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Morrigan lay beside her fire, curled up in her bed roll. It was a cold night--one of the coldest she could remember. They were headed into the Frostback Mountains, and she could tell they were, at long last, drawing close. A shiver overcame her, and she thought she ought to accept she wasn't getting any sleep that night and get up, when she heard voices and the crunching of leaves as someone--no, two someones--approached, none too quietly.
Her heart seized in her chest and her hand crept towards the dagger stashed under her pillow. But a moment later, two forms found the very edge of her firelight, revealing a tall, beautiful blonde woman and a drab redhead with an irritating face. It was only Elaine and Leliana taking their watch, making their rounds around the camp. They were talking and laughing, and though it seemed they tried to be quiet, they were ineffective.
"My first? Oh, she was beautiful. Long, long blonde hair, the color of honey--oo, like yours, quite! But a bit darker, a little more golden--which she wore in a braid, and beautiful green eyes, like two jewels. She was very experienced, of course, and she taught me many things," Leliana sighed dreamily.
Morrigan's brow furrowed. What could they be speaking of? Leliana's first kill as a bard?
"And what about yours?" Leliana asked. "A beautiful daughter of a Teyrn like yourself, surely there were many."
"Not so many, no," Elaine sounded embarrassed. "But--my first, she was short and slight, with long, black hair and pretty brown eyes. She came to my room one night and asked to stay, and the second I closed the door she had me against it, pulling at my clothes. It was--"
"A good night, I suspect," Leliana crowed. Morrigan felt her cheeks color--this was a conversation she was not meant to hear, clearly. But she felt, somehow, inclined to continue.
“It was,” Elaine mused. She sounded looser, warmer, more languid and relaxed than Morrigan had ever heard her. “Her breasts--they were full and beautiful and soft, like you wouldn't believe. I don't think she reached completion at all that night, poor girl, but I did, at least two or three times" Morrigan felt warmth pooling in her belly, and pressed her face into her pillow.
Leliana hummed in contentment. “Ah, you simply must tell me more. What was her name? What did she look like?”
“Her name was Solena,” Elaine sighed, contented. “She was very beautiful--high cheekbones, thick, wavy hair. She looked like a woman in an Antivan painting. Full lips, very pale, like a porcelain doll. She left a few days later with her family. Maker, she was something.”
"She sounds like Morrigan, this girl," Leliana teased, and Elaine sputtered. Morrigan froze; she was, somehow, strangely pleased yet still affronted at Leliana's assertion.
"Morrigan? More the fool you! She's--she was--oh shush, you don't know half what you think you know," Elaine protested. "She's--she was my first though. Very beautiful, I was very lucky to have had her."
"As was I Bella," Leliana sighed. "You should talk to Morrigan, you know. I think I know more than you about these things."
The two of them laughed and talked for a little longer, mostly about girls, though also about other things, and Morrigan was strangely displeased that Elaine would tell Leliana so much about herself while she’d barely told Morrigan more than the barest details. Soon enough, they stood again and returned on their rounds towards the camp proper.
Morrigan fell into a fitful sleep that night, tossing and turning, the Fade full of strange dreams, desire demons in the form of beautiful, honey-haired girls with eyes the color of the sky at dusk.
---
She woke the next morning to her breathe freezing in front of her face. Bear skin furs, she’d thought, would be suitable enough to keep out the Frostback cold, but apparently not. She pushed aside the flap of her tent, wondering at how close they were to the nearest merchant and whether they’d have enough coin to purchase more blankets.
The dawn had scarcely arrived; it was much earlier than Morrigan usually rose unless they needed to get somewhere quickly, but she supposed the view of the silent, snowcapped mountains in the early morning light made up for it. She sought out a tome in her pack that Elaine had brought her from the Circle, something heavy and very old about Rivaini magic which had been locked in the First Enchanter’s desk.
“I thought you’d like it,” Elaine had said, offering it gingerly with both hands. “I suppose it’s forbidden magic, I had to hack the desk apart to get at it. Wynne was very displeased.”
“And why on Earth would you hack apart the First Enchanter’s desk?” Morrigan had asked with a raised brow, though of course she accepted it eagerly.
Elaine had shrugged. “Wynne pointed at it and said, ‘there’s where Irving keeps the forbidden tomes,’ and I thought you might be interested in them.”
However, outside, she caught a glimpse of Elaine in the flesh.
