Leliana

Soft. It was the first thought that entered my mind. The last thing I remember is...sunrise...guilt...the road...collapsing into the grass.

"We have to get the bolt out." a kind voice filtered into my ears from what seemed leagues away. "It has been in there too long, and we cannot risk the wound festering."

Is that why I feel that some angry hand has stuffed flaming cotton between my ears?

I knew all too well the slow horror of infection, of the flaming burn from the wound, the sweating from the fever, shaking from the chills and ripping open scabs. My heart began to race, remembering crawling through the dungeons of Val Royeaux, the cuts on my legs splitting and oozing blood and pus.

I opened my eyes, desperate to know that I had not returned to the land of my nightmares. I could see blurry outlines, moving figures, solid furniture.

I have been found, came the groggy realization.

A face hovered over mine and as I blinked, the blurry lines cleared. Kind, watery blue eyes gazed at me with concern.

"Wynne?" my voice came out harsh.

"Here." she held a cup to my lips. "Drink slowly. You've been lying in the sun for quite some time, and you've lost blood. You are dehydrated."

I took cautious sips of the water, feeling it cool my throat and clear my head. It smelled sharply of herbs, and I knew that Wynne had mixed them into the drink to ease my pain.

"When did...how long?"

"Burrow found you along the road." Wynne answered, placing a cool cloth over my brow, providing instant relief from the horrific headache. "Now stop asking questions. Your body needs rest, do not let your mind overtax it." She looked into the corner of the room. "Salem, I need you here."

Salem! My hear leapt with equal parts joy and terror. She is alive. Thank the Maker.

I gathered what little strength I had and tried to sit up, forgetting my injury for a moment and using my left arm to support me. I fell back onto the pillows, gasping for breath as pain radiated through my body.

"Leliana, lie still." Wynne ordered, removing the cloth from my brow and dabbing at the sweat that had run down my face and neck.

I heard movement and looked around the room, watching the warden crossing to the bed from out of the shadows. She looked to Wynne for guidance. She would not look at me. I could see the new scar on her cheek, an attractive, swirled smear of indigo and scarlet. In truth, it looked more like a well-done tattoo than a wound left by dragon's fire.

"What can I do?" she kept her voice carefully controlled, betraying no emotion.

I closed my eyes, holding in my tears. I had not expected this rush of emotion at the sight of her; nor had I anticipated the pain of her unvoiced rejection. My heart hurt.

What did you think, Leliana? I chastised myself. That she would run into your arms, kiss you, and all would be forgiven and ended? You abandoned her for a life that you could never hope to claim. No matter the penitence you show, you should not expect forgiveness.

"I am not strong enough to push the bolt through." Wynne replied. "And cutting it out is not an option, not with the broken collarbone. I also believe our bard would prefer your ministrations to the witch's."

Salem's lips quirked upward in an unwilling half-smile. "I'm sure."

Wynne moved to my side and brushed my hair out of my eyes. "Leliana," her voice was so kind, "you're been hit with an arrow. Do you remember?"

I closed my eyes, willing away the memories of the darkspawn's masscare of the family I had failed to save. I did not want to think of Lisbeth's broken neck, Aaron's still, bloody chest, and Shira begging me to give her mercy.

"I do."

"The bolt is still in your shoulder." Wynne continued. "Salem is going to have to remove it. I've cut away your robes so that no cloth will be dragged into the wound."

"I understand."

The pain would be terrible. I dreaded it, and I looked at Salem, though her face was turned from mine. Will you use this opportunity to make me feel the pain I put you through, my pettier mind wondered. Will you use the pain of the body to take vengeance for the agony of your heart?

Wynne's brows lowered in concern. "Your collarbone is broken, Leliana. This will be very painful."

"I trust you." I whispered.

The healer propped me up, her weathered hands as gentle as they could be. Salem looked into my eyes at last, and I flinched. They were no longer blind and...somehow scarred. There were no visible lines, no marks, but to look into them, that beautiful, damaged silver-blue...I could tell from a glance that she had stared into the face of eternity. Death lived in her eyes, a fearsome spectre that made me flinch.

It is as though I am gazing into my own mortality. I turned my face away, unable to bear her gaze any longer.

"May..." her voice caught, "may I touch you, Leliana?"

Maker's breath, what have I done? Agony of soul chimed with that of body. She, whose hands possessed me, whose mouth devoured my very spirit...she has every right to be angry, because I left her side. But no...she is kind enough to ask permission to heal my wounds.

I nodded, unable, in that moment, to speak.

