Witches and Mirrors
A Dragon Age Fanfiction
By Bionca Femme
Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age and its characters, all I own are the characters that I have made up.
Chapter 1:
Aedan pulled his heavy woolen cloak tighter about him against the biting cold, and scooted closer to the campfire. He then turned his attention on his traveling companion who was poking their evening meal with a stick as it roasted over their campfire. "Remind me again why I wanted to cross the Frostbacks instead of taking the Imperial Highway?" he asked and then clapped his hands together, trying to work some warm blood and a little feeling back into them.
"I believe you did not want to miss any clues our fair Morrigan might have left behind. Personally, I think I would have rather liked having warm toes over cold clues," Zevran drawled out. "But, you are the leader..." Zevran trailed off, his honey brown eyes twinkling in an 'I told you so' fashion.
"You know, I think its your turn to be the leader," he grunted as he hunched down further into his travel cloak.
Zevran threw his head back and laughed. "Oh no, my friend. If I were the leader, we would be in an obscenely decadent, lush, warm brothel, sipping Antivan brandy with soft and beautiful women. You, me, and many divine bosoms to pillow our weary heads," he shot Aedan a wink.
"Hmm, better a warm bosom to lay my head against than a frozen rock, but I can see where you might distract us from our mission. Very well, I shall lead," Aedan replied with a laugh.
"Must you break my heart so?" Zevran sighed theatrically and then pulled a bit of meat off the roasted wild pig and placed it on a plate. He handed it to Aedan who took it gratefully, thankful to have something warm in his hands.
Zevran took his own food and settled back onto the log he'd been sitting on. "So, where does Morrigan's trail take us, I wonder?"
"As far away from me as she can possibly get?" Aedan retorted bitterly.
"Now, now. I'm sure that is not the case. Although, knowing our lovely witch, she does nothing without a plan. I can't help but wonder what lies at the other side of these mountains that has peaked her interest," Zevran took a bite of his meat.
Aedan finished his dinner and then set his plate aside. He took out a map of Thedas from his pack and unfolded it, studying it quietly for a time. He frowned when he was no closer to figuring out where she could be heading than he had been only moments before, "The Dales lie on the other side of these mountains, and the Arbor Wilds. I think its safe to say that she'd want to avoid being near any Grey Warden stronghold, so anywhere near Montsimmard is out. I don't think she'd stop in the Dales... maybe the Arbor Wilds? She could lose anyone chasing her easily in there. Though its close enough to Ferelden that she might not stay there for long. To be truthful, I imagined she would take the boy to Tevinter. They used to worship the Old Gods there at one time, you know," he finished.
"You really believe she is heading there to revive worship of the Old Gods?" Zevran asked with a lifted brow.
Aedan shook his head, "No, I think that she'd be looking for as much information on them as she can gather. For all Flemeth's uncanny abilities, I can't imagine she had vast amounts of information at her fingertips about such things. Even if she had, I have my doubts that she shared very much of it with Morrigan. At least that's what I gathered from the greedy look in Morrigan's eyes every time I gave her a book of Flemeth's."
Zevran chuckled. "Ah, I remember that look well. As I recall she got that look mostly with books and you. How I envied you."
Aedan shot Zevran a hard look.
"Ahh, not to worry, my Grey Warden. I envied her just as much. A pity you never asked me to join you both on cold nights," Zevran shivered for emphasis.
Aedan lifted an eyebrow. "Every night in Ferelden is cold, Zev," he got himself a second helping of the now slightly charred pork.
"Exactly!" Zevran grinned. "Which brings me to my next point. Tonight is a very cold night..." he trailed off with an eyebrow waggle.
Aedan snorted and then tossed a blanket from his pack at the elf, hitting him square in the face. "Here, take that to bed with you."
Zev pulled the blanket away from his head, his hair a bit mussed from the impact, and clucked his tongue at Aedan. "Alas, another night where we go to bed with unresolved sexual tension."
"Only because my tension has nothing at all to say to yours," Aedan smirked and then popped the last bite of the pork into his mouth. He set the plate aside and then crawled into his bedroll still fully clothed and still wearing his cloak, the hood pulled up over his head. "Goodnight, Zev."
"Buonanotte, my friend," Zevran responded.
