Cassandra raised her eyes from her steaming bowl of stew, studying Morrigan's face. Her lover's expression was far more somber than usual, unhappy enough to tear her attention away from dinner despite her hunger. It had been a little over a day since their visit to the altar, but whatever had happened there still hovered over Morrigan like a shadow. They had not discussed it, but it didn't take a perceptive person to sense the gloom.

For what felt like the hundredth time, she tried to find the words to ask what was wrong. Although she was often concerned for her friends, and especially for Morrigan in recent months, Cassandra knew she wasn't the best at showing it. Her attempts at offering comfort often backfired, coming out cold and stilted when that was the exact opposite of her intentions. Even though her instincts told her to try and help, she was worried her awkwardness would only make things worse. Instead, she remained silent, hoping Morrigan would notice her gaze and start the conversation first.

She got her wish, although Morrigan's overtures weren't particularly friendly. "Would you care to tell me why you are staring a hole through my head, Seeker Pentaghast? Or am I simply too irresistible for you to draw your eyes away from?"

It was the angriest, most annoyed attempt at flirtation Cassandra had ever witnessed, and she suddenly felt better about her own social abilities. Morrigan is even worse at this than I am. 'Seeker Pentaghast' indeed. This tension needs to be discussed before she forgets my first name entirely.

"I am concerned," she said, deciding the honest, blunt approach would be best. "You have been distant ever since we left the altar, and neither you nor the Inquisitor have made any attempts to explain what happened there."

Morrigan's eyes softened, but only for a moment. Her lips pursed into a thin line, and a wrinkle marred her forehead. "Your concern is appreciated, but I do not wish to give an explanation." Her gaze slid sideways, to where Sera was slurping from her bowl while Vivienne looked on with disgust. The rest of the sentence was implied: at least not here.

Cassandra nodded, pretending to accept the explanation. She set her own bowl aside and stood, feigning interest in the fire pit they had dug. "Then perhaps I should find more kindling. There isn't enough here to last the night."

"At least finish your dinner first, my dear," Vivienne said. Her voice could have fooled most people into thinking she was genuinely concerned, but Cassandra suspected she merely did not want to be left alone in Sera's company.

"Thank you, but I am not hungry," Cassandra said, giving Vivienne a polite nod.

Sera perked up. "Not hungry? C'n I have..."

"Here," Cassandra sighed, passing over her bowl. Sera dug in immediately, and Vivienne's scowl deepened. While the two of them were occupied, Cassandra caught Morrigan's eye and slipped off, leaving the camp behind and wandering a little further into the forest.

She was not alone for long. Morrigan moved through the trees to join her only a few minutes later, and Cassandra smiled upon seeing her. It was then that she realized that she still didn't know how to begin this conversation—or if Morrigan even wanted to have it with her. "We don't have to talk if you don't want to," she said, looking down at her feet. For some reason, the darkness in Morrigan's eyes made her slightly uncomfortable. It was brooding and secretive, not the kind of expression she was used to seeing on someone who was supposed to be her lover. "We really could use more wood..."

"There is much to talk about, but I will be brief," Morrigan said. "'Tis a most unpleasant subject."

Cassandra nodded. "I understand."

"No. You do not." To her surprise, the tone of Morrigan's words was not unkind, but rather flat. Her usual fire had been replaced with a deep sense of resignation. "You know that we went to the altar in the hopes of meeting Mythal. And we did. But… she was not what I expected."

Cassandra's brow furrowed in confusion. "So what was she? Some elven god? A demon?"

Morrigan shook her head. "Perhaps. I still do not comprehend much of this. But what I do know is that Mythal is also my mother."

"Your mother?" Cassandra felt the rare urge to laugh. She realized that she knew nothing of Morrigan's family. Indeed, it was strange to consider her having one at all, but that didn't mean that some ancient elven entity was what she would have expected. And yet, Morrigan's face warned her against giving in to her momentary amusement. The witch had gone even paler than usual, and in her eyes, Cassandra saw something she wasn't sure had ever been there before: fear.

"You are right," she admitted, "I don't understand what that means. But I want to."

