Of Magic and Demons
by Jericho-is-Falling
Brief Synopsis: A mostly nameless Fem!Surana reflects on her experiences on the eve of the most important battle of her life. Set after Riordan's little chat at Redcliffe. Here there be spoilers.
Pairings: Leliana/F!Surana, Morrigan/Reluctant!Alistair (if you've played the game you know what I'm referring to), Jowan-friendship, and a little Cullen/F!Surana
Author's Notes.
Since I first played Dragon Age: Origins late last December, I have played completely through one of each of the Origins, excluding Amell since I really didn't see the point of having two mage characters if it's the same background. Two of these six characters ended in a Cthulhu baby so Alistair and his female Warden could go run off into the sunset/become King and Queen of Ferelden, two others ended with the Warden making a heroic sacrifice, one ended with Loghain making the heroic sacrifice, and the final one is this story.
With my Surana character, I found myself at a little bit of a moral conundrum at the Morrigan's Ritual quest. It kind of felt dickish of me to make Alistair, after making him a reluctant king, lose his virginity to Morrigan just so Leliana and Surana could go riding off into the sunset. So I kind of made up a little (most likely going to be five or six chapters long) story for it here to justify it. Plus I wanted an excuse to write some Jowan. He's my favorite idiot character ever.
Also: Though I tried to stay as in-character (I seriously did the character's voices in my head while writing them. Oddly enough Alistair is the hardest to do this with.) and true to the storyline as possible, there are bits of things not addressed in the game's plot, or bent for my personal creative wishes. But hey, there's a lot going on during the game that we don't exactly see, right?
AlsoAlso: Italics are flashbacks, in case that isn't clear. It was much more obvious in Word, but it seems a little iffy on here.
Chapter One: Losses and Gains
One would think after all this time, the young elven mage would be used to loss.
The elder Grey Warden wished them good night and left, but the two younger Wardens couldn't move just yet. What they had just been told was quite unnerving for two young people to hear on the eve of battle. They had already had their doubts about surviving, but to know that, should Riordan fail, then one of them would certainly have to die just completely took the wind out their sails.
Turning to leave, the templar shook his head and briefly placed a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder. She looked up at him, but couldn't bring herself to actually say anything to him. Smiling halfheartedly, he patted her shoulder and continued out the door. After a minute or so, she found her own will to move and exited the room herself.
As she followed him down the hall, she noticed her companion in front of her. With his head sunk in contemplation, she knew that he was feeling the same way she was. It just wasn't fair. They had both lost so much, and then through their time together gained some of it back. It struck her kind of funny to think that it had only been a little over a year ago since they were both in this same position of loss.
"You don't have to do this," the boy insisted. "You didn't know him as well as I did."
She sat down beside him outside Flemeth's hut. "That doesn't mean I don't mourn his death," she told him. "He helped me too, remember?"
He stared out at the woods. "I'm fine, really," he insisted.
"It's okay, Alistair. I understand what you're going through. I don't want you to have to go through it alone."
Sighing, he looked down at the grass and picked at it. "He was a good man and he didn't deserve to die the way he did. None of them did. I just can't help feeling like I should've been there to help him after all he did for me."
The young mage put her hand on top of his. "He was like a father to you, wasn't he?"
That statement almost brought him to tears, the young warrior exhaled and nodded weakly. Then he looked up at her with weary eyes. "Have you ever lost someone you cared about?"
Now it was her turn to look away. "Not like you have," she admitted, "but in a way I have. I didn't have really have my own parents either. At least, I don't remember them if I did. I was born in an Alienage in Denerim, and taken to the Circle as a young child, and I absolutely despised it at first. But as the years went on, I came to terms with my fate, and the people there became my family."
"You miss it, don't you?"
She laughed somewhat bitterly and turned her gaze skyward. "Oh Maker, no, I still hated being caged in there when I left. I was so happy when Du-"she stopped herself, but she knew that he'd heard her. "-when I was conscripted, but no, the Circle's not what I miss."
"Then what do you miss?" he asked. There was a certain resolve in his tone that made her turn back and look him in the eye.
"Who," she corrected, despondently. "There was another apprentice there who escaped shortly before I was conscripted. Actually, he was the reason I had to be conscripted in the first place."
There was a curious look in Alistair's eyes, and she answered him before he could ask it.
"I helped him escape," she told him, honestly and without remorse. "They were going to make him Tranquil. He had been seeing one of the initiates at the Circle, and there had been a rumor that he'd been practicing the forbidden arts, and he had to escape. He was- he was like a brother to me. I couldn't let them do that to him. I knew that the rumors weren't true." She paused and looked down at the ground. "Of course, it turned out they were, and I'd helped a blood mage escape.."
