Part IX

The few remaining people still camped outside the castle gates were all making ready to leave since King Alistair had lifted the order forcing them to stay. There weren't nearly as many witnesses to question as there had been, still however, some did see The Warden and his companion as they left the castle and headed northwest, towards the coast. Unfortunately, that was all any of them had seen and could offer no other clues to The Warden's intended destination.

The witch thought it best not to reveal her identity to the people in the camp, afraid they might mistake her for the impostor. So Morrigan assumed bird-form and floated above Leliana and Zevran while they walked through what was left of the encampment, the evidence of the recent attack still readily visible. Scorch marks and burned tents still littered the ground and a foul smell hung in the air. The smell of burnt flesh. It would be a long time before the physical scars from the attack faded from view, and longer still for the mental ones.

Alistair elected to remain behind, after much convincing on the part of his captain of the guard, who felt it was unwise for the king to venture from the safety of the castle when his life was at risk. The king reluctantly agreed, unable to say no as he stood transfixed by her big blue eyes. The captain offered no such objections to the witch's participation, however.

After a few hours, the party came to Ferelden's northern coast along the Waking Sea. Zevran led them as they followed the shoreline westward into the desolate lands. The elf was a skilled tracker of men, having used such skills on numerous occasions to hunt his quarry. He was sure The Warden and the demon passed this way as there were two sets of footprints clearly visible in the rocky and sandy ground.

The witch had resumed her human form and, as was her custom, trailed at the back of the group, apart from the others. Even though she felt welcome in their midst, she still felt out of place and uncomfortable around them. They were The Warden's friends, and if it wasn't for him, she would probably never have the need to speak with any of them. They were her friends only by association, Morrigan thought. A thought that was both comforting and disturbing to her.

The daylight was waning and soon the party would break for camp, something the witch was almost looking forward to. Her back had been hurting her all day, the muscles cramping up into tight spasms that got stronger as the day progressed. As much as she desired to keep searching for The Warden, Morrigan was finding each step was becoming more painful than the last.

When the time finally came to camp for the evening, it took the witch far longer than normal to erect her tent, not ever being totally successful at it. The pain was radiating around from her back to her stomach, causing her to shake and sweat profusely. She cursed herself beneath her breath as her hands fumbled about and refused to cooperate. Leliana watched as Morrigan struggled with her tent, and for a long time said and did nothing. After a while of watching the witch, who was in obvious discomfort, the bard's goodhearted nature won out over her fear of Morrigan's reprisal and she went over to the witch's spot, which, as usual, was several yards from were the others had set their tents up.

"You don't look so good. Are you feeling alright?" Leliana asked meekly.

The witch looked up from her task, saying with a scowl, "I am f..." before being cut off by another spasm that caused her to wince in pain.

"You are most definitely not fine." the bard retorted, "Something is hurting you."

After the wave of pain had faded and Morrigan was able to reply, she said, "Your concern is not needed. I will be fine."

"Still, you should let me help you with this..." the bard said as she reached for Morrigan's tent in an attempt to assist.

"I do not need nor desire your help. I am not suffering from some serious malady and in need of your pity. I am quite capable of taking care of my own needs." the witch shot back.

"Everyone needs help sometime, Morrigan. Even you." the bard said as she turned to walk away, "But you have far too much pride to ask. That's not being strong, that's being silly."

The witch groaned and rolled her eyes. "Cramps." she said.

"What?" Leliana asked as she turned back around.

"It feels like...cramps. Only stronger and focused in my lower back. Not unlike the pains of labor."

"That can't be good." the bard replied, "We should get you back to Highever as soon as possible."

"'Tis nothing. I've overexerted myself and nothing more. I had these same episodes while carrying Seth. A night of rest and I shall be fine."

"At least let me help you with your tent."

"Very well, as you wish." the witch relented begrudgingly, "However, do not expect me to make a habit of accepting your tokens of generosity."

"I won't." Leliana said as she knelt down and began the task of fixing Morrigan's crumpled and twisted mess.

"And, Leliana..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you." the witch said earnestly.

"You're Welcome." replied Leliana as a smile crept across her face.


Captain Dyana was out in the village of Highever questioning some of the townsfolk and trying to find any clues she could that would lead her to whomever was responsible for the dragon's attack. The captain had ventured into the village many times before over the course of the past few days and talked to many people, all without success. Still, the king had charged her with solving the mystery and she was determined not to give up until she had done exactly that.

