Chapter 9

Tristan slowly opened his eyes, blinking away the deep fatigue that had settled over him and which also refused to go away. Everything around him was blurry and fuzzy. He sat up, his head pounding, aching, and he gently shook his head to try and see clearly. But nothing happened. He looked around him. He was in a small house. And then he realized that there was no roof.

He clutched at his head in worry. "Don't tell me I'm in the Fade," he muttered to himself. As the words left his mouth, somebody beside him stirred. He glanced at his side and gasped in surprise as he noticed the shock of red hair, the delicate curve of a naked shoulder. The woman turned towards him, her blue eyes changing in the bleak lighting of the room with no roof.

"Leliana?" Tristan asked, puzzled.

She laughed and sat up, the bed covers falling off her and revealing a pearlescent pair of breasts. "Of course. Who did you think it would be?"

Tristan sighed. He was dreaming. No, this was more than a dream. He felt real. He was in the Fade. What demon had trapped him here? Leliana, or whoever, whatever she was, reached over him and pinned him down, climbing on top of him. She kissed him slowly and seductively. Oh Maker. Tristan wanted to stop her but found himself desiring this more than anything. He let himself get lost in her embrace. Leliana pulled back, smiling at him suggestively and reaching toward his groin. It was then that Tristan glimpsed behind her the Black City in the sky.

He shoved her off of him. "Get away from me demon!"

Leliana looked hurt and pouted. "My love, what is wrong?" she attempted to come close to Tristan again, but he stood up and away from her, noticing that the bed had been floating above the floor all along.

"Don't speak of love to me, demon." Tristan threatened. Leliana again sidled up to Tristan, pressing into his side. Tristan closed his eyes. Wake up, wake up from this nightmare, he pleaded with his mind. It was no use. This demon was trying to possess him. He had to get rid of it.

"Would it be such a horrible thing to make love to me once again?" the demon in Leliana's form inquired of him. He shoved her away again, this time more forcefully.

"You cannot fool me demon. Let me go!" he retorted. Leliana shook her head and sighed. And then she was gone, the room faded away and he was outside, in a field. The demon was gone, for the moment. Tristan observed all around him. There was nothing to see.

"Papa! Papa!" came a child's cries from behind him. He turned around to look and was stunned as a little boy came running towards him, clutching a branch of wood and holding his arms out toward Tristan. Tristan backed away nervously, but the boy continued running towards him, launching himself onto Tristan, causing him to fall backwards onto the ground. The boy laughed and smiled, hugging Tristan fiercely.

"Papa, I've missed you!" the boy exclaimed. Tristan closed his eyes; he didn't want to see the boy. He refused to touch him. He felt the child's fingers pinch his cheek and giggle. "Papa, open your eyes!"

His heart pounding, Tristan shook his head, refusing to do as the boy said. "Please papa, I want to show you a magic trick mother taught me!"

"Get off me." Tristan quietly demanded. The boy made no move. Finally, Tristan couldn't take it anymore, he opened his eyes. The boy stared back at him, his eyes watering up, and a confused expression on his face.

"You don't want me, papa?" the boy asked. He looked every bit like Morrigan, except for his eyes. They were Tristan's own eyes. Tristan swallowed back a sob. This was his son. No, no it is not him. It is a demon. He wanted to push the boy away but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He suddenly and keenly realized how much he had wanted to be a part of his son's life. He felt the loss wholeheartedly and his chest hurt. His head throbbed in the same rhythm of his pounding heart.

"Don't you want to play, papa?" the boy asked him shyly. Tristan bit his lip in thought. Would it be so bad to just spend some time here in the Fade, with his son? It's not your son, it is a demon's temptation, he reminded himself.

"Go away." He pleaded with the demon. The boy looked at him sadly.

"But papa, we could have so much fun. You could teach me everything you know about magic. You can make me a powerful mage," the boy pleaded in return.

"No, no." Tristan picked up the little boy, arose from the ground, and placed the boy as far away from him as possible. "Be gone."

The little boy began to cry. "Why don't you want me, papa?"

