Part 2

The months passed by in endless days, as Elissa drove them onward, hungry and weary. After Orzammar, it was the lands of the Dalish, then Haven and finally Denerim. Morrigan was careful to keep her distance, the cold façade an easy mask to maintain. Only her dreams betrayed her. She deliberately set up her sleeping area further away from the others, withdrawing to the shadows, in case his name should slip from her lips unaware.

They were staying with Arl Eamon at his estate in the city now and the constant crush of people assaulted her senses. Now that her time here was nearly at an end, she found herself longing more and more for the peaceful quiet of the Wilds; to be far away from all these people and the strange emotions they evoked. She wanted to retreat into solitude, fade away, and forget. But, 'twas not time to dwell on that now. The hardest night of her life was coming and although Mother had prepared her for it, she could not deny the cold fear that gripped her.

The day of the Landsmeet came at long last. She had not been invited to attend, but she watched the proceedings intently, no one sparing a glance at the raven roosting high in the rafters. Morrigan watched as they challenged Loghain, first with words and then swords as Alistair finally had his revenge. She saw the terror in his eyes when Elissa announced that he would be king and felt a twinge of pain at the relief that then flooded through them when she added that she would be ruling by his side. So many changes, rippling through their lives, as the final battle with the Archdemon was nearly at hand. 'Twas time for her to prepare now.

She flew back to the estate, enjoying the freedom of flight and the caress of the wind, even if it did smell of garbage and dogs. She swooped down into her room through the upper window that she had left cracked open and changed back into her human form before calling for a bath. She dug through her pack and removed a small packet that she had wrapped up carefully some months before. Unfolding the paper, she removed the small bar of soap, fragrant with herbs, before taking off her robes and stepping into the tub. She washed herself slowly, lathering her hair first and then working her way down her body. She allowed herself the luxury of soaking in the water briefly after she had finished. With a sigh, she dried herself off, combing out her hair and drying it with a heat spell before binding it back into the customary knot at her neck. Morrigan checked that she had bolted her door before sitting down, still naked, on the floor. She closed her eyes, feeling her magic swell within her like a hurricane begging to be unleashed. She cast the spells as Mother had taught her, cleansing her body for tonight. She crushed down the storm of emotions that threatened to undo her. She must not fail.

The hours passed by unnoticed until evening was falling over the city. In the fading light, Morrigan dressed to join the others for Alistair and Elissa's triumphant return. She hoped that the other Warden would tell them the secret of how the Archdemon was to be slain, how one of their lives would be forfeit in the process. She had already rehearsed what she was going to say to Elissa and knew she would be more persuasive if that information did not come from her. She felt a brief pang of regret. Elissa had been the closest thing to a friend she had ever had.

She stood silently through Alistair's announcement to the group, Leliana's incessant simpering and congratulatory words grating on her nerves, until the two Wardens took their leave to speak with Riordan. She steadied herself and went to Elissa's room to wait.

oOoOo

It had been easy to convince her to talk to Alistair, as she had known it would be. She dangled his life before her and her life before him. How could they choose anything but the way out that she offered, no matter what the consequences would be? This had been Mother's plan for so long, although she would be the one to reap the rewards now since Flemeth was dead at Elissa's hand. Well, as dead as one could actually make her anyway. After combing carefully through Mother's grimoire, Morrigan felt sure she knew enough to complete the ritual successfully on her own. The power would be hers and she would be free. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.

She did wish that the ritual could have been performed with anyone but him. The irony of the situation was not lost on her. But, Riordan was too old, the taint in him too far gone, and there were no other Wardens left in Ferelden. It was going to take all her resolve to get through this. She needed the child and there was no other way. She rubbed her face slowly as she sat at the edge of the bed, nervously twisting the corner of the bed sheet in her hands. He knocked once and then entered, shutting and bolting the door behind him. There was no turning back now. His golden hair gleamed in the candle light, his amber eyes wary. His hands were unconsciously clenched in tight fists at his sides.

"Let's get this over with." His voice was soft, but cold.

