I had a bad feeling from the moment we crossed into Arl Eamon's territory.
Lady Isolde doesn't blame me, or claims not to. This began, in part, with her desire to protect her boy. I sympathize with her, but I can not help but feel disdain as well. This tragedy could have been avoided if she had done the right thing from the start, though I see no need to remind her of this.
Sten approves of my decision. As does Morrigan. Leliana less so, and I can tell that Alistair is going to have words for me sooner or later.
Alistair. As it turns out, he has not been completely honest with me. What was at first a world-shaking revelation turned out to be the best part of my day. Alistair is King Maric's son. Cailin's brother. Now that it's out in the open the resemblance is very apparent. I can scarcely believe that I did not pick up on it when he first revealed that he was of noble blood, a bastard. It's a common enough story, but I did not expect this. I still don't know what to do with this information. Does it really change anything? It's too soon to say.
Then there's Redcliffe. I haven't the words to describe it. The horror and despair felt by the surviving townsfolk was palpable. Night after night of fighting those. . . creatures had all but broken Redcliffe's spirit. It was only by Bann Teagan's presence that the villagers had not descended into blind panic. It gave me something to work with at least. All I can really say about that day is that it is fortunate we arrived in the morning because, of all my expectations for this trip, leading a troupe of terrified, sleep-deprived civilians and a handful of knights against a horde of ravenous undead was the last thing I would have predicted.
It was. . . horrible. That night we burned them, cut them, bashed their heads in and burned them again, and they still kept coming.
And yet, we survived. Nay, we did more than that. We triumphed. Not a man under my command was lost and, I confess, I was quite proud of myself. As a child I envisioned myself leading grand armies into a glorious battle. This was not quite what I imagined, but for my first time leading men into battle this was an outcome far better than I dared hope for. Through sheer skill and tenacity I saved that village. I felt invincible.
I was naive.
No victory comes without cost, as my father once told me. One way or another, there is a toll to pay for every gain. I truly understand that now.
The next morning saw the arrival of Lady Isolde, Eamon's Orliesian wife. I do not hold that against her, what ever Fereldan's history. I have plenty reasons of my own to despise her.
She came to Teagan and I even as we were discussing how we would take back the castle. Isolde was desperate, half-crazed with fear and adamant that Teagan come back to the castle alone. She would not tell us why, only that some evil stalked the halls of the castle. She would only reveal that Eamon had been poisoned by a mage and now all that sustained him was an evil entity that wrought havoc on Redcliffe in exchange. It could only have been the work of a demon.
Teagan went back with Isolde while my companions and I infiltrated the castle through a secret passage that led through the dungeons. There we found the mage, Jowan, still imprisoned. It was there that I learned the full truth. Jowan had poisoned Arl Eamon on the orders of Teryn Loghain.
Why? For Jowan's part, he is a bloodmage apostate that wished to return to the circle. Loghain conscripted him upon his capture and tasked him with eliminating Eamon who is, or was, a "threat to Fereldan". As if leaving our King to die were not bad enough, Loghain's treachery stretches further back than any of us first believed.
Again, I was naive.
Jowan is as much an assassin as my dog, but his job was made easy by Isolde, who hired him to secretly teach Connor magic. Connor had begun to show signs and Isolde could not bear to lose him to the Circle. So, behind Eamon's back, she took in a malificar to teach her son how to hide his abilities. But when Eamon "fell ill" and it became clear Jowan was the cause, Jowan postulated that Connor, in his desperation to help his father, had somehow sundered the veil.
Jowan claimed that he was repentant of his deeds, but the last thing I needed was a blood mage wandering around the castle when I already had undead and demons to contend with. I left him in his cell.
Eventually we found our way to the Great Hall, where the evil awaited us in the form of Connor. He was possessed. An abomination. It had lured Teagan to the castle to enthrall him like the rest of the Arl's personal escort. And, indeed, when I found Teagan the demon had reduced him to a blithering fool for it's entertainment. Teagan knew full well that he may have been going to his death by accompanying Isolde, but this was not a fate worthy of this sacrifice.
The demon's true intent was clear however: send Isolde to lure in Teagan, stripping Redcliffe of it's only apparent leader. Redcliffe would certainly not have survived another night without him. But the demon did not anticipate me.
