Reckoning

The actions of the previous night had resulted in… intriguing consequences.

I had bedded Alistair, as was necessary for my plan. Once the deed was done, he had rolled away from me, refusing to look at me and hissed, "Get out! Your pound of flesh has been collected."

It had felt empty leaving that room, removing all vestiges of myself. I was once again on the outside. I had recalled the many nights I had heard the Warden and Alistair at their trysts, the warmth of their voices and the tenderness of their caresses in the privacy of a thin tent while I skulked around the camp, gathering herbs in the dark and left to ponder my own being. I had not begrudged their intimacy for I myself was satisfied by my solitary existence, but at the same time I felt a sense of envy.

I would never take one to my bed that I felt was beneath me just to sate the loneliness or to combat the cold. For all intense purposes, Alistair could not hold a candle to the Warden, so lofty was she in comparison. She saw the world as it was and embraced what most would reject. I never feared that she would drive me from her presence if I spoke of that which she disagreed. Alistair was small minded and simple. It did not bode well for Ferelden to have such a man as he on the throne. She could have achieved so much more without him, and yet she insisted on his presence, allowed for his petulance and encouraged him to perform better.

As loathed as I am to admit it, he also seemed to rise to her expectations.

However, their relationship was a curious thing to me. It was not about the sex. If it had been she could have just as easily taken the elven assassin to her bed. It was more than obvious that he possessed powers of flattery that far outstripped Alistair's bumbling attempts at compliments. The prudish ex-Templar in his awkwardness had ravished the senses of a woman who I considered the most sensible and it baffled me. He was the one she wanted.

The day of the Landsmeet, when all had been decided and I had watched Alistair execute the traitor in a frenzy of vengeful blood, I was admittedly impressed. For once the man had not disappointed. He saw his goal and disregarded all else in his path, without a single waver or whine he dispatched what he believed was his duty. Perhaps it was hasty, but it was the most decisive I had seen him in our entire travels.

He then proceeded to commit the traitor's daughter to a tower rather than executing her as well, reasoning that in the event that he died in ending the Blight the the country would not be left without a ruler. As is well known, all sheep need a dog nipping at their heels to prevent them from going over a cliff. It matters not if the dog is a male or a bitch. That decision also showed a sense of forethought and even-handedness that I had initially considered Alistair incapable of and it raised him ever so slightly in my esteem.

The surprises did not end there. He went on to another decisive, though wholly unnecessary action after he had divested himself of blood and partook of the necessary head nodding to the masses. Returning to our band where we waited in a side hall, looking sullen and serious, he called the Warden to him as if he were suddenly a different man. Without insisting on the rest of us leaving, without a thought of her feelings on being confronted in front of her comrades at arms, the man summarily ended his relationship with the Warden, claiming duty to the country. His decision sent our fearless leader into a stuttering demand for an explanation that was wholly beneath her and the pain shone in her eyes as she tried to make sense of what he intoned to her. It seemed as though the rest of us were frozen or ceased to exist in the face of such an exchange, watching them in disbelief as Alistair, on rendering his decision of what he felt was necessary for honor, curtly left.

For a moment I was tempted to hit him. The passion passed and it was probably just as well that I didn't, but I felt it deeply. I had disapproved of their relationship as vehemently as the crabby old woman had, but I had not desired him to hurt her. If anything, it was my hope that she would regain her senses on her own once she tired of him and run into the arms of one more worthy.

She grieved. It was not the blubbering that most women partook of when claiming a broken heart. It was a quiet withdrawal. She continued the movements of her existence, maintaining her position and continuing to lead us with a strong hand, even with Alistair trailing behind in his continued naval gazing that was reminiscent of his time after the defeat at Ostagar. They were lost without each other, though they did not betray it in their actions.

At this point I grieved the necessity of my plan. Bedding Alistair would hurt my friend, even knowing that he had rejected her. I needed to move forward, though I knew it caused her pain. It irked me that it made me even with Alistair in that I was moved by necessity as surely as he.

It is easy enough to deny the ties to a friend with a careless shrug and a neutral voice when in the company of others. When alone, the cold cloys at my soul. I am not an animal, though I can mimic the shape of one. I have the soul and she is the only one willing to acknowledge it. In my necessity I am required to betray a certain tenant of friendship that I had never realized existed and in doing so I had placed myself on the outside again.

I had not desired Alistair. I did what I must for the sake of a larger whole, a bigger picture that such a limited man could not see. Still, I felt regret. I felt the desire to beg forgiveness of the only person I held in esteem, the only person who felt like a sister, a kindred soul in the emptiness of my existence. I had betrayed the only other that had no desire to use me and had refused me for just that reason. Initially I had been angry, for she would not use me even in the face of reasonable arguments. She would not use me to save herself, even as Flemeth would have willingly done.

