"You cannot promise me that." He'd let it go, normally. Let Alistair make his absurd statements, bask in the charming nobility of the sentiment but this is cold and real and aching in his palm, at his back, in the pit of his stomach where fear coils with thorns and hooks and the knowledge that these things do not happen without a cost. He does not let it go- and he does not look Alistair in the eye.
He'll leave in the morning, he decides. Pack a bag, pick a horse, slip out before anyone notices that he has gone. Leliana would understand. She would hate him, of course, and he would be proving everyone that assumed h'ed flee at the first sign of trouble right but-
He has given more than his due. He is done with this. With Jonas? He'd had no choice. Here he does.
"You should come with me." When he leaves. He could forget about being noble just this once. "You don't have to stay- they do not need you like-"
no subject
He'll leave in the morning, he decides. Pack a bag, pick a horse, slip out before anyone notices that he has gone. Leliana would understand. She would hate him, of course, and he would be proving everyone that assumed h'ed flee at the first sign of trouble right but-
He has given more than his due. He is done with this. With Jonas? He'd had no choice. Here he does.
"You should come with me." When he leaves. He could forget about being noble just this once. "You don't have to stay- they do not need you like-"
Like he does.
"Like others might."