The next day Aedan awoke early, as he had every morning since the Final Battle. "No!" he shouted and sat straight up in his bedroll. He looked around hurriedly, finding himself exactly where he'd fallen asleep, with Zevran staring at him over the dying flames of their campfire.
He pulled his knees up to his chest and drew his cloak around him. "Morning," he muttered groggily.
"The same dream?" Zevran poked through the coals of the fire with a stick and looked up at Aedan expectantly. When Aedan nodded Zevran sighed. "We will find her, we tracked down the Dalish, the Werewolves, the Urn of Sacred Ashes...wherever it is that Morrigan has gone, she cannot hide from us."
Aedan gave the elf a non-commital shrug, wishing that he possessed even a tenth of the Antivan's confidence. Then heaved himself out of his bedroll and started packing up.
Zevran watched his friend for a time, saddened by the state he was in. Wherever Morrigan was, he hoped she was suffering just as much as Aedan was.
Morrigan awoke early to the sounds of the Wilds, it soothed her to know that though these were not the Wilds in which she grew up, their sounds were at least the same. The last mournful cries of an owl before it fell to slumber with the dawning day, the skittering of a nocturnal rodent near her hut, the first few tentative chirps of the starlings that inhabited the wood. The Arbor Wilds was vast and was nestled safely between The Dales and the Uncharted Southern Territories. It was not the farthest from Ferelden that she could have traveled, tis true. However, her foolishly loyal lover would be hard pressed to find her here. These Wilds held secrets, just as her Korcari Wilds did, and when she took animal form, those secrets became her own.
Thoughts of Aedan, as always, brought on bitter confusion, loneliness, regret, longing and anger. She tried in vain to harden her heart to him, to harden his to her by leaving after the battle with the Archdemon without so much as a farewell. The fact that the ring was still in Highever upset her. She cursed her own foolishness. Never would she believe that Aedan had simply slithered off to Highever to rule the Terynir. Duty bound or not, he vowed to come after her. The ring had been stationary for months and she sensed no emotion from it, which, to her could mean that Aedan may be unconscious or had left the ring in Highever. If the latter were the case then he had left it to come after her.
She pushed such thoughts from her mind and ran a hand over her rounding abdomen. Not bothering to suppress the small smile that pulled at the corners of her full lips. She had him still, however, did she not? Whether or not she ever saw him again, she had a piece of him with her always. She would teach the boy all she knew, love him as she had not been loved as a child, as Aedan would have wanted. Hopefully, once the boy reached his majority and the Old God's soul had awakened, everything would fall into place and she could...she shook her head. That would be sixteen years hence and until then, she had much to do. The least of which was hiding from Aedan and whatever form it was that Flemeth now inhabited. Even though Aedan had done what she bid and killed her Mother, there was no telling where Flemeth's spirit had gone, nor what form she now took.
Morrigan sighed heavily and rose from her cot. The room was dark and she shivered from the coolness of the small hut she had come to call home. T'was small and in need of repair, but it kept the rain out. Finding the place had been fortuitous indeed. She had watched the abandoned hovel for days in wolf form, waiting to see if it was indeed as abandoned as it seemed. On the fourth day she approached it and found t'was not as unoccupied as she first assumed...
The wolf approached the hut cautiously, the small building appeared abandoned but even so, the wolf kept its head low and its muscles tensed. When it reached the door it lifted its nose to the air and sniffed. Death. Another sniff. Old death. The white wolf pawed at the door until the portal swung open and the creature padded softly over the threshold. The hut was a one room affair which held a table, hearth, wardrobe and a cot. On the cot, covered with webs and dust, lie a skeleton dressed in rags. The Wolf blew out a puff of air and sat back on it haunches, staring at the skeleton as if it believed that it would come to life. For several minutes, nothing happened. Finally the Wolf shifted, changed, lengthened, and finally turned into the figure of a woman with dark hair and golden eyes.
"Let us hope I fare better as the owner of this hut than you," the raven haired beauty remarked without emotion. She approached the cot and proceeded to wrap the bones up into the blanket they rested on, shooing away the spiders that crawled out of the vacant hollows of the skull's eye-sockets with a distracted flick of her wrist.
Eventually, she learned that the skeleton belonged to an elven apostate escaped from the Orlesian Circle in Val Foret. She read through his journal and found herself strangely angry on the young man's behalf.
