[open] molten eyes and a smile made for war; 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

Years have passed since he provided comfort in the dark. He had been a bright light in a time that refused such things—a moment of quiet when the rest of her world had been collapsing around her. They had never spent a terribly long time together, but it had been enough. He had given her respite: comfort without expectations, companionship without pain. So she remembers him fondly. Remembers the way that they had found shelter from the rain and the warmth from their breath blooming in front of them.

Remembers the way he let the silences stretch long and yet comfortable, giving her time to gather her thoughts, to shield her heart. He does not know how much she has clung to that memory, to that peace.

So, perhaps, he will not remember her—will not understand the joy that blossoms in her now when she sees the copper of his hide. She doesn't move quickly, but neither does she waste time. Instead, she picks her way through the meadow, the shadows long on the curve of her dappled back. Her wings fold in close to her, curving the edges of her barrel, and she finds her way through the grass and the flowers.

Until she is before him, exhaling and then inhaling the familiar scent of him.

“Rhonen,” his name comes back quickly to her, warming her chest with the memories. “It is so good to see you again.” But her eyes are quickly drawn away to the child near him, and her lip curves with pleasure at the sight of it. It was good to think of him happy—to think of him with a family. After everything he had told her, it is the least that he deserved. “And who is this?”

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