Note: School is hard. So is finding time to write. I'm also thinking of branching out into other fandoms but I haven't a clue as to where to begin. Any suggestions? What else would you read? Also, as shameful as it is, I actually haven't played Awakenings or any of the DLCs. I'm far too attached to my characters and their stories in Origins…hence my excitement yet hesitance towards DA 2.
Also, has anyone played Witch Hunt? I read the synopsis of it and watched clips on Youtube. I have to say, I'm a little disappointed. Maybe an attempt to wrap up the Morrigan storyline on my end will happen soon.
Anyway, enough of that – read and review please! Hope you enjoy. LORDHAVEMERCY I can't figure out how to do page breaks. If any of you know, please let me in on this secret. Otherwise I'll keep oddly numbering things just to separate scenes.
Disclaimer: I don't anything except the story.
10 – They Can't Take That Away From Me, Billie Holiday
1.
It happens when they're on their way back from the Alienage to report to Arl Eamon.
A group of darkspawn attack them out of the blue, and while this is not particularly unusual, how things play out from there, are.
The party dispatches of most of the darkspawn easily, the thick smell of blood filling the air. Nicola relishes in it, flashing a bloodthirsty grin as she and the rest of the group engage the emissary that remains.
No one really expects him to go for Morrigan, but when he swings at her with a broad stroke of his axe, Nicola's already there. As fast as she is, she's not fast enough to avoid harm. The Warden gets the killing blow, but not before he lashes out in a dying rage and easily tosses Nicola with the force of his strike, knocking the wind out of her lungs and sending her flying.
Her rough landing is inevitable, of course, but it's simply pure misfortune that her head painfully cracks against a boulder on the one day it's too hot to brandish her helm.
From there, the blood in her eyes, the concerned shouts, and the footsteps rapidly approaching blissfully fade into darkness.
Everything is fuzzy when she wakes – her vision, her head, the blankets she's curled up in. Green eyes blearily take in the lavish bedroom she finds herself in, and she coughs weakly, clutching at her head. A fresh bandage is covering a part of her scalp, one that she pokes at until a sagely voice interrupts her.
"You shouldn't fiddle with that. It's healing," says an older woman, approaching her with a smile. "How are you feeling?" she asks, handing her a much-needed glass of water, and fussing over her blankets.
"I…am well," is the cautious response. "Thank you…um…" she prompts the woman for a name. She might just be a healer at whomever's estate she was, but it would not do to be impolite, despite how invasive she finds her.
Her attempts not to be impolite seem to fail, however, when the old woman's eyebrows furrow deeply. "I'm sorry, I just—"
"—don't know my name." The brows furrow even more, and some light of realization dawns upon the old woman. She ventures further. "Do you know yours?"
There is a long, thoughtful pause, until the blonde Warden looks up helplessly from the bed and shrugs.
"Oh dear," Wynne says with a sigh.
2.
"Clearly it is only the fault of its soft head that this has happened," Shale says sagely. "Were it a golem—"
"As appreciative as we are of your impressive expertise," Morrigan interrupts icily, "I think a most pertinent question is, what shall we do now?"
The older mage sighs again. "I have seen this kind of damage before. Bumps to the head can involve some sort of memory loss. Whether it is permanent or not, only time will tell."
"Superb," mutters Morrigan, scowling.
"I've already informed Arl Eamon," Alistair says, shifting his weight onto his other foot uneasily. "I don't know if he's notified the queen, but he's on his way here."
"Is there no other way that we can perhaps jog her memory?" Leliana asks Wynne.
"Maybe if we just give her another whack on the head, she'll go right back to normal," Oghren offers gruffly, already forming a fist. He shrinks back slightly when he receives glares from everyone, grumbling, "Just sayin'. Don't get your soddin' panties in a twist."
"Perhaps it is like an old fairytale they tell in Antiva," Zevran says smoothly. "A princess needs to be kissed by a dashing stranger – as you can see, I will probably be the most suitable candidate – in order to wake up. Maybe it will work the same with memory loss?"
"Don't be daft, you lecherous fool," Morrigan snaps.
"Um. Can someone please tell me what's going on?" asks Nicola feebly from her bed.
Bandit just whines, but if Mabari hounds could roll their eyes, he probably would.
3.
"Well, it seems that I have quite the task ahead of me," grimaces the blonde Warden. It's a lot to take in, and she's a little in shock, but it doesn't seem like they have time to waste. She struggles to get up, adding, "I should probably get to it." When a wave of dizziness strikes her, however, she can only fall back pathetically onto her pillows.
"You mustn't overexert yourself just yet," the older woman called Wynne frowns, having remained after everyone else leaves. "We still have some time for you to heal, physically at least."
"And what about my memory? Can't you do some sort of magic or something that will fix this?" asks Nicola helplessly.
The look on Wynne's face tells her everything she needs to know, and she sighs forcefully. "Just rest, Nicola. I will be back to check on you later. Just…try to remember, is the best advice I can give you. Give it time."