"Forgive me." she whispered, so low I barely caught the words.

My throat tightened with grief. How could I have doubted your innate nobility? I berated myself. How could I think you would stoop to such a level as to derive joy from my suffering.

Salem placed the flat of her palm to the bolt, and covered her right hand with the left. Wynne sat behind me, shoring up my body with hers. Salem pressed on the bolt with a sharp, harsh movement, driving it through my skin. The edges of broken bone jarred inside my flesh.

A scream I could not restrain rang through the room. A sickening, squelching sound caught my ears as the bolt burst through my skin. Salem pulled a knife and sliced off the fletching. She tossed the feathers onto the ground and nodded at Wynne. The senior enchanter gripped the bolt and pulled it through.

I sobbed as the bolt slid through my skin, feeling my body begin to shake from the pain. I felt cold and nauseated as I felt warm blood slip from the wound and trail down my back.

"It's done." Wynne murmured soft.

Shuddering, I collapsed forward, into Salem's arms, breathing heavily. The bridge of my nose rested against her shoulder and the tremors stopped as her strength enveloped me. Tears of agony and anguish poured from my eyes and I felt her strong, callused hand stroking through my hair.

"I've got you." she breathed, reassuring me, calming me, causing my racing heartbeat to slow. "I've got you."

"Salem, we need to switch positions. I need to realign her collarbone."

Salem's warmth left me and reappeared as she sat on the bed behind me and gathered me in her arms, supporting me from behind as Wynne's hands began to glow, assessing the wound with magic.

"Grit your teeth, child." she ordered.

I did as she asked, letting Salem grip me as Wynne's fingers brushed under the broken edge of the bone and pushed, forcing it back into place. Cries of pain broke from my throat and I attempted to move, to stop Wynne, but Salem held me fast until the mage finished.

I gasped for breath, feeling as though I could not fill my lungs. Salem's grip tightened and I could sense her worry. Wynne rose and pulled two other pillows from the bed, using them to elevate my legs.

"Breathe slow and deep, Leliana." she counseled. "This is highly unpleasant, but you mustn't go into shock."

I nodded and felt a strong hand rubbing up and down my back, soothing me and helping calm me until I could breathe easier. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I prayed for the cessation of pain.

Wynne stood at the bed and placed her hands on the entry and exit wound of the bolt. Blue healing magic wisped around her palms, infusing my body, stopping the bleeding, burning away infection. Salem held me still as Wynne applied an herbal salve to the wounds and bandaged them with deft hands.

"I know you are in pain, Leliana." I focused on the calming cadence of her voice. "But the magic and herbs will begin to work very soon, and you will be fit and feisty in no time at all."

Wynne moved to a desk and washed the blood from her hands in the basin of water that sat atop it. Salem moved off of the bed and eased me back onto the pillows with excruciating gentleness. She replaced the cool cloth on my forehead and stroked away my tears with her thumb. I still could not meet her eyes, afraid to look at the death they promised would come.

How is this possible? How can I fear her gaze...I, who breathed but to drown in her eyes...this is beyond cruel. Maker, how could you mark your most beautiful in such a way? How?

Wynne appeared once more, cup of water in hand. "Drink." she urged, pressing the cup to my lips. "You need it."

I complied, even though my eyelids fluttered and black danced before my vision, swirling shadows of blissful oblivion. My hand shook and Salem steadied the cup with her own sure grip.

"Good." Wynne rested her hand against my cheek. "She has a slight fever." the healer spoke to Salem. "It will take the magic a moment to begin the healing in earnest."

"As you say." Salem did not sound herself, but this did not surprise me.

What must she have thought, seeing me half-dead on the road? Although, I do not even know if it was she that found me. It could have been Zevran, Alistair...any of them really.

"I am afraid we must remain here at least another day." Wynne spoke. "I am sorry, Salem. I know you were eager to get to Redcliffe."

"The Arl can wait another day." Salem glanced back at me. "I will not lose anyone if I can avoid it."

Unlike me. I am able to protect no one. Not even you, dearest warden. I could not keep you safe from my traitorous heart. Who am I to ask to return to your side? I will only be a hindrance...I will only...slow you down.

My shoulder began to burn as Wynne's magic began working in earnest. A groan I could not stifle slipped past my lips.

The senior enchanter lifted my hand and squeezed it. "Sleep, Leliana." she urged. "It will do you good."

Grateful, I closed my eyes, letting the black overtake me. In my dimming vision, two shattered, silver-blue stars shone out. I could have sworn they sang blood-choked lullabies.