Chapter Text
Word Count: 524
Rating: G
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Leliana watched Neria from the corner of her eye as she tuned her lute, a little smile on her face. She was making her rounds at the end of a long travel day, and Leliana could tell that she was exhausted just from the way she walked. Even with her boots dragging on the ground, she was beautiful.
They’d take tomorrow to rest—Wynne had insisted on account of her knee, though Leliana suspected it was less for her benefit and more for theirs. Between watches and trekking and Darkspawn, it had been days since any of them had had a real night’s sleep.
Neria was with Wynne now, standing one tent over and near the fire. She tried not to listen in, usually, though things were always close quarters, but when she saw Neria’s fist ball at her side she stopped her strumming. She didn’t catch the end of Neria’s sentence, but she caught the beginning of Wynne’s.
“Love is ultimately selfish,” she said.
Neria looked away. Softly biting her lip, Leliana did too.
Minutes later, Neria’s walk back across the camp was stiff, her eyes cast downward, and Leliana stood to meet her.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she murmured, taking one of Neria’s hands. “Not far. Just a moment alone.”
Eyes closed, Neria nodded. Leliana cast a look towards Wynne as they passed, and the older woman looked on with a steady gaze. It took everything Leliana had not to stop.
They were silent as they wove through the trees, and there were a thousand things Leliana wanted to say. There was something bubbling in her, something close to anger. A righteous sort of bitterness. They stopped when they reached a clearing and Leliana took both of Neria’s hands.
“My love,” she started, searching for Neria’s gaze, and after taking a deep breath, she made eye contact. “I overheard.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
Neria looked to the ground again.
“She could be right.”
“No.” Leliana had walked a winding path, one fit with sharp turns and steep drops and unexpected edges. She’d seen selfishness and true selflessness. Those two things looked remarkably alike. “I believe that the Maker gave us hearts for a reason.”
Neria squeezed one of her hands.
“Love isn’t selfish,” she continued with a growing passion. “Not when it’s true. I don’t care what old Chantry mothers—or Wynne—have to say about it. Love is a gift.” For a moment, Neria’s soft brown eyes met hers. So softly, she whispered, “ You are a gift.”
“I might not make it out of this alive. We might not make it out of this alive.”
“Then we have this moment.” For Leliana, that could be enough. Neria smiled, so softly, half-wondered and half-sad.
“Can I kiss you?” she asked. Smiling, Leliana nodded. Neria leaned up, and then her lips brushed hers, soft and tentative in the moonlight. Her eyes were shining when she pulled back. She no longer looked sad. Leliana pulled her closer and kissed her again.
“I love you,” Neria said. “Whether or not it’s selfish. I don’t care.”
“My dearest,” Leliana murmured, trailing a finger down her cheek. “I love you.“