The Witch's Weakness
Chapter 1
"I wish to ask you something," Morrigan said when the Warden had come to check on her as was his routine.
Vaeren Cousland cracked that half smile she knew so well. At first she had found it annoying, a show of him not taking something seriously. However she found this to just be in his nature. It was almost as instinctive as breathing for him was what she had supposed. And yet it still had an effect on her. Her heartbeat quickened.
"Yes?" he asked.
She looked into those blue eyes. They had seemed so innocent when they had first met. But after all that had happened there was too much they had seen. Those innocent eyes were a mask for the horrors that they had discovered. His black hair was unkempt and hardly resembled that of a noble. Though he was a noble no longer she reminded herself.
"I wish to know your opinion…" she hesitated. Her cat like eyes embarrassed. Something she was not used to feeling.
"My opinion on what?" he asked trying to catch her eyes again. He loved her eyes. Animalistic and yet, captivating. Her cheeks flushed only for a moment. But Vaeren saw.
"On love," she said.
Love. An odd word coming from Morrigan. It took a moment for Vaeren to come up with an answer. This was a topic they both had chosen to ignore. She had stated flat out how against she was. Thus Vaeren decided it was best to avoid the subject to avoid angering her. But now it was on her mind. Most likely from the time they had spent together. And still he was at a loss.
"Love?" he managed.
"Yes," she said, "I do not remember stuttering."
Her sudden defensiveness spoke volumes to Vaeren. Not the least of which was that this topic was sensitive.
"Well what about it?" he asked curiously.
"Well…" she thought carefully how she wanted to proceed, "We've been close for sometime now. I… I find you impressive in many ways. You protected me from Flemeth without hope of real reward. I am… anxious when I look upon you."
"What are you saying, Morrigan?" he asked.
"I dislike this sense of dependency. 'Tis a weakness I abhor! If this is "Love" I wish to ascertain that you do not feel the same."
"Are you saying you love me?" the Warden asked teasingly.
"No! That's not what I am saying. You need to pay attention. What I AM saying is that I… have become too close. "Tis a weakness."
"It's not," Vaeren replied simply.
"You're not listening to me. It's a distraction! I am not worth your attention and you are not worth mine."
She felt like she had lied. That he was not worth her distraction. It was pleasant. And their time together had opened her eyes in aspects of life.
"You ARE worth my distraction," he said, "And you will not convince me otherwise. I do care for you. The question is will you allow me to?"
She finally looked away. This was something she had been curious about, something that had been missing in her life. And she was too afraid to let it happen.
"You will regret this in the end…" she said.
"Then allow me to enjoy it now," he replied.
He kissed her gently and she swam in brief serenity. She broke off from his lips.
"I wish to be alone," she said.
He nodded and left.
Morrigan snapped from the memory. She ran a finger over her tingling lips. As if their kiss had just occurred. She looked around her room. Too elegant for her tastes. Denerim was not somewhere she enjoyed being. And now Vaeren was in Fort Drakon. Undergoing torture. She shut her eyes and focused on the ring she had given him. She felt the pain of the Warden. She heard his cries. She broke off the connection.
"Not a weakness," she frowned, "Then why do I feel despair in your current situation?"
She was prepared to go there along with Wynne to rescue him. A long shot of a plan was put in place. And she could only imagine what he was going through. The door opened.
"Morrigan? Are you ready?" Wynne asked.
"I am," she said, "I do not know why we delay when the Warden is in agony!"
"We'll get him back," Wynne replied knowingly.
"Then why do we stand her talking about it? Let's go."
He had made a habit of going to her fire each night. Sometimes just to say goodnight. Sometimes to converse. Mostly questions about herself. Trivial things these questions but not a danger to answer.
"You have no magical abilities, thus 'twould be impossible for you to change forms," she said.
"Damn," he replied, "I had an idea to scare the socks off Alistair by being a giant spider."
Morrigan imagined this and smiled to herself. An entertaining idea. Perhaps she would do this someday.
"I find myself curious Warden," she said, "You are very accepting of my Apostate status. Normally illegal mages are frowned upon greatly."
"You're abilities are incredible. Useful without a doubt. Who am I to tell someone how they must live? It's not my place to govern what a mage does with their life."
She raised and lowered her eyebrows. An interesting man this Cousland.
"And you feel no fear of me?" she asked.
"Well…" he smiled, "Only if you're angry at me."
She chuckled, "Well let's hope that isn't often."
"Believe me I wish to stay on your good side," he said, "I've seen you turn into a spider. I prefer this form."
"Oh? The hairy multiple legs and pincers do not entice you?" she asked with a smile.
He laughed, "You're beautiful as you are."
Beautiful? A compliment she had received numerous times from lustful eyes before, but it was not unwelcome. And his eyes, told a different story.
"Oh?"
He nodded. She fully expected him to make an advancement of some sort. To try to get closer, touch her hand, kiss her even. But he did not. Instead he smiled at her, wished her goodnight and returned to the main camp. She found herself, oddly enough, wondering why he did not make such a move. Then she began questioning why she wanted him to. And as she pondered this throughout the night, she fell into uneasy sleep.
"Morrigan I need you to hold him steady," Wynne said firmly as Vaeren lay in Morrigan's arms.
"Warden!" Morrigan said, "Stay still. You're hurt."
