Disclaimer: Bioware owns all, except what I most humbly create. While, at times, I will take verbatim from the game, I mostly use the events of the Dragon Age games, expansions and universe as a loose structure around which to construct my re-imagined tale. If you are looking for a strict canon piece, I have no desire to offend, and so I warn you upfront!
When reading this tale, I hope you can easily imagine it being told by the very best of storytellers in Varric (from DA:2). In my version of events, Varric meets "The Hero" (my Elissa Cousland) in Kirkwall during the time period of DA:2. I mention this only so that readers can understand his connection along the way, and so I don't have to mention and rehash it again and again as I make my way through the tale.
Sorry for the delay getting this one up. It's been a beast to work through and I ended up breaking it into two smaller chapters in the end, so hopefully I'll have two up here to make up for the lapse in updates!
Thanks again to all my followers, favers, readers and lurkers - and to my wonderful Lady Beta, artemiskat.
On with the show :)
-Frayed One
Chapter Ten: Becoming Nothing
A thick fog had settled in the forest of her dream-scape, shrouding things once comforting and familiar under its menacing shroud. Dark things lurked among the trees, hiding in shadow – all teeth and claws and glowing eyes – all hungry, all reaching out for her. She had been running hard for what seemed like days, and was no longer able to keep the pace of her frantic flight. She collapsed to her knees, sensing things closing in all around her; desperately calling out to the one person she always seemed to turn to…
"Nathaniel!" Elissa yelled, bolting upright in bed and reaching her shaking fingers up to grasp at the ring tied at her neck, dropping her the arm just as quickly and suppressing a groan when a stabbing pain shot through her with the motion.
"You have called that name a great many times in your fever…" a sultry voice whispered, and Elissa spun to see the raven-haired witch she had met in the Wilds a few days ago standing beside her, inspecting her with curious eyes.
"Morrigan?" Elissa asked, her eyes looking wildly around the inside of the ramshackle shack in which Morrigan and her Mother had taken up residence, and noting she had been stripped down to her small clothes and tucked into a small uncomfortable bed.
"Ah, your eyes finally open, Mother will be pleased," the witch laughed, offering her a half smile. "How does your memory fare? Do you remember Mother's rescue?"
"I-I…" Elissa stuttered, rubbing at her temple with the hand on her uninjured arm and noting the bandages on that shoulder were still lightly stained with blood. "I have a vague recollection of being swarmed by darkspawn… after that… nothing."
"Mother managed to save you, and your friend, though 'twas a close call." Morrigan explained, walking over to retrieve her armor and weapons from a nearby chest, then turning back to her. "What is important is that you both live. The man who was to respond to your signal, quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred, save yourself and one other… and, your friend… he is not taking it well."
"My friend?" Elissa asked, reaching over to take her accoutrements from the other woman, her brows knitting in confusion for a moment as she fought to recover her memories. "You mean Alistair?"
"The suspicious dim-witted one who was with you before, yes," the witch responded, rolling her eyes and stalking over to a nearby table where she began fiddling with various poultices and potions. "He is outside by the fire with Mother. She asked to see you when you awoke."
"Why does she need to see me?" Elissa mused, more to herself than to the woman's daughter – rising gingerly from the bed and beginning to redress herself. "I'm certain Alistair is perfectly capable of answering any questions she would have."
"I do not know her reasons." Morrigan responded, chuckling with slight irritation - whether at her words or her mother's reluctance to share information she did not know. "She rarely tells me her plans."
"Were my injuries severe?" Elissa asked, running her fingers over the edges of her bandage before setting to work strapping on her breast plate and trying to ignore the two gaping holes in back and front where the arrows had penetrated it. "My shoulder is a bit tender, but otherwise I feel… surprisingly well considering the two arrows I distinctly remember being lodged there."
"They were quite severe, and you lost a great deal of blood, but I expect you shall be fine now," the witch assured her, reaching her fingers under the edge of the bandage and rubbing a bit of salve at the larger of the two scars before Elissa had fully secured her armor. "The darkspawn did no damage that Mother could not heal."
"What about Alistair? Was he injured?" she questioned, knowing the apostate bore no love for her friend but needing to be reassured that he had managed to make it through the ordeal at least as unscathed as she.
