that was a lie. Her legs still felt somewhat shaky, but she was able to control that. And maybe she wouldn't get another chance for this. "I just have to talk to her. After all, she saved my life, non?" It still was hard to comprehend all of what had happened. And this certainly was the strangest bit. Of course, Morrigan had saved her life before – as well as she had saved Morrigan's. But that had been in battle, during the Blight. This was something completely different. Suddenly, she was there.
Wynne sighed. "I know. And I will not stop you." The light of the torch lighting up the stairway to the tower flickered, but it didn't go out. A good thing, since it was the middle of the night already and pitch-black outside. "I would just be more comfortable if you waited until tomorrow. Went back to bed again. Regained some strength."
That sounded like the right thing to do, Leliana had to admit. Still…
"What if she is already gone by then? It's something that she might do, you know." It had been surprising that the witch had stayed until now. Leliana had expected her to be gone the moment she had delivered her to the guards. Morrigan didn't like castles and keeps – and she certainly didn't like being around too many people. Does that mean something, too?
She gave Wynne a reassuring smile. "It has to be now, Wynne. I won't forgive myself if I let her get away without thanking her. Besides that: She won't kill me. Not after she rescued me before."
Wynne looked sourly. "That doesn't mean that she won't – do what she does. Mock you. Hurt you. You know how stressful it can be, talking to her. And in your condition…" She broke up when she saw the grim determination in Leliana's eyes. "Well, I guess, you have to do what you have to do then. But please, Leliana: don't let her get to you. It's still Morrigan."
The bard contemplated that last sentence as she climbed the stairs. Was it still Morrigan? Of course it is, foolish girl. Yes, she saved you, but she still killed Marjolaine cold-hearted. Leliana couldn't blame her for that, though. She had tried to deny it, but there was no use: that moment when Marjolaine had been…destroyed, it had felt like a release to her. It was not right to be satisfied by the death of a human being, but Marjolaine – she had been the root of all evil in her life. She had deserved the way Morrigan had executed her. That last moment before everything had faded to black – it had been a relief. Morrigan had been there when all seemed hopeless, when the poison had taken her ability to move. She had never felt that helpless.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. She had felt even more desperate long ago. In that prison. But she tried not to think about that. Those memories will come back soon enough. How long until she might here that voice again? '…once we've had our fun, of course.' When she had stuck the dagger into Raleigh's throat, she had hoped that this was enough to kill his voice, too. It wasn't. Vengeance – it had seemed so desireable. But after it was done, it had turned out to be useless. It didn't change a bit.
But this – it did have to mean something, didn't it? It had to be the Maker's doing. She had prayed in that moment of desperation, and suddenly she had been there. Morrigan. Of all people. Why her? It couldn't be a coincidence, Leliana was sure. But what did it mean?
Yes, she had always had that feeling that she would meet the witch again, even more when it had become clear that she would have to pass the Korcari Wilds once again.
But what were the actual odds? The Wilds were vast and there was no sign that Morrigan had returned there after the Blight at all. She had disappeared without any words after Elissa's battle with the archdemon – after her death – and no-one had heard of the witch afterwards. The whole story had been so…incomplete. And Leliana did believe that all stories would have a proper ending – no matter, if it was a happy or sad one. With Morrigan? Probably sad.
She had reached the top floor as she suddenly noticed her own fear. Now that the door was just a few steps away, a shadow of doubt filled her head. What if life isn't like a story? What if there is no such thing as a need for an ending? Maybe…it was all coincidence. Am I trying to read too much into it? From one moment to the other she felt afraid to face the witch again. Maybe nothing had changed and Morrigan would just…do what she always does. Or maybe she's already asleep.
But she wasn't. Leliana could see that the door was just ajar. And though the slit she could see Morrigan from behind, sitting in front of the table. She was looking down – reading something maybe? I've gone this far. I won't back off now. What is the worst that can happen? I thank her and she says something mean in return. Nothing new. Nothing I haven't dealt with before.
She took a deep breath and went closer silently.
"Morrigan?" she said, as she opened the door.
Morrigan spun around, the chair falling down on the floor as she reached for her staff. In an instant, she was ready to face the intruder – just to see Leliana at the door.