Tristan turned away from the sight. He couldn't bear it. A single tear escaped from his eyes. The little boy, his son, was a demon in disguise, but it hurt to look at him. He was reminded of himself, alone in the orphanage. But his son would not be alone. He had his mother. As cold as Morrigan could be, he had no doubt that she would love their son. He had already promised himself that if Morrigan did otherwise, he would rectify the situation. "Do not mock me, demon. Be gone!"

The little boy's cries turned into a sadistic cackle and Tristan watched as the field around him dissolved into a rocky emptiness – the true Fade. The demon appeared before him in its true form – a bluish purple, womanly form. A desire demon.

"You are no fun at all, mortal." The demon teased him, clutching at her breasts.

Tristan was revolted by the sight. "Let me go, now, or else…"

"Oh but I could give you what you want. And in return you could give me what I want…"

"I will not listen to your deal."

"You were tempted to believe in my visions. I could give you so much more…"

"At what cost, demon? You think I would allow you to possess me? To loose an abomination onto the world? I will never give in to you; you are wasting your time. Let me go or I will kill you." Tristan stated frustratingly.

The demon did not give up. Desire demons drove a hard bargain, tempting and tempting and refusing to give in, bargaining their way out of threats. "You should accept my offer. We could be so powerful. I could see the world. You could have your love, your son. You could save your mother…"
"My mother?" Tristan asked, puzzled. What was the demon talking about? He was utterly fed up of talking.

"Yes, your mother…"

"Demon, I say this for the last time, be gone!" he threatened.

The demon sighed, finally giving up. She cackled and sent a wave of spirit magic toward Tristan. He ducked in time, avoiding getting hit. He was empty handed. He would have to call upon his magic to defeat the demon. She screamed and cast another spell at Tristan, this time it hit him and he was knocked backwards and enveloped in a painful wave. He angrily got up, casting cone of cold at the demon. She confused him, displaying herself many times over in a circle around him. He didn't know which of the demons was the real one. Well, he would kill all of them then.

Tristan cast a tempest storm, which hit all of the demon's doubles, causing her to scream in pain. She threw bolts of magic waves toward him; he managed to duck every time. He took his time taking out each double, calling upon all the primal magic he knew. When he felt drained of mana, he dipped into the lyrium veins lying around him. The demon grew weaker, the doubles were gone. He cast one last spell, a fireball, and watched the demon burn to nothing. It was gone. She would not possess him this day. He dropped to a heap on the ground, exhausted.

He woke with a start, kicking at nothing, his heart beating furiously inside his chest and sweat running down his body. He was breathless. As he caught his breath he took in his surroundings. There was no blurriness, no fuzziness to be found. He was awake. He was in the real world. He breathed a sigh of relief, calming himself down.

Brenna sat beside him and she gently shoved him back down with a look of concern. "Bad dreams?" she asked.

"More than you know." Tristan replied, his anxiousness subsiding. "How long was I out?"

"A day." Brenna replied.

Only a day? It felt like forever, he thought.

"How are you feeling?" Brenna inquired, placing a hand on his forehead. Tristan drew back. What was she fussing about?

"I'm fine." Tristan grumbled. His stomach, however, made a large rumbling sound. He grinned. "Just a little hungry…"

Brenna arose from his side slowly. She went to the kitchen and returned soon after with a steaming bowl. She handed it to Tristan.

"I say I'm hungry and you give me a bowl of soup?" he jokingly asked.

"Just eat it you stubborn mule." Brenna retorted. Tristan did as he was told and was quickly done with the soup. He had to admit, it was quite delicious. Certainly better than the stale piece of bread she had given to him the last time he was at her place.

"Why so quiet?" he asked Brenna as he placed the bowl to the side.

"You almost died, you stupid fool." Brenna answered with a serious look.

"Oh, right. I guess I should have started a fire as soon as I got wet." Tristan grinned. What had happened was slowly coming back to him. He had been a stupid fool. But he had been anxious to get here. A little embarrassed, he remembered how he had thought Brenna was Leliana. "Sorry."

