[A world-transcending god-killer, and you know, it's true, but it's still strange to hear. Stranger still to apply it to himself— or perhaps strange to apply it to himself while he lives in this world, where gods and their ilk are so much more common than in Thedas. It makes it more awe-inspiring, strangely enough. Corypheus . . . Corypheus was not unlike a god, and indeed in many ways was a god, but to Leto, it always felt like . . . well. A job. An exceedingly difficult job, admittedly, and a job he'd done as a favor to his friend, but still: a job, and one he would either succeed at or fail and die.

Or maybe it's not about Corypheus at all. Maybe it's that Leto's gotten so used to Astarion being the more remarkable one that he forgets the more unbelievable aspects of his own life.]

. . . . I thought about it.

[Yes, he had. Over and over, when it was late and the conversations grew more intimate . . . yes, he had wanted to. But . . .]

. . . I think they would understand, or at least try to. They are a loyal group, for all that they are immature, and I think ultimately that loyalty would win out no matter what. But . . .

I will not risk you. I have learned again and again that I am not familiar with all the intricacies and social norms of this world, and I will not risk my having missed some vital clue that might lead to disaster in any form. And . . .

[Mmph. Emotional honesty is difficult, even between them. Perhaps especially between them.]

I suppose . . . I have found it easier to enjoy their company when it is not me they know, either. I am not dishonest as a rule, but . . . as far as they know, I am merely a particularly well-traveled elf who can handle a blade and enjoys strange tattoos. I am not an ex-slave, or a god-killer, or friends with the Champion of Kirkwall. And I . . .

I suppose a part of me did not want to tell them, for fear it would make the inevitable loss of them all the harder.

[He can't do it again. He can't give himself away to a group of friends just to watch them disappear; it hurt too badly the last time. No matter that it would be vastly different now, still. Some part of Leto will always bear those scars, recoiling at the thought of true friendship for fear of how he will inevitably lose it.]

I know it would be different than— than Kirkwall. That they are not Anders, and the stakes are far different. Even the emotions are, for those bonds took nearly a decade to cultivate, and even if I had been honest with this group, it still wouldn't be the same. But I still . . .

[He can't bear it.]

I did not want to risk you. But I suppose, selfishly, I did not want to risk myself, either.