She was behind her own tent, a little away from the main camp, perhaps to ensure she didn’t wake the others. Morrigan supposed she was doing drills--her hair was tied up in a looser and messier knot than usual, far less elegant than she typically wore it, and she was dressed in a sleeveless tunic and trousers. Nothing but her drills seemed to exist to her; she didn’t notice Morrigan emerging from her tent, or if she did, she didn’t break her concentration as she lunged at the air with her shield, raising her sword to stab and slash from behind it. She was quick and light on her feet, quicker and smoother than she was in full plate armor, though that was to be expected.
It was funny--Morrigan supposed she had never seen Elaine’s arms before. What a strange thing to notice , she thought. She had seen them, surely, while Flemeth cared for her and Alistair, but somehow, she had never noticed how thick they were, how tightly coiled and large the muscles were under her skin, especially her biceps. Sweat dripped down her face, despite the freezing air, and her arms glistened with it.
Morrigan was unaware of how long she had been staring, watching as Elaine leaped and lunged and thrusted, slaying invisible foes left and right with clear discipline and practice, and then finally noticed Morrigan watching.
Elaine glanced around, catching Morrigan’s eye across the clearing, and waved. Morrigan started, almost dropping the book she’d forgotten she was holding. Elaine sheathed her sword and let her hair down, shaking it about like a lion did its mane, running her hands through it to smooth out the tangles, and Morrigan felt her breath coming short, especially as Elaine began to stride towards Morrigan’s camp, tying her hair back up as she did.
By the grace of some unknown force, Morrigan was saved by Sten emerging from his own tent and calling, “I hope you are not completing this morning’s drills without me, kadan.” Elaine stopped and waved apologetically at Morrigan, who regained her senses enough to wave back. Sten drew his greatsword and began a series of swift and remarkably graceful strikes, and Morrigan knew somehow she should withdraw to her tent again before Elaine mirrored them.
She could scarcely bring herself focus on the Rivaini tome all morning, however, and somehow forgot to cook breakfast before Leliana called to her that they were packing up the camp. She banished all thoughts of the strange morning to the back of her mind, and as they made the long, arduous trek through the Frostbacks, the cold became her greatest ally, giving her a much-needed distraction from the strange thoughts plaguing her.
---
It wasn’t until they were moving out of the Frostbacks along the Imperial Highway and had the chance to dethaw along the banks of Lake Calenhad that Morrigan was alone with Elaine in a rare unguarded moment. They had unanimously agreed to stop and camp after the peril of the Deep Roads, and Morrigan found herself sitting next to Elaine in the darkness at the edge of camp. Elaine was buried in her thoughts, as she had been since they left the Assembly in Orzammar. Morrigan suspected it was something to do with Harrowmont’s execution, how she had been unable to intervene to save him for fear of losing Bhelen’s support in the Blight.
They sat in comfortable, heavy silence for hours before Morrigan finally spoke, watching the firelight dance across Elaine’s face. “You never told me how you received that scar.”
Elaine turned to her, deep blue eyes-- Cousland blue , she had said somberly one night camped in the Deep Roads, Cousland blue, like my brother’s and my nephew’s and my father’s and his mother’s and all the way back to Conobar’s captain of the guard Sarim --clear and focused. “I got it the night Howe took my castle,” she said finally, after a long moment.
“Ah,” Morrigan murmured, wincing at how ineffective it was. “It was...it looked as though it was somewhat new, when we met in the Wilds.”
“It was, more or less,” Elaine shrugged. “A few weeks old. I...when Howe’s men burst into my room that night, I was unarmed and unarmored. I had to fight them hand to hand, without a weapon of any kind.”
Morrigan made a noise of approval, impressed. “That is quite the feat,” she said. “Defeating armed intruders without any weapons of your own.”
“Perhaps,” Elaine’s lips quirked into a small smile, there and gone in a flash. “I managed to knock one out, take his sword and defeat the rest, but one cut my cheek. I had no health poultices in my room, nor did my mother have any when she found me, and we had other, more pressing matters to attend to. Duncan had given my father all he had to...so that he could get him to safety, so he had none, and we fled without time to gather resources. So he sewed it up, and we avoided settlements for a time until we came to Ostagar, so we could know whether there was a bounty on my head.”
“I--I’m sorry,” Morrigan said lamely, and Elaine shook her head, staring into the darkness.