"Easier said than done," mutters the blonde after the old mage leaves. The large hound near her bed whines pitifully, and she pats the space next to her. "They say you belong to me. I've always liked dogs. Come up here, boy."
Bandit barks happily, landing next to her with a thump and settling down with his head in her lap. She strokes his fur, trying to remember something about the pup.
Pup, she thinks. She envisions an older man with a kind face saying that to her. Interesting.
"His name's Bandit," says the redheaded girl from before, a lilting accent marking her words as she strolls into the room.
"Leliana, right?" asks Nicola hesitantly. A smile is her answer, and she returns the grin.
"So, you really don't remember a thing?" asks Leliana, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Nothing at all?"
The Warden shakes her head apologetically. "I'm sorry."
Leliana waves her hand dismissively, smile still fixed on her face. The motion seems oddly familiar to Nicola, but she can't place it. Almost everything and everyone is starting to make her feel like that. Like a word is on the tip of her tongue, distinct memories on the edges of her mind that only stay faded. "It is not your fault. You were protecting Morrigan."
"She is quite…interesting," says Nicola, thinking of the sharp-tongued, fascinating woman. A flash of silver – a locket, maybe? – goes through Nicola's mind, vanishing quickly.
Pink lips purse in muted disgust. "That is one way to put it," replies Leliana. To Nicola's questioning brow, she simply adds, "She and I don't…quite get along."
"Why's that?"
Because that harpy could never love you as I do. Because she doesn't deserve you. Because you should love me instead of loving her, Leliana wants to say to this blank-slate version of Nicola. She bites her tongue instead, smiling tightly.
"No reason in particular," she says nonchalantly, taking her leave. Nicola just blinks.
4.
It is late evening when Nicola manages to sneak out of bed and take a stroll around the estate with Bandit at her side. She knows that it's probably dangerous because of those darkspawn everyone talks about, but she can't keep staying cooped up as she had all day. Her head barely hurts, and she no longer feels dizzy when moving, so as soon as everyone stops fawning over her and shooting her worried but hopeful looks, she creeps out for a quiet walk to gather her thoughts, perhaps find things to remind herself of who she was supposed to be. It is silent except for the fluttering of bird's wings, and the caw of a nearby raven.
A whine from Bandit interrupts her woolgathering, and she turns to see a young blonde woman approaching her with a smile on her face.
"Warden," she says warmly, and with that, Nicola finds herself pulled into a gentle, welcoming kiss. The lips that claim hers move in a practiced, soft manner that seems too familiar for this to be the first time it's happened.
As nice as it feels, Nicola pulls away immediately, coloring. "Uh."
"What's the matter?" asks the woman, frowning. "I know things have been different since Cailan and I married, but—wait, what happened to your head?"
"I'm sorry," says Nicola, for what seems like the millionth time that day. "I apparently hit my head and … well, don't really seem to remembering a lot of things right now," she offers.
The blonde woman colors slightly. "Oh…I…well. I can't believe Eamon didn't tell me this already," she mumbles to herself. "I'm terribly sorry about that, then," she adds quickly. "I'm Anora," she says by way of explanation.
Nicola recognizes the name. "My Queen," she says, bowing her head until she is interrupted by a gentle laugh.
"Oh, Nicola. You don't have to do that. We've known each other since we were children." Anora takes the Warden's hand, leading her to the garden. "Come, we shall see if tales of our trouble-making adventures don't jog your memory."
Anora is laughing brightly as she regales Nicola with more of tales from their childhoods, when Nicola's family would apparently visit Denerim and she would play with the queen.
"-and then Cailan, who was being quite bothersome at the time…well, you just ran him right off after he wouldn't stop bringing me flowers when we were about thirteen."
Nicola laughs for the first time since cracking her skull. "And then?"
Anora smiles at her, that same warm smile that almost seems bittersweet for some reason. "And then I hugged you, and when I pulled away—"
An image of a freckled, smaller version of Anora flashes in Nicola's mind. The same feeling of burning heat and embarrassment fills her again when she remembers – oh, Maker, she actually remembers what happens next –
"-you kissed me," says Nicola, realization dawning upon her. "That was my first kiss, wasn't it?" she says with wonder. "I remembered that."
The queen is aglow with pride, nodding excitedly. "We shall have your memory back in no time."
"Tell me more," Nicola insists. "I want to try."
Anora's hand comes to rest atop Nicola's, and only Bandit hears the fluttering of wings as a raven flies away.
5.
"Did I do something to her?" asks Nicola, around a mouthful of eggs at breakfast the next day. She gestures towards the scowling Morrigan who is sipping quietly at her tea.
Alistair grimaces, mumbling to himself, "Maker knows I don't want to know what on earth you two get up to at night, what with all that racket..."
"What?"
"Nothing," he says brightly. He gulps down some water, saying, "She's just always been like that. She's the grouchy sourpuss while I'm the handsome friend around to supply endless charm and wit."
He deflates, however, when Nicola eyes him the way she always did before the accident. "Charm and wit?" She asks blankly and curiously.
"Worth a try," he pouts – yet another seemingly familiar sight - digging into his food with force.
