A/N: Okay, so this is my first foray into the magical world of Dragon Age fanfiction. I've been a long time fan of the series, and especially of the lore. I'll be honest, I've tried to write for this fandom before, but I hated every single I've ever written for it, because I would get really overwhelmed. However, as I've recently fallen in love with Dragon Age II (took me long enough, I know), I've found a good idea that I'm not all overwhelmed with, and I'm going to roll with it!
Just so everyone knows, this story is...like a prologue to main story I'm writing and will be posting soon, but this is also in a different style then what I normally write, hence why it's its own story instead of being added into the other one.
I hope everyone likes it, and is intrigued enough to watch for the main story!
Also, I have a Universal Disclaimer in my profile, go look if you need to see it.
"Well, well…what have we here?" Morrigan looked up from her work at the sound of her mother's voice, knowing fear for the first time since she had given birth. The witch turned to face Flemeth, dropping the Boline in her hand without any of the ceremonial reverence that putting away her mystical tool would normally require.
"Come now, mother…that's my line." Morrigan answered; standing and gently sliding the board of cut up herbs back with her foot. She wouldn't want to step in a pile of Darkspawn heart if this got nasty. Which, Morrigan had no doubt, would.
The last time she had seen her mother, was…when she had left. The Warden and Alistair had claimed to have slain the ancient witch, but Morrigan had suspected that Flemeth wouldn't simply die. Nothing was ever that simple with her mother.
"Where is the child, Morrigan?" Flemeth demanded, taking strident steps towards her daughter, but Morrigan was prepared and held up her staff, warding her mother back by a good yard. Though she knew she would never have the power of her mother, Morrigan had gained experience when travelling with the Warden. She knew her spells now, and even though she was certain her mother could kill her, she would no longer simply die without any struggle.
"She is…gone, Mother. It has been many years. Alistair didn't protect her, and why should he…he only fathered her. I couldn't save her for fear of exposing myself." The younger witch stated, not dropping her guard for even a second.
"Is she dead?" Flemeth asked, twitching her lips, and sending the staff in Morrigan's hand twirling behind the older witch, outside of the tent altogether.
"No…" Morrigan said simply, taking a cautionary step back, alarmed at being disarmed so easily.
"Which Circle then, my sweet?" The Witch of the Wilds questioned, reaching out with her still gauntleted arm, and brushing a stray lock of raven hair out of Morrigan's face.
"Not a Circle…" She whispered, falling back in fear, down to her knees, a variety of emotions rushing through her, though she showed none of them except for defiance.
But Flemeth knew her daughter, and could see the panicked fear in her eyes.
But Flemeth understood her daughter's words, and their horrible implications. It would be difficult for even the famed Witch of the Wilds to get to the Old God child now.
"Why do wear your armor, mother?" Morrigan asked, staring at the red studded leather.
"Because, even though I wished I were wrong, I already knew what you were going to tell me, Morrigan. And so…I will be going to war." Flemeth indulged her daughter's question.
"For my daughter?" The daughter asked, finding her footing, and standing, glaring at the woman before with hatred. Morrigan would die before she let Flemeth take that child as her new host.
"Don't be so self-important, Morrigan. I'm going to war for myself, as I have always done, and I suggest you do the same." And just like that, Morrigan was alone in her tent, in the middle of the Korcari wilds.
But Morrigan didn't feel so alone, for she heard a voice deep in her mind.
'Find Alistair and Aedan, my sweet…you'll be needed soon enough.'
Though it went against every moral and every desire the witch had, even though on most other days, she would fight against her mother with everything she had, Morrigan found herself packing her bags…
A/N: I hope you all liked it, and are thoroughly interested! Lemme know if you liked it!
Music for this story was Hardest of Hearts by Florence + The Machine.
Comments and critiques are greatly appreciated!