He groaned and thrashed. His right leg was bent in an odd angle.
"The machines," he whispered, "The… machines!"
Morrigan felt her finder trace over the wounds on his back. Blood began soaking into her clothes. Her hands held him firmly. Bloody handprints staining his skinny torso.
"This will hurt Vaeren," Wynne said, "Try to endure."
A blue mist flowed from her fingertips to his leg. He saw the mist envelop the leg. He screamed as a loud snap came from it. It returned to its normal position. He swore violently.
"I'm sorry dear," Wynne said, "We have to do this. We must get you out of here. Give me your hands."
The fingers were broken.
"Morrigan, do something! Calm him down!"
"What am I supposed to do? He's bleeding everywhere."
"Say something! You are close to him! Who better to calm him than you?"
Morrigan knew she was right. She looked at the Warden. His pain was hers. She whispered into his ear.
"Vaeren… shhh. Calm down. 'Twill be over soon. I am here. Endure."
His head craned to look at her. His eyes spoke to her. He had been broken. Or close to it. They never broke their gazes. Even as his fingers cracked and were pushed back into place. He didn't wince. He didn't make a sound. But she felt his pain.
"I have to remove this ring Vaeren," Wynne said, "It will disrupt the healing."
Wynne removed it gently wondering how it had not been confiscated. Morrigan still felt with him despite the ring's removal.
Crack!
Morrigan felt the ring placed back onto his finger. His words echoed in her mind.
"If I was a giant spider I wouldn't have to worry about broken fingers."
She smiled and rocked him gently as Wynne continued healing his various wounds.
"Shhhhh," she whispered soothingly.
"Morrigan?" Wynne asked.
"Yes?"
"Are you alright dear? You're crying."
He had gone to seek her out. Flemeth. Her mother. He said he'd kill her. to protect her. She didn't expect him to be back for awhile. It was a four day journey, not to mention the Darkspawn they had to evade. But she was anxious. She sat on a tree stump near a small pond. The waiting was killing her.
"Don't worry," said a voice beside her, "He'll be back. It'll take more than a Witch of the Wilds to take him down."
Alistair. What did he want?
"Worried?" she scoffed.
"You seem like it. He can handle it."
"Do you mean to assume that I am worried for the Warden?" she asked.
"I do," Alistair said.
"You assume too much," she said, "My goal is the Grimoire. And I am anxious for its retrieval."
"And for Vaeren's return," Alistair grinned.
"He is important to Ferelden. He must end the Blight."
"Important to Ferelden… and you," Alistair said.
"Alistair?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
"Alright, alright," he said, "I thought that I would at least make an attempt to help you. Serves me right for that foolish notion."
"Indeed," Morrigan said.
Alistair went back to his tent. Morrigan picked at her nails. She knew the fool was right. They were close. Too close for her comfort. And yet she found it pleasant. He had become important to her to a degree. She did worry for him. Her mother was powerful. More than likely she would fight them as a dragon. She shuddered to think of the consequences of failure.
"Come back to me, My Warden," she sighed.
The next day arrived slowly. Each passing minute a decade in her mind. He walked slowly, attempting to hide an obvious limp.
"Vaeren as soon as your done you need to come back to my tent for some healing. That goes double for you Sten."
Sten nodded. Some of his armor appeared to be melted. A piece seared into his flesh. Vaeren was no better. Burns covered his arms. Three long slashes from dragon's claws decorated his chest. And yet still he pretended that he was unhindered. Putting on a masculine show and ignoring the pain. He smiled that smile. Seeing him as he was, wounded, limping, and smiling at her as if none of it mattered. As if she was more important than Ferelden, the Blight. She forgot of the Grimoire.
"Warden," she said somewhat speechless, "Are you…"
He held up a hand to quiet her. He produced a black leather bound book.
"Not too much trouble," he said.
"Mother's Grimoire?" she said.
He nodded.
"You… I… thank you. I will study this immediately."
He nodded again. She didn't know what to do. She thought of kissing him, hugging him. But in his condition… she thought better of it.
"Vaeren!" Wynne shouted, "Get over here. Those burns will be permanent if we don't treat them."
"Coming!" he shouted with a smile.
Morrigan smiled at him. One that told Vaeren to get well. And get well VERY soon.
She watched him sleep. His wounds were healed yes, but what of Vaeren's mental state. Fort Drakon would surely haunt him for a very long time. Perhaps his entire life. Scars told the story of what had happened. Whips, cat of nine tails, knives that created tally marks. She traced the outline of them. He moaned in his sleep. Sensing nightmares of unspeakable atrocities she stroked his arm slowly.
"If we had only come sooner," she said aloud.
He stirred briefly, gave a small cry and then lay still. She carefully lay down on the bed next to him. He remained asleep even as she put his arm around her. She curled next to him like a frightened child. Tracing the outlines on his chest she felt tears well up. Blinking them away she kissed his knuckles.
"Forgive me," she said, "For what is to come."
A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read through this. Obviously I do not own the rights to Dragon Age or its characters.
THE REAL A/N: please be sure to review this and follow if you enjoyed. Hopefully you enjoyed and will follow my chronicles of Vaeren Cousland. For now I know we haven't really touched on him personally yet. But I plan on making this lengthy. Just a bit. Thank you for reading