“It’s alright,” she waved away her sympathy. After a long, weighted pause, she looked down and said with a thick, soft voice, “I hate it.” She drew a shaky breath. “Every time I must see my reflection, I see this scar, I see my nephew and sister-in-law dead on the floor, I see my father bleeding out, everyone I ever knew being slaughtered, I see my mother--I see her, protecting my father with a dull dagger in ceremonial armor, I remember that I left them there to die .” Her fist flew to her mouth as she choked back a sob, and Morrigan’s eyes widened, unsure of what to do.
“You would’ve died had you remained,” she said, disturbed by the thought. “Your parents, surely they would not have wished this. Surely they would have wished that you would live, and avenge them.”
Elaine closed her eyes. “You’re right. I just...I wish I didn’t have to look at it,” she whispered. “I wish I didn’t have to see this hideous thing on my face. To know it was there.”
“I think it makes you look rather dashing,” Morrigan told her, and Elaine smiled, worn and wane, but genuine and warm all the same.
“Thank you.” Elaine finally turned to face her again. “I mean it, thank you. You didn’t have to listen to that, but you did.” There seemed to be something else, something weighing the air between them, sitting just behind Elaine’s teeth, ready to spill out into the quiet night, but she simply drew a long breath and heaved a sigh, looking back into the darkness.
“Elaine,” Morrigan said after a while, unsure of what madness drove her to it. “Several weeks ago, I overheard a conversation between yourself and Leliana, about…”
Elaine’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry--I worried you’d overheard it, we were so close to your tent and we weren’t very quiet. I apologize, we were--I apologize.”
“No, no,” Morrigan waved her apologies away. “No need to apologize, I simply had a--a question, if you will indulge me.”
“Of course,” her companion nodded, cheeks bright red. “What is it?”
“How did you...come to realize you preferred the company of women?” she asked nervously, the words spilling out in a rush.
Elaine considered it, seeming to find nothing odd about it. “Oh, I suppose I just realized I had never truly felt towards a man that way,” she said finally. “I had never felt attraction or a deep, romantic connection with one, nor did I desire one. I always assumed I simply had very high standards from stories and fairytales, but I met a girl once, the visiting daughter of one of our arls.” Her voice turned soft and dreamy, as it had when she spoke to Leliana. “She was very pretty, with long, bright red hair, incredible brown eyes. Smart, well-read, well-spoken, I admired her so much--we met every day in the library of our castle, spent hours amid the stacks, devouring every book we could get our hands on, and the day before she left, we were laying beside the fire and she kissed me, and I kissed her and it was the most amazing thing I had ever felt in my life.” She smiled softly. “I realized that was how it felt to desire someone, to love them in that way, and I had never felt such a thing with a man.”
“But how did you feel towards her?” Morrigan insisted, narrowing her eyes, and Elaine blinked, seemingly roused from her memory.
“I just--I don’t know, I enjoyed her company more than anyone else’s, I thought she was beautiful, whatever she had to say was the most interesting thing anyone had ever said, even if it was simply a comment on the quality of her dinner.” She shrugged. “I watched her read, I watched her hands as they turned the pages, I watched her brush her hair and smooth her skirts and when she touched me, it felt like lightning was shooting across my skin.”
Morrigan felt, all at once, as though perhaps the past several months had not been as mad as they had at first seemed. “I see,” she said quietly.
“Why?” Elaine asked hesitantly. “Do you...do you find yourself feeling these things for someone?”
Morrigan felt jolt in her chest, something screaming at her to tell Elaine the truth of her realization, the budding warmth of near-completion, and explanation for something she had always known but never described in full, but she knew she needed to wait, to truly discover the nature of this, and of her feelings towards Elaine, especially given the complications that awaited them down the road.
“I am not sure,” she said at last.
Elaine smiled. “Don’t rush yourself,” she said gently. “Whoever she is, she’s lucky to have even caught your eye. I’m sure she will wait for you.” She stood, offering her hand to Morrigan. It was warm and calloused and though she felt no lightning, she felt a heat she had never known, which melted the icy cold that lingered in her bones. “It’s getting late. Shall I rouse Alistair and Zevran for the watch, or shall you?”
Morrigan waved her hand. “Go ahead. Alistair always begins screaming if I wake him, he seems sure that if I were to finally decide to kill him, I would be so overt as to take him in the night.” Elaine chuckled.
“Goodnight, Morrigan,” she said softly. “I hope you find what you seek.”
Morrigan watched her for a long, lingering moment as she returned to the camp proper to wake the next watch before trudging back to her own camp, feeling lonely and what she could only sickeningly describe as lovelorn . Whatever future awaited her, she had every confidence it included Elaine.