Author note: Sorry. I just had to. I kept thinking of Morrigan's child, and how she would raise her and shizzle. Hehe.
And in case you wanted to know, Tacita is the name of a Goddess of Death.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise isn't mine. *Heartbroken sigh* :'(
Before she herself even knew it, Tacita, princess-witch of the Korcari Wilds, was about to do something completely, unbelievably and wholeheartedly forbidden.
She bent over her mother's chest that has exquisite ornate carved symbols on it, which Tacita knew was meant to ward away any intruders.
But Tacita knew her mother's spells and charms like the back of her hand.
Pretty soon, Tacita had destroyed the protective charm and with a cunning smile, the young witch lifted the lid of the chest.
Her hands began searching the crumpled, yellowing papers inside desperately in an attempt to find what she was so urgently looking for.
She wanted to find her father. Sixteen years without had really been too long.
Her hands found a small, slim black book, without a title.
More than a little intrigued, she flipped it open cautiously.
Heart thudding like a drum beneath her breast, her eyes skimmed the words feverishly.
I…I don't know what to do. Tacita keeps asking about her father. She's young, so I spun her a small white lie, for her own good. But when she's older…doesn't she realize that this is for her own good? She seems to forget that I raised her alone, alone, without the help of her father. Even so, she stills want to know about him, ever the inquisitive little cat. I just hope- (the entry abruptly ends, as if the writer was interrupted)
"Is your curiosity sated, little one?"
Tacita dropped the book and spun around, fingertips automatically setting aflame with purple fire.
Her mother, the beautifully dangerous Morrigan, smiled at her daughter, who was a mirror-image of her apart from her blazing violet eyes.
"Mother…I…" Tacita paused and took a deep breath before squaring her chest and looking her fearsome mother in the eyes. "I have a father."
Morrigan walked further into the room and circled her daughter slowly, secretly not too pleased at being the same height.
"You do indeed, Tacy. Did I ever deny it?"
Tacita stared at her mother in utter outrage. Of course her mother had denied it!
When Tacita had been young, Morrigan had always said 'You are my daughter, and that is enough'. And at first, it had been. But when she was older and questioned again, Morrigan has responded 'You are a child of nature. You were born from the sky with the wind in your veins."
Neither was true, Tacita of course understood.
"You did, Mother. You know you did."
Morrigan's mouth quirked up at one side.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not."
"Don't you dare lie!"
Morrigan cupped her daughter's chin and raised her face to hers. Hawkish gold eyes burned into blazing blue-violet ones. Both women stared at each other, unflinching.
"You aren't going to budge on this, are you?"
Tacita shook her head seriously.
Morrigan laughed to herself at her young daughter who reminded her of her younger, more devious self. The girl who had been friends long ago with the Grey-Warden Commander, Hero of Ferelden. But those days were long ago and only Tacita remained as a memoir.
"Never."
"Very well. Do you really want to know why I call you princess?"
This was it. Tacita would finally find out who her father was. In finding her father, she also would find herself.
"Yes," she breathed.
"Many years ago, during a time when the Archdemon sought to destroy Ferelden in what was known as the Blight, there was a party of mighty adventurers. You remember me telling you about the Blight, I assume?"
Tacita nodded, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her mother.
"Yes, I remember."
"Well, I was in that group of adventurers. I had been sent to fight with them by my mother, your Grandmother, Flemeth."
"Flemeth? The one I sometimes hear the humans in the Wilds talking about?"
"Ignoring that comment, she is the very same. Now shush, child." Morrigan cleared her throat thoughtfully. "Ah, yes. Anyway, I was with the party of adventurers on the night before the big battle, when I approached the female Grey Warden, our leader." Morrigan shuddered at the word. "You see, child, an Archdemon can only be killed by a Grey Warden and when they do, their essence is destroyed, alongside the Archdemon's."
"That's appalling! Is there no way to stop it?"
Morrigan smiled at her daughter's odd pureness, which obviously came from her father.
"Yes. That is actually what Flemeth had sent me for. There was a ritual I could conduct, in which the male Grey-Warden would sleep with me and conceive a child."
"Me," Tacita whispered.
"Indeed, little one. As I was saying, when the Archdemon was slain, it's essence would seek yours like a beacon. You would absorb it but not die. You'd be born with the soul of an Old God, and no Grey-Warden would have to die."
Tacita rocked back in shock. So. She had the soul of an Old God? And her father was a Grey-Warden, the mighty heroes of legend?
"So that man…the Grey-Warden…is my father?"
Morrigan nodded before stroking her daughter's inky-black spill of dark hair.
"Yes. His name is Alistair. And…and he…" Morrigan trailed off and averted her eyes awkwardly, something incredibly uncharacteristic for her.
"And he? And he what, Mother?"
Morrigan shook her head.
"No, it's nothing. Go to bed, child."
Morrigan waved her hand dismissively.
"No! Mother, tell me! You can't tease me like that!"
"Tacita, your father is Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden."
Ooooh! Cliff-hanger! ;) Anyway, I hoped you liked it. R and R, please. Y'dig? Thank you. :)
Lisbet
xx