Morrigan's Ring
"The ring that Morrigan gave Aedan remained in his possession. She had once claimed that it formed a connection between the two, and there was a night when he was sure she was thinking of him... somewhere. She felt regret, and sorrow. But the ring told no more."
Aedan Cousland stood upon the balcony of his bedchamber, the Royal Palace overlooking all of Denerim. It was cold out, and the bitter fall wind blew through him on this particular night like a thousand knives. His dark hair, grown longer and unkempt in the months since they slew the Archdemon, snapped about his face. Aedan scratched his short, haggard beard as he peered down into his hand at it: Morrigan's ring. He tried, for months he tried to get her out of his head. He occupied himself with politics, public appearances, and Leliana, and it seemed that he would've forgotten Morrigan entirely, her existence simply erased from his memory. But that blasted ring! All day, it occupied his mind, and try to resist as he might, each night it called to him. Leliana had asked him to get rid of it long ago, and he said that he would. But she was no fool, what else would Aedan be doing when he stepped out in the middle of the night with "nothing" clenched in his fist or hidden beneath the blanket he wrapped about himself? Morrigan had spoke to him of the connection, how it would allow her to find him should they be parted and maybe, just maybe, it could work in reverse. Months he spent attempting to use the ring, always failing. It was infuriating! One night, in a fit of rage and frustration he had thrown it off the balcony and spent half the night scouring the royal gardens for it.
But this night, this night was different. As he stood there, ring in hand, gazing out over the city; he felt her. It was an all too familiar feeling, Morrigan's presence, and it made the the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, as if she were right behind him, about to wrap her arms around his chest as she once had. Aedan felt bliss. He was sure she was thinking of him... somewhere. She felt regret, and sorrow. But the ring told no more. And just like that, she was gone. His eyes snapped open and a wave of sorrow washed over him as well as he heaved against the railing. All these months being a part from her, and suddenly, she was so close. She might as well have been not an inch away from him, and as quickly as she came, she was gone. His heart grew heavy with emotion and he heard the door to his room open behind him.
"My love? Are you alright?" a sweet Orlesian voice called to him.
"I am fine, dear, thank you." Aedan replied over his shoulder.
"Please, darling, come back to bed."
He turned to face his red-haired Orlesian beauty, Leliana. She stood in the doorway, a blanket wrapped around her midsection, brow furrowed into a look of concern and grief (or was it perhaps pity?) for her love.
A small smile crossed his face. "Of course, Leliana, I fear that one day I may step out for so long that you send me to Anora's room.
She smiled back, once more adopting her playful attitude "Send you, to... her? Perish the thought!"
Aedan strode across the balcony up to her, still smiling, they embraced each other and shared a kiss before returning to bed. So grateful was he to have this amazing woman by his side.
He laid awake in bed, Leliana's peaceful, sleeping form beside him. He could not sleep, for all his thoughts were focused upon the ring, and he knew what he must do. Quietly and carefully, he rose from the bed before exiting the room, blanket still wrapped around him. Aedan strode down the hallway, ducking into another room. It had a large mantle and a couple chairs, as well as a few closets and wardrobes. He dug into the back of one, pushing away large, fancy royal garments until he found a set of plain traveling clothes, and pulled them on. He opened another large wardrobe, this one containing his armor, sword, and shield. He reached towards the weapon rack before realizing that his sword was missing.
The smooth, Antivan accent echoed from behind him. "Looking for this?"
Aedan turned, behind him in one of the chairs sat the elven assassin Zevran, balancing Aedan's longsword on the end of his finger.
"Zevran, give me that," Aedan said, if not a bit more forcefully than he intended.
He chuckled, tossing the blade to his old comrade-in-arms, and now employer. "As you command, my liege."
"How did you know that I'd be here?"
"Come now, my friend, you've grown ever more obsessed with the Witch's ring since we defeated the Archdemon."
"I felt her, Zevran, tonight." Aedan explained.
"I have it on good authority that you felt her many nights, no?" Zevran said with a smirk.
"This ring, Zevran, it has a connection between her and I. This will allow me to find her!"
"My dearest Grey Warden, you are a king now! You have Leliana, and your royal duties. I am truly sorry to say it, but whatever you two had once is gone."
"I know," though even now, it pained him a bit to say it. "I am not so niave that I believe I can hunt her down, talk it out, and run off together. But there are questions, Zevran, questions that I need answered."
The assassin thought a moment. "Does this involve the ritual?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Then say no more, what do you need of me?"
Aedan took a quill and parchment from a nearby desk and began writing.
"Here, please, give this to Leliana. She must understand. Oh, and the usual."
"Ah, yes the usual, 'speak none of this to Anora.'" He laughed. "Honestly I don't think that your wife would at all mind your leave of absence, it allows her to rule without objection."
Aedan slung his sword on his back, then pulled the cloak over it, and clasped his friend's arm. "Thank you, Zevran. And please, look out for Leliana for me while I'm gone. From a nice, friendly, distance of course."
The elf laughed again. "You have nothing to fear from me my friend, to this day, I am still your man. I wish you the best of luck and hope you find... whatever it is that you are looking for."
Without another word, Aedan pulled his deep hood over his head, and collecting a plain walking stick from the corner, walked out of the room, the hall, the palace, and away into the night.
Not an hour later, the gatemen of Denerim observed a hunched old man with a large cloak and walking stick, exiting the city in the early hours of the morning.