"What?"
Flemeth looked annoyed. She increased whatever magic she was using against Morrigan, increasing the girl's agony.
"The Old Gods," she said. "Where are they?"
Lance scowled at her. Morrigan leaned heavily against him so that he was basically holding her up. She wavered, groaned in agony.
"Out…" she moaned. "Out of my mind…"
"What are you doing to her?" Lance demanded. He might have fought now, if he thought he had half a chance at it. "Stop it!"
"Tell me where the Old Gods are. There are only two."
"What? Why the hell would I know? Let her go!"
"Every Warden Commander is informed of the location of the Old Gods," Flemeth explained. "You must have been given their locations."
Lance gaped. He had no idea that the Old Gods could be found, or that the Wardens knew where they were. Was it true? Was Flemeth lying to him? Perhaps she was just trying to torture him more?
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Lance. Morrigan cried out, taking considerable effort not to scream aloud. "Please! Let her go."
"It took me many years to find Urthemiel," said Flemeth. "I have planned for centuries my victory. You worthless pup ruined it, and you will fix it."
"You?" Lance asked, his voice coming in a hoarse whisper. "You did it?"
And at once he was overcome with fury, aimed right at Flemeth.
"I'm going to kill you," he said. Flemeth smiled at him.
"No, you won't."
There was a wave of force, Morrigan swept off her feet and landing some distance away. Lance turned, tensed his muscles to run to her side, to save her again.
And then he got the incredible urge not to.
"Tell me," said Flemeth. Lance worked his mouth uselessly. He couldn't speak, didn't know what he could say. He was overcome with the desire to move, to force his feet forward. He didn't know why, couldn't imagine what he would do.
And then his foot moved, against his will. His right foot scraped along the ground, kicking up a considerable amount of dust. His left foot moved, grinding across the stone floor.
"Oh, Maker, no," Lance whispered. His hand twitched, right arm jerking madly as it moved without his permission.
"Where are the Old Gods?"
Lance looked back at her, even as he was clumsily walking towards Morrigan's writhing form not ten feet away now.
"What are you doing? I don't know where they are."
"Where are they?"
Lance felt his arm jerk again, rise in front of him, fingers stretching out, reaching for Morrigan. He was overcome with desire, seething, burning desire. The desire to kill.
"No!" Lance screamed, unable to keep himself from approaching Morrigan. She was groaning, scratching at her scalp as she was wracked with Flemeth's mental assault.
"Where, Warden? Where?"
"I don't know! Please, I'm telling you the truth."
He was looming over Morrigan now, muscles in painful spasm. He was shouting, fighting with every ounce of his ability to keep himself from getting any closer to her.
His Templar powers were failing him, the mental discipline falling through now. He was incapable of resisting. He simply couldn't stop himself.
"Morrigan, run!" he shouted. "Please, Morrigan, run!"
"This can end, Warden. Just tell me what I need to know."
"Stop it!" he shouted, hands forcing themselves to Morrigan's throat. "Stop it! I don't know anything, I swear!"
He gripped her throat, fought, eyes filling with tears now. He squeezed against his will, and Morrigan snapped to, eyes wide, hands pulling at his wrists.
"Morrigan, I'm so sorry," he whimpered. "Please! Let her go! It's me you want!"
His left hand released her. His entire shoulder cramped with painful exertion as his arm cocked back, fingers balling into a fist. Morrigan clawed at him, kicking, searching for an escape.
"Stop! I don't know where they are, I swear I don't. Let her go! She's your daughter for pity's sake!"
There was a sudden flash in his mind, and he was falling. He landed on the floor near Morrigan, limp.
She was coughing and gasping and gagging, clutching her throat.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. She didn't say anything. Instead she struggled to her feet.
"Mother," she rasped. And then she was on the floor once more, Flemeth suddenly over them both, hand in a fist.
"I believe you, Warden," said Flemeth. "For what it's worth."
He reached out for Morrigan, fighting the ache and fatigue that had overcome him. He grabbed her boot, settled for it.
"He is right, though," said Flemeth. "You are my daughter. My weak, pitiful daughter."
And then she was reaching down. "I should punish you for your insolence."
And she held Morrigan up by the collar of her robe. "I should punish your weakness."
Lance felt the sting in her words as keenly as Morrigan must. Morrigan prided her strength, her capability above all else. Flemeth was breaking her on the inside, more than she already had.
"I should have known you weren't strong enough for your appointed task," said Flemeth. "I should have known better than to send the weakest of all my hundreds of daughters."
She struck Morrigan down, kicking her once when she hit the floor.
"Did he change you, I wonder? Did he say something to turn your heart against me?"
She squatted down to speak to Morrigan.
"What, I must know, did he say? Did he make promises, did he whisper sweet nothings?"
Morrigan didn't speak for a long moment. Then, almost too light to hear, she whispered, "I love him."
"Bah, love. What do you know of it, girl? What do you know of it that I do not?"
Morrigan didn't answer her mother. So Flemeth answered her own question.
"Love is rotten. Love is a lie. Love is weakness of the soul. And Love is ultimately worth nothing. Least of all your love."