It seemed that whoever it was that attracted the beast was very good at covering their tracks, because other than the egg, no other trace of the culprits existed. Dyana interrogated anyone she thought might have information about these people. But every lead she followed came up empty. She was no closer to finding the guilty party then when she first started, and she was running out of places to look.

"The Maker has a true plan for each of his children." a booming voice called out, getting the captain's attention as she swung her head about to face the source.

"These troubled times are a warning from him that he is displeased that his children have all gone astray from his true teachings." said a main wearing a red robe. He stood atop a wooden crate and addressed a crowd of people that was starting to gather before him.

"The Maker shall guide us and protect us, but only if we heed his warnings. The Orlisians, the Blight, the dragon, these were all signs of his displeasure." the man continued while the crowd continued to grow, "The Chantry has failed you. For was it not them who permitted the maleficar to live unpunished? Her evil blood magic tainting and defiling the heroic Grey Warden. Her very existence is a sacrilege!"

The people in the gathering were starting to become restless, most treated the robed figure as a deluded man and heckled him, but others among them would shout out words of agreement. There were many who were uncomfortable with Morrigan. She came from a strange place and wielded strange powers beyond their meager understandings. And by her own admission, she was neither a member of the Circle of Magi nor a follower of the Chantry. They viewed her as a threat to their faith.

"For those of you that seek the Maker's true path, you are not alone. There are those who feel as you do...Those who would accept you. Come and speak with me and I will tell you about the Order of Bohlen. Come and learn the truth." the robed man finished as he stepped down from the crate.

The crowd began to disperse, save for several who had decided to approach the man and inquire about the order. Dyana grabbed the arm of a man who was leaving the scene, "Who is that person?"

The man looked down at the captain's hand and was about to utter something distasteful to her when he noticed the royal seal on her breastplate. Instead, he said with a suddenly nervous voice, "That's the Order of Bohlen. They're just a bunch of crazies trying to stir things up."

"What do you know about them?"

"Not much, only that they're starting to sprout up in towns all across Ferelden. I just got back from Amaranthine last week and there was one of them there, too. He was spouting the same crap as this guy."

Releasing the man's arm, the captain said, "Thank you for your time." She walked over to the man in the red robe who was busy talking to several people that were apparently interested in the order. Behind him was another man in a red robe, only he was much larger. The second man was well muscled and wore armor beneath his robe. The captain wondered why the smaller man would need such an imposing bodyguard.

"I have some questions I need to ask you." The captain said as she approached the man.

After politely excusing himself from the others, he turned to Dyana. "How can I help you, captain?" he asked.

"You know who I am?"

"Of course, You are Dyana, captain of the king's royal guard. You are well known in Ferelden."

"I was not aware of that." Dyana responded calmly.

"Please...forgive my rudeness. I am Altavar, one of the brothers in the order." the man said with a slight bow, "And to what do we owe the honor of having such a distinguished visitor?"

"I need to know about your order."

"Ah. I was hoping you'd ask that."

"Why is that?"

"It's no secret you hold no fondness for The Warden's maleficar bride. And after all, who could blame you? You, the captain of the royal guard, whose greatness is overshadowed by that unworthy and evil creature. You should be the most respected woman in Ferelden, not her. Those foolish peasants place her on a pedestal so that she may mock them from above. But you know better. You see her for what she really is: A stain on the soul of Ferelden. A stain that must be cleansed."

"I...I..." Dyana stammered, searching for the words, "I want to know more."

"Come with me." the man said as he placed his arm around her shoulder and ushered her inside the stone building behind them. "We have much to talk about, you and I."


"Awaken, my love." the demon-witch said as her hand squeezed The Warden's shoulder, "We've arrived."

The Warden and the demon had sailed all night across the dark waters of the Waking Sea and were now many miles from shore. As the early morning sun climbed over the horizon, The Warden was able to make out a large rocky island that lay just ahead. Its rocky coast covered in spots by clumps of thick vegetation. A small range of mountains rose near the middle of the isle, their peaks disappearing into the mist above. The boat, still moving by magic, was heading straight for a short stretch of beach inside a sandy cove.

"How long was I out?" he asked as he sat up in the boat, rubbing his eyes.

"Several hours. 'Tis good that you were able to rest, I feel you shall need it." she replied, standing in the center of the ragged vessel, controlling its movements.