His name had been An'len and he was from a Dalish Clan. He was captured by the Chantry at a very young age as his clan passed by Val Firmin. There was a raid on their camp and he was taken when a Templar witnessed the eight year old elven boy freeze a human raider trying to rape his Mother. He was taken from his family, and his clan, and sent to the circle.
After seven years of constant abuse and loneliness, he managed to escape before his harrowing. Terrified that the Templar's would follow him to his clan if he tried to reunite with them, he chose to flee to the Arbor Wilds, instead. A place that was said to be haunted by angry elven spirits, bitter over the exalted March that took the Dales away from the Elvenhan. He had lived in the hut for many years until one day he was bitten by a poisonous marsh-adder. A snake whose venom was resistant to healing magic.
She buried him, as is the tradition of the elves and planted an ash tree over his remains. Wherever the elf's spirit now roamed, be it the Fade or the Great Beyond. Morrigan hoped that he was at peace.
–
Morrigan pulled on a mages robe, one that covered much more of her skin than the ones that her Mother had provided her with, and had just finished building her fire when there was a soft knock on the door. Morrigan sighed heavily, "Foolish child! Come inside before someone sees you!" she scolded loudly.
The door opened quickly, and a thin girl child with wild tangled dirty blond hair and brown eyes almost entirely too large for her face, scurried into the room and shut the door behind her. "Sorry Mistress!"
Morrigan rolled her eyes and gestured impatiently to a seat at the table and waited until the young girl sat down. "Have you the herbs I asked you to collect?"
The girl nodded and put the leather pouch she had been clutching to her narrow chest onto the table and then her hands dropped into her lap to fidget with the hem of her faded yellow dirt and grass stained dress. Morrigan grimaced. "Be still, child," she admonished.
"Yes, ma'am," the girl said quietly and clasped her hands together on her lap.
Morrigan opened the pouch and peered in at the elf root that the girl had collected. She plucked forth one of the roots and examined it. The roots had been severed from the stalk just as she had shown the girl, the cut made with precise care. "Satisfactory," Morrigan gave the girl a curt nod, pointedly ignoring the beaming smile the girl gave her. "Now, you will come here and you will help me to make the poultices. Soon you will be able to make these on your own. Once you are proficient at making them, then we will move onto the tea I've been sending home with you. You have been giving it to your Father before he goes to bed, as I instructed?" she asked.
By this time the girl was kneeling like Morrigan by the fireplace where Morrigan was grinding the root with a pestle and mortar. Evangeline nodded, "Yes ma'am."
Morrigan nodded, pleased with the information. Evangeline was from a small human settlement not far from the Arbor Wilds, perhaps a few hours walk to the North. Morrigan had first seen her playing by herself in a stream. As she watched, to her astonishment, the young girl had slipped. On her way down, in her surprise the girl froze part of the stream. No one but Morrigan had noticed and she quickly chided the girl for being so careless. The girl swiftly broke down into tears and begged Morrigan not to tell the chantry about her. Morrigan had been taken aback by the girls tears.
She cursed Aedan again that day, to have softened her so that the pleas of mere girl would affect her. Before she knew it she was talking to the girls father. A widower who had no one else but Evangeline. Morrigan convinced him that she could teach the girl enough in secret to hide her magic, in exchange, Evangeline would bring Morrigan any supplies she asked for, and any news from the outside world. That was over a month ago and Evangeline's Father had taken ill and hadn't been back to work in the mines for weeks.
"Papa thinks he's going to die," Evangeline said in a small voice.
"He may indeed," Morrigan conceded without any emotion. "Though I would hardly think he is an authority on such matters."
"He told me not to come back today," she said with a tremble in her voice.
"Foolish, stubborn Man!" Morrigan sighed in exasperation. "Does he not know that he needs someone to tend his illness?"
"He...he told me to stay here, with you," the girl said softly.
Morrigan stopped grinding the herb and looked up. The girl looked more gaunt and tired than when she was there two days prior. "Had you nothing to eat today?"
The girl shook her head. Morrigan huffed and put down the bowl. She then stood and crossed the room to the cupboard near the door. She muttered to herself as she rummaged around in it, before finally returning with a large chunk of bread. "Eat this," she commanded, thrusting the bread into the girls hands.
"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, mistress," the girl's voice trembled as she took the bread and started eating it quickly.