"He is… as you are… physically healed." Morrigan answered, her brows knitting as she met the other woman's eyes reluctantly. "I suppose it would be unkind to say he is being childish."
"Alistair can be a bit… dramatic…" Elissa admitted, sighing heavily as she remembered his frustration at being excluded from the main battle – something that, in retrospect, had no doubt saved both of their lives. "But he has lost everything he knew in the blink of an eye. I know that feeling all too well. It is difficult to remain focused in the face of it."
"And yet you remain focused…" Morrigan said, watching the other woman carefully with her golden eyes.
"Ha!" Elissa laughed, sitting down on the bed and buckling her boots back on. "Perhaps I just choose to be unfocused when no one is looking."
"Perhaps…" the witch chuckled in response, leaning against a nearby table and crossing her arms over her chest.
"I have a question, if you don't mind." Elissa continued, hoping that her polite request would encourage the prickly apostate to speak freely.
"I do not mind." Morrigan said, with another half smile. "Take your time."
"Are we safe here? It seems that taking refuge in the midst of wilderness teeming with tainted monstrosities might not be the best place to recuperate." Elissa noted, standing and reaching for her blades, anchoring each sheath at her back with expert fingers. "Where are the darkspawn?"
"I assure you, we are safe here… for the moment," the witch answered, watching the other woman pace over to her bow and quiver where they leaned against the wall. "Mother's magic keeps the darkspawn away. Once you leave, 'tis uncertain what will happen. The horde has moved on, so you might avoid it."
"How on earth did your Mother even to rescue us? From what little I recall, we were stranded at the top of that tower and completely surrounded…" Elissa queried, buckling the straps of her quiver just underneath her bust line. "More importantly, why did she feel the need to? Alistair and I were certainly not the most important people on the field of battle, not when she could have saved the King and Warden-Commander much more easily."
"Mother claims she turned into a giant bird and plucked the two of you from the top of the tower, one in each talon. If you do not believe that tale, then I suggest you ask her yourself… she may even tell you." Morrigan laughed, watching the incredulity etch into the other woman's face as she slung her bow over her shoulder. "As to the why portion of your question, I wonder at that myself. But, as I said, Mother rarely makes her plans known to me... but I am certain she has one… she always does."
"Well, I have taken up enough of your time with my silly questions." Elissa quipped, strolling over to the door and trying not to think about the elderly witch's plans and how she and Alistair might fit into them. "Thank you for helping me, Morrigan."
"I… you are welcome," the witch replied, startled at the sincerity in the other woman's voice. "Mother did most of the work. I am no healer."
Elissa smiled sincerely, pushing the door open and stepping out into the swamp in which the apostates had made their home. She was very nearly flattened by her hound as she pressed the door shut behind her, the great beast bounding over, and desperately licking at her face and hands as he echoed happy barks and whines into the surrounding trees.
"See! Here is your fellow Grey Warden," the old woman said, her attention drawn away from her inspection of the swampy landscape by the hounds' excitement. "You worry too much, young man."
"You… you're alive!" Alistair choked out, his words almost a whisper as he strode over to her, reaching up to cup her face with both hands and stroking lightly at her temples with his thumbs. "When I saw those arrows… I-I wasn't sure you'd make it."
"Silly… it takes more than a few darkspawn to kill me." Elissa replied, smiling up at him and trying to fight down the blush threatening to creep into her face at his tender touch on her skin and the way he was looking at her as though she were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes upon.
"Duncan's dead… the rest of the Grey Wardens… the King… they're all dead," he said, his voice low and broken, the amber of his eyes swimming with unshed tears as he released her face and moved away, staring into the distance. "This doesn't seem real. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead in that tower just as sure as the others."
"Do not speak of me as if I am not present, lad," the old woman snapped, drawing both Wardens' out of their private reunion and focusing their attention back on her.
"I-I didn't mean…" Alistair started, waving his hands about and trying to undo the damage he had somehow managed to do with his poorly chosen words. "But what do we call you? You never told us your name."
"Names are pretty, but useless," the old woman replied, looking pointedly to Elissa who arched an eyebrow in response, wondering why that comment should be directed at her. "The Chaisnd folk call me Flemeth. I suppose that will do."
"You're the Flemeth! From the Legends of old?" Elissa gasped, her mind running back to the things the old woman had just known when last they met – if this woman was indeed Flemeth, that knowledge and those predictions were all the more haunting.