"It's not funny." Brenna crossed her arms and glared at Tristan.

Tristan shrugged. "In any case, thank you."

Brenna rolled her eyes. "I couldn't just leave you to die. Besides, you would have done the same for me."

"Oh, I don't know," Tristan said lightheartedly, "I find you terribly annoying."

Brenna opened her mouth in disbelief. She shoved Tristan gently. Without thinking, Tristan grabbed her arm, pulled her close, and covered her mouth with a kiss. Surprised, Brenna pulled back and clambered away, leaving Tristan's side.

Tristan immediately regretted the move. Why had he done that? He liked Brenna. He didn't want to lead her on. He knew how much she liked him. He didn't want to play games with her, nor use her. Not when things with Leliana were still up in the air. He had thought that he would never return to his old life, but the Fade had given him pause to reconsider. It had reawakened his desire for Leliana, for a family. He had thought he could live without those things, but now he no longer knew what he wanted.

A little while later, Tristan arose from the fireside and went to check on Brenna, who was sitting at a table, frowning at a piece of paper.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, pulling up a chair.

She looked up at him, startled from her thoughts. "Just looking over my accounts."

Tristan nodded. He gazed around the room awkwardly. It was messy, full of things. He caught sight of her pouch, lying open on the table, a glimpse of the necklace she had stolen from him years ago hanging out of it. She realized what he was looking at and quickly snatched the pouch, closing it.

"I'm sorry, Brenna." Tristan said.

"Don't be." Brenna shrugged. She stared again at her papers. They sat in silence for a few moments. Tristan sat up and walked over to the window. He noticed how close the farmstead was to Silas's clan. He remembered Brenna telling him that her father was an elf. He pondered this fact for a while, recalling what Siofra had told him. Suddenly, he became suspicious.

"What was your mother's name?" he asked out of the blue.

Surprised, Brenna looked up, a little puzzled too. "Adalia."

Tristan fingered his chin in thought. Siofra had stayed with a widow named Adalia while she was pregnant. "What was your father's name?"

"What's with the sudden interest?" Brenna asked, a little annoyed.

"Just curious." Tristan replied. "So?"

"My father's name was Alras."

Tristan sucked in his breath. "How old are you?"

Brenna frowned. "I will see my twenty fifth winter."

Tristan held his head in concentration. Siofra's brother in law was named Alras. She had been taken in by a widow named Adalia. Brenna was just a little younger than he was. Somehow, even though Siofra had never mentioned Alras having a child, Tristan appreciated finally that Siofra was telling the truth. She was his mother. Perhaps he had known it deep down inside all along, but standing here in this farmstead, where he was born, he realized, it made sense now. And if that was the case, then Brenna's father had died because of him. Just another life he had ruined…

"What are you thinking?" Brenna had come to his side. He shook the pain from his face. He couldn't tell her what he was thinking of. She would hate him. He was selfish, he didn't want that.

"Nothing."

Brenna scrutinized him closely. She probably didn't believe him. He looked away from her, focusing on the outside.

"Fine. Don't tell me." Brenna turned around, but then stopped. "There is one thing that is bothering me. When you were delirious, you said your mother was an elf. I thought you didn't know who your parents were?"

Tristan froze. He remembered saying that now. He cursed his luck. Perhaps he should just fess up to Brenna. He hadn't told anyone about Siofra. It would be good to let it out. "I know now who my parents are."

"Really?" Brenna asked curiously.

"Yes." Tristan replied. "I ran into a Dalish clan in the summer. A woman recognized me as her son."

"So your mother is a Dalish?" Brenna asked incredulously. "I was right."

"Yes, you were." Tristan admitted.

"And your father?"

"An apostate."

"Interesting." Brenna said thoughtfully. She leaned in closer to Tristan. "Tell me more, please."

Tristan sighed and then he told her everything Siofra had told him. Except he never mentioned the widow's name and he conveniently left Alras's name out of the story too. He didn't have the heart to tell her. For the moment, at least.