This totally works as a stand-alone but it's actually going to be the second-to-last chapter of 'Maleficar'. You can read the first chapter here if you want. There's a link to it from my profile. Unfortunately, I cannot get my mind to work in a linear fashion. I seem to be writing this story completely out of order! Feedback is appreciated.

I should explain something about Eva's use of blood magic, though. I got this idea when I watched 'Rambo: First Blood'. Wounds inflicted upon oneself for the use of blood magic cannot be healed with magic. They have to heal the painful, old-fashioned way. This requires that a blood mage must stitch himself or herself back up sometimes. It'll all be explained in a previous chapter that I have not yet written.

Eva and Alistair left Riordan's bedroom in silence, both reaching over to shut the door behind themselves. They turned to face each other yet could not make eye contact. She hooked her thumbs on her belt and leaned back onto her heels for a moment before standing straight again. Alistair jerked his head to one side, cracking his neck.

"And he couldn't have told us before we decided to kill Loghain?" Eva asked as she shook her head slowly. "He would have made a great sacrifice for the Archdemon."

"He wouldn't deserve to die a hero," Alistair said firmly. Then he added in a more neutral tone, "But I see your point. If Riordan doesn't…"

He trailed off, tongue-tied. Eva reached out and rested her hand against his stubbled jaw.

"I should have known it was too good to be true," he said quietly, placing his own hand over hers.

"You know that our relationship wouldn't have worked out in the long run anyway," Eva said.
"I… No. You don't mean it. You're just saying that because it makes you feel better to think it wouldn't work."

Although she did not respond, the pained look on Eva's face betrayed that Alistair assumed correctly. With his free hand, he fiddled with the single small braid she kept in her jaw-length black hair.

"I love you," he blurted out.

"Come, let's talk more in my room," Eva said, pulling back from him and turning to the door across from Riordan's.

"Can't you just say it?" he asked irritably.

She paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. "What good would it do us if I did?" she asked, turning to face Alistair. "How about I show you instead?"

He sprang forth, grabbing Eva's face between his hands and smashing his mouth against hers. She kissed back, hungrily, as she reached behind herself and felt around for the doorknob. As he slammed her against the door, it flew open, banged against the adjacent wall, and then swung back again. They spilled into the bedroom, nearly falling over their feet as they tried to avoid the door. Alistair did not disengage from Eva as he back kicked it closed behind them—and as her hands fumbled to unbuckle his belt.

A loud cough interrupted them.

Slowly, Alistair and Eva detached themselves from one another only to see Morrigan standing next to the unlit fireplace with a smug look on her face.

"Awkward," Alistair announced as he fixed the state of his undone belt.

"What are you doing in here?" Eva asked, blinking in surprise. "Get out of my room."

"Are you sure this is your room, Eva?" asked Alistair. "I mean, there are a lot of rooms on this floor."

"Now, now, is that any way to speak to a friend?" Morrigan purred. "I'm just here to chat."

"And cockblock me, apparently," Alistair muttered under his breath. When Eva shot him a conspiratorial look, his cheeks flushed. Clearly, he had not intended for anyone to hear that.

Morrigan chortled.

Eva sighed and ran her hands down her vest in a futile attempt to smooth the wrinkles from its fabric. "What do you want?"

"To speak with you," Morrigan said. Her saffron-colored eyes then narrowed as she looked at Alistair. "Alone."

Eva's cheeks puffed as she let out a breath of indignation. "I'll just tell him what you said anyway so there's no point in kicking him out."

Morrigan crossed her slender, bare arms and took a few slow steps closer to the pair. "Isn't it funny how you turned against me as soon as you started rutting around with the templar? I think I had it right when I said that friendship is frivolous and fleeting. Alistair, if only you knew about the things she used to say about you when she still confided in me. She didn't always have such a… Robust opinion of you."

"I'm not getting involved," he grumbled as he touched Eva's elbow. "I'll be in my room down the hall when you two are finished."

Eva nodded as Alistair hurried out of her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind himself. The floorboards in the hallway creaked loudly as he walked off.

"Morrigan, look," she started as she wandered closer to Morrigan. "Tensions are high and Riordan's talk did nothing to reassure us."

"Trouble?" Morrigan canted her head.

"The Archdemon is bearing down on Denerim as we speak. Trouble is an understatement."

"Is there anything else you wish to mention?" A knowing smirk dancing upon Morrigan's lips.

