Author's Note:This tale was inspired by a wonderful drawing I saw over here. It is called Meeting and it was created by Sia-Chan.

As much as I'd like to take credit the concept and inspiration belongs entirely to her.

Also certain quotes used in this particular chapter was borrowed directly from the game. So this too belongs to Bioware's amazing writers

Beta: Sadly none so far. So please excuse all spelling and grammar mistakes I swear they are not intentional.

VII

Loyalty and betrayal were words that had been engrained into Morgan's psyche ever since he was a small boy. As a child, he was taught that the world was a dangerous, wicked place filled with cruel beings who paraded as ignorant innocents. One wrong word, one slip of magic and those very same innocents would rob him of all he held dear: his freedom, his powers as well as his life. They are all assassins and thieves, his Father so often said. Morgan never imagined that his own Father would be the greatest assassin of them all.

The young warlock stared at the carefully crafted words of the aged tome in silent accusation. He should have known, he should have at least suspected. His Father had always been a hard man, yet not once had Morgan imagined that the elder warlock's intentions were anything but good. Even during those dark moments when the beatings were at their worst, he never once second-guessed his Father's motives. The child had always been so certain of his Father's affection and loyalty. His punishments were only severe because they were well earned and deserved, or so he believed. Now Morgan knew the truth and with it came an engulfing sense of desertion.

The air felt heavy, as he approached the main encampment. Even the night sky seemed to turn its back on him. Tonight there were no stars or even a moon, as weighted clouds consumed the night-lights that normally illuminated the darkness. Everyone was asleep. Even the Warden (normally a night owl) had retired for the night. Their recent journey to the Circle had left everyone exhausted and worn. Morgan could not blame them, though he had not joined them at the Kinloch Hold, he knew what they had faced. He had been trained to conquer, if not control, such dark creatures through magic far older and ancient than most believed existed.

Standing before the dying fire the young warlock contemplated the truth, his future and the nature of loyalty. Was anything sacred anymore? Was it ever? Breathing a heavy sigh he poked at a half burnt stick with his leather boot, pushing it further into the flames. 'Can't sleep either?' The sound of Alisa's voice caught Morgan off guard. He sighed softly as he continued to stare ahead to the campfire.

The warrior took a seat next to him without bothering to ask. Morgan was too tired and weary to be annoyed by her presence. 'Find anything interesting in that grimoire of yours?' Alisa continued, with mocking emphasis on grimoire. Morgan frowned, not bothering to respond. The warrior gave him with a look that could have been mistaken for empathic. 'That good I see,' she gently concluded.

'Why do you care?' he said in exasperation. Alisa simply shrugged in response. Was this another form of 'good-natured' teasing as the Warden liked to call it? Confused, Morgan stared as Alisa rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh. 'Do I really need to answer that question? And you say that I'm the dumb one!' she teased. The warlock scowled, not appreciating the mockery. Growing serious, she continued. 'Because I can-because I do-though Maker can only guess why. You're not exactly the life of the party, unless it's the wet blanket sort.'

'Tis irrelevant, no one cares unless there is something to be had for their personal gain,' Morgan sniffed in defence.

'Oh go on already!' Alisa exclaimed in exasperated tones. 'What did you find?'

''Tis...not what I expected. I had hoped for a collection of his spells, a map of the power that he commands. But this is not it. There is much of interest within his writings, things I did not know, and one in particular I would never have suspected.' He could feel Alisa's eyes on him, making it difficult to continue. 'Here, in great detail, Father explains the means, by which he had survived for centuries,' he quietly concluded.

'So it's a spell of immortality?' Alisa asked.

'If only 'twere so,' the warlock confessed. 'Father has raised many sons over his long lifetime. There are stories of these many Warlocks of the Wilds throughout Chasind legend, yet I have never seen a one and always wondered why not.

'And now I know. They are all Father. When his body becomes old and wizened, he raises a son. And when the time is right, he takes his son's body for his own. That is primarily what this tome details. The various sons that Father has...acquired. Their preparations and training. I recognize all of it. I...am to be his next host. That is my purpose.

'I am but a mere puppet for my Father to control.' Morgan said before falling silent. There was a strange sense of peace that came with the confession.

'Family, what a kick in the pants,' Alisa said after a moment of silence. The sincere weight of her voice revealed that the warrior understood. It was oddly relieving though terrifying as well. The young warlock waited for Alisa to explain herself, but she remained silent on the matter. Since her encounter with her elder brother in Denerim, the young woman never spoke of her family. Not even the Warden with all of her charm could break her silence. Morgan knew better than to ask, it was not his place to press.

'So why would your father risk having you aid the Warden? It makes no sense at all,' Alisa asked. Morgan did not know and he spoke as much.

''I do not know. Perhaps 'tis as he said; the darkspawn threaten him as much as they threaten anyone else. Or perhaps he believes that this journey will make me more powerful. According to the tome, if the...host...is already powerful and trained in magic, it takes far less time for Father to...settle in.'

The concern Morgan saw in Alisa's eyes was disconcerting. It was strange to have such an emotion directed at him. Uncertain to its meaning the young warlock swiftly denied it, ascertaining that it was just the fire playing tricks with his sight. There were no snide remarks, mockery or even falsified attempts at pity to be heard, only silence. With Alisa, silence held a weight of its own. She wore the quiet well, it was never awkward of untimely, as he had come to expect with other women. Her silence (though rare) was thoughtful, even peaceful. Respectful of it, he watched her closely, reading her body language for any sign or clue as to her thoughts. Alisa was indeed quite beautiful when she was pensive.

'Your Father needs to be stopped. No matter what,' Alisa said as she held his gaze. Morgan was unable to look away. Her words were as fierce, as they were sincere. In that instant he saw a little of the Templar that she never was meant to become.

'I need help to do it,' Morgan said. 'If he is slain while I am near, I am not certain that he will not
Simply be able to take possession of me right there. So obviously, I cannot be the one to do it. Someone needs to go back to my Father's hut...without me. There they must confront him and slay him quickly, I doubt he will truly be dead even then, but it will take him years to find a new host and recover his power...if that is even possible.'

'I'll do it.' There was no pause, or hesitation in her reply. It was obvious that Alisa's mind was set she was determined to help.

Morgan almost laughed to the notion of Alisa wanting to risk her life in order to protect him. Either she was unequivocally brave, or she was an even greater fool than he already believed. In her eyes, he saw only sincerity, kindness and an awareness that came only to those who had experienced death first hand. Alisa knew fully well, what she was up against, yet still she wanted to assist. The realization was as awkward as it was humbling. He was not finished.

'The thing I must have is his true grimoire. With it, I can defend against his power in the future. Everything else in his hut is yours,' Morgan said. His eyes flickered briefly to the fire before them before reaching her gaze once more. 'I am grateful. The sooner this can be done, the sooner it will set my mind at ease.' The words spoken were barely a whisper. Alisa's fingers slipped into his hand. Squeezing his hand, she gave him a gentle smile. Suddenly the night air and the dark sky were no longer so oppressing. The night like their conversation continued until the rising of the sun.