She is up! The witch wondered at the intensity of that thought. Why am I so surprised? It was obvious that the old woman would be able to help her. And once again: why do I even care? She relaxed, putting down her staff.
"Oh, it's just…you." She was rather content with the way the words came out. The indifference in her voice should not give away that she felt – what? Relieved? Glad that she survived? Pull yourself together, woman! "Foolish Chantry girl," she added, "Why would you sneak up on me like that? You could have gotten yourself in real trouble if I had just shot that fireball at you." Well, that was a lie. She hadn't been that quick, she had to admit. But the girl didn't need to know that. And judging from the expression on Leliana's face, the girl had bought it.
"I…am sorry. I just came here to tell you," she seemed rather insecure, as if she didn't know why she was here herself. Finally something we do have in common. "Well, I heard that you were still here at the keep… and I just wanted to tell you that I am up and…feeling well. And I…saw what you did and wanted to…thank you?"
Morrigan straightened up. At least she wasn't the only one feeling uncomfortable. "Your apology is accepted. As is your gratitude." Silence filled the room. Obviously Leliana had expected more – or maybe she was looking for something else to say. Probably some emotional blah. Stop her before she tries to hug you and declare you her new best friend in the world. "Since you are here anyways, I do have a question or two…" – "Yes?" Leliana seemed rather intrigued. At least she finally decided to step in the room.
"…a question or two about that necklace of yours," Morrigan finished, lifting up the small piece of jewellery from the table where she had examined it. Something showed on the bard's face. Surprise perhaps? "Oh. About that thing?" Well, that sounded more disappointed than surprised, decided Morrigan. What else did you think I would ask? 'How is the whole being-poisoned-by-your-former-lover-story working out for you'?
"I wonder: how might some foolish little Chantry girl come into the possession of such a powerful magical artifact? Or, to state the obvious: did some dim-witted Tranquil just give it to you or did you actually grab it from the dead hands of some poor mage you hunted down? Admittedly, I do still have problems picturing you doing the latter, but…" – "I did not steal it from anyone", the bard protested, "I bought in Val Royeaux. And I had no idea at all that it was magical."
Morrigan frowned. "You...had no idea?"
The girl just shrugged. "How could I? It had no sign saying 'magical necklace' on it. It was just meant as a gift."
The witch blinked. Why would she buy something like that? "Oh my. A gift? Seriously? Even without knowing anything of its origin, an object like this must have been ridiculously expensive. For whom would you buy such a…?" A thought struck her mind. No. She can't possibly… "Please, please tell me that you did not buy it as some peace gift for that Marjolaine of yours? Even you couldn't be that gullible, girl!"
Leliana looked insulted. "Of course not! I never expected to see her again. And if I had, I wouldn't have brought a gift, but an extra dagger. It was not meant for her. It…" The bard fell silent abruptly. She stared down on her feet. "I - it was a gift for you, Morrigan."
Morrigan stared at her blankly. What? She blinked, desperately trying to wrap her head around what she had just heard. "For me?" she managed, her voice almost a squeak. "Why the… Why would you do such a thing? What would be the use of that?" The bard still looked down in embarrassment. Was that a blush on her face?
"I…When I saw it, I was just…struck by its pattern. Complex, yet… strangely beautiful. I - I thought that it might look good on you. And - that you might like it. I know it sounds silly," she raised her gaze a little.
Silly? Madness, more likely! Which is why I shouldn't be surprised, should I? After all, it's Leliana. She does things like that. Yet it made no sense at all. Morrigan had to clear her throat before she could speak again. She couldn't help shaking her head in disbelief. "A gift…for me? How – how did you come up with that idea? If you didn't even know that it was magical, why should I of all people be interested in such a…a…" She gestured at the necklace rather helplessly, looking for a word, "…pathetic display of decadence?" It is beautiful, though.
The bard seemed even more uncomfortable. "I must admit that I…overheard something at that time in camp. A conversation between you and Elissa. You were telling her a touching story from your childhood. How you admired the wealth of some noble girl. How you stole her golden mirror and kept it to yourself. How Flemeth found out and smashed it. I found that so…sad. After that night, whenever I looked at those necklaces and amulets you are wearing, I had to think of that story. And…when I saw this one in Val Royeaux, it came back to me again. That's when I swore to myself that I would give you this necklace, should we ever meet again."