"Daveth was right, you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?" Alistair asked, his eyes wide in surprise and awe.
"And what does that mean?" Flemeth snorted, her features growing cross. "I know a bit of magic and it has served you both well, has it not?"
"If you are Flemeth, then you must be very old and exceptionally powerful." Elissa noted, eyeing the old woman cautiously and thinking that suddenly Morrigan's story of her mother's talon-toting rescue no longer seemed implausible.
"Must I?" Flemeth replied, arching an eyebrow at the young woman. "Age and power are relative. The answer is dependent on who is asking the question, and when it is being asked. Compared to you, in this moment, yes – on both counts."
"In this moment? What do you…" Elissa began, narrowing her eyes and stepping closer to the witch before Alistair's voice interrupted them.
"If you are so powerful, then why didn't you save Duncan?" Alistair asked, confusion crossing his face along with the pain of his loss. "He is… he was our leader."
"Duncan's destiny was already written, even I cannot change some things." Flemeth answered, and the two Wardens could see that the sentiment she offered was sincere. "I am sorry for your Duncan, but your grief must come later," she finished, turning her focus once again to Elissa. "In the shadows… before you take vengeance, as my mother used to say. Duty must come first now."
Elissa shivered, it was truly as though this woman could read her very soul.
"Is that why you saved us?" Elissa asked, refusing to allow herself to show how much Flemeth's words were effecting her. "For our duty?"
"We cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we?" Flemeth answered, chuckling slightly. "Someone has to deal with these darkspawn. It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"
"It changed when most of them were slaughtered." Elissa snapped, suddenly realizing that the woman actually believed that she and Alistair were capable of stopping something an entire army had died in the face of.
"If you think small numbers make you helpless, then you are already defeated," the old woman responded, her voice low and foreboding. "And you have already survived the impossible, not once, but twice. I would think something such as that would make it clear you have a far bigger part to play when all is said and done."
Elissa knew Alistair's eyes were on her. She had watched him turn her way when Flemeth revealed more of her past, but she ignored him and remained focused on getting what information she could from the witch before the conversation dissolved into riddles and misdirection as it had before.
"Surviving once, perhaps, surviving multiple times... well, now let's just say I get the distinct impression the Universe is hellbent on orchestrating my demise." she mumbled ruefully, clearing her throat and pulling the focus back off of her personal life and onto the issue at hand "Before all this happened, The Wardens had been fighting the darkspawn with King Cailan successfully, and would have easily seen victory again at Ostagar were it not for…" Elissa said, pushing her hands up into her hair in frustration. "I just can't wrap my mind around why Loghain would do this?"
"Now that is a good question!" Flemeth noted, her face lighting up with a smile as she looked on the young woman before her with something akin to pride in her eyes. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see the evil behind it is the true threat."
"The Archdemon." Alistair interjected, his voice almost a whisper.
"If this Archdemon is the root of the problem, then we need to locate it… and remove it from the equation." Elissa postulated, raising her head and worrying with the trinket beneath her breastplate as she thought.
"By ourselves!" Alistair spat, shaking his head at her easy assertion in frustration, before beginning to pace frantically. "No Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half dozen nations at their back. Not to mention I don't know how."
"How to kill the Archdemon or how to raise an army? It seems to me those are two different questions." Flemeth queried, inspecting the elder of the two Wardens carefully. "Have the Wardens no allies these days?"
Elissa's features softened as she watched her fellow Warden pacing by the swamp's edge, his handsome features drawn and strained as he tried to decide what should be done. It was then she realized how highly stacked the odds against them were. They were completely alone, and only newly made in the Wardens image, Alistair having taken his Joining only six months prior to her own. They had no idea what was even required of them when it came to stopping a Blight, much less how to accomplish it.
Her mind began to race, struggling to recall any useful information she had managed to assimilate during her brief time with Duncan, trying to pull forth any scrap of information that might be useful to them.
"I-I…. Don't know…" Alistair admitted, his voice breaking again as the witch turned from him back to Elissa as though she would have the answers.
"Well don't look at me! Alistair is the senior Warden here, if he doesn't know, then I certainly don't!" Elissa hissed, pinching at the bridge of her nose and trying to will away the headache building there.