For once I had fellowship with both the Qunari and that empty headed Alistair. I acted out of duty to a larger purpose, even in the designs of a woman who claimed motherhood but never saw me as anything more than a tool. Never had I felt such a sense of equality and it made me human in a way that was devastating. Once I had reveled in my ability to remain apart, perceiving myself as superior in my self-contained life and now I was included in a fellowship that both gratified me and punctuated my futility. I would never measure up to her.

I had approached her room to confess, to divest myself of the guilt. It was then that I heard the sounds of passion. Once again I was relegated to a cold existence, listening hungrily to an exchange that I could never embrace or experience. The Qunari was with her, of that I knew. I had underestimated him and I had underestimated her.

In the throes of passion words were exchanged between the two that were baffling in their intimacy. The word "need" foremost and it caused a pang within. The Qunari was consumed by a devotion to her that was both endearing and far elevated from the needs of flesh. For weeks I had watched their dance, their chaste courtship, aware of the Qunari's beliefs and what that entailed for him. He had cast it all aside for one night with her. Could I have sacrificed so much for anyone?

For once I felt she was evenly matched.

I stole away from the room and waited for their eventual parting. The night was long and tedious in an empty doorway of a room that held no rest for me. There is no rest for the wicked. I was banished to my independence and unable to conceive of such a turn of fortune. Not one love, but two, and both framed her existence in such a way that made her richer and me poorer in comparison.

When the Qunari had emerged, carrying a piece of her armor in his hands, I should have held my peace. I should have allowed him to pass and not tainted what I myself longed for, but to do so would mean that I would cease to exist as I am. If this is my life and all I can hope for, then I was determined to embrace it, for good or ill.

My teasing irked him and he was not one to suffer fools gladly, but he remained civil, deflecting every barb, every pointed question and rejected every bait that I produced. He was truly impervious and a marvel to behold compared to the easily needled Alistair. Ah, such a challenge!

Under my feigned indifference, I was truly worried. I knew what passed between Alistair and I could not remain hidden, but for once it was not my sake for which I harbored concern. I knew that the Qunari's interference had the potential to drive a wedge between himself and the Warden. As jealous as I am, as selfish as I recognize myself to be, I had not desired that, particularly in the face of my friend's fragile happiness that she was able to claim for herself in the face of all her losses. All three of us had betrayed her in one form or another during the course of one evening and there would be a price to pay.

"If there was any understanding between the Warden and myself, it would not be fragile," he had spat at me. He was unaware of the true nature of the world. Even strong things are fragile under the right circumstances. The mighty oak can be ripped up by the roots and turned to kindling in the right wind.

As I watched him stalk away and down the hall, I felt my brow furrow and thought to myself, "For all our sakes, I hope you are right, Qunari."

That was before Alistair's conscience compelled him to do what I had intended to do first. The scream of "BASTARD!" had echoed down the hall. I had no gift for divination, but I still knew what such an accusation portended. I half expected her to find me and tear my eyes out and I would have allowed it. She was within her right and I would have allowed it. Just as quickly the storm died down and silence reigned without an audible stirring from the Warden's room from either her or Alistair. Moments later, the Qunari once again stalked up the hall with the piece of armor in tow and re-entered the room. I held my breath and listened.

I heard the clatter of armor, I heard the challenge and I heard the retreat of an angry, jealous king to his own room to prepare for battle.

Wynne came down the hall, moments later, in response to the shouting and I stood agog in my doorway. Being the only one visible she demanded, "What has happened? What was all the shouting about?"

"Our future king has challenged the Qunari to a duel." I explained shortly, blurting out what I myself could not conceive as possible.

I had been prepared to take the brunt of the displeasure that the previous night had portended. Such a thing would have been right and it was a price I had been resigned to for I felt I had deserved no better. This turn of events astounded and addled me.

"What have you done?" Wynne demanded, her eyes narrowing. For all her nearsightedness she knew me and saw me truly in her stark judgments. I loathed her, but I loathed more that she was right. I remained silent for once, unable to confirm or deny with a tart remark the accusation of her gaze.

Unwilling to waste a moment more with me, Wynne went to Alistair with the intention, I presume, to talk him out of his rash decision.

A while later the Qunari emerged from the Warden's room, fully dressed in his armor and carrying his great sword conspicuously sheathed on his back. His face was awash with regret and grim determination. He walked as a man to his execution with a heavy tread, not reluctant but resigned. He did not notice me, or if he did he ignored me and I refrained from calling to him.

I crept from my room and warily approached the door of the Warden's quarters. Peering beyond the doorframe I noticed she sat on the bed, sagging visibly, cradling her face in her hands. Such feelings of remorse filled me on seeing what my friend had been reduced to, all due to my actions.

"Warden, I believe you and I should have a reckoning. I fear I have greatly wronged you, my friend." I whispered gently, placing a hand softly on her shoulder.

She looked up into my face, her eyes both haggard and startled. "Morrigan," she said, devoid of all the accusation I felt I deserved, "you were the last I would have expected to apologize."