Amaryllis opened her eyes.

Bright, warm sunlight poured across the bed where she lay, the window beside her open to the breeze. Voices spoke softly, the millings-about of a typical morning: faraway laughter, the tilling of dirt, the chatter of birds as they flitted from tree to tree, and the quiet breaths of someone deeply sleeping.

She turned her head and found Ellana asleep in a chair beside her—arms crossed, legs stretched out, head lolling against the back of the chair.

Guilt filled Amaryllis instantly. She moved to sit up, but couldn't stop herself from crying out, hands gripping the sheets. Her throat felt as though she had swallowed sandpaper, the pain in her side an intense, debilitating pulse.

"Don't move." Ellana was awake, now. She took Amaryllis's left hand and pried her fingers from the linens to hold them, her touch a gentle distraction. "There is a hole in your side that has not yet closed."

If Amaryllis had thought her sister looked tired before, it was nothing compared to how she looked now: haggard and pale, her sunflower eyes dull. Though their gazes met, Ellana's felt far away.

She squeezed her sister's hand, tightly, firmly—as if reminding Ellana that she was still here. Still breathing. Amaryllis opened her mouth to speak, but could not muster a sound, too anxious of the pain it would cause.

Water? She mouthed.

Ellana quickly handed her a cup from a nearby table and helped prop her up so she could drink. An elfroot tea, she realized, as it soothed the sting of her throat.

Still, she couldn't speak, her attempt at thanking her sister nothing more than a wheezing breath. She frowned.

"It will need time." Ellana put the glass back on the table. Standing, she sat beside Amaryllis atop the bedspread, and looked at her: gaze an unfathomable depth, understanding, seeing more of her than Amaryllis felt Ellana had ever seen. "You almost died."

What happened? She mouthed again, a question in the furrow of her brow. As far as her memory was concerned, it had been Ellana who had almost died. And what of Solas? Cassandra?

"Something incredibly stupid." Ellana's voice quaked with anguish though she shed no tears. "You stepped in front of the Despair demon's attack and took a blow meant for me as if you hadn't expected the barrier you'd created to do what it was meant to. Did you want to die? Is that it?"

Shaking her head, she took her sister's hand, desperately squeezing it, but—did she? Did she want to die?

You will only fail, as you always have, as you always will.

Just as you failed all who have laid their trust in you.

And you will fail her, too.

When Despair had spoken to her, it had not fed her lies, had it? The things it had said were not new to Amaryllis. Despair had preyed upon her deepest, darkest secrets, and laid them bare. It had forced her to see herself for what she was, what she had always known herself to be:

A had caused the accident, hadn't she? She had distracted her mother with her childish worry. She had failed to open the car door when Akasha had asked her. She had failed to hold on to her sister. Maybe if she had, they would have been together. Maybe if she had, she wouldn't have woken in this world alone.

She had failed Mihris, too, when he had needed her the most. She could have healed him if only she had worked harder: if only she had realized she had the ability before he had taken his last breath. She had failed Babae, in breaking her promise to him. She had failed to protect Ellana. If only she had remembered—but she had failed in that, too.

But did Amaryllis want to die? It wasn't as though she sought fights. How often had her fear of death caused her to freeze? She did not seek death—it was only that, if she had had the choice, she would have chosen not to wake up at all.

Ellana stared down at their joined hands, a single tear gathering along the tip of her nose.

"I will admit I had been angry, the morning I woke alone in Haven. I could have used the comfort, then, when faced with the fact that my life would never truly be the same. But, after... I was happy for you, Lis. You had finally done something for yourself. I had grown to think you didn't know how to live for anyone but me."

The tear fell to the back of Amaryllis's hand; Ellana swiped it away with her thumb, then began to rub gentle circles into her sister's skin.

"You give too much of yourself—you always have. For me, for others, you've given all that you have. And even when you've had nothing to give, you've given more. You shorten your lifespan each time you use more mana than you have. You take years that are meant for you, for us to grow old together, and have no qualms about giving them away. I know you're aware of this. I know you do it purposefully. Do I really mean that little to you?"

No, no, I have never meant to hurt you. Amaryllis gripped her sister's hand tighter and tugged her closer until she met her gaze once more. I have only wanted to help.
"No." It was agony to speak, her voice barely above a rasping whisper, but she had to do it. Ellana needed to know. "You mean everything to me, Ellana. I love you."
"But you do not love yourself."

Amaryllis closed her eyes and pressed her trembling lips tightly together.

This, she could not answer.

It was days before Amaryllis was deemed healed enough for their journey back to Haven. In that time, she had slept. Ellana would arrive with a potion, a salve, new bandages, tea, porridge, and a reminder that Amaryllis was not to try to heal her wounds alone. She didn't, though she was tempted. She didn't want to upset her sister further.

They barely spoke. Ellana tended to her and would sleep at night in the cot on the other side of the cottage, near the door, but otherwise made herself scarce.

Amaryllis made sure not to bother her sister, lest she make things worse. She did seem to have a terrible habit of doing just that.

Their journey was spent much the same. Amaryllis avoided speaking to the others, acting as though her throat had still not healed enough to do so. She kept herself distant—the last to rise in the morning, the first to slide into her bedroll in the evening—and tried not to make eye contact with Varric, who seemed intent on breaking her resolve. When she did happen to meet his gaze, he would give her his usual mischievous smirk, yet his eyes belied his true concern.

Amaryllis tried not to stew in her guilt, but it became impossible to fight as each day passed, and her sister began to distance herself even further.

What was she to do? It wasn't as though she woke daily, actively choosing to hurt herself—it was seeing the need in others that led to what she assumed her sister saw as penance. Amaryllis wanted nothing more than to do for others what others had done for her. She was keenly aware that without Keeper Deshanna's kind heart, she would have surely ceased to exist. Her entire life was owed to the clan. All that Amaryllis had done, and all that she continued to do, was out of compassion—for all that she held and all that she had been given. What could be so wrong about that?

And so what if she did live for Ellana? What would life be without the unconditional love family so readily gave? What was wrong with laying your life down for that purpose? Would her mother not have done the same, if she had known what was to come? Had Babae not given himself in the same way? Had she not promised him they would care for each other, that she would do whatever it took to protect her sister?

Amaryllis was content with her life. To live for each day and spend her time doing for others was more than enough for her. It was her choice. Why couldn't Ellana understand that?

"But you do not love yourself."

How was she meant to answer, when the thought had never crossed her mind?

The further they walked, the more her guilt began to meld with her growing frustration. She kept her eyes on the ground, watching each careful step she took. They had been gone long enough that the snow had melted. That morning she had finally exchanged her heavy boots for foot wrappings. It was a relief to feel the earth beneath her soles again.

Today, they crested the hills and descended into the valley. It wouldn't be long now before they arrived in Haven.

Her stomach churned with anxiety.

Amaryllis took a deep, shuddering breath, and imagined wiping that table clean again and again until her mind emptied of anything but putting one foot in front of the other.