The witch was paralyzed. She could hear the words, but they didn't seem to make any sense. So the girl had listened to her telling this embarrassing old story? And more than that: she had remembered it? Not even I have thought about this for a long time. How did the girl do things like that? And more importantly: why? Still…
"You are crazy," she stated, trying to sound as condescending as possible. "So you heard a foolish story years ago. And that is your reason for buying such an expensive piece of jewellery? For me? Why would I be interested in anything you could offer me? You and I, we are not even friends. Not at all, you foolish little girl!"
Leliana looked up. "Well, that was hardly my doing, was it?" she answered. Morrigan frowned. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
It seemed to upset the girl. "Well, it is not me who didn't want us to be friends," she snapped, "I tried to talk to you, to be nice…to understand you. Oh, again and again I tried to make any kind of conversation to find some way for us to get along. And again and again you would react by insulting me. Leaving out no chance to show me – or the others, for that matter – how worthless and inferior we all were compared to strong and mighty Morrigan. Mighty Morrigan, who spent every single night alone, at the other side of the camp, pretending to be above it all. Too proud to show how miserable she was deep inside."
Morrigan laughed disdainfully, "Too proud? Oh my, playing the hypocrite again, are we?"
The bard looked uncertain. "What do you mean?" – "Well, it so happens that I was witness to Marjolaine's gloating, girl. The whole story of what she had done to you…what those men had done to you." Leliana's eyes went wide, she gasped. But the witch was not ready to let it go just yet. "And you speak to me of pride and pretense? 'Tis you who should be miserable after what has been done to you. And most certainly you are. Yet you're playing the merry little Chantry Sister, telling others to cheer up, to believe in all the good in the world, when you know full well what a dark and evil place it is. Still you feast on those lies of the Chantry and of the Maker and of some ridiculous plan behind it all, trying to make sense where there is none. Filling people's head with hope for something that is not there. Denying what you witnessed yourself while at the same time pointing fingers at me in your self-rightousness? No, girl, 'tis you who is the pretender. Locking all atrocities away from you, telling yourself it never happened. Covering it up with a smile for those around you – instead of facing your own past…"
She wanted to go on, but a look in the bard's face stopped her. Leliana's eyes were shimmering. Oh no, don't start crying, girl. Don't embarrass yorself any further than you already have.
"How can you say something like that?" The girl's voice was trembling. "How dare you, Morrigan? I am facing what has happened every single night. Each time I wake up, bathed in sweat. Each time I look in a mirror. Maker, each time I allow my mind wander like I used to, there is a chance that it will take me...back there. Oh, I am trying to forget. Who wouldn't? I was shattered and smashed into pieces. Do you know how it feels like to be betrayed by the only person you truly believed in? To realize that you have been nothing but a…a thing to be played with all the time? Do you know how it feels to be passed on like an object to other people, cruel people, who – who don't even think of as a human being, but an empty vessel. Can you imagine what it is like to feel not only your heart, but your soul break, when you beg them to stop…when you desperately try to understand how they can do that to another being? Can you imagine, Morrigan?" Tears were running down Leliana's cheek, her pale face distorted by the pain.
Morrigan wanted to say something, anything. But she couldn't. It was the words: each of them had felt like a whiplash straight into her face…no, straight into her head.
'Betrayed by the only person you truly believed in'.
'A thing to be played with'.
Images of Flemeth raced through her mind. Images she had thought shut away for good. From her childhood. And from the night when she learned.
'People who don't think of you as a human being'.
The memories cut her like a knife, each strike slashing away a piece of her, as she remembered that moment.
'Shattered'.
All her life she had tried to tell herself that Flemeth's treatment had served a purpose for her. To make her harder and tougher. And then one look into the grimoire had made her realize what her mother truly saw in her...
'An empty vessel'.
Her throat was dry, as she tried to force something out. "I – I…" She saw the bard sitting down on the bed. No, not sitting down: merely collapsing. Memories returned at that sight. There she was again…Flemeth's groimoire finally in her hands. Her legs had been shaking and finally she had collapsed there, too, unseen by the others in camp – unable to decide whether to break out in tears or cry in rage. She had chosen rage that night.