The demon set it's thralls on us before fleeing further into the keep. Teagan attacked us as well, but I managed to disarm him and choke him into unconsciousness as my companions dealt with the others. Were that I could save them all, but I could not afford to let Teagan die, not if he could be saved; and especially not if Eamon is lost to us. Fortunately Teagan's mind was his own again upon awakening.
For our trouble Isolde finally came clean about her involvement in this madness.
She, Teagan, and I discussed our next move. Alistair, being a former Templar, knew what needed to be done, and Teagan admitted that it was probably more merciful to put Connor out of his misery. Isolde would not accept that, how could she? In desperation she summoned Jowan, her own husband's would-be assassin, to the Great Hall to consult him.
Jowan made an offer: he would use a blood sacrifice to send Morrigan into the Fade to confront the demon directly, an act that would cost the tribute their life. Isolde readily offered her life for this.
Blood magic. Blood magic started this, and Jowan offered it as a solution? I have seen the results of blood magic first hand. Soldier's Peak was overrun with demons thanks to Avernus's negligence and Sophia Dryden's folly. She was fighting for her life 'tis true, but the damage they caused outweighed the merit of their intent by far- instead ending with Sophia's demon-possessed corpse roaming the keep for five-hundred years.
Sten was against the ritual. Leliana couldn't bear the thought to slaying a child, whatever his condition. Morrigan was ambivalent, and I'm beginning to see the advantages of her viewpoint. Alistair was against the ritual, but also against slaying Conner.
It fell to me to make a choice. I turned to Morrigan for advice. She informed me that to save both Isolde and the boy required more mages than we had and lyrium enough to addle a Tranquil; neither of which we had. Both, I'm sure, could have been found at the Circle Tower, on the other side of Lake Calenhad.
A day's journey at least.
Is it petty justification to say that I couldn't possibly have left Redcliffe in that state? That it was too dangerous to leave an abomination to it's own devices when it's power had already proved too much for Teagan and all of the knights left in the castle?
And Morrigan. How could I ask her to do this? To go into the Fade and fight this evil alone? To put herself at risk for possession? I could not ask that of her, not when we could fight the demon here in the real world, together.
I have trained since boyhood for war. I learned the art of combat from the best trainers Highever had to offer. I learned history and strategy from my family's personal scholar. But Father always said that it is when you are presented with a no-win situation that you truly show the kind of leader you are. For Father it had been during the rebellion when he took Harper's Ford, despite the friendship between our family and the Howes. Even after Ostagar, I thought I was ready for such a scenario. It would have been so much easier if I were a mage. If anyone were to enter the Fade, it would have been me. It's rather humbling to be faced with a task that is simply beyond the scope of my abilities.
I have never felt so young. Not since I was Connor's age.
Connor. That poor boy. That poor brave boy.
Avernus had kept the threat of Soldier's Peak contained for centuries, sustaining his life all that time with blood magic. Who knows whether that man is still truly human or an abomination himself. The memory of that place still chills me. That thing inside Sophia's carcass tried to bargain with me. It wanted to roam the world freely and "feed." That word, so innocuous, yet it spurred me to re-kill Commander Dryden. When a demon says "feed," it is promising a grim fate for any who crosses paths with it, and now Connor was the same as she, "feeding" on Redcliffe.
Avernus went too far, I told him as much and he even agreed with me, yet I let him live. I have a Blight to contend with and Avernus is still, more-or-less, a Grey Warden, a rare commodity these days, and may yet be able to aid us. Let it not be said that I am wasteful of possible resources.
Nor will I be called a hypocrite.
I killed Connor.
I can write no more.
As I stand at the battlements of the castle I can yet see the funeral ships in the middle of the lake, the pyres like twinkling crimson stars in the vast empty void. With my hands on the ledge, I can look straight down and see the waves lapping at the rocky shoals. It's so easy to imagine them rushing to meet me, eager to sweep me out into that expanse so I can join the fallen in blissful eternity.
Like Conner, my family is dead. Like Jowan, I can't go home again. My life has been so altered in a matter of weeks that I can scarcely process it all. I can feel the weight of this life growing heavier on my shoulders with each one that I take. And there is still more to come.
How easy would it be to step off this precipice and leave the Blight, Loghain and his machinations, all of the tragedy this meager existence offers, leave it all behind?
