run love, im the truth you're afraid of; any

[leliana]

I know what it is but I'm hoping that all is well
no harvest of green but it's still my heart to sell

His body bucked at the touch of her healing and for the first time, she felt guilt at use of it, felt ashamed for healing without asking. She shook her head, distressed at the sight of the pain she caused him, at the way he hungrily gulped for air, his body drinking in the support after her power curled away from him and then back into her chest. For a second, she tore her gaze from him and then outward into the crowd around them, the breeze rippling around her, shifting the thick crimson of her mane over the graceful curve of her neck, revealing the hidden dapples beneath its weight. One second—then two, then three.

With each breath, she fought for balance, fought for understanding.

Fought to think outside of herself.

When she looked back to him, he was glancing at her, just a little through the thin curtain of his black mane, his eye bloodshot. Her stomach twisted at the sight and she bit down on the inside of her cheek, and fought the moan in her throat. What had she done to him? What was she doing? When he flung down to the ground again, her heart constricted painfully in her throat and she took several steps forward against her own will, the movement unbidden and unchecked. She could not help but be pulled to him, the string in her chest inexplicably tied to him. It was like gravity, and she was helpless against it.

She took one step, and then another, moving toward him slowly, the crowd parting and moving around her without thought. She should leave. She had already folded herself into his life unbidden today, and here she was furthering it—here she was selfishly stepping toward him, breathing in the scent that grew more potent with each step. Her nostrils flared, fluttered, as the scent of him hit her, her chest expanding to drink it in, to memorize it. If this was to be the last time she saw him, she wanted to remember it.

She came up to his side, steady despite the way she shook internally, her hazel eyes expressive as she looked down upon him. “Dovev,” his name was still so sweet in her mouth—and it was difficult to not repeat it. It took everything within her to not murmur it again, to not continue saying it, the sound so natural. She closed her eyes for a heartbeat, taking a steadying breath. “I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

How could she not be?

He had made his decision; he had a family. And here she was, impeding upon his privacy. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Her head dropped slightly, hovering over his cheek, the curve of bone armor; she could practically taste the closeness, feel the heat of him radiating up toward her. For a second, a brief and tantalizingly real moment, she considered closing it. She considered dropping her mouth those few inches to brush against his cheek, to linger against his jaw, taste the salt of his flesh.

But even in those stolen moments, those rare moments where he had held her with such passion, he had not wanted her to touch him. And now—well, now, he had his true love. He was never hers to touch, and that certainly didn’t change now. So she withdrew her breath no longer warming his cheek as she took a hesitant step back, fighting tirelessly to keep the pain restrained, to not burden him with the ache of it as it thrashed in her chest. “I will leave. I promise. I won’t ever bother you again.”

It would be the hardest thing she had ever done, but if it was what he wanted, she would do it.

His happiness meant more than her agony. It always had.

I put everything I had into something that didn't grow
like going on a wild hunt, shooting arrows without a bow