"All the Grey Wardens in Ferelden are gone now except for us! I've lost everything!" Alistair snapped, stomping over to her and grabbing her shoulders angrily, his long fingers biting painfully into the wound beneath them. "For the love of the Maker, don't back out on me now!"
"I just lost my entire family, my friends, and the man who saved my life. Don't you dare speak to me of loss as though I do not understand it!" Elissa hissed, reaching up to throw his arms loose from her, then wincing in pain from the strain on her injured shoulder.
"You, of all people, should see that if we do nothing, all those we lost, all of these deaths will be in vain… and I cannot allow that." Alistair pleaded, his eyes both furious and fearful. "But I can do nothing alone. I need you with me, please."
"I'm not abandoning you, Alistair." Elissa sighed, the passion and choice of his words making her heart ache. "I simply do not have the answers… we should contact the rest of the Grey Wardens, find someone who actually does have them."
"The King already summoned them." Alistair replied, shaking his head wearily. "They will come if they can, but after… I would expect that Loghain has already taken steps to ensure they do not arrive. We should assume that they won't get here in time."
"It all comes back here, doesn't it? To Loghain…" Elissa mused, chewing at her bottom lip in thought. "What could he possibly hope to gain by betraying Cailan this way?"
"The throne? He is the queen's father." Alistair answered, running his hand through his hair. "Still, I can't see how he expects to get away with murder once people discover what happened here."
"You speak as if he would be the first king to gain his throne in such a way, and to do so uncontested." Flemeth barked, her laughter a hard sound. "Grow up, boy!"
"If Arl Eamon knew what he did, he would never stand for it!" Alistair snapped, facing off against the witch for a moment before thinking better of the idea and turning away. "The Landsmeet would never stand for it! It would be Civil War."
"You believe the Arl would believe us over the bloody Hero of the River Dane?" Elissa laughed, rubbing at her eyes in disbelief. "We are nothing. Our words are meaningless."
"You are far from nothing, both of you." Flemeth said, watching the two of them inspect each other with curious eyes at her words, before pulling back to their own personal musings. "And I suspect that your words will carry far more weight than you may believe."
"I can't say that he will believe us for certain, but I cannot believe that he would not at least hear us out before making a decision." Alistair offered, starting to pace again. "Eamon wasn't at Ostagar, so he still has all his men. He was Cailan's uncle, so his loss was great. I know him well. He is a good man, and his voice is respected in Ferelden and in the Landsmeet. We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help."
"You should remember that both of us would have thought Loghain to be a good man prior to his betrayal at Ostagar." Elissa warned, knowing he would fight her but needing him to hear her words and understand just how important caution would be from this moment forward. After having been on the receiving end of both Howe and Loghain's treacherous misdeeds, she was hesitant to trust anyone ever again.
"Eamon would never do what Loghain did!" Alistair insisted vehemently, shaking his hands about emphatically as he spoke. "I know him too well. But even if we managed to gain his support, his armies alone would not be enough to turn the battle against the darkspawn in our favor."
"Surely there are other allies we can call on?" Elissa said, more to herself than anyone.
"Now there is a smart lass!" Flemeth said brightly, and as Elissa raised her eyes to the old woman realization dawned on her face.
"Of course!" she said, flipping her pack around and starting to dig through it tossing things about violently until she found what she was looking for. "The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages and other places during a Blight! They're obligated to help us, and I still have these!"
Alistair's face lit as he stopped mid pace and stormed over to where she stood, reaching to take the treaties and look them over.
"I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this… Arl Eamon… and who knows what else…" Flemeth chuckled, eyeing the pair with amusement. "This sounds like an army to me."
"So, can we do this?" Alistair asked, sounding and feeling hopeful for the first time since Elissa had lain eyes upon him again. "Go to Redcliffe and all the other places and… build an army?"
"I doubt it will be as easy as that." Elissa replied, not wanting to crush his spirit, but unable to ignore the size of the task laid out before them.
"When is it ever?" Flemeth chortled.
"It's always been a Grey Warden's duty to stand against a Blight." Alistair said, handing the treaties back to the younger Warden and holding onto her hands for a moment. "Right now, we are the Grey Wardens. If we don't do it, no one will."
"I know you're right Alistair, it's just…" Elissa started, but faltered when she finally forced herself to meet his eyes and saw what was burning there - hope and perseverance and a true belief they were actually capable of pulling it off. "Oh, Maker… we're really going to do this, aren't we? Raise an army, start a war? I must have truly gone insane!"