Leliana didn't. She buried her face in her hands as she cried. "I was destroyed then, Morrigan," she sobbed. "Do you know how it feels to be…to be…"
"…broken?" Her own voice was merely a groan. She knows. Of all people it is her that understands. Leliana looked at her with those wet, pained eyes. She nodded. Slowly Morrigan made a step towards, only half in control of herself, half in trance. What am I doing? A part of her tried to resist. But another didn't. Probably the one that had wanted to cry that night. The one she had rejected.
She hadn't even realized how she had gone over and sat down next to the bard. "I do", she whispered. "Believe me: I do know how it feels."
It was a strange thing to say. Not that it wasn't true – it was. Still: talking to someone in that way. It was…new to her. Suddenly she felt Leliana's head on her shoulders. She hadn't noticed how the girl had come closer and now her arms were slung around Morrigan tightly. Leliana wept.
"I…I tried to be brave, Morrigan," she managed. "I swore to myself that I wouldn't break…I…wouldn't give them that pleasure. That was on the first day. On the second I…I just wanted to die…really die. And finally…" The girl's voice was but a whisper. Still. "And finally…I…just…begged them to kill me, Morrigan. I would have done anything for it. I'd have taken any humiliation that they might have thought of…and they could think of a lot…if they just would end this…this…miserable pile of flesh…that once had been…me." She paused for a moment and looked up to Morrigan, agony reflecting in her eyes. "That was the third day, Morrigan. It...got worse from there."
Morrigan had to swallow deeply. She felt her own arm move. What are you doing there? This is Leliana! The foolish Chantry Sister. The one you despise. The one you… The voice in her head was angry. But faint. Morrigan shut it away. No, that was not the girl she despised. The bard had turned into something different. Morrigan had no explanation what or how. But she actually felt something now.
Somewhat helplessly she lay her arm around Leliana, hoping that she was doing it right. Compassion. Not something Flemeth had taught her. What shall I do? I probably should say something…comforting, right? She cleared her throat and tried to make her voice sound as soothing as possible. "It – it is over, Leliana. They cannot hurt you anymore."
There was a moment of silence. "I know," the girl said, in a voice firmer than before. "I killed them all."The witch's eyes widened.
Oh, yes. I forgot. She does those things, too.
Silence again. It might have been a minute or two while she sat there, holding the bard in her arm. And it felt…good. So close. Leliana's breath seemed to calm down, her weeping had stopped. Maybe she was just realizing what they were actually doing here. Is she feeling it, too? And what exactly is it? How did this situation change everything from one moment to another? And how could I ever despise this girl so much, when she is so…warm?
"Morrigan", Leliana's voice was soft again. "What was it that happened to you?" The witch frowned. "What do you mean?"
Leliana lifted her head and looked her straight in the eyes. "You said that you know. Know how it feels. How?"
Morrigan took a deep breath. I will not make a scene like that. I will not cry. I didn't back then – and I won't now. "Well," she began, trying to find her tone. "You know…'tis pretty much the usual story. Witch mother raises witch daughter, makes daughter's life a living hell, keeps her isolated and alone, punishes her whenever she wants to break out of it for a minute. And…" Those words didn't come out easily at all. "And finally the witch daughter finds out that her mother just needed a new body for her eternal life project…and that her own mind…her personality was just a nuisance to her. Something to be cast into oblivion when the time was ripe." Well, that wasn't that bad, was it? At least she hadn't shed a tear. Never a tear. I will never give you that, mother.
"That is…so cruel." Leliana looked shocked. "She needed you as some…kind of…new dress?" – "Well, 'tis not the most tasteful way to describe it, I daresay. But neither a wrong one." It really was lifting some weight from her – talking about it. Well, of course: she had told the Cousland girl about it. But that had been different. She had needed someone to face Flemeth when she could not. Not without losing it all. But this right here – it was something else. She didn't need to tell Leliana about it to gain something. She just wanted to share it with her. Because she can understand me. How ironic: of all people, it is the one I least expected. The one I turned away as soon as she opened that babbling mouth of hers. Never expected that two sensible words would pass those lips.
