She's an Excellent Marksman (Who Shot an Arrow Through My Heart)

She's an Excellent Marksman

"Is something wrong, Morrigan?" Mahariel asked, looking up from her bow. Her short bob of silver hair reflected the setting sun, her tan, freckled skin looking like it was meant to be in the orange glow of the sunset.

"I couldn't keep myself from admiring your marksmanship today," she said, sitting down next to the Dalish elf.

"My marksmanship?" She asked, a shy smile on her face. "It's hardly anything compared to magic."

"Well, I believe it to be impressive," Morrigan said, turning her nose up slightly. "I am trying to pay you a compliment."

"Thanks, Morrigan," she giggled. "Do want to ask me anything?" Morrigan's black brows pushed together. "I can tell you've got a question." Morrigan huffed slightly.

"I wish to know how you do that," she said quickly. "How you direct those arrows without magic."

"Want me to show you?" She asked, looking coy. Morrigan scowled, nodding.

Damn those eyes! She thought angrily. How dare this sly little elf knot my stomach like this? She felt Mahariel grab her hand, pulling her to the edge of camp.

"So, Morrigan," she said, looking up into the witch's yellow eyes. "Hold out your arms, please."

"I don't see the point in this," she said, doing as Mahariel asked nonetheless. She jumped slightly as the elf ran her hands down her skin, bow-worn fingers ever so gentle.

"Not too muscled," she remarked, smirking. "That staff must be light."

"I'll have you know magic is taxing on the spirit, and that my muscles have nothing to do with my talent."

"I didn't say that," she said, shaking her head with a smile. "Can I see something else?"

"Why not?" Morrigan answered, rolling her eyes. "Are all Dalish this touch-y feel-y?"

"Depends on who we're with," she smirked, making Morrigan's stomach flip. "I guess magic is centered at the core, then." Morrigan swallowed a gasp as she felt Mahariel's gentle hands on her stomach, feeling the lean muscle.

"Are you quite done?" Morrigan asked, feeling flustered. "I only asked to see how you shoot, elf."

"Of course," she said, shaking her head and removing her hand. Morrigan soon realized how cold the air was without her touch. Mahariel took her bow off her back, handing it to Morrigan. "Here, hold it how you think you should." Morrigan took the Dalish longbow in her hands, feeling the smoothness of the wood.

"There's a smugness in your voice I do not appreciate, elf," she said.

"It's just us, call me Mahariel."

"If you so wish, Mahariel." She loved the way the name felt on her tongue. Mahariel seemed to, as well. She held the bow up, turning her body to be in line with the shot. Her eyes narrowed as she heard Mahariel giggle. "Something amusing?"

"You're holding it upside down, for starters," she laughed. Morrigan quickly turned the bow. "Better," she nodded. She handed Morrigan an arrow, guiding it to the arrow rest. "Now, try to draw it back." Morrigan frowned when she realized how difficult it was to pull back the string. Her eyes flickered to Mahariel, and she noticed for the first time how sculpted her arms were.

"How is it?" Morrigan asked, feeling her arm shake slightly.

Mahariel shook her head, moving to stand behind the witch. She stood on the tips of her toes, pressing her front against Morrigan's back.

"Your elbow is a little too high," she said, whispering. There wasn't any need to talk loudly in such close proximity. Her right hand gently moved Morrigan's arm, her left hand resting on the witch's shoulder. "Much better, Morrigan." Her laughter warmed the back of Morrigan's neck, making her shiver. "And keep your forward arm steady-" She moved her left hand along Morrigan's arm, gently guiding her aim. "- and relax." Morrigan was anything but relaxed. "Ready?"

"Of course I am," she lied.

"Perfect," Mahariel said. Morrigan knew she was smiling that coy smile of hers, her freckles all bunched up on her cheeks and her brown eyes sparkling. "On the count of three, let go." Morrigan held her breath. "One... two... three." The arrow left the bow with surprising force, sticking right into the middle of a tree.

"Was that the intended target?" She asked. Mahariel nodded, staying pressed against Morrigan's back.

"You did well," she said, draping her arms over Morrigan's shoulders.

"Perhaps I could teach you a little of magic in return," Morrigan said dumbly, unsure of what to say. The elf's close proximity rendered her unable to think.

"I know magic," Mahariel said smugly.

"Really?" Morrigan asked, raising an eyebrow, not at all convinced.

"Want me to show you?" She asked, gently turning Morrigan to face her.

"As if you could-" She was cut off by Mahariel, who had placed her lips onto the witch's. She slowly closed her eyes, gently dropping the bow onto the soft earth of the forest floor. Mahariel's strong arms were ever so gentle as they wrapped around the back of Morrigan's neck. The kiss was both as Morrigan imagined kissing a girl would be and completely unexpected at the same time. Mahariel's lips were soft and supple, angled just right to fit against Morrigan's, her flat little elven nose tickling her cheek. But there wasn't any deviant feeling about it, no wrongness in the feeling, even as she rested her hands in the small of Mahariel's back. Men became obsolete. This elven girl was all she wanted. The gentle breeze on her cheek of Mahariel's breath through her nose made her smile into the kiss.

"I don't believe I could teach you anything better than that," she whispered as they pulled apart. Dark purple lip stain coated Mahariel's full lips, which were pulled back into a smile. The elf shrugged, smiling.

"I'm sure you could could teach me something," she said. She pulled Morrigan down for another quick kiss.

"I can certainly say the same about you."