Perhaps I will go to the Maker in the Black City. Perhaps if he tells me himself that I made the right decision I will believe it. Or perhaps I will find Connor, that would be good. I could beg for his forgiveness then. There was another solution, there had to have been, one that would save Isolde and Connor without leaving so much to chance, there had to have been, but I still cannot see it.
Connor was himself when I found him, waiting outside the door of his parent's bedchambers. So like little Oren, yet so different. He told me how the demon had come to him in his dreams, beckoned him with the promise of saving his father. Conner understood why I was there and only asked that I do it quickly, as he did not want his mother to see him as he was. Even in that wretched state his concern was reserved for his parents. He deserved so much more than he got, so much better than a knife in the neck.
On that night when Arl Howe betrayed and butchered my family, if Duncan had not been there I would have surely fought to the last man to defend my mother and father. If, in that moment, a voice had spoken to me and offered salvation in exchange for everything that I am, would my answer have been the same as Connor's?
"I did what I had to do." That is what I said to Isolde when the deed was done, after she regained consciousness. She tried to stop me, naturally. No- she pleaded, begged, cried out for the Maker himself to intervene on her behalf.
But there was no answer, no divine intervention to stay my hand from her, no voice from on high to stop me from executing her son. Only silence, and the stench of blood on my hands.
Connor was an innocent, blameless in all of this.
Now he is dead, like so many others, like my own soul.
So many faces haunt my dreams. With each day it seems more join them. Even were the taint within me removed I doubt I would ever have another peaceful nights sleep.
I can't know for certain, but I just might've jumped had Leliana not found me there. I don't know how long she stood there watching me write my possible suicide note, I was only aware of her when she laid a hand on mine. She said nothing, she just held my hand and I grasped hers, as the world was suddenly thrown into sharp focus. Bit the inside of my cheek until blood filled my mouth, trying to fight the inevitable, because that is what I do. I fight. I fight and I fail.
I failed to save my family, I failed to save Connor, and I failed to hide myself from Leliana, in more ways than one.
Leliana. So sure in her belief in the Maker's goodness. Does she have doubts? How can she sustain this image in her mind of a compassionate Maker? With all this evidence to the contrary? It's a sick joke. If he exists he looks at us with scorn, lets us destroy ourselves, and sneers when we call out to him in our anguish.
"I did what I had to do." That is what Connor would surely have said, as would Avernus and Sophia, as Loghain will likely say when we inevitably cross paths again.
The Blight cannot be to blame for this. The seeds were sewn during Fereldan's war for independence. My father took Harper's Ford, killing Howe's loyalist father. This brought Amaranthine fully over to the side of the rebels, turning the tide in Ferelden's favor. My guess is that Howe never forgave the Couslands and so turned on us when the opportunity arose.
That's all the Blight is to them, an opportunity to change the face of Fereldan. Perhaps, one day, the Guerrin's will follow suit for Connor's sake. There may come a day when I must answer to Eamon for what I have done. Between all the unknowns of that ritual and attempting to contact the circle, I took the most practical option available and ended the life of a child.
Even so, whatever my reasoning, I am now no better than Howe. As Mother said, what manner of monster slaughters innocents? Now I know, and I'm at least grateful that Mother did not live to see me like this.
I left Jowan's fate up to Bann Teagan. I wanted to kill him for his part in this, for putting me in this position. But as I held the same knife which had spilt Connor's blood to his neck I looked into his eyes and saw only another victim of circumstance. I couldn't do it. He will face justice at the hands of those he wronged, I merely cleaned up after him. Me killing him would be no more than petty revenge.
Ultimately, it is Loghain who is to blame. The mouth of the ground which received Connor's blood calls out for his, and it will have it. I will pay for this. Every noble-born child in Fereldan owes the Hero of River Dane a death.
As far as I'm concerned, we're even now.
I will not take my own life, not now, not ever. I will fight on. Leaving this world with Connor, Duncan, Cailan, Mother and Father, Oren and Oriana, Ser Gilmore, Mallol, Nan, and countless others yet unavenged would be a betrayal in league with Maferath's betrayal of Andraste. I am a Cousland. I will fight to the end and rain righteous vengeance on the heads of Loghain Mac Tir and Rendon Howe. This I swear.
Life is a cycle of vengeance. I see that now. There will be other times, other impossible choices, but I will not falter. Perhaps the darkspawn taint is corrupting me, I cannot know for certain. But I will mourn for the dead and do what I must, and hold out hope that a better world arises from the ashes left in my wake.