Work Text:
[Days 1-3 have been torn out. No doubt they contained some scathing words about Maric and the death of his father, which Loghain had grown too ashamed to look at any longer.]
Day four:
Still no real signs of Orlesian activity in the wilds. It's definitely gotten more humid. Maric won't shut up.
Day five:
Maric nearly froze to death last night. Notes to self-- find him a proper coat once we're out of here and throw away his ruined noble's clothing.
Day six:
Heavier rain than usual. Cut my hand hunting like a fool-- should heal right up. Maric stopped with his stories.
Day seven:
I don't need to write about our encounter with the witch. We'll both remember it for the rest of our lives. Less rain today.
Day ten:
We're out. Met a woman named Rowan and got Maric proper clothing. He's started talking more again.
Day eleven:
Need a new whetstone. No rain for several days now, a welcomed change from the wilds.
Day twelve:
Maric seems to enjoy the warmer clothing. Thanked me for it today. Rowan polished our armor.
Day fourteen:
He caught me staring. I told him I was just thinking about things, and he seemed to believe me.
[Another page is torn out.]
Day nineteen:
Had a strange dream about Maric.
Day twenty:
Another dream.
Day twenty three:
I don't know what to make of him or Rowan. They're betrothed and I don't know how to feel about it.
Day twenty five:
Maric broke into a fit of bright red blushes when he spoke to me today.
Day twenty six:
I want to touch his hair. Is that normal?
Day twenty seven:
I should learn to control my thoughts before they get me in trouble.
Day twenty nine:
He did it. Maric kissed me.
He'd come to my tent last night, fretting about some ridiculous dream, and asked if he could talk to me about it. It was difficult to pay attention-- most of my effort was put towards watching his lips move as he spoke. He got upset, like he was about to cry, and so he just... He kissed me. Only for a moment, and then left.
Day thirty one:
I wasn't sure either of us had that in us. He came to me again to talk (he mislikes being alone in his tent in this part of the woods) and we kissed. It seemed to stir something in me-- even writing this, I have a heat in my chest. I eased him down to the ground and pressed my body against his, and then... Then he gazed up at me as if I were the center of his world. It was too much, and I sent him back to his own tent.
Day thirty two:
He's more comfortable around me than he's ever been.
Day thirty three:
Maric nearly broke his hand, so he asked me to tame his hair in the morning for him. It's softer than I expected.
Day forty three:
I keep dreaming of him.
Day forty four:
I want him to be more careful in battle. If he dies, we'll all be lost.
Day forty nine:
My dreams have taken a definite turn. I find myself... enjoying them, however.
[The rest of the entry is torn out.]
Day sixty:
He came to my tent last night. Once again, I eased him down to the ground and pressed my body against his, and he gazed up at me as if I were the center of his world... I took his hips in my hands and kissed his chest over his heart, and I made love to Maric last night. It was incredible, he himself was incredible, and I pray he will come to me again tonight.
Day sixty one:
Rowan has noticed a change in our morale-- I think she knows.
Day sixty eight:
Maric makes me feel as if I might be a better man than I think I am.
Day seventy seven:
It's a terrifying realization. I think I might feel something stronger for Maric than initially anticipated.
Day eighty:
I wish I had more time to write, get my thoughts sorted out, but... This way that time goes towards being with him. A better use of it, I think.
Day eighty six:
Perhaps I should tell him.
[Two entries are torn out, but a rough portrait of Maric's likeness is stuck between the pages on worn-out paper.]
Day one hundred:
I told Maric I was in love with him, and he told me he was in love with me. This time, I was the one who gazed at him as if he were the center of my world.