"As you wish," she replied, rising from the bed to collect two wooden goblets from the low table in the center of the room. She turned her back to him, her heart thudding in her chest. She hadn't been alone with him since her dreams had begun, pushing him as far away as she could. Would she be able to draw him close without falling to pieces? She opened a small packet and added the contents to both cups before pouring water into them. She could feel his eyes against her back. She used her magic to heat them, swirling the herbs with a delicate motion. Finally, she turned around.

"Here, drink this," she said, holding out one of the cups to him.

Alistair took it suspiciously. "What is it? There's no blood in here, is there?"

""Tis an assortment of herbs, a tea if you will. They will help prepare your body for the ritual."

He continued to stare at the cup, making no movement to drink.

"If you are concerned, I can assure you that your perceptions and thoughts will not be altered in any way. These herbs are merely to cleanse, nothing more. Look," she said, bringing her goblet to her lips and drinking deeply. It was bitter, but not unpleasantly so.

He sighed before draining his own goblet in one long swallow. "Now what?"

"Now, we begin. You may remove your clothes and wait for me on the bed." Morrigan hoped she had managed to keep her voice from shaking.

She retreated into the adjoining bathing chamber to perform the final part of the casting. She didn't want him to see this. She removed her robes, leaving her small clothes in place, before taking an ornate dagger from the case she had left there. Taking a breath to steady herself, she methodically drew the symbols that she had been taught so long ago using just the tip of the blade. Only the tiniest drops of blood escaped from the fine lines she traced over her stomach. She could hear Alistair undressing in the other room but she barely noticed the distraction. When she had finished, she pulsed her magic through the channels she had created, red light fusing the patterns into her skin. As the light faded, there was no trace of the marks she had made. She was ready. She was afraid.

Alistair was lying on the bed, clad only in his smalls as well, looking extremely nervous. She advanced on him slowly, crawling up to join him on the bed before extinguishing all the candles in the room but one. She couldn't help comparing him to the Alistair in her dreams, although she knew that this was going to be nothing like that. There would be no tenderness, no softness, no intimacy. She would seduce him, he would give in to his baser instincts, and then it would all be finished.

Kneeling in front of him, she undid her breast band, tossing it to the floor. She was not unattractive, she thought, and hoped that it would be enough to arouse him somewhat. She saw his gaze drop to her exposed breasts, lingering for a moment, before looking back at her face. She could see the sadness in his eyes, even though he was betraying Elissa with her consent. He was angry too. Yes, she could sense it simmering beneath his forced calm… Angry with Elissa for making him do this, angry with himself, angry with her. She hesitated for a moment before removing her small clothes as well. Alistair didn't move, but lay there, watching her.

"Perhaps you should remove yours as well, unless you know of some means to procreate with them on," she mocked, trying to goad him into action. "Or, perhaps you would like for me to do it for you?"

He glared at her before lifting his hips and pulling them off quickly. He was partially erect, so clearly the sight of her naked body was having some effect. Morrigan moved further up towards him before stopping at his side.

She reached out her hands to stroke his chest and he flinched. "Close your eyes and think of her, if you like," she muttered crossly.

He shut his eyes quickly and she felt some relief to not have him staring at her. She stroked his chest, the tiniest hint of magic crackling from her fingertips. Mother had made sure she was well-versed in the art of seduction, yet another tool in her arsenal. She circled each of his nipples slowly, ghosting her fingers down the ridges of his muscles. She bent forward to lick one, making sure her own breasts grazed his chest in the process. Morrigan forced herself to stay focused on the logistics of what she was doing. If she stopped to think that it was truly him here, naked in her bed, hers to do with as she wished…

Her hands drifted down the plane of his stomach while her mouth licked and teased. She noted the signs of his response as his heart beat faster and his breathing increased. When her hand reached his member, it was hard and eager now. She wrapped her hand around his heat and he groaned. She stroked him languidly, building the pressure for him. The electricity in her fingers was like nothing he had ever experienced before. "How are you – What are you doing?" he asked thickly.

"Magic has all sorts of uses, templar," she responded. "There are many who are unable to go back to regular women once they have had a mage as a lover."

His eyes opened then, the suddenness of the fury radiating from him startled her. "You are not my lover," Alistair snarled. "I'm doing this for Elissa. I have no idea what you're really up to, and I hate to admit that I don't care if it means saving her life, but… I hate this. I hate you for doing this to me, for making me feel like this," he said, gesturing at his arousal in her hand. "Let's just be done with this. Now."