Morrigan shook her head, averting her eyes. "There is no need. This was my mistake. And now I am the only one who should have to deal with the consequences."

"You do not have to be." Cassandra stepped closer to Morrigan, reaching out hesitantly. She wasn't sure if her embrace would be welcome, but to her relief, Morrigan permitted it. "I don't always know what I am doing when it comes to personal matter, but people who…" She paused. What were she and Morrigan to each other? Lovers, clearly. Beyond that, she still didn't know. They had made no pledges. And yet, Cassandra knew that her heart ached at the clear pain in Morrigan's face and so she continued. "...who care for each other as I think we do… they try to help each other. I want to help you."

Morrigan drew closer, and to Cassandra's surprise, a soft cheek rested against her shoulder in search of comfort. "I… appreciate that. Truly. But I am not sure there is anything you can do. I drank from the Well of Sorrows of my own will, and in doing so, I bound myself to my mother. After spending the better part of my life trying to be free of her, I have given her some terrible hold over me instead."

"But she is your mother," Cassandra said tentatively. "It seems clear that your relationship is poor, but surely she would not…"

"I have no idea what she will do," Morrigan cut in, obviously upset. "I do not even know what she is, let alone what she is capable of. All I can say for certain is that I am powerless against her. She can simply block my magic. She can reach into my mind…"

"Morrigan…" Cassandra clutched Morrigan closer to her, unable to think of anything to say besides her lover's name. It was true. She had no idea what to do about any of this. As a Seeker of Truth, she thought that she understood what magic was and what it could do, but ever since joining the Inquisition, she had realized that she knew nothing. The Breech, the Anchor, Corypheus, and now this Mythal and the Well of Sorrows; all of them were far beyond her training. She was walking through waters far over her head, and now they threatened to swallow up a woman who had come to mean a great deal to her.

She remained still for a long time, holding Morrigan loosely in her arms and allowing the witch's forehead to rest beneath her chin. Several times she tried to speak, to find the words a lover should say, but they didn't come easily, and she wasn't convinced that Morrigan wanted them. In the end, she settled for silent support. Perhaps Morrigan would prefer that kind of comfort anyway over false promises and meddlesome questions.

In the end, it was Morrigan who spoke first. "Thank you, Cassandra," she said, her voice much softer than usual. "There was no reason for you to do this, but I am glad you wish to try and reassure me."

Cassandra pulled back, looking into Morrigan's eyes. "I care for you. Is that not reason enough?"

To her surprise, Morrigan smiled. "Even if you had not told me of your inexperience before now, I would have guessed. Sharing someone's bed does not always mean you wish to share their burdens. This is a... surprisingly welcome development."

Cassandra returned the smile with a hesitant one of her own. Perhaps she hadn't made such a mess of things after all. "I would want to help you even if we weren't lovers," she said. "You have become an important part of the Inquisition, as well as my friend. If your mother, or Mythal, or whatever she calls herself tries to harm you..." Honestly, she had no idea how to go about fighting an elven deity, but she supposed she would do her best to find out.

"She calls herself Flemeth," Morrigan said.

"Flemeth?" Cassandra's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You mean in addition to being Mythal, your mother is also the Witch of the Wilds? I thought she was only a Ferelden story..." She sighed, shaking her head. I should know better after all the things we have encountered.

"Yet another reason the two of us fail to get along," Morrigan said. "I used to believe she used her many daughters to extend her life, but now, I have no guess as to what designs she has on me after I have fulfilled my purpose."

"Your purpose?" Cassandra asked in alarm. "What purpose?"

Morrigan's face hardened. "To help the Inquisitor defeat Corypheus. Flemeth would see him destroyed, and so for the moment, our goals align. She has given me the power to match his dragon, and though she frightens me, I would be a fool not to use it."

Morrigan gazed into the rippling surface of the eluvian, watching the shapes inside shift and change. It had been a day since their party had returned to Skyhold, but she was still restless and uncertain. Once, the mirror would have brought her some measure of comfort, but now it was only a reminder of all her uncertainties.

