they are wicked things, leliana and dovev

[leliana]

I don't know what I'm supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you

Her own grief is drowned out in the shadow of his own.

She nearly forgets it; for the first time, she is able to set it aside and focus on a problem greater than her own. Her healing continues to come out of her in waves, slipping into his bloodstream, rooting out the worst of the plague’s symptoms. And still, despite the empty and hollow numbness she has felt for so long, she is able to feel a sharp sting of agony when he mentions Adna—when she mentions his father.

He had to mean Vulgaris. There was no one else that Adna would have been with. (She still doesn’t know about her daughter’s blossoming friendship with Dovev—would maybe never know.)

Her pulse trips, her heart stammers, and she is, miraculously, able to keep her expression neutral.

She swallows hard and fights back the panic that rises in her, the wave of fresh agony that she is to face this living, breathing symbol of Vulgaris’ infidelities. She fights it back because when he speaks again, it doesn’t matter. He is just a boy and she has her once husband’s serpentine face and the joy that fights through the clouds of his expression is enough to break her resolve. She cries out softly, “Oh, my sweet darling.” The words rush from her simply and she finally moves forward to close the distance.

It is not her place—of course it isn’t—but she still leans down and presses her crimson lips to his forehead in the summer manner that she would to her daughters. “You are not a bother, precious boy.” She ignores the ache and the truth that sits around the corner. She would deal with it later. She would face it later. Instead, she just holds him close to her chest and whispers softly under her breath.

“You will stay with me,” she reassures him. “You’ll never feel like a bother again.”

@[despair]