He sat up quickly, grabbing her roughly by the arms. She was too shocked to move. This was a side to him that she had never seen before and it was frightening. He flipped her over onto the bed, crushing her beneath him. His mouth was on her breasts, hard and bruising. Taking a nipple into his mouth, he swirled it with his tongue before pinching it between his teeth. His touches were rough and hard with barely contained rage. He poured his anger and grief into her, nipping and biting at her skin. Finally, he reached down, pushing her legs apart. Morrigan was bewildered by the sensations, pleasure and pain, blurring together. She could feel the tip of him pressing up against her. With a grunt, he pushed himself deep inside her, easily breaking through the slight resistance. She choked back a whimper of pain, unable to stop herself.

Alistair froze. His eyes shot open. "You're a – "

All she could do was nod slightly, not trusting her voice. She was shaking.

She watched his anger drain away, the fury in his eyes replaced by shame. "I, I'm sorry. I never suspected. I – Did I hurt you?"

His kindness was more than she could bear. She turned her head the side, closing her eyes tightly. "No," she whispered. "'Twas necessary, for the ritual to work…" Her words trailed off into a pained silence.

Alistair was overcome with pity, watching her internal struggle not to weep in front of him. This was Morrigan, the heartless witch, the monster, he thought. So why could he think of nothing but the little broken bird that he had found when he was a boy? He had heard it hit the wall, and cradled it gently as it had fluttered against his hands, shattered but still fighting to get away. Morrigan lay beneath him, only her breathing giving away how hard she was fighting to remain in control. What had Flemeth done to her to make her what she was now? For all that she had mocked him for his naivety, Alistair suspected now that she was even more of an innocent than he had been – just much more skilled at hiding it.

He rolled off her carefully. "Morrigan," he said softly. She opened her eyes as he stroked down her cheekbone. They lay there in silence as Alistair tried to collect his thoughts. He could see the bruises starting to appear on the pale whiteness of her skin from his rough hands. He swallowed noisily, consumed with guilt. "I'm sorry. I had no right to treat you that way."

She pulled back, shaking her head, but he cut her off before she could speak. "And," he continued, "I'm sorry for the way I've behaved, well, since the beginning. We couldn't have made it to where we are now without you." He looked miserable but spoke slowly and deliberately. "I couldn't see past my own stupid preconceptions and you deserve better than that. I used to wonder what Elissa saw when she spoke so highly of you and I realize now that I just wasn't allowing myself to see you as a person." He paused. "Can you ever forgive me?" he asked hesitantly.

"There is nothing to forgive, Alistair. Set me up on a pedestal if you wish, but I am still the same person that I was before you started feeling sorry for me. My life is what it was and I am stronger for it. I do not need your pity," she hissed. "I do not need friendship, or love, or any of those other frivolities that you people all seem to think are so important."

"I think you do." He looked at her shrewdly. "I think you're afraid to admit that you want those things."

"I do not!" she shouted fiercely, surprising herself, as his eyes widened in surprise. "I am not allowed to want or need or love. It is not my place. Those things are not for me! Not now, not ever!" She sat up breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed.

"That's only because you won't allow anyone to get close to you. It's your decision to make, Morrigan."

"'Tis not so simple. Mother taught me that – "

"You aren't her! It's your life!" If Flemeth had been there, Alistair would have punched her in the face, legendary Witch of the Wilds or no.

The fight sagged out of her and her shoulders slumped down. "Even if I wanted to, I cannot change what I am, who I am. This is just the way things are." She felt foolish having this conversation with him. She had never been this vulnerable with anyone and now, here she was, standing at the edge of an unfathomable abyss. She pulled her knees up to her chest and curled her arms around them.

Alistair cautiously sat up and reached his arm around her shoulders, fully expecting her to push him away. She was so small, smaller than Elissa even, and so fragile. A broken bird, fighting to live.

"Morrigan? Can I ask you something?" he said gently.

She looked up at him with a small nod.