Morrigan frowned as she watched the girl devour the bread. "Did he cough up blood this morning?"she asked, trying to ignore the way watching the half-starved girl eat made her hurt inside.
The girl froze and then swallowed her mouthful of food. "Yes, Mistress."
Morrigan sat down beside the girl. "Then I am afraid that even if you go back with the poultices and the tea, he will be dead by the time you get there. You have my sympathies, child. Such as they are."
The girl nodded, tears prickling in her eyes. Morrigan stiffened, waiting for the girl to collapse into hysterical weeping. But to her surprise the girl wiped them away with the back of her arm and sniffled before popping the rest of her bread into her mouth.
"You can stay, if that is your wish. But I will not coddle you, nor will I mother you. I am expecting a child of my own, and you will help me when the time comes. In return, I will teach you that which you will need to survive," Morrigan watched as the girls brown eyes widened. She laughed inwardly, she was startled herself that she had made such an offer. Still, having the girl around would be as much a help as a hindrance. The girl was not without promise as an apprentice. So far she had even proven adept at simple elemental spells, showing an affinity for ice in particular. If she could be taught to cast healing spells then that would be a great advantage to Morrigan once her son was ready to be born.
"When you are done with that bread we will go to the stream and you will wash up. When we return we will then attack that rats nest you call hair. We may be Witches of the Wilds, but 'tis no reason to look the part," Morrigan said without looking at the child.
"Yes, Mistress," the girl replied quietly.
Morrigan winced. She had thus far treated the girl exactly how her Mother treated her. "'Tis a weakness!" she heard her own voice scream in her head and then as if in response, 'Love is not a weakness, Morrigan. Neither is kindness.' She could even almost hear him say it, the selfish bastard. If she concentrated she could even see his storm colored eyes regarding her with naked disappointment at the way in which she was acting towards the scrawny little girl. Morrigan sighed heavily. If she was ever going to be different from Flemeth, she needed to start now. She clenched her fists, fingernails digging into her palms. Annoyed at how much she must change to ensure that the cycle of neglect did not continue on and pass down to her son, she steeled herself for what she must now do.
"Evangeline," she said coolly.
"Yes, Mistress?" the girl had finished her bread and was now standing up, looking up at Morrigan with wide eyes.
"From now on, you may call me Morrigan, if you wish," Morrigan said, her tone softened as best she could manage.
The little girls wide eyes, widened further, even though such a thing would have seemed impossible. Then she smiled, her teeth surprisingly white in contrast with her dirty face, hair and clothes. "Thank you... Morrigan."
Morrigan made a dismissive gesture and then turned to rifle through a pile of rags and cloth she kept in one corner. On her way through the Dales she had stolen several robes from a traveling Merchant. It had not been difficult, showing up in wolf form she easily scared him away from his Wagon. She happily transformed back into her human form once he was gone, and grabbed as much as she could before speeding gleefully back into the darkness of night.
Finally after nearly losing hope of finding anything for the girl, she pulled out the smallest robe in the pile. It was a pale green and seemed to be of the style that elven female Mages preferred. It would not have fit Morrigan, but she took it because she thought she could have made something with it. It would be large on the girl but it would have to suffice for now. "Follow me," Morrigan instructed the girl and went to the door. She opened it a crack and looked outside and then shut it quickly. She handed the girl the clothing. "Now, I will transform, and you will wait here while I scent for intruders. When I am satisfied that all is clear, I will come back to fetch you. Do you understand?" she asked and when the girl nodded, she transformed into her wolf form and padded out of the hut.
"Maker's Breath!" Zevran swore up at the sky. "What is it with your country? If it is not snow, then it is rain, and when it rains there is mud! Honestly, does the sun never shine here?" he turned a half-hearted glare on Aedan.
"We aren't in Ferelden any longer, Zev. In fact, this is more your country than mine. We're in the Dales now my friend," Aedan pointed out with a grin.
Zevran responded with a derisive snort. "Somehow the knowledge that the elves were given a land that has nothing but rain and mud, by a woman raised in Ferelden rain and mud, hardly surprises me!"
"What are you talking about?" Aedan asked with a lifted brow, silently amused at the elf's theatrics.
"The shaft, my human friend. The. Shaft," Zevran replied. "My people have never been treated fairly and this proves it! Andraste might have freed us but she left us with a cold and unforgiving country!"