"Were you eavesdropping?" Eva asked.

Morrigan turned abruptly away from Eva and crossed back over to the empty fireplace. "I have a plan, you see," she said. "A way out, the loop in your hole."

She went silent, waiting for a response that did not come. After a moment, Morrigan turned around again and continued, her eyes trained on Eva's face. "I know what happens when the Archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed and that sacrifice could be you. I have come to tell you that this does not need to be."

"I have no intention of sacrificing myself," Eva said coldly as she shrugged out of her black surcoat and tossed it onto the bed.

Morrigan's gaze shifted to Eva's arms which were webbed with scars, scabs, cuts, and sutures.

"But do go on," Eva added.

"What if Riordan fails? What if he's not there?" Morrigan asked as she looked back up at Eva's face. "I offer a way out, a way out for all the Grey Wardens. There need be no sacrifice."

Eva idly scratched at a half-healed scab on the back of her forearm. Morrigan frowned slightly as her attention was again drawn to Eva's disfigured limbs.

Morrigan continued, "A ritual performed on the eve of battle in the dark of night.—Stop picking!"

Eva's hands returned to her sides as she scoffed and said, "You have my attention."

"You of all people would know the prices we pay to achieve what we want," Morrigan said, gesturing to Eva. "Through self-mutilation you tap into a unique arcane medium far more potent than what any regular sorcerer could imagine. What I speak of is old magic, a ritual from long before the time the Circle of Magi was ever created."

"Always a catch."

Morrigan sneered and went on. "Some would call it blood magic, but I know that doesn't bother you."

"And from where did you get this ritual, Morrigan?" Eva asked as she sat down on the bed.

"From Flemeth, of course. I have known about it for some time."

"You knew about the sacrifice before Riordan told us?" Eva asked incredulously.

"I did. Would you have believed me if I had been the one to tell you? I have my doubts."

Eva laced her fingers together and twisted her hands—something she always did when she was nervous. Her shoulders rose and fell with her slow breaths. "Morrigan," she said, her voice barely above a raspy whisper. "Am I supposed to be surprised that you're a manipulative cunt?"

Morrigan brushed the verbal affront aside as she said, "What I propose is this: Convince Alistair to lay with me here tonight. From this ritual, a child shall be conceived within me. " Her voice wavered as she mentioned the child.

Eva rubbed the back of her neck. "Um… If this is your way of saying that you wish to experience Alistair before we all die to the Archdemon then go proposition him yourself. I'm not his mother and I don't keep him on a leash"

Morrigan sneered. "Darling, if I wanted him, I would have had him already."

Eva rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I'm sure. Go to him if you want him so badly. I left him all hot and bothered so maybe you'll be in luck. Or maybe you should stop trying to toy with me because you're bored. If you have anything productive to say then say it."

Morrigan walked over to Eva and hovered right beside her. "I'm not trying to toy with you," she said. "Now listen to my offer. If he does this then the child will bear the taint and when the Archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon. At this early stage, the child can absorb the essence and not perish. The Archdemon is still destroyed with no Grey Warden dying in the process."

"It's a fantastic idea until the Archdemon baby eats its way out from inside you," Eva said, leaning her head back to look up at Morrigan. "Or something equally gruesome. Are you insane?"

Morrigan waved her hands dismissively. "It will not be a darkspawn at all. It will become something different—A child born with the soul of an old god. After this is done, you allow me to walk away… And you do not follow. Ever. The child will be mine to raise as I wish."

Eva arched a single eyebrow. "Yes, you are insane. What the fuck possessed you to think this is a good idea?"

"Allow me to say that what I seek is the essence of the old god that once was and not the dark forces that corrupted it," Morrigan said tersely. "Some things are worth preserving in this world. Make of that what you will. The child will represent freedom for an ancient power, a chance to be reborn from the taint. Is that not reason enough to do it?"

Eva rose to her feet and paced away from the bed. "So you're a manipulative cunt and a megalomaniacal nutcase. Why am I still not surprised?"

"I will raise the child apart from the rest of society and teach it to respect that from which it came. Beyond that, you need know nothing else," Morrigan said. She too got up and walked over to Eva. "If you do not have Alistair go through with this then there is a strong likelihood that you will lose him or vice versa. You have many reasons to tell him to save his own life and you should consider them carefully."