Leliana stared at her. "What would have happened to your mind? Your…soul? Would she just have it thrown away?" – "I guess it would not lie around anywhere. Cast into the Fade maybe. But more likely Flemeth would have found a way to – consume it." A cold shiver ran down the witch's spine as she thought about it. "But basically it would have been as if I never existed, I suppose."
The bard hugged her again. "I am so sorry, Morrigan. I had no idea."
Now that was uncomfortable again, Morrigan decided. It had been one thing to hold the girl and listen to her cries. Being the strong one. But to actually be comforted by someone was…different (as was a lot of this). She couldn't decide whether she liked it just now. Still that warm feeling was back as she felt Leliana's head on her shoulder. She realized in amazement that she did like that.
Then she frowned as a thought shot through her head. "Why, wait a moment. You…had no idea? But – but weren't you there fighting her with Elissa and the others?" Leliana let go again – while Morrigan silently cursed herself that she couldn't have waited with her question (just for few more moments!) – and looked at her. "Well, yes, I was. But I didn't know what she actually had done to you. Elissa just told me that she needed our help with that – that you needed our help. And so we were there."
Morrigan was taken aback. "You fought Flemeth – the Flemeth! – just because that Warden told you that I was in danger? That was enough for you?"
Leliana looked at her as if she didn't even understand the question. "Of course it was," she said, like stating the obvious. "We were in this together. You were one of us, Morrigan. That was how it worked. Even if you didn't consider us friends: we were companions back then. We had to look out for each other. Elissa knew that, may the Maker bless her soul. That's why she decided to help you. And me with Marjolaine. And Alistair with his sister." In some strange way, that did make sense. "Come to think of it, she helped a lot of people."
Morrigan nodded. "Yes, you wouldn't think there was a Blight to be stopped with all those personal problems that woman solved on the way."
That made Leliana smile, a strangely welcome sight after all her tears. Has she always been that beautiful when she smiled? And why did I never notice it before? She tried to shake that thought away. It went into a strange direction. What is going on with me?
Nonetheless, the bard's words made her think. Elissa had been there for the group. So had all the others. Wynne, Zevran, Oghren – well, in his own way. Even Alistair.
…and Leliana. Though I always pushed her away and mocked her. And I was hardly the only one. Still, she kept helping out wherever she could. Despite everything that she had been through. She just kept on being…nice.
"Leliana?" The witch hesitated as the girl looked up again. Dare I ask? "I wonder: how did you do it? How did you become…you? After all that has happened, how did you come to…trust and care and help, instead of…I don't know…" Trusting no one? Being miserable? Isolating yourself from the rest of the world?
"It was…" the bard began, seeming to contemplate the question, before she finished: "I had help."
Morrigan rolled her eyes, already sure what was about to come next. "That was meant to be a serious question, girl. Could we please discuss this matter without any mention of you having your little private chats with the Maker?"
"I didn't mean that," Leliana replied. "I'm talking about a woman. A Revered Mother." Her gaze seemed to drift away. "I think she saved me in more than one way. She helped me escape from my cell, yes. But more than that, she helped me find a way back…well, not actually 'back'. She showed me that I could change my ways, try to be a better person than before. Because…she understood me, Morrigan. She told me that she once was like me, and I knew it was true. She was so trustworthy and helpful. Supportive. Loyal. And kind! Oh, ever so kind. She believed in me and she showed me, that there were good people in this world."
Morrigan was staring into Leliana's eyes as the words echoed in her mind.
Supportive.
Loyal.
Kind.
Understanding.
Could it be that…?
"She sounds like a…very special person," Morrigan was surprised how frail her own voice sounded.
"Oh, she was," Leliana nodded emphatically, not letting her eyes of Morrigan even for an instant. Does she think what I think? Does she see it? "Yes, she was…very special to me. It was through her that I learned, how one single person may change your life. Marjolaine did just that…in a very cruel way. She, on the other hand, changed my life for the better. She was so warm and kind-hearted and…and…"
"And good", the witch finished, her lips moving by themselves, "Just good." Again the bard nodded. "Yes! 'Just good'. That's it, Morrigan. How did you…"
That was when she kissed Leliana.