She had been so sure that the Well would provide her with everything she wanted: incredible power and the answers to many of her questions. Her desire for knowledge was fierce, but for the first time in her life, Morrigan was beginning to realize that there were some things she did not want to understand, or even think about. The voices in her head had been whispering louder since her encounter with Flemeth, and they were beginning to frighten her.

Even though I should want to know what my mother is and what use she wishes to make of me... I don't. I just want to be alone.

But being alone felt as if it were no longer an option. Once, long ago, when the burden of dealing with her mother became too much, Morrigan would disappear into the wilderness for weeks at time, finding peace in the solitude. Now, though… Now, she had taken on obligations, one after another. To the Grey Warden, to Empress Celene, to the Inquisition, and finally to her wretched mother. It was a horrid and agitating to be so trapped, and her mind rebelled against the condition.

Why can I not disappear as I used to? As a raven, I could be long gone from this place before any thought to look for me. I could leave all of this behind, return to the Korcari Wilds, and never hear the sound of another person's voice until I wished it.

But that thought was pure fantasy. Morrigan was no child anymore, and having become entangled in the web of the world, she had to accept that she would never be entirely free of it. Ever since she was befriended by that insufferably righteous Grey Warden, her old life had slipped beyond her grasp for good. There was a world threatened by Corypheus's machinations, and ties to those who opposed them that she could not so easily shake, no matter how far or fast she ran.

What is left for me then, if I cannot be as I was? The answer came to her suddenly. I can decide what my ties shall be. If my old solitude has been taken from me, I must make the best of the life I am now trapped in.

Once Morrigan realized that, the rest was obvious. There were a bare handful of people whose company she found tolerable, but one who stood out among the rest. She and Cassandra might have been thrown together by a truly bizarre series of events, but Morrigan realized that she actually wanted to have the Seeker be a part of her life. Their night beneath the stars was a memory she would always cherish. The pleasure, of course, had been wonderful, but it was more than that. With anyone else, she would have found the exchange of affection mawkish, but somehow, the idea of being bound to someone else was not so terrible as long as it was Cassandra.

She turned away from the glowing surface of the eluvian. Her heartbeat sped up as she walked the halls of Skyhold. The idea of confessing her feelings to Cassandra, not just an attraction, but something more profound and genuine, scared her. Still, it didn't scare her enough to stop. Whatever fears this plan summoned, they were far less than the nauseating, clawing sensation of her mother's power gripping at her soul. She had felt that presence in the back of her mind ever since she drank from the Well, but once it had seemed to promise the knowledge and power that she'd wanted. Now that she knew what it meant, she hated every second of the feeling, and there was only one person she trusted enough to help her blot it out.

You did offer me your help, she thought as she walked the familiar path to the training grounds. I can only hope you truly meant it.

Cassandra grunted as her blade collided with the training dummy, leaning into the strike with all her strength. She knew the drills were meant to enhance form and precision, but this afternoon, she had a little extra frustration to work out. Morrigan had barely spoken a word to her or anyone else in days, and she was starting to worry.

At first, she had accepted Morrigan's silence. It made sense, from what little had been revealed to her. More telling still, Morrigan had not turned away her small, silent gestures of support—laced fingers here and there when no one was looking, passing over a little extra food at mealtimes. But several days had gone by, enough for them to reach Skyhold again, and her subtle actions had done nothing to fix the problem. She had no idea what else to do.

I need to talk to her... Swing. Thud. But what could I possibly say? Breathe. Lift. When it comes to words, I'm no better than a dim-witted child... Swing. Thud. Perhaps Leliana should speak to her instead. Breathe. Lift. At least she can express herself.

But the thought of Leliana comforting Morrigan made her chest ache in a curious way. She wanted to help Morrigan herself, to find some way of understanding, to offer support with more than just an embrace. She sighed and lowered her sword. Maker, I am worse at sorting through my feelings than Varric's Guard-Captain. If I didn't know better, I would suspect him of using me for inspiration in his writing.

"Cassandra?"