"Do you still want to do this? Is this really something you want or just something that Flemeth told you that you wanted?" He pulled his arm away and ran his fingers through his hair absently. "I know you say that this ritual will keep Elissa or me from dying when we slay the Archdemon, but what if you're wrong? What if Flemeth lied to you? And, even if it is true, are you sure of the consequences?"

Morrigan thought quietly for a few minutes before answering. "No, I cannot be sure that Mother did not lie to me about some aspect of the ritual. While what I have in her grimoire corresponds to what I have been told, I have no doubt that she could easily have modified the book to show me exactly what I was intended to see. Do I want to go through with it?" She paused again, weighing her response in her mind. She opted for omission. "Yes," she concluded. She left the rest unsaid.

Yes, so that my power will be great enough to keep anyone from ever controlling me again. Yes, because Elissa is the only person who has ever called me 'friend'. Yes, because I dream of you every night and I could not bear it if you died, especially if I had the power to stop it.

Alistair drew in a shaky breath. "Alright."

She was still curled up in a ball, her arms around her legs with her chin resting on her knees. Unsure how to begin, he rested his hand on her back, lightly trailing his fingers down her spine. He couldn't help comparing her body to Elissa's – Morrigan was smaller, slimmer, more delicate – but he pushed the thoughts away. He missed Elissa so much and the desire to race out of the room into her arms was unbelievably strong. He had to do this; he had to take the chance that he could save her, to clutch to the hope that they could actually have a life together after the Blight. He felt her relaxing under his touch now, unclenching ever so slightly. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn't want to hurt Morrigan either. He knew what it was like to be unloved as a child, but he somehow knew that it had been so much worse for her.

"Here," he said pushing her forward slightly so that he could maneuver around to sit behind her. She looked at him with a puzzled expression until Alistair began massaging her neck and shoulders with practiced hands. She had never experienced anything like this before and she caught herself sighing contentedly as he moved down her back as well. When he reached the base of her spine, his hands returned to her neck as he loosened her hair, freeing it from the tight knot she always wore. He combed his fingers through it loosely. "Much better," he murmured.

Morrigan leaned back against his chest as his hands ghosted over her arms and then across her collar bone. She shivered as his fingers brushed her nipples and then his hands cupped her breasts firmly, kneading them lightly. He smoothed the hair away from her neck before pulling the ridge of her ear gently in his teeth. His breath was warm against her throat as kissed his way down, his tongue flicking against her skin. She tilted her head and then his mouth was on hers. Her lips were so soft against his and he teased them with his tongue.

Abandoning herself in the moment, she kissed him back feverishly, turning her body towards his to press herself against him. He groaned against her mouth as her tongue darted inside. His hands encircled her back as he shifted to lie down, pulling her on top of him. Morrigan could feel him, hot and hard against her and she pushed her body against his. He moaned, but she refused to relinquish his mouth, their kisses heavy and full of hunger. Alistair's hands stroked down her sides, caressing her hips and pulling her harder against him. She ground down, feeling the heat of his arousal brushing up against her and his hips bucked up in response.

Carefully he rolled her over, continuing to kiss her, not breaking contact until he was fully on top of her. Her breathing was ragged and wild as she looked up at him with those heartbreakingly yellow eyes. "Trust me?" he said thickly.

"Yes," she panted.

He moved slowly down her body, his mouth snatching kisses as he went. He kissed the mottled bruising on her arms, feeling a flush of guilt, before turning his attention to her breasts. Gently, he nipped and suckled as she writhed beneath him.

"Alistair, please," she moaned and he moved down her lean stomach to the dark nest of curls between her legs. He paused then, seeing the streaks of blood now dry on her thighs. He swallowed roughly, filled with shame and sadness.

"One moment," he said softly as she glanced at him confused, her eyes muddled with passion. He rose and went into the bathing chamber, returning with a damp cloth. He began tenderly wiping the dried blood from her legs and Morrigan had to bite back the tears that were threatening to overtake her. How was it possible that he could be so kind, so gentle? Her heart lurched when he looked up at her, his amber eyes so warm in the candle light. He placed the cloth on the floor. "Are you sure?"

"I am yours," she said, as close to the truth as she was willing to go.