Taking her response as a yes, Alistair suddenly grabbed her in his arms and spun her around, hugging her against him tightly. She couldn't stifle the giggle that rumbled out of her at the sensation, before he sat her down on the ground again. He looked down at her, smiling, hesitant to let go. Her eyes were sparkling, and she was alive, and he somehow believed with her at his side they could manage this impossible task ahead of them.
"So, you're set then…" Flemeth's voice interrupted, and she watched with great amusement as Alistair blushed to the roots of his hair and quickly released and moved away from his fellow Warden. "Ready to be Grey Wardens?"
"Yes, Flemeth." Elissa replied, fighting a slight blush of her own and thinking how utterly adorable Alistair looked when he was mortified at his own behavior. "Thank you, for everything."
"No, no… thank you, you are the Grey Wardens here, not I." Flemeth replied, watching as Elissa replaced all of the items she had hastily tossed from her pack and anchored it back behind her again. "Now, before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you."
"The stew is bubbling, Mother dear." Morrigan's voice rang out, Elissa turned to watch the sultry young witch emerge from the hut behind them. "Shall we have two guests for the eve, or none?"
"The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl." Flemeth explained, eying her daughter with a smirk. "And you will be joining them."
"Such a shame…" Morrigan began, clearly not at all upset they were leaving – but suddenly losing the smirk and the attitude when the remainder of her mother's words sank in. "What?"
"You heard me! The last time I looked you had ears!" Flemeth said, laughing heartily.
"Thank you, Flemeth." Elissa said, noticing the trepidation etched into the usually impassive witch's features. "But if Morrigan doesn't want to join us…"
"Her magic will be useful." Flemeth insisted, waving off her arguments with the flick of an ancient gnarled wrist. "Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get around the horde."
"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan spat, looking back and forth between the two women so content to discuss her fate as though she was not there.
"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years! Here is your chance," the old woman said in acknowledgement, before turning back to the Wardens. "As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."
"Why do I get the feeling this was your plan all along?" Elissa said, eyes narrowing again as she inspected the elder witch.
"Pardon me, but I had the impression you needed assistance, whatever the form." Flemeth replied, narrowing her own eyes dangerously in response.
"Not to look a gift witch in the mouth… so to speak…" Alistair cautiously interrupted, trying to diffuse the tension carried in the glares passing between the two women. "But won't this add to our problems? Out of the Wilds, your daughter is an apostate…"
"If you are so hesitant to take help from us illegal witches," Flemeth snapped, turning her glare onto the former Templar, "perhaps I should have left you in that tower after all."
"Point… taken…" Alistair answered, cowering quickly under her fury.
"Mother… this is not how I wanted this…" Morrigan began, her face taking on a distinct air of sadness that was not missed by her new companions to be. "I am not even ready!"
"You must be ready!" Flemeth insisted, brushing off her hesitation with an impatient flourish of her hand. "Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They will need you, Morrigan. Without you, I fear they will surely fail, and all will perish beneath the surging tide of the Blight. Even I."
"I… understand." Morrigan replied, caving beneath the weight of her mother's words.
"And you? Do you understand?" Flemeth said, turning once again to Elissa. "I give you that which I value above all else in the world, and I do this because you must succeed. If you fail at the task laid out before you, then all of Ferelden – at the very least – shall fall."
"So long as I live, she will not come to harm with us." Elissa pledged, meeting the older witch's eyes with an intensity that put a smile back onto her face.
"Allow me to gather my things if you please." Morrigan said, disappearing for a moment into the rickety hut, and then reappearing with a pack of her own and moving back to Elissa's side. "Farewell Mother, do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut." The younger witch snipped.
"Bah! 'Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight!" Flemeth retorted, crossing her arms.
"I… all I meant was…" Morrigan replied, cowed by her mother's words.
"Yes, I know." Flemeth smiled, patting her daughter on the arm one last time. "Do try to have some fun dear."
Moments later, three humans and a dog, suddenly tasked with the fate of an entire nation, stumbled wearily into the Wilds. Elissa turned back one last time as they reached the crest of the nearby hill, meeting the elder witch's eyes and exchanging a curt nod before disappearing into the trees.