The sound of her name startled her before she could chastise herself any further. She turned in surprise, and her face softened when she saw Morrigan standing behind her. The expression on her face was curious, a mixture of several emotions, and Cassandra couldn't quite tell whether it was happy or fearful. Fear had been Morrigan's constant companion since their departure from the Arbor Wilds, and Cassandra had grown used to seeing its shadow on her. Perhaps it is both. She might be happy to see me, and fearful of everything else.

"Morrigan," she said, offering a smile, "I am glad you—"

"Hush," Morrigan said, fingertips pressing urgently into her arm. She could feel them even through her hauberk. "Come with me. 'Tis time we spoke."

Something in her voice compelled Cassandra to obey. "Of course, if you wish." She set down her sword, allowing Morrigan to lead her across the training grounds and past the tavern. Despite the dark cloud hanging over the witch's head, she decided to take the invitation as a sign of progress. If Morrigan wanted to talk to her, perhaps it was a good sign. That, or she wishes to tell me that this... thing between us was a mistake.

Cassandra's heart sank at the very thought. Her armor seemed to grow heavier with each step, and she suddenly felt as if she was walking toward her own execution. In her panic, all she could think to do was stall. "Are you sure you wish to talk inside? It's such a lovely afternoon..."

But Morrigan would not be swayed. The tug on her arm grew insistent, and Cassandra could only stumble along, becoming more frantic by the moment. By the time they were inside the castle, she was so nervous that she didn't register where Morrigan was leading them. She staggered through the hallways in a daze, only regaining a little of her composure when they came to a stop outside of a wooden door. "Where are we?"

Morrigan smiled, but it was thin one. It was clear the witch was as nervous as she was. "'Tis my room, of course. Where else should we go to talk?"

"No, here would be reasonable," Cassandra said, though too quickly.

The two of them stepped inside. Cassandra had never seen Morrigan's quarters before, but they were much as she would have expected. Only a simple bed and one dresser with a handful of personal items on top enlivened the bare, stone room.

"It is quite clean," was the only thing that came to mind, but Morrigan didn't seem to notice her idiotic remark, so lost was she in her anxiety.

"I… have been thinking further," the witch began, "since we spoke in the forest. About what has happened with my mother, and what it might mean. It may have... changed things between us."

Cassandra's heart skipped a beat. Her relationship with Morrigan had been growing more important to her, but it wasn't until she thought she might lose it that she realized just how much. "Changed them? In what way?"

"It is difficult for me to explain what I mean." Morrigan crossed her arms defensively, and her face tightened. "I am no better at these matter than you are, I fear."

"Just tell me," Cassandra blurted out. She feared that she might faint if she didn't get an answer soon. As terrible as losing Morrigan would be, she had to at least know where she stood. "It does not need to be said well."

"Very well. I…" Morrigan shook her head. Every word seemed as if it had to be forced out of her lips, but she continued. "I need you, Cassandra. To be… yours. I can no longer pretend that I can escape my ties to others, and if I am to be bound to someone, I would much prefer that it was you."

She needs me? The words crashed through her head, and she nearly swayed as she struggled to interpret them. As clear as they had been, she still had trouble believing. She wants to be mine. To be bound to me. Does she truly mean that? "I… I do not know what to say," Cassandra stammered. Her confusion was giving way to relief, and it saturated her so thoroughly that she struggled for words even more than usual. "I had thought… I had feared that you meant to end things between us?"

"T'was not my intention at all," Morrigan declared. She sounded more confident, and her pose was relaxing. The line of her shoulders practically melted. "But I am pleased that you did not wish that. I should have looked quite the fool confessing my feelings otherwise."

"Not at all," Cassandra insisted. Quite to the contrary, she found herself thrilling to Morrigan's words. They made her pulse speed back up, but it was excitement and not fear that filled her now.

"Excellent." Morrigan stepped closer to her, eyes flaring bright, fingertips trailing along her arm in open invitation. "Now, must I beg, or are you going to take me now? Surely those dreadful novels you read have given you some idea of what comes next."

Cassandra didn't hesitate. She wrapped her arm around Morrigan's waist, bringing their mouths together in a deep kiss.