"I can think of exactly what to do with all this pent up energy." he said as he reached around her waist and pulled her to his lap.

"Dwemer!" she let out with a squeal, taken by surprise, "Stop acting so juvenile. I have to steer the boat."

"Juvenile, huh?" he asked while his mouth hovered close to her full and inviting lips.

"Yes, juvenile." she repeated as pushed herself off and stood from his lap, "Now leave me be. I've work to do."

"Fine. But when you least suspect it, that's when I'll pounce." he said with a mischievous grin. "And then you'll be all mine."

"Impossible man." the demon-witch huffed as she resumed her control of the craft and steered it towards the beach.

When the boat finally neared the shore, The Warden hopped over the side and dragged the boat onto the beach. When the boat came to a halt, the false witch hopped out onto the sand. She spent a few minutes looking around, as if to get her bearings. "We must go further into the interior of this island. What we seek lies there." she said.

But before the pair had much of a chance to venture very far, five large men, all clad in red robes, appeared suddenly from the thick foliage. The Warden stepped in front of the false witch and reached over his shoulders to draw his blades.

"Stay your blade!" shouted one of the men said as he held out his hand, "We mean no harm, Warden. We've been expecting you."

"Expecting me?" The Warden asked, "Who are you?"

"That will take some explaining. Please, follow me. We have little time and there is much to tell."

The red robed men turned and headed back along a thin trail through the brush. The Warden and the demon witch followed close behind. The trail wound it's way through the dense scrub before straightening out once the group had proceeded further inland and the forest gave way to a lush field with rolling meadows. In the distance sat an ancient temple, its stone spires still reaching for the clear sky even though its walls began to crack and crumble long ago.

"What is this place?" The Warden asked.

"Our last refuge." The red robed man replied.


The thick, warm bedroll was placed neatly in the center of the floor and circled with many lit candles. Two naked forms lie intertwined upon it, ravaging each other in the deep throes of passion. The Warden's lips trailed down her neck, to her breasts, cupping and pleasuring them with his skilled hands and mouth. The witch writhed in pleasure beneath him, unable to contain the small gasps and groans that escaped her as his mouth found its way to her flat stomach, and continued still lower.

Morrigan watched from the shadows, unable to step into the light as if something were holding her back. Desperately she struggled against invisible shackles that held her in place while she was forced to watch the demon and her unwitting warden entangle in love's embrace.

"Dwemer! No!" she screamed as hard as she could, yet no sound would come. "'Tis not me!" she continued to plead in anguish.

There was nothing Morrigan could do. The doppelganger had her warden's complete attention and she wasn't letting it go. With cold eyes the creature looked back at Morrigan and said, "He's mine now."

"No!" the witch screamed in silence. "You cannot have him! Dwemer, please!"

"It's your own fault. This is what you get." said another voice.

The witched turned towards the sound and was frozen in her tracks when she was met by the face of the young warden, Silas. "You killed me!" he yelled.

"No!" Morrigan screamed, startled awake in her bedroll, gasping and sweat pouring off of her. Her breathing was rapid and her heart pound fast and hard within her. The witch sat up and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on top.

With the images of the nightmare still fresh in her mind, the witch's eyes drifted to the empty spot beside her. She was alone. For most of her life, Morrigan had slept alone, never caring to share her bed with another. After being with The Warden, however, she had grown accustomed to having someone beside her each night. It had become natural to her. And now that he wasn't there, the witch found the solitude unnerving. A bitter sting made worse by the fact that her thoughts constantly dwell on him.

The first rays of dawn pierced the small slit in the tent's opening and with a grumble, Morrigan climbed out of her bedroll. She wiped the sleep from her eyes, and after preparing herself for another long day of travel, tossed back the opening to the tent and exited, making her way to the pile of smoldering ash that had been the group's campfire the previous night. Morrigan reached for a slender stick beside the fire pit and began stirring the ashes. And with a few puffs of breath from the witch, the fire popped back to life.

"Are you feeling better this morning?" she heard Leliana ask from behind.

"I am much better." Morrigan replied, her focus still on the fire.

Leliana approached the fire and crouched down beside it, next to the witch. She held her hands out to the flames allowing them to warm her frigid hands. "You know, I've been thinking..." she said, staring into the flames, "Silas might have been the one who tricked us."

"The same thought had occurred to me as well." Morrigan agreed, "I believe twas his job to lure us away so that the demon could ensnare The Warden in her magical charms."

