Mirror, Mirror

Felis looked up at the huge stone portal leading inside the Tevinter ruins in the middle of the Dragonbone Wastes. He recognized the place, of course. Only a few months ago they had defeated the Mother here. But this time it was different.

This time he could feel the raw power of the Eluvian behind the door, a power unlike anything he had ever felt. This was the place; he knew it in his bones. And this was where he would find Morrigan. She had to be attracted to the mirror as strongly as he was. More than anything, he wanted to go in there right now, to talk to her, to see her again. Yet his companions were exhausted from the battle and he needed to give them time to recover. There was no knowing what else awaited them in there, and he hadn't gotten where he was by being reckless.

His gaze wandered over the battlefield. A Varterral and six young dragons. Ariane had gasped with horror at the sight of the huge spider-like monster, and he had been grateful he'd taken the time to equip his new companions properly and to teach Finn some spells that were actually useful in battle. The young mage was extremely powerful, but his life in the Tower had been so sheltered that it had taken him weeks to become a force to be reckoned with.

Now their opponents were slain, foes whose presence would have spelt certain death for almost any fighter in Thedas. And it had actually been easy. The thought almost scared him. He looked down at his hands, feeling the power sizzle through his fingertips. He hadn't even broken a sweat during the fight, hadn't even bothered with a lyrium potion. It had been unnecessary, the spells flying from his staff with ease, in an uninterrupted sequence, his mana reserves barely touched. He had become so powerful that even the invincible Varterral, the stuff of myths and legends, hardly presented a real challenge.

And yet…. He remembered a time, four, maybe five years ago, when these hands had struggled with a simple lightning spell, when a single hurlock had been a serious threat, when he had to cower behind Alistair's shield while casting. Now he proudly wore his drakeskin armour, Wade's undisputed masterpiece. No more swishy robes for him. They had always looked ridiculous on his slim, compact elven physique. Now he fought in the thick of the battle, Spellweaver's shining blade slicing through dragonhide and corrupted darkspawn flesh, even as his spells took down foes around him with hardly a conscious thought from him. He had come a long way.

Absent-mindedly he scratched Drake's broad head. It was good to have the mabari with him, a familiar presence in the midst of all this. His new companions were capable enough, but strangers, their fates of little concern to him. It was rare nowadays for anyone to actually touch his heart. Anders, maybe. He understood the other mage's desire for freedom, oh yes, he did. If anyone tried to take him back to the Circle now (and they still have your phylactery, a little voice at the back of his mind kept telling him), he would go mad. Although he would like to see them try. The hint of a smile played across his face. He was the Hero of Ferelden, the Slayer of the Archdemon, the Commander of the Grey. And Anora was beholden to him, even after she had granted him the boon he had asked for. No, they wouldn't dare come for him.

He realized his companions had stopped panting, their wounds almost healed. With a slight motion of his right hand, he cast a rejuvenation spell to perk them up a little.

"Ready?" His face wore an expression of cool ennui, the mask he had cultivated over the years. Very few people knew what lay behind it: the raw ambition, the passion, the doubts and regrets. Zevran. Morrigan. Anders might have a vague idea. The others had never guessed, especially not Wynne. It had been so easy to manipulate her. After all, he had grown up in the Tower knowing exactly what she would like to hear. And even if he had been tempted at times to scream his contempt for the Tower mages at her, he had remained unfailingly polite and courteous, even when she had asked him to go back and help rebuild the Circle.

Ah, well. That was behind him now. He nodded a vague assent when Ariane reminded him of the book she was looking for. He couldn't care less about it, to tell the truth, but she had been helpful enough. Finn was almost comically excited at the thought of seeing a real Eluvian. Really, the man was like a child sometimes. Felis sighed wearily and opened the door.

He recognized her immediately. Even at a distance Morrigan's lithe figure was unmistakable. The ring on his finger was tingling at her proximity, the ring she had given him, back when he had still shared her bed. She was standing next to the mirror, on an island in the middle of a huge cavern, and her hand was gliding along its frame, as if she was caressing the ancient wood. He realized his heart was beating faster at the sight of her familiar silhouette.

Morrigan. He remembered every single thing about her, with crystalline clarity. The first time they had met was out in the Wilds, before his Joining. Then waking up after Ostagar in her mother's hut, her eyes were the first thing he saw when he became conscious. Those eyes…. Yellow witch eyes, Alistair had called them. Just another instance of the man's utter ignorance. Golden eyes, with all the colours of the rainbow gleaming inside their depths. Magical eyes, to be sure. He had wanted her, even then, but he had played it cool and refrained from pestering her with his attentions. She had come to him, asking him to join her in her tent even before they reached Lothering. Neither of them was innocent, of course, but even so, something happened that night, and they both felt it.

They never talked of love, neither of them believing in romantic nonsense, but there was no doubt in his mind that those nights with her preserved his sanity. He was frantic in those early weeks, when Alistair dumped everything on him, when they went back to the Tower only to find every single person he had ever known either dead or turned into an abomination. She was there for him, offering him no pity, no kind words, just her body and her strength. She spoke of her miserable childhood with Flemeth, and he realized that was her way of helping him, of telling him he would be strong enough to get through it, just as she had been strong enough. And he survived, and went on to survive everything else. Afterwards, he was willing to do anything for her. And he did everything she ever asked of him. He even slew Flemeth though he was nearly killed in the attempt.

