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Six Cries of the Raven

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1.
the first time was just letting off steam. impersonal, just business. “you get me off, I get you off.” the fumbling and hesitation went unmentioned as both were too proud to say “I’ve never been with a woman before”. there was no lingering embrace afterwards, as they silently dressed themselves. It was only the hint of a smile that lingered after Morrigan said “let’s do this again sometime.”

2.
the second time was for fun, and they knew each other much better now. less fumbling, a surprised gasp as a spark travelled across across Maela’s body, Morrigan smirking as she cast the spell. they collapsed onto a bedroll after the deed, bodies glistening with sweat and chests heaving with deep breaths. they took their time getting dressed, and the smiles lingered a second longer as Maela returned to her own tent to sleep for the night.

3.
the third time was to be the last, Morrigan told Maela afterwards, for she saw the way Alistair looked at Maela, as though she were the most wonderful thing on this earth, and the fleeting but admiring glances that were sent back to him. “If we are to continue with this, he shall only kick up a fuss and you know it,” Morrigan said as she continued to dress herself, “and so our fun must come to an end.” Maela agreed with this, although the lingering kiss she gave Morrigan before she left the tent said otherwise.

4.
the fourth time did not happen, and only left confusion and regret between them. the ring was not meant to be a gift of affection, Morrigan insisted, explaining that it was only a matter of practicality. “If the smarter of the two remaining wardens in Ferelden disappeared without trace, how would the Blight be stopped?” she said, while handing the ring to Maela. It was when she was thanked with a kiss that she began to question her own motives, watching the elf’s lingering glance as she left the tent.

5.
the fifth time was desperation, magic coursing through them as they shared in an accursed ritual. Rough, but passionate, for this was the last night the two friends - nay, lovers, for there was no denying it any longer - would share together. The deed would save Maela’s life in the coming battle; Such a thing was supposed to be impossible, but through Morrigan’s knowledge and skill with magic they had done it: a child, conceived of the two women, bearing the taint of the grey wardens. Thoughts of that were quickly pushed away, however, as the two embraced. As the two lay in the bed, limbs entwined, Maela dared speak: “Morrigan, I—” “No, I know what you’re going to say. Please, don’t say it.” And so, the words remained unsaid.

6.
Years had passed since they last met, and yet Morrigan stood at the Eluvian, as wildly beautiful as the day they first met, a look of surprise on her face as Maela crossed the distance between them, after having been warned not to, and embraced her, saying those words that had gone unspoken for so long.