After all: What else was there to do? It all seemed so clear. Her lips on Leliana's, her hand touching the bard's cheek. It felt so...fitting. Good. Right. Morrigan was surprised at how easy it all seemed right in this moment. She was even more astonished to realize that there was not the faintest hint of resistance by the girl. Leliana closed her eyes and just…returned the kiss. As if it was the most natural thing. Well, in a way it was. The bard's lips were so…
What are you doing? The voice in her head cut through the moment like a knife. This is not you. Pull yourself together!
Abruptly she just pulled away and merely jumped up, much to Leliana's surprise. "What are we doing here? This…is ridiculous!" Morrigan stammered. Yes, it is! As she turned away from the bard, she saw Leliana sadly shaking her head, her lips forming a silent 'No'.
"I mean…you and me? Seriously? What was I thinking?" – "No, Morrigan, please don't," she heard Leliana whispering.
She spun around. "What? Don't what?" Her words sounded harsh, furious even. More to herself than towards the bard, she noticed.
Leliana looked at her sadly. "Don't do what you are about to do. What you always do. Pushing away everyone coming close to you. Thinking with your head, not with your heart." – "Oh, please! Don't you dare throwing your little cheery proverbs at me. 'Thinking with my head'? Yes, I tend to do that. 'Tis called 'rational thinking', girl! Something that us grown-ups do."
Leliana firmly shook her head. "No, Morrigan it is not rational at all. Or at least not the right kind." The 'right kind of rational'? What crazy notion was that?
The girl rose up and made a step towards Morrigan…and another. Surprised, Morrigan recognized that she actually shied away. Even more so as Leliana continued. "This is the pattern Flemeth wanted for you, Morrigan. Isolation. Assuring yourself that nobody is worth your attention. That all the other people are beneath you – only to be used, not to be cared for. That is not you – it's Flemeth's Morrigan."
In her back, Morrigan felt the table – no further room to back away.
Defiantly, she almost shouted back. "Oh, is that so? 'Flemeth's Morrigan', is it? And you would happen to know another one, right? How so, I wonder?" The girl just looked at her. No further movement, just that sincere look. "Because I saw her. You saved my life, Morrigan. Where is the rationality in that? You killed Marjolaine. You carried me all the way here when you could have just let me die right there in the Wilds. Why? And after that: when you had brought me to Wynne, you could have just walked away. Never to be seen again. But you stayed here. You held me in your arms when I was crying just a few minutes ago. Why would you do that? We were sharing something here. And you were the one who kissed me. That was not rational, Morrigan. And it was not Flemeth. It was you. It is you."
She was holding her breath. Again, Leliana's word shook her to the core. Never had she thought about it that way. Had she thought at all from that moment on when she saw that girl lying there in the dirt, a gloating Marjolaine before her?
"Leave, girl." Her voice was hoarse.
Leliana was silent for a moment. Then she nodded. "Yes. I probably…should leave…and rest. And I know that you might need your time to think this through. I will be waiting for your answer. And know this, Morrigan: If your answer is no, I will accept it. You will never hear of me again." Morrigan felt a shiver coming down her spine as the bard touched her cheek. "But, please: promise me to think this through – with your head and your heart. Don't just rob yourself of the chance for something…something good for no reason. Please." A last look out of her sad blue eyes and the bard turned around to leave. Morrigan couldn't say a word. Are there any words for this?
Just as the girl was about to leave the room, she turned around one last time. "Oh, and it's Leliana" she said.
Morrigan was lost. What does she mean?
"My name", explained the bard "You always used to call me 'girl' or 'bard' or 'fool'. I think today was the first time I heard you saying my actual name. Could you please…keep that up?" She lowered her head, looking almost shy. "It sounded…nice when you said it."
That was it. Morrigan stared at the door as it shut behind Leliana. She was just standing there – lost. Her fingers touched something cold behind her back. Turning around she recognized it as the necklace on the table. The one she had studied so intently for its inner magic. Leliana's gift. To her. She took it in her hand and glanced at the pattern once more.
It did look complex and beautiful at the same time.
As Morrigan closed her eyes and she heard her thoughts coming out of her mouth. "I will think this through. With my head…and my heart. I promise…" Her voice was cracking.
"…Leliana," she added.
It did sound nice.