Morrigan twitched, curled into a ball. Lance couldn't move. He wanted so badly to kill Flemeth, to break her in half. He wanted to avenge every single time she had wronged Morrigan. He wanted to kill her for being a maleficar and a snake. He wanted to kill her for saving his life. He wanted to kill her for hurting him.
Mostly, he just wanted to shut her up.
"He lied, you know," she whispered into Morrigan's ear. "He doesn't love you. How could he? You betrayed him, and he will always remember it. He will never forget it. He knows you now. He knows that you and I aren't so dissimilar. He knows that you will hurt him again, and he hates you for it."
Morrigan might have been sobbing. From where he lay, Lance couldn't tell. He was sure that she was close.
"When did he last touch you? Because it disgusted him. He cannot even look upon you without feeling utter revulsion. Towards you and towards himself for staying beside you."
Lance made a fist, straining himself to do even that much.
"Soon enough he will leave, for a woman that he finds worthy of his attention. You will have nothing, save the broken heart and the sad tales."
She grinned down at her daughter. And then sneered.
"Look at you. You disgust me. This man is good and noble, his heart is pure, and you come along and make such a sodding mess of it. You ruined his life, shattered his destiny. You bring nothing but pain and suffering wherever you go. You are not human, Morrigan – humans feel shame and remorse for having hurt another. You are a dog, less than that even; dogs have uses.
"You are a beast, an animal no better than the creatures you mimicked in the Wilds. You should have stayed there, to save the world the trouble of your existence. I should kill you, you know, like any responsible owner would when their dog has hurt so many. It is the only fair thing to do."
Then her tone softened, and she even smiled warmly down at Morrigan.
"But I cannot. You are my daughter, and I care for you just the same. Please, Morrigan, leave this man. Come home to me. Come back to the Wilds. We can forget this ever happened."
"You forgive me?" Morrigan asked, voice shaking. Lance couldn't believe it.
"Yes, my daughter, I forgive you. Just return home with me."
"'Twill be as it was?"
"Yes."
There was a pause. Lance felt his heart sink. And then he was overcome with joy to hear her speak.
"If 'tis all the same to you, mother, sod off."
"That's my girl!" Lance said.
Flemeth huffed and stood. "That's what I get for allowing you freedom. Oh, well."
She stepped away from Morrigan. "You do not have a choice. If this Warden cannot help me, then I will attract a Warden who can. And you, Morrigan, shall fulfill the destiny I birthed you for."
"The baby," said Lance. "The Old God? That's what this is all about?"
Morrigan grabbed the leg of his trousers, clutching him tightly.
"Yes, Warden, the child is the goal."
"Why? What did you hope to gain?"
Flemeth looked back at him, scowling as though she couldn't believe his ignorance.
"Everything," she said. "Everything. The child was to be the key – will be the key – to everything. The past, present, future, the countless destinies of the universe, all will belong to me through that child."
"And you plan on using Morrigan to get another one?"
"Yes, of course. She is my daughter. What good is she if I cannot use her?"
Lance stared at her for a minute. Then he laughed. And laughed, body shaking with the laughter, ribs aching from it.
"What is so funny?"
"She's a Grey Warden, you stupid bitch, she can't get pregnant!"
Flemeth's eyes widened and Lance felt the sheer pride of having outwitted the master of illusions and games. The old Witch stared in disbelief, her planning, all her mental calculations, all of it amounting to somewhere between jack and shit.
"What?" Flemeth demanded. Lance only nodded, smiling.
"Yep. Trust me, it would've come up by now if she could," said Lance. And then his grin became a sneer. "You lose."
"No," said Flemeth. "I don't."
She snapped her fingers, summoning up great, blinding light to illuminate the cavern fully. Lance couldn't see, not yet. He struggled for a long time to adjust to the great white. And then he saw what she meant for him to see.
They were surrounded on all sides. There had to be dozens – no hundreds, even thousands – of eggs. Eggs he had only seen in one other place.
The Mother's lair.
"I think I will allow them to eat you," said Flemeth. "Then, I will have them destroy your Keep. Eventually the Wardens will send someone, and he will know where the Old Gods are. And then I will wait again."
"One problem with your plan," said Lance. "At least that I can see."
The eggs began to twitch, move, at Flemeth's behest. One of them peeled open, revealing the bulbous childer grub.
"What would that be, Warden?"
"Me."
Lance stood up then, rejuvenated by Morrigan's magic. Flemeth smiled, welcoming this challenge.
"Good. Let us see how long you can last," she took several large steps backwards, into the nest of eggs. More started to twitch, until the entire vast cavern was a mess of movement and sickening crunching.
Lance turned to the now exposed grub, stomped it into paste.
More eggs were opening now.
He reached down, helped Morrigan to stand. She was bruised on her cheek, where Flemeth had struck her.
"I need you," he whispered to her. "Don't believe a word she says; I love you. And we're getting out of here."
"Do not worry, my love," said Morrigan. "I can fight."
Lance looked around at the emerging grubs.
"That's good," he said. "Because we don't have a choice."