I’m gonna stand here in the ache; vulgaris

[leliana]

I see a ghost out on the water; I swear it has my face
I bend and drink the lonely down, the lonely down

For all of its scars, Leliana’s heart should be more guarded than it is. 

Perhaps she is foolish. 

Perhaps she should hide it away, lock it up, keep it safe. Perhaps she should not let it leap into her throat whenever she sees the scaled stallion walking up or when she feels the beginning rustles of their child growing in her stomach. Perhaps she should be wise. 

But she is not. 

She cannot be. 

Vulgaris agreed to take her home and while she has come to embrace the wild beauty of the land, the truth is that she has made his heart her true home. Every second with him, she sinks further and further into his embrace—ignoring the pain of that which he hides away, that which he does not share. In his presence, she smoothes over the edges of her worry. 

She is grateful, she reminds herself, for whatever he can give. She is grateful for the sweetness, the tenderness, the softness in his hard-angled face. She is grateful for the tidbits that he shares and the calm she finds with her cheek against his back. 

She wants more, but she doesn’t ask for it. She wants to unfold the map of his heart and trace the constellations within it. She wants to know all of the different shadows and caves and dark corners. She wants to know the sharp edges. The haunted pieces. The places where she can knick her finger and draw blood. The places that could gut her. 

He holds such truth back from her and so she mourns, but only in private. 

Such as this morning, when the winter air bites and the sky is grey. Her lovely face is calm but inside, storms rage. Old wounds break open. Fears begin to permeate her mind. All of the different ways that he could destroy her. All of the ways she could break along his fault lines.

All of the ways that she would let him. 

In some ways, she is in love with a shadow. With the smoke of him. She reaches for him but grasps onto nothing, leaving a bitter ache in her stomach. It sinks deep and it’s only when she feels the smallest kick of their daughter that she is able to pierce the veil of her own fear. 

She cranes her neck to look at the rounded edges of her stomach, fuller now and clearly showing signs of child. It’s enough to bring a dreamy smile to her face. 

To remind her of what he has given her. 

Crimson wings of down turn to crimson wings of snake, and they rest across her back as she tips her head to look to the stormy sky. This was enough, she thinks. 

It has to be.

I’m gonna stand here in the ache until the levee on my heart breaks

@[vulgaris]

Hi! I jumped ahead a little. I hope that’s okayyy. <3