Halfway down the staircase, Leliana had to stop and take a break. She took hold of the cold stone wall. It was better that way. Better to wait a moment, before she just fell down. It was a strange feeling: on the one hand, her body was weary, without a doubt still recovering from what might have killed her. Her legs felt weak, her every step was shaky and insecure.
Then again, there was this euphoria in her head, pushing away all tiredness. Her mind was racing – as was her heart. She knew that only too well: a simple kiss could have that effect. But this one hadn't been simple. Part of her still feared that this was just a hallucination – some surprisingly sweet fever-dream.
Well, it wasn't, was it?
She kissed me. Morrigan really kissed me! There had been more. That tingling, when the witch had softly embraced her as she was crying. The pounding of her heart when she had looked her deep in the eyes and first felt that something was different. But the kiss…it had shot her mind right through the roof, up into the sky.
"Morrigan kissed me!" She almost gave a start when she realized that she had spoken it out aloud now. But it was just too sweet.
She had never expected this. Oh, there had been a time when she had played around with the thought. Morrigan had always been a fascinating woman to her. Beautiful. Mysterious. Deep. She had fancied that right from the beginning. But after a few conversations – or rather: attempts at conversation, which the witch had just waved away – she had known that this was never going to happen, that Morrigan would never allow them even to be friends.
Still: She had enjoyed that two or three pretty…inappropriate dreams she had about herself and Morrigan at that time. There was a Blight going on and so she had tried to treasure every rare moment of joy. Even if it was just a joyful fantasy: wasn't a minstrel entitled to that? And those dreams had been very joyful. What harm could they do? After all, they were just that: dreams. Dreams, that hurt no one.
Sometimes it had been hard, though: waking up in the morning, getting back to reality when she saw the woman from her dreams again, but now completely ignoring or even insulting her, instead of…doing those other things. Leliana had had trouble not to blush.
But she did kiss me now. The thought alone seemed to give her new strength. She straightened up and carefully tried another step…and another…
Her legs were weak, but she could manage the rest of the stairs. It would be easier from now on, wouldn't it? Just some steps back to her room. She did stumble when her knee suddenly gave in for an instance. Damn you, Marjolaine!
But still, all that Marjolaine had done, all the consequences of her own naïvety and Marjolaine's vileness – it had all led her to this path. Towards the Maker and the Chantry. Towards Elissa and the good fight. And now to this. Her thoughts rushed back to Morrigan. Marjolaine's poison…and Morrigan's kiss as the cure. Isn't that ironic? If I had known Morrigan a few years ago, I would have sworn that it would be the other way round.
She tried another step. It seemed to work. Just around the corner…and then a few more corridors…
Her mind wandered off again. She had to stay calm, keep her expectations down. Or so she told herself. She kissed me. But what did that mean with Morrigan? The witch was complicated – one aspect that Leliana actually liked about her. It added to her beauty. But will it block the way for…this? What is this?
It was dangerous terrain – Leliana realized that she had already let herself go, let her mind bring more feelings into this than it should. I should know better. Haven't I been hurt enough in the past? What if Morrigan decided that it had been just a moment of weakness? It sounded like something she might do.
Suddenly a shadow cowered over Leliana's thoughts. Had she gone too early? Shouldn't she have refused to go? Maybe I should have kissed her again myself? Fight for it? In that last moments she looked as if she felt that I was right. Maybe that was our chance. And maybe I messed it up by leaving.
Could she have done more? Should she have done more?
Abruptly, she noticedthat she was standing in front of her room's door. How long had she wandered around? She had been in thoughts for…she couldn't tell at all.
As the door opened, the shadow darkened even further. It was a mistake, wasn't it? I should have stayed. She will think it over and most likely she will decide that it all was some moment's fancy. As she slowly stripped of her boots and slipped under the sheet, she realized what that meant with Morrigan. If she changes her mind, she will not be here tomorrow. She'll be gone and I will never see her again.
But she knew that she couldn't get up now. She had taken this to the limit and beyond. She knew how to do this and she knew when her body just couldn't do any more.
So, was that the way this story would end? As the shadow fell and her weariness took over, she heard herself speak, like saying a prayer. "Let her do the right thing."
Then she closed her eyes.
Suddenly, she felt a touch on her forehead. Her eyes sprung open again and she looked…at Morrigan. "Maker's breath, that was quick!" she said.