"I'm sorry," he told her, placing his hand on her shoulder.
"Don't be," she smiled sadly. "I'm not."
Stopping at the door to her room, she found her voice and called out to him, "Hey, Alistair, can we talk?"
He didn't stop. Judging by the way his head perked up slightly in response to her voice, she could tell he heard her, but he continued walking as if he hadn't. Though a little hurt by this, she understood he wasn't doing it out of any sort of malice. They both had a lot to think about, and it was probably best for them to figure this out alone.
Still, it felt strange for her not to confide in him. She had become accustomed to the young man being around whenever she needed him. Now that he was to become king, she had promised to return the favor by serving as an advisor. If that could even happen now, it seemed a very long way off. The realities of ending the Blight had finally come crashing down on her, and now all she could think about was just surviving tomorrow. Sighing, she opened the door to her room and stepped inside.
A figure stood in the dark, lit only by the fireplace. Surprised, the mage stopped in her tracks.
"Maker's breath, you scared me," she gasped, regaining her composure. "What are you doing in here? Not satisfied with your own room?"
"Will you stop it with that blasted map, already? I know the way to Lothering!" the dark haired witch groaned. In utter aggravation, the elf glared coldly at her new companion from over the map clenched tightly in her hands.
"Ri-ight," Alistair replied, wryly, as he stooped to pick a stick from the ground and toss it into the forest. "Because we totally trust you."
Exasperated, the witch huffed and continued on through the wilds, muttering to herself, "Oh, 'tis just like mother that she would make me accompany a ingrate templar and some slave to the Circle."
Now furious, the female warden managed to stop glaring at the apostate and folded up the map, grudgingly following her down the path.
"I was just warming myself," Morrigan answered, smiling in a manner the Warden had come to know meant the apostate was most definitely up to something sinister. "I was thinking to myself what a lovely place the arl has here. 'Tis hard to imagine only months ago, it was crawling with skeletons."
"That was a long time ago," the mage replied with a bitter tone, not directed at Morrigan, but at the memory itself. Warily, she looked at the witch, then around the room. Something was definitely not right with this. Turning back to face her, she asked bluntly, "What did you put in Alistair's bed?"
Laughing, genuinely but somewhat eerily, almost reminiscent of her mother, Morrigan smiled and assured her, "I did no such thing." Then sat down on the elf's bed and patted next to her. "Sit, my friend; I have a proposition for you."
The elf cautiously moved toward the bed and sat down next to her. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
"Enough!" the mage growled, throwing a ball of fire between the quarreling pair that caused Alistair to yelp like a frightened puppy and left Morrigan scowling like a scolded adolescent. From the middle of camp, Leliana stopped strumming and Sten sighed in disapproval.
"You two are acting like children!" she yelled, in frustration.
Overcoming his initial shock, the templar regained his composure began to defend himself. "But she start-"
"I don't want to hear it!" she harshly interrupted him. "Alistair, go back to your side of the camp, now."
Sighing in resignation, he complied with her command, and Morrigan smirked smugly.
"Oh, I'm not done with you," the elf growled as the witch grabbed her by the arm forcefully and dragged her protesting back to her little tent set up at the edges of the camp. Once they reached it, Morrigan wrenched her arm free.
"Don't you ever-"
"You're a heartless shrew, you know that?" the Warden snapped.
The witch looked shocked as if she had not been expecting the young mage to be so defiant of her. "I-I," she stuttered for a second, before regaining her composure and snapping back at her. "How dare you talk to me like that!"
"I will talk to you however I wish," the mage replied. "I've told you to stop picking fights with Alistair a thousand times by now. For the first few weeks, I didn't mind the petty insulting and teasing, but it is now getting out of hand. If you two are always fighting, you're just making it easier for the enemies to defeat us. Now, I know you have some bizarre preconceived little notion that all us Circle mages are slaves to the Chantry's whim and therefore mindless pawns and you think that gives you some sort of right to do whatever you please, but you will not disobey me any longer. Do you understand me?"
Morrigan didn't respond, but instead folded her arms glaring at her icily.
"I don't care if you don't like me," she continued. "The entire way back from the Brecilian Forest you made that abundantly clear to me, and I really don't care. I don't even care if you don't like what I'm doing. But by the Maker, you will do as I say, or else you better leave right now because next time you step out of line, I won't be nearly as pleasant as I'm being right now."
There was a long pause before Morrigan finally looked down, and replied, almost apologetically, "Very well, I will stop."
The mage stared at the fireplace. Her mind was trying desperately to comprehend what the witch had just suggested. The idea itself seemed impossible, and even more impossible would be convincing Alistair to go through with it.
