remembrance

Truthfully he expected something like this. Morrigan was too clever for an outright physical attack, but a verbal one? She could wound just as easily and with half the effort. And no matter how much he'd thought he'd prepared for her barbs, it still wasn't enough. The words struck something inside of him and he stilled, the only movement the flaring of his nostrils. He swallowed his immediate urge to retort, as if anything he might say would be a worthy rebuttal. She had too much a way with her words, and he was nowhere near her level of skill in that regard (or any for that matter). It made sense that he found all of those qualities in her, down to the ease it would take for her to render him lame, intensely attractive. Which certainly didn't help the matter at hand. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other as he moved cautiously further into the room to stand with his back to a wall a good enough distance from her. He didn't break his gaze despite his reluctance to stand here at all. 

I would think twenty odd years of history might give me a bit of an excuse in that respect? But nothing made up for his egregious conduct. No, fucking around had indeed not helped though it felt right at the time as it usually did in the temporary haze of lust. It helped that he felt next to nothing emotionally tethering with the others. None of that however was the issue. The issue, the heart of it, lie squarely on his tremendous guilt and regret. Enough so that he didn't blame Alyvia in the slightest for her behavior. Making her forget would be a mercy. 

So very clearly she wanted him to suffer under the weight of his request, wanted to embarass him. That or she was simply bored and had been waiting for a mouse to bat around with her claws. He forced a bored expression of his own though he felt quite the opposite. Because Alyvia Arlange of Orlais and Val Colline, formerly of Ferelden deserves better than to be tortured with thoughts about how I ruined her life and broke our hearts. Because he'd broken his own heart each time he left without telling her thinking it was for the best. And because, no matter how many times he'd insisted on it, she didn't deserve the shit he carried with him.

Erase the memory of our first kiss onward. Until now. That way she might only remember him as the stable boy that spoke to a girl clear out of his station and nothing else. Every kiss, every shared breath and gasp, every whisper, every furtive glance, every tear.