"At least it doesn't smell like wet dog," Aedan pointed out helpfully.
Zevran shot him an affronted look. "Of course not! This is the homeland of my people, after all!"
Aedan rolled his eyes at Zevran's dramatics. Oddly enough, he always thought that Zevran's dramatic tendencies were some of his better qualities. It reminded him a little bit of Fergus's wife, Oriana. Though he would never tell Zevran that he reminded him of a woman. He certainly wasn't womanish, well...other than his tendency to whine about not having comfortable accommodations.
"Ah," Zevran sighed. "I suppose that all my complaining means that I am homesick. It is the time of year for wine making in Antiva," he said wistfully and then turned to Aedan. "Do you ever miss Highever?"
Aedan nodded. "I do. The Waking Sea becomes like a living thing this time of year, violent and beautiful. I used to stand on the cliffs and watch the waves crash into one another."
"Ah, yes. The Sea, she is always a dangerous and exciting creature, no?" Zevran grinned from ear to ear.
"Like Isabella?" Aedan teased.
Zevran turned to Aedan with a smirk. "Exactly."
Aedan chuckled. "I admit that I envied you at the time."
"You could have come along, you know. I know that Isabella would have welcomed an extra set of strong hands at her helm," the elf waggled his eyebrows at him.
Aedan smiled softly and shrugged. "In hindsight, I should have perhaps. I did not want it to hurt my chances with Morrigan. If I had known that I never truly had a chance to begin with, however...well, things might have ended differently," he replied.
Zevran stopped in his tracks a suddenly serious expression on his handsome elven face. "Surely, you do not mean that. You love Morrigan, as foolish as it seems. You would not be alive if it were not for that love."
Aedan looked into the honey colored eyes of the shorter man dispassionately. "No, I wouldn't," he replied tonelessly and stalked past him.
Zevran stared after him open mouthed. Then he became angry at Aedan for wishing his own death. No matter the Witches methods, could he not see the gift she had given him? Was he so disillusioned with his life that he could not see where his being alive was a good thing? Zevran grimaced in determination and rushed to catch up with the Warden. There was only one way to deal with this situation...humor.
"I cannot help but notice, my Grey Warden. That you have steered the conversation away from joining the lovely Isabella and I as I navigated her 'helm'. I wonder if you have changed the subject because I would have pointed out that hers was not the only 'helm' that I was interested in navigating, yes?" Zevran leered at the young Cousland, who snorted.
"You would latch onto that, wouldn't you?" Aedan smiled and shook his head.
"Balk now if you wish, but I happen to know that deep below that lovesick exterior. Secretly you harbor an unrequited lust for me," Zevran chuckled as Aedan reddened and opened his mouth to refute Zevran's claims. "Ah, ah, ah, no need to explain. Zevran knows exactly how you feel! Poor man. Consumed with lust for my strong hands and pointy ears. You would not be the first," Zevran clucked his tongue sympathetically and then gave Aedan a knowing and prideful grin.
Finally Aedan laughed and shook his head, though much to Zevran's pleasure, the blush did not seem to recede. Perhaps his teasing was closer to the mark than he first assumed? "You're an arse," Aedan pointed out with a good-natured smile.
"And misery does not suit you," Zevran retorted, his smile wide and bright. "And if you continue to be so, then I shall have to employ one of my many talents to cheer you up," he teased.
Aedan held up his hands in surrender. "Ok...alright. I get it. No more bouts of self hatred or melancholy."
"I should hope not, otherwise I shall have to show you the sort of massage techniques one only learns growing up in an Antivan Whorehouse," Zevran winked.
A/N: Woohoo! Witches and Mirrors is here! =D No beta as of yet, but Piceron was nice enough to tell me that this first chapter at least did not suck. If any of you are a little lost, visit Blight Tales and read the prelude, which is Chapter 2, entitled "Do not follow me".
I've been gone for awhile now. Cause that's what happens when I start a new job. And it's a dilly of a job too. Been working 45-50 hour weeks and have practically no time to myself. I know that it seems like I am starting things and then not finishing them, but I'm typing away on The Awakening. I kind of got stuck on how to advance the plot but I think I worked that out and hopefully by next weekend or sooner I'll have a chapter out.
Thanks for being really patient with me!