"What would make him do such a thing?"

"Who can say. Silas was young and foolish. Twas my mistake that led to his death and is also why The Warden lies in the arms of another. 'Tis all that matters to me."

"You don't think Dwemer would...?" Leliana asked with a gasp.

"I do not have time to consider what might be, only what is." Morrigan replied in a cutting tone.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything." Leliana said apologetically. "It's just, I thought that if he thinks it really is you..."

The witch stood up, turned and headed back to her tent, saying, "In the future, I trust you will keep such insights to yourself." Leaving the bard stunned and with the distinct feeling that she had stuffed her foot very deep into her mouth.

Soon, Zevran, Leliana, and Morrigan broke camp and resumed their search for The Warden. It looked to be another sunny day, which made Zevran's job of tracking that much easier. The elf had no problems following the trail that The Warden and the demon-witch left. They continued west along the coast, battling the fierce sun that beat down from overhead and the brutal winds that blew in from the sea, forcing sand and small rocks to creep into every crevice of their clothing.

For many hours the group traveled in silence. Occasionally, the bard would strike up a brief conversation with Zevran, but the elf was usually too focused on his quarry to be able to chat for long, and their talks would never last more than a few minutes. Meanwhile, Morrigan strolled behind the others, fuming internally over what the demon could be doing with her warden. The thoughts were driving her insane. Each time she tried to sweep them from her mind, they forced their way back in. She hoped upon hope that maybe something had interrupted them, or that they haven't had the chance altogether, as so often was the case with she and The Warden. In her heart, the witch knew that was the only prayer she had.

"Wait!" Zevran shouted. "There's something here." he said as he studied the ground.

"What have you found?" Morrigan asked as she hurried towards the elf.

"The trail ends here. Beyond this point there are no footprints. However, someone pushed something into the water. And by the look of it, I'm inclined to think it was a small boat."

"A boat? That cannot be right. Look again."

"I know what I see. There is only one way to interpret it."

"But that leaves us with no way to follow them..."

"Can't you just turn into a fish or something and swim after them?" the elf asked.

"No, I cannot." Morrigan huffed, "It takes weeks of intense concentration and study for me to learn a new form. We haven't the time."

The witch cast her icy glare out to the open sea. Out there, somewhere, was her warden. And whatever the demon's plans were, they didn't include being followed. Rage seethed through Morrigan and she clenched her fists tightly at her side. "You fucking cunt." she muttered under her breath.


The king and teyrn were in the castle study, going over what they were able to find out about who was responsible for the attack. For the past four days, Fergus had his men scouring the countryside looking for any evidence they could find. And day after day his men would return empty handed. They were no closer to revealing the identities of the men who left the dragon egg. Frustration was starting to set in for both men, having run out of options.

The study door burst open and Dyana came walking in. Alistair watched intently as her hair flowed and her breasts bounced while she walked closer to the men. "What do you have to report?" he asked the captain.

"I regret to inform you that I have yet to find the guilty party, your majesty." the captain answered with a bow.

"Well, we have to keep looking. They can't just have vanished. Someone has to know something. Those people deserve justice." Alistair said, pounding his fist on the desk for emphasis.

"And we'll also know who it is that wants you dead." the teyrn added.

"Yeah, and then there's that. I had almost forgotten that I someone was trying to kill me. Thank you for reminding me." the king returned with pseudo-gratitude.

"The sooner we find out who your dark figure and his accomplice in the red robes were, the sooner we'll get to the bottom of this." Fergus said.

"Red robes?" The captain asked the king with a puzzled look on her face, "You never mentioned anything like that to me."

"I didn't think what he was wearing was important at the time. Why? Is there a problem?"

"No, its nothing." the captain replied, shaking her head.

"Very well, captain, that will be all."

Alistair's eyes once more trailed the lovely young captain as she strolled from the room. Fergus grinned at the king actions, "You haven't asked her yet, have you?" he asked.

"Asked her what?"

"Why, to dinner, of course."

"W..what?" Alistair stammered, "That's ridiculous. Why would I do that?"

"Because, you are obviously attracted to her, and in case you haven't noticed, she's waiting for you to ask." the teyrn replied.

"I can't do that. It would be inappropriate. She's my captain, after all." Alistair said, before pausing for a minute, deep in thought. "You really think she'd say yes if I asked?"

"You never know until you try."