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Morrigan let her physical form release, shedding the black feathers of a crow and stepping down onto land as a woman once again. This wasn't Arlathan anymore, the ground underneath her feet was the stone fortress of Vigil's Keep. There was once a time where heads would turn at the site of her, especially in official places like this. But now, there wasn't a Grey Warden in the building who would give her a second look.
Well, except for one.
Her lover, Saffron Mahariel, had recently returned to the role of Commander of the Grey, with the Southern Nations suffering under the blight wielded by the elven gods, and due to the strong request of King Alistair Theirin. He'd had lofty dreams of singlehandedly finding a cure for The Calling not long ago. A goal that, like many others he'd once had, was cut short when his leadership was needed once again.
She found his usual chambers in the keep and opened the door without knocking, revealing a humble bedroom for a man who was once a King's Chancellor. The room was warmed by the carefully tended fireplace and bathed in a soft warm glow. A wooden four post bed with dark blue bedding filled most of the space and an antique, somewhat tattered rug covered the floor. Saffron's few personal items sat out on a wooden dresser, including the ring that Morrigan gave him many years ago.
Saffron sat on the bed, mostly undressed, re-wrapping bandages on his arms that covered his blight corrupted skin. His ink black hair that once fell to his shoulders now cropped short against his head and had a few flecks of silver. The black vallaslin that covered half his face had slowly faded with time. Morrigan could see the dark veins of blight slowly showing through his chest and throat, a stark reminder of the shortened lifespan for Grey Wardens.
He looked up at her as she entered but no surprise showed on his face at the interruption. She liked to think they were past the point of surprising each other.
"Hello, my lady," he greeted her, a tiredness could be heard in his voice but he smiled at her.
"Hello, my love," she answered.
"How's the battle faring in the North?" His words were the firm, intense tone of a commander, but he stood up and approached her to gently circle his arms around her waist and pull her close. She leaned in, breathing him in.
"They have a clever team and have struck some significant blows against the gods," she said. "I have hope yet still that they will succeed."
"How is our son?" he asked.
"I have confidence in his leadership abilities. He reminds me a bit of you at that age."
"How so?"
"He's strong like you. He will not falter when the time comes."
"Good." He leaned in to kiss her, gentle and familiar. "Do you wish to stay here with me tonight?"
"I wish to stay with you always," she said in a low voice. "Or bring you along with me everywhere I go."
He hummed in response, his dark eyelashes fluttering shut as she pressed her lips his chin, his cheekbone, his forehead. "I think we could manage that. I don't plan on fighting any more wars once this one is over."
"What's that phrase you Grey Wardens are so fond of?" she asked. "In Victory..."
"Retirement. I believe it's always been retirement," he answered, his crooked smirk bringing her back to the first time she met him. "We have a long and storied history of good Grey Wardens that retired fat and happy, with grandchildren playing at their feet."
"Ah, yes, now I remember."