Eva reached for Morrigan's shoulders and held them firmly. "Morrigan, look at me and tell me that you are positive beyond a shadow of a doubt that your child will not take the essence of the Archdemon but the old god? If everything you've told me up until now has been a lie then let this be your single moment of honestly. You owe me that much."

"I owe you nothing," Morrigan protested.

Eva's thumbs dug into the soft, fleshy spots right below Morrigan's clavicle where her arms met her shoulder joins. "Yes you do. Need I remind you that I killed Flemeth and fetched her grimoire for you? I battled a dragon for you. I…" Her grip on Morrigan relaxed a bit. "I would have done anything for you."

Morrigan closed her eyes and wrinkled her brow in concentration. "You do remember the concern I expressed that Flemeth is not truly dead, no? That is why I need this child. I do not believe she was truly killed, merely forced from her former body until she finds a new one. You did not stop her but merely delayed her. However, if this child carries the essence I seek then she cannot take either of us. This child will also represent my own freedom."

Eva gave Morrigan a little shove as she let go of her. Morrigan stumbled back though she regained her balance quickly.

"I don't care," Eva snarled. "I'm not going to let you undo everything we've fought for."

Morrigan snapped, "You would rather throw away your life—"

Eva cut her off. "Than live to see another Bight because the Archdemon wasn't properly slain? Actually, yes."

"How noble of you," Morrigan said sardonically

"Not really." Eva sighed. Her expression darkened for a second but she swiftly recomposed herself. "It'll only come to that if Riordan and Alistair both run aground.

Morrigan pursed her lips. "Oh? Isn't it awfully convenient that you now have that bungling idiot so tightly wound about your finger that he'd probably lay his life down for you? 'Twould seem I'm not the only manipulative cunt in this room."

"Some things are more important than your mommy issues. Even if your plan works as you expect it to then what will happen? What sort of horrors could a god child raised by a calculating apostate possibly inflict on the world? Or is that what you want to accomplish?"

Morrigan opened her mouth to speak but Eva continued. "Nail on the head, right? And now your agenda becomes a little clearer. Thing is, I've been expecting something like this from you all along. You're more transparent than you think. Look, I don't trust you but I get that you had your reasons for hiding your ulterior motives. I still don't think I completely understand what they are and that's how you want things to be, right? Congratulations, you made fools of us all!" Eva pointed an accusatory finger at Morrigan. "What a spectacle we must have made: The duplicitous, shrewd little vixen running around Fereldin with her puppets as they try and push the nation back from the brink of war."

Morrigan raised her trembling hands to her face and wiped her eyes with the heels of her palms. "Eva, when I said that I consider you a sister, I meant it. You were… The only friend I've ever really had. I…" She trailed off, choking on a sob that lodged itself in her throat and didn't make it out.

"And this is the part where you show us that you are vulnerable after all, that you do possess slivers of goodness in that blackened husk you call a heart. I've seen this act from you before so save the crocodile tears." Eva crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture of finality. "You've told me enough that I know your intentions are a far cry from benign. My answer is no."

"Then you are a fool," Morrigan barked as she brushed past Eva and stomped over to the door. "I will not remain here and watch you needlessly sacrifice yourselves."

"Wait," Eva said.

Morrigan halted in the doorway but did not turn.

Eva continued, "You best run far because come morning, I might just tell the templars about your harebrained scheme."

Morrigan slipped around the corner.

Eva sat down on the ground, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her forehead against her knees. But then she quickly picked herself back up and reached for her coat on the bed. As she put it on carefully, she thought of Alistair's duel against Teyrn Loghain just three nights prior. Loghain was bigger, stronger, more well-equipped; Eva tried to stop Alistair from accepting the challenge, tried to have him let her be his champion because she thought her magics would stand a better chance at defeating Loghain but Alistair would have none of it. It was only because of a small charm she performed, undetected by anyone else in the room as all were focused on the duel, that Alistair came out of it the victor—and barely so. Loghain outmuscled his younger opponent but found himself growing increasingly sluggish as the fight wore on. When he took his final breath, Alistair was not far from that point either. At Arl Eamon's Denerim estate, while everyone else was abuzz about the prospect of Queen Anora ruling Ferelden alone, Eva cleaned and stitched Alistair's wounds but refused to heal them with her magics. "These are scars you'll want to keep," she told him. "Think of them as mementos of your triumph like feathers in your cap." Then she fucked him—the deed felt too desperate and was over too quickly to be considered love-making or even sleeping with. It was fucking, she decided, and it was not to be made into something it wasn't. But Alistair, ever the idealist, expected commitment. What's a little commitment in the face of everything else, Eva thought. Besides, it might be nice to know that something in her life was stable for a change. Had he not pressed her for that promise of commitment, she would not feel so terrible about letting the boy serve himself to the Archdemon—Damn him!

