Chapter Text
Codex Entry:
On Confessors, Part Three: On Love
Love—the kind that bards sing about, the kind that fills countless fanciful novels—is a concept foreign to confessors. You see, when the magisters were breeding us for their wars, they discovered something about our power: it is not something we call forth, or pull from the Fade—it is in us, always, held in check only by our own restraint. As a result, all who lay with a confessor, who brings her past the limits of her control, are confessed without fail.
When the time comes that we must reproduce to further our line, a mate is chosen—not for romantic qualities, but for his strength, his health, and for a lack of family ties. It keeps us from being hounded with questions, from being discovered for what we are and handed over to the templars.
Many have tried to fool themselves into thinking they had such a love, with their confessed mate. It is a selfish, artificial kind of love, however; without free will, a man cannot feel the kind of love bards sing about, and while a confessor can enjoy the devotion that comes from confession, she cannot truly love her confessed, for the man he was no longer exists.
Some confessors have developed intense romantic and sexual bonds with one another—we cannot be confessed, after all. These relationships are almost always transitory, however; we must mate to keep our line alive, and once a mate is confessed, he becomes the responsibility of his mistress. Few relationships can survive such a heavy burden.
We must content ourselves with the love of sisterhood, and the love of our daughters. It is enough that we survive.