6.
"A true warrior does not need to think to fight," says the Qunari seriously, in his deep monotone. "It should come to you naturally."
Nicola grips the hilt of her sword in one hand, and her dagger in the other. Her palms tighten despite being slightly sweaty, and she readies herself in a stance she deems battle-ready. Sten adjusts his giant two-handed blade easily, as thought it were a feather, and Nicola finds herself just a little bit nervous and just a little bit excited.
"Let's go," she says, and with that, he charges her.
What seems like hours later, she pants and grunts in a sneaky move she knows will disarm her large opponent. Using the last of her strength to maneuver, with a flick of a sword, she manages to end it. His sword clatters to the ground, and he looks at her proudly despite having lost.
More flashes of the past fill her mind, and she grins. "You always did fall for that one," she says.
Sten's lips twitch in the approximation of what could be a smile.
7.
"Could we talk?" asks Nicola finally, late one night after having a long discussion with Arl Eamon.
Morrigan turns, with a smirk that's part exasperation, part amusement, and says wryly, "You've forgotten everything else except your affinity for idle chatter."
Nicola stiffens, but continues. She tires of being told what she likes or doesn't like. "Perhaps. But I'm serious."
The mage sighs, barely containing the urge to roll her eyes. "Speak, if you must."
The blonde Warden breathes deeply, shifting her weight uneasily. "I'm…not sure why you don't really like me, seeing as I can't remember, but if I've done something to upset you, I would like to know what it is," she says honestly.
Morrigan frowns, her hand instinctively coming up to fiddle with the silver locket around her neck as part of a newly adopted nervous habit. "'Tis not that simple," she replies vaguely.
"Then what is it?" Nicola insists. "We need to work together soon, whether I have my memory or not."
"Is that so?" snipes Morrigan with a hiss. Everything about her seems like a wounded animal, Nicola thinks. Morrigan. Animal. Huh. A flash of a wolf with Morrigan's eyes perplexes Nicola for a moment.
Nicola just sighs, thinking this could be a lost cause. When the other woman does not seem to offer anything further, Nicola tries again from a different angle. "That's a wonderful necklace," she offers. She does not notice Morrigan's back stiffening rigidly, but she does notice how the mage jerks her hand away and scowls. "It…looks beautiful on you," adds Nicola lamely.
Morrigan clenches a fist, scowling. "Is there anything else utterly fascinating you are going to add to this conversation?"
Ignoring her, Nicola asks gamely with a shrug, "Who gave it to you?"
Apparently it is the wrong thing to say, because Morrigan whirls around and her face is inches from Nicola's, contorted in anger. "You did," she hisses. "You gave it to me. Just like I gave you that ring."
Nicola looks down at the silver adornment on her ring finger in surprise, and then back to Morrigan. "Were we…?"
"Yes," bites out Morrigan. She is barely holding back her anger when she scowls, "Yes. We were."
"Oh," says Nicola dumbly.
"But apparently you and the queen were as well," says Morrigan, crossing her arms.
Nicola just looks at her blankly. "Anora said that after she married Cailan, we stopped seeing each other on amiable terms."
"Yes, well," huffs the mage, pacing back and forth. "No matter. 'Twas she who had the magic ability to help you remember," she grouses.
"Are you jealous?" asks Nicola incredulously. Morrigan glares at her silently. "I can't help what happened. I can't help what – or who - makes me remember and what doesn't," she argues. When the other woman does nothing more than continue to scowl at her, Nicola continues, "Maybe if you spent more time trying to help me remember rather than glaring at me like this is my fault-"
"It is your fault," Morrigan shouts accusingly. "I do not know why you think you must always leap to my rescue, but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And look what happens when you play hero," she says snidely.
Bristling, Nicola growls, "Well, maybe if you weren't always in trouble then I wouldn't have to keep playing hero."
"Oh, is that so?" Morrigan asks dangerously.
Frustration and rage burst within Nicola, thoughts and memories and emotions raging past floodgates she didn't know she had. "Yes!" She shouts angrily, waving her arms emphatically. All of the times she got upset with Morrigan being careless come easily to mind, but she barely notices. "Like in Lothering when those bandits got the drop on you, or in the wyrmling lair when you took on that drake alone, or that time in the Brecilian Forest, the werewolves nearly devoured y-"
Morrigan looks at her incredulously. Then, pointedly, with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh," Nicola deflates. She had begun to think regaining her memory would be eventful, or that she needed to trip and land on her head or something. This just seems anti-climactic and well…slightly embarrassing.
Morrigan only smirks in this way that Nicola remembers that she likes, sauntering over to her and draping her arms around the Warden's neck.
"'It seems that maybe I do have the magic ability to help you remember," preens Morrigan, peering at Nicola from underneath dark lashes. "Recall this?" She asks coyly, brushing her lips against Nicola's once, twice. There is a swipe of her tongue, and – oh.
Nicola pulls away, dazed by the turn of events, and as always, by Morrigan's touch. "Somewhat," she grins, before leaning down once more for another kiss. "But perhaps you should keep reminding me."