He wanted to pleasure her. She had never known affection or love, no kisses for scraped knees, no hugs to soothe away nightmares. He could give her this moment, this one breathless connection with another human being, and he hoped it would be enough. His head dipped down and his mouth and tongue descended between her folds.

"Oh, Alistair," she breathed as pleasure coursed through her body. Her fingers clutched the bed sheets, as she wriggled beneath him. His breath was hot and the stubble from his cheeks was prickly against the smooth skin of her thighs. She felt the pressure building higher and higher within her as her hips rose against him – harder, faster, more, don't stop, please, don't stop. Her hands were in his hair now, forcing his mouth against that sweet spot that his tongue was dancing around in lazy circles. He swept his tongue across her in rhythm with her hips and she could no longer think – more, Alistair, yes, there, please – and she exploded, crying out his name, holding him in place.

He leaned back, nudging her legs further apart. She opened her eyes and saw the question there. She nodded and he slid back on top of her, supporting his weight with his arms to keep from crushing her. Ever so slowly this time, he pushed himself inside her. She tensed and he stopped, waiting. There was no pain this time, only another rush of pleasure. Her entire body relaxed and he began to move. She matched his motions, her body rising up in rhythm with him, and their pace quickened. A fine sheen of sweat covered his chest and she held his hips, pulling him in deeper. She felt herself rushing towards the abyss once more and she welcomed it, grinding herself against him as he groaned. Each thrust sent another shock of sensation through her.

"Morrigan," he gasped and she was undone.

He followed right behind, spilling inside her with one final powerful thrust. He collapsed on top of her, panting, holding her close. He kissed her hair as she clutched him tightly. As their heart rates slowed, she buried herself in his arms, trying to savor the smell and feel of him. 'Twas over now. Time to let him go.

Morrigan gently untangled herself from his embrace, sitting up and pulling the sheet up to cover her nakedness. "You should go," she said softly. "She needs you more than I." The relief in his eyes made her ache.

Alistair pulled back from her, seeing through the mask she wore. "Yes," he replied rising from the bed to collect his clothes. He dressed slowly while she watched, her face impassive, only her eyes giving her away.

When he was finished, he unbolted the door and turned back to her. He ran his fingers through his hair, searching for the right words. "Thank you, for doing this, for letting me save Elissa's life, for saving my life too I suppose." He paused, thinking. "You know, you don't have to leave if you don't want to. There would always be a place for you here – "

"No," she said firmly. "I do not belong here. I am part of the Wilds and this place would destroy me, destroy all that I am."

He nodded. "Good-bye, Morrigan."

"Good-bye, Alistair." Her heart was a chunk of stone in her chest.

The door clicked shut behind him. She was alone. Morrigan lay back down on the bed, the smell of him, of them, still strong. She curled herself in the blankets and wept with great gasping sobs for the second time in her life. She cried for a long time before sleep finally took her.

She was walking in through a clearing, the cool grass against her feet. The sky was dark and dotted with stars and a gleaming half moon hung low over the trees. Something twinkled in the darkness and she bent down to pick it up. It was a small reflective shard of glass and she turned it idly in her hands. She knew it was important for some reason but she couldn't for the life of her remember why. She stepped forward again gingerly and saw another piece. She collected that one too, and soon she had to fold the hem of her robe up to carry them all. For every one she gathered, she would spy another one just ahead. Finally she sunk down to her knees, exhausted.

"What are you doing?" A voice broke the stillness.

Morrigan looked up. A little boy, no more than three or four years old, stood watching her. He had hair like a raven's wing, black with glints of blue, and eyes the color of warm amber. His face was solemn.

She looked down at the pile of shards in her lap. ""Tis my heart, young one. I have broken it and I am looking for the pieces although I fear it cannot be fixed."

He crouched down next to her, studying her closely. At last, he seemed to come to a decision. "You can share mine, if you like."

"I should like that very much," she replied.

He extended his hand and she took it, rising to her feet. The shards in her lap fell unnoticed to the ground. She looked up at the sky and saw the first hint of pink on the horizon. Dawn was coming.

"Let's go," he said. "There is so much that I want to see."

His small hand in hers, they walked together towards the sunrise.


Author's Note: I fell in love with Morrigan when writing this story. She is so incredibly complex and I hope I did her justice. Thanks for reading!