Work Text:
The distant crackle of the fire was like a song of mourning, setting up a counterpoint for the heavy thud of Loral's feet against the ground, each step taken with more reluctance. The whole clan had gathered to see him off, and though no one wept, the eyes that met his were filled with loss, with sorrow... and then one pair of eyes that held grief beyond bearing, a silent scream that echoed the cries of his own heart. He stopped before her, before Merrill, and his breath caught as she looked up at him, face filled with desperate longing.
He hadn't known, had never even guessed, but suddenly it all shone so clear -- the ways she had pushed at him, talked back to him, never accepted anything from him but his best... and now it was over, before it could even begin. Thanks to that damned shem and his talk of taint, of darkspawn, of Blights, Loral would never have the chance to find out if he could have felt the same way about her.
Loral reached out, let his fingers rest on her cheek, and he opened his mouth to apologize, to confess, to say something, dammit, but no words came. Too many emotions, too few coherent thoughts, and so he leaned down and kissed her instead, a gentle brushing of lips. She covered his hand with hers and kissed him back, and then she pulled away.
He said nothing; there was nothing to be said. Stepping back, he lowered his head and walked away, walked up the hill, and silently cursed his fate in the strongest words he knew.