Eva realized that she'd picked a wound on her wrist until it opened. She wiped her bloody fingertips on her pants, put her coat on quickly, and then threw open the bedroom door. "Morrigan?" she asked, rushing into the dark hallway. "Are you still here?"

She nearly tripped over the long rug in the hall but she hardly noticed. "Morrigan," she repeated as she reached the top of the stairs. Her voice echoed throughout the foyer down below. "I change my mind."

"About what?" asked Alistair as he opened his door a crack and poked his head out. "I take it your talk with her is finished."

Eva's eyes strained as she looked for movement in the pitch blackness of the foyer. She willed Morrigan to step out from the shadows and say, 'I knew you'd see reason eventually.'

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Alistair went on.

"She's gone," Eva stated, finally turning to face him.

"What do you mean?" Alistair raised a brow. "Your catfight was that bad? Well, good job on driving the evil witch off, I guess… Seriously, though, she just up and left? Why?"

Eva's spindly fingers fiddled with the hems of her sleeves. How do you tell someone that his only chance at evading death might have just left and that it was your fault, she wondered.

"Doing away with Flemeth didn't buy her as much time as she thought it would," Eva said, sounding timorous even to her own ears. "She claimed that she had to leave now if she wanted any hope of giving Flemeth the slip."

"Selfish bitch," Alistair muttered. "And after we fought her dragon-mother too. What a shock. Morrigan bit the hands that fed her. Nevermind that, though. I finally have you to myself again."

Eva followed him into his room, closed the door, and watched him take his shirt off quickly. She watched him slip it over his head and drop it on the ground, she watched his well-defined back muscles tense momentarily he did this. He had a truly spectacular physique, she thought, and she was taken aback by it every time she witnessed him shirtless.

It was only a few days since the Landsmeet and what had transpired between the two Grey Wardens afterwards. The long trek from Denerim to Redcliffe did not stop them from constantly absconding from their group to knock boots behind a patch of shrubbery or learn how their bodies worked down by a secluded creek. She started to feel sore after the first several times but did not care; she had not previously thought it possible to go at it five times in a day. That sort of carnal fervor only happened in the smutty books she read when she was bored in her tent. She'd been here before—and it seemed new every single time-but not with the same sense of urgency she felt with Alistair. One couldn't feel this wild when trapped inside a tower, she figured in retrospect. Soon the insatiable lust would calm down and they would grow pleasantly familiar to each other. He would kiss her on the cheek. He would call her 'dear'. They would smile at each other across crowded rooms. They would make love slowly enough to savor each other.

But they had only tonight and he was still a stranger whom she had not fully explored, whose contours her fingertips had not yet memorized.

Eva's concentration broke when she realized that Alistair was speaking, though his voice sounded garbled as though they were underwater. She looked at him, saw that his expression had a peculiarly wounded quality to it, and knew that he shared her thoughts.

"Blow out the candle please," she said softly.

He looked as though he was about to question her request, but instead he padded over to his nightstand and extinguished the flame by pinching the wick. Darkness flooded the room. Not even a trace of moonlight shone through the slatted windows

"Duncan will do his duty," Alistair said but his voice possessed a hollow quality. "I'm sure of it."

The floorboards creaked as he slowly approached.

Eva traced her toe in a circle upon the ground. "You deserve better than me—Than any of this."

Alistair wrapped an arm around her shoulders and nuzzled his face against the top of Eva's head. His other hand rested against the small of her back. "Now's not the time to second-guess yourself." Judging from his intonation, he smirked as he said this.

"Hey, you don't have the right to use my own lines against me just because we're screwing," Eva responded as she buried her face against his neck. "You're right, though. I'll not let my uncertainty cripple me any longer."

"Good."

She felt the sting of tears forming at the corners of her eyes. No, she told herself, you cannot cry. Alistair's hand wandered lower until it rested against Eva's ass: the ass which compelled him to let her take point most of the time, the ass that-as he told Zevran while they were chatting privately once-existed in a fourth dimension beyond pants.

"I love you," she said, her voice muffled by his neck. "I want you to always know that, alright? Now enough talk."