And then Zevran came along, impossible, wonderful Zevran, with his insolent smile and constant innuendos, his golden skin that seemed to hold all the heat of the Antivan sun. Zevran, with his soft lips and hard body, who accepted him the way he was, without questions or judgment, and who never asked for anything in return. He fell for the other man in a way he never thought possible. Zevran completed him, healed him, made him feel alive and young, made him happy.

Felis sighed deeply. He wished Zevran were here with him now. It would make everything so much easier. Or maybe it was better this way?

Back then, when Morrigan had asked him to make a choice, he couldn't bring himself to give up the assassin, even though she would always have a special place in his heart. And she was gracious about it, rejoicing in his happiness. She remained a true friend up to the end. When she suggested the ritual, it didn't occur to him not to trust her. A final night with her was hardly a sacrifice anyway, and she made sure it was unforgettable. He could feel her now, her slim body wrapped around his, her lips on his, her heat, her soft white skin…. And then, she disappeared. It was no betrayal, no surprise. She made it clear beforehand that this would happen. Morrigan was always honest with him, even as she was following her own agenda.

The Archdemon was slain, he was the hero of the day, with Zevran always by his side, in his bed, in his heart. Felis smiled as his hand touched the earring. Zevran's promise, the symbol of their bond.

He went on to Vigil's Keep, as the Warden Commander, and Zevran left for Antiva. Even now, he recalled the emptiness, the longing. Oh, he understood why his lover felt the need to go, he even agreed on principle that it was necessary. And there were letters, but letters couldn't replace what they meant to each other. Their relationship was very much a physical, sensual one, and he missed Zevran, oh Maker, he missed him every day, and every night, even though he had taken other lovers during the past two years, and so had Zevran, without any doubt. He remembered the assassin's parting words. You do realize, my Warden, that I won't be able to remain... physically true to you in the months to come, yes? But you know that I am yours. Always. Yes, he knew, and it didn't matter, none of it did.

But during those lonely nights at the Keep he found himself wondering more and more about Morrigan, and about the child she was bearing. His child. The only child he was ever likely to have. And when his scouts told him she had been sighted near her mother's old hut, it was clear he would have to find her. He had to know about the child, had to see her again. He had written to Antiva, sure that Zevran would understand. Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe the assassin had left a trail of little half-elven bastards all over Thedas without caring.

Felis had no way of being certain, but he hoped Zevran would accept his decision, as he always had before.

Drake bounded along in front of him, greeting Morrigan with a happy bark, and to his surprise she laughed, scratching the mabari's belly lovingly, obviously glad to see the huge beast again. As he approached the mirror, she turned to him, her stance wary, keeping him at a distance with an outstretched hand.

A sudden smile curved up his lips. Still prickly as a hedgehog. She hadn't changed. Not even physically. Her body, barely hidden by her usual flimsy robes, was as slim and perfect as he remembered it, her face as beautiful and as haughty. He took care to keep his voice neutral, almost gentle.

"I'm not here to attack you, Morrigan."

He saw faint lines of amusement around her eyes, and something else…. Yes, she still cared about him, he was certain of it.

"What did you come for, then?"

A loaded question. He could hardly profess his undying love for her, not when he had left her for someone else. Nor could he pretend to have come for more rational reasons. He settled for honesty. It had always served him well with her.

"I couldn't let it end like this, Morrigan. And I need to see my child."

She nodded slowly, still cautious, still keeping him at a distance. "Your son. He isn't here, but he's in a safe place."

Her head moved towards the mirror, and he saw the surface shimmering purple. A portal. Of course. He had seen his share of them when he was walking in the Fade.

"Will you try to keep me from going through?" Her eyebrows were raised in a questioning arc.

He shook his head. He wouldn't be able to stop her, at least not without killing her, and that was out of the question. He could see it in her eyes, the firm determination to go there, wherever there was.

"Why?" he asked. "Why are you leaving?"

She sighed. "The world is about to change, more than you can possibly imagine. And I need time to prepare for this. Time and all the power I can get."

Again she looked toward the portal and his eyes followed hers. Power.

"Where does it lead to?" His throat felt dry as old parchment.

"To another place, beyond this world, beyond the Fade." There was excitement in her voice, and a barely contained elation.

And suddenly he heard himself say it, without even knowing where the idea had come from, a reckless idea, half-formed, but as soon as the words left his lips he knew it was the right thing to do, inevitable, in fact.

"Let me come with you."

He saw the surprise in her eyes, noticed the tiny signs of confusion nobody else would have seen, and he hid a smile. Morrigan. His Morrigan. He had always been the one who got under her skin, who understood her in ways nobody else did.

"Are you… sure?" There was a faint trace of hope in her voice that told him she wanted him to come, and he nodded. He had never been more sure of anything.

She smiled and pulled him into a long kiss, taking his hand to lead him through the portal. He kissed her back, fiercely, passionately, even as a voice in his head screamed Zevran, forgive me! But he had to do this, had to go to this place, meet his son, find a new purpose, leaving Thedas behind him.

"Come, then, my love," she said triumphantly, and together they stepped through the mirror.

Hugs and thanks to my amazing beta zevgirl, who managed to turn this into a readable story!