"Well, are you going to give me an answer, or are you going to continue to stare slack-jawed at the wall?" Morrigan asked with a bemused grin.
"I'm just- I'm just wrapping my head around what you're saying," she explained, still shaken. "And you say it will really work?"
"Yes, yes," she answered impatiently. "Now are you going to help me or not?"
The Warden closed her eyes and brought her hands to her face. Though incredibly tempting, the idea of a way out seemed cowardly to her, and she didn't want to put her friend through something again that he flat-out wouldn't want to do after what had happened during the Landsmeet.
With her arms crossed, the apostate tapped her fingers on her arm. "One would think this would be a much easier decision seeing as the alternative is either you or that fool Alistair's death, not that I would particularly mind the latter, but I know you wouldn't let him go through with it." She paused, as if reading the mage's mind. "Unless you don't actually care if you die, but how would that bard of yours take it? I imagine 'twould not not be a pretty sight."
The elf sat up immediately. Satisfied with this reply, Morrigan smirked, "Now go; lest you lose your nerve before reaching him."
"You there!" the familiarly sing-song voice called out. Sitting by the campfire, the elf looked up at its owner, surprised to see the dark haired witch away from her own little corner. Her golden eyes darting away from the Warden, she shyly asked, "Can I talk to you?"
"Sure Morrigan," the mage answered, cheerily, though a little curious of the possible cause of her companion's uncharacteristically insecure demeanor.
"I meant in privacy," she explained, looking at directly the red-haired bard, resting her head on her lover's lap.
Taking a second to realize she was referring to her, Leliana sat up, allowing the Warden slowly stand up, stretching her back as she did. The Orlesian stood as well, heading over to the tent. "I'll be waiting for your return," she informed her, sultrily gazing at her as. "I hope you won't disappoint me."
Grinning at the promise of passion, the mage turned back to Morrigan, who seemed to have been overcome by a look of disgust. "As long as I live, I will never understand what you see in her," she muttered, shaking her head. "Though in her defense, she is clearly several steps ahead of her competition."
The Warden laughed, "Now, certainly you didn't come all the way over here just to insult my girlfriend."
"I certainly didn't," the witch agreed, as the pair walked away from the center of camp. "I was wondering how it went with my mother."
"Ask Alistair," the mage told her, grinning. "The old hag knocked me out fifteen minutes into the fight. Had Wynne not been there, I probably wouldn't have even made it back to camp in one piece."
"Oh," Morrigan said, quietly. "So you didn't slay her?"
"Well not me personally," she answered, honestly. Realizing Morrigan's confusion, she asked, "Did Alistair not give you it?"
"No," the witch replied with an air of irritation. "He did not."
Slapping her palm to her forehead, the Warden groaned, storming back towards the fire with Morrigan following. Only few feet from the campfire, he bastard prince lay face down shirtless on his bedroll drooling. She lightly kicked him awake. Grumbling, he rolled over and groggily looked up at the pair of disgruntled magi.
"Agh, what did I do now?"
"Where is it?" the elven one hissed. "I told you to give her the grimoire as soon as we returned to camp."
Rubbing his eyes, he groaned and sat up, "Andraste's blood, you actually woke me up for that?" Reaching for his bag, he rummaged through it and found the book. He tossed it on the ground and laid back down on his cot. "Can I sleep now?"
"Yes you may," she answered, stooping to pick the book up and hand it to Morrigan. "Here."
The witch stared at the grimoire in awe, lightly running her fingers over it. "In all honesty, I didn't believe you would go through the trouble go get this for me."
The mage began to head towards Leliana's tent. "It's what friends do."
"You say that as if I've had a friend before," Morrigan murmured, almost to herself.
Turning around, the Warden looked at the woman, sympathetically for the first time since she had met her. Though she no longer despised the witch as she had when they first departed from her mother's hut, she still saw her more as an immobile force rather a person, albeit a talented, intelligent, and fairly likable force. To see Morrigan as capable of human emotion was somewhat foreign to the elf.
"You have one now," she replied with a small smile.
Bowing her head the apostate looked back at the book. "I want you to know that while I might not always prove worthy of your friendship, I will always value it."
End Notes: Please point out if anything in here doesn't make sense. To be honest, I wrote the first two and a half chapters of this rather haphazardly over the course of two nights in between work, sleeping, and more work. If I spelled anything wrong. Also: feel free to constructively criticize. I'm really not one of those types of Fanfic writers who drools all over how awesome her story is and would be horrendously offended if you had anything to say other than ridiculous appraisal. I write fanfics for fun and an easy way to practice my writing.
So hit the review button. Do it. Do it.