[private] Leliana;

[leliana]

I've never loved a darker blue than the darkness I have known in you

So much goes on behind those dark eyes. So much hurt and agony and guilt. So many things he bears himself because he is convinced no one else will be there to shoulder the burden with him, that no one will think he is worthy enough for their assistance—because in his mind he’s not. It causes her stomach to wrench, but she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t bother to try and dispute whatever is going through his mind. There is no point to it, she knows, and they’d be stuck for hours arguing while someone out there needs her help. So she just sighs, shaking her head as he turns to walk back the direction he came from.

Taking a deep breath, she gathers her wings to her sides, cursing them for giving away so much of her inner thoughts and forcefully changing them to the familiar red dragon wings. The weight of them is heavy and comfortable, a reminder that she is not without her own internal strength.

She is not something to be easily broken.

Even if so many think she is.

They walk in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of their own breathing, their own hooves hitting the ground steadily. Every once in a while, she sneaks a look at him from beneath the curtain of her red forelock and mane, her hazel eyes studying every line of his agitated body. She wants to ask him what happened. She wants to ask him where he’s been. She wants to ask him about his daughter, about the lost years between them—instead she just opens her mouth and closes it, crimson lips pressing together.

It’s only when he thanks her that she tilts her head toward him, brows drawing together in confusion. “You don’t need to thank me for this, Dovev.” His name always hurts to say, but she says it anyway, letting the sting sink into her belly. Part of her wants to leave it at that, because that’s the truth. No one needs to thank her for healing, for giving back with the gift she has been given. It would be of the utmost selfishness for her to hoard it to herself, to not do what she could, but the truth was larger than just that.

“I will always be here for you.”

Her voice is low, quiet, and she searches his gaze for a moment before dropping it and turning back to the path that unwinds before them, letting the silence fill the chasm opening up cleanly across her chest.

like fire weeping from a cedar tree, know that my love would burn with me