Thank you for your reviews, readership, favs, alerts and fun :) I am writing shorter chapters in attempt to post more often so the story will keep moving. :) This chapter's dialogue has changed for those of you who have seen it before when I attempted to split the story. Dumb idea. Explanations will unfold in future chapters.

Thank you!

Lyrium Ghost Chapter 36: My Lord Broodyship

Marian felt like she was being ripped from her mother's womb again, away from warmth and ignorant bliss, thrust into the cold world that waited. During the journey, the cohesive bond between magic and soul was broken. The amulet had separated them and the pieces that made her whole no longer fit. Marian fought to return to the Fade, where her power was boundless, and the addiction could be fed. She screamed, but it was silent, lost eternally to the Fade. The echo, however, would forever remain, whispered on the lips of demons.

She could hear words of comfort, two distinct voices encouraging her to live. Someone had taken her into their arms and held her close. Fenris, she wondered lazily. The touch was almost painful. Sensations had become memories and memories reality in her dream world. He could not know that every nerve cried out for reprieve, or that the stroke of his fingers felt like abrasion over freshly burnt flesh.

For a brief moment she was in the waking world with its vivid colors and glaring light. It was bold and crass and unwilling to shape itself into anything recognizable. Her dreams warmed by muted light, the shade of aged paper was no more.

Those days she spent in the Fade she imagined to be warm autumn days where the occasional cold rush of air would hide in the wind and jump out to catch her breath. In that chilling breeze she could feel—rather remember—the threat of winter. It was a memory she desperately clung to in a place of dreams, where life was mentally lived.

The imagined world had been her salvation from Lord Burgamond's thoughts and grotesque actions. Young women were brought to his mansion, stripped of their virginity in the most humiliating fashion and sent on their way to the brothel. It was their indoctrination, as he liked to call it. He destroyed lives to advance his own and took pleasure from it. His thoughts betrayed that he felt invincible when others were at his mercy. Beneath this malcontent, Marian had found the cause of his ever growing need to dominate: acceptance. His father, from what she could see, was a harsh businessman, brutal to the point of snuffing out life regardless of age. Altan never lived up to his father's expectations, never received praise and he was simply washed away by his father's ravenous ego. Marian, to her disgust, sympathized. Her father had not been perfect but there was no limitation placed on his love and understanding. But regardless, Altan had a choice and he chose to be corrupt.

When watching Burgamond's life unfold became too much, Marian would recede further into the Fade, which she learned to shape, and she would become lost in her creativity. Her dreams often started out as romantic notions spent with Fenris in beautiful worlds that did not exist. In places where no petal or leaf was stained and day spilled into night like a newly fallen leaf on the water, still, calm, adrift without turbulence; a perfect reflection of what she wished.

Fenris stood before her in a remembered meadow of her childhood. She studied him as an artist would a landscape, and she began to paint him, her canvas, in different shades. The lyrium-burnt hair faded to dark, slightly lighter than the color of his eyebrows. The tattoos vanished, and with them the pain. She had asked on more than one occasion, is this still Fenris or is it Leto? In the end, it did not matter. After turning his image into a multitude of different shapes, sizes, races, including dwarf, human and anything that took her fancy, she would return him to his former appearance. That was the man who she loved.

Marian's mind imagined further, always pushing the boundaries beyond what the Fade had intended for mortals. History was rewritten, a world where slavery, the Blight, illness, poverty and the failings of mankind did not exist. Fenris's markings fell from his skin and shattered onto the earth; the pain was no more. She imagined that the elves had not fallen to the Imperium. They were a free, noble people living the life that she believed the Maker had intended them to live. The great Elvhen city of Arlathan was conjured; a marvel of architecture, culture, history; the majestic center of the Elven world.

This fantastical world eventually overrode all other dreams and it became her reality. The possibilities were endless. Perhaps Fenris was a prince in this Elven land or her Elven overlord, one with a fierce sexual appetite that commanded her to do unspeakable acts to his body. The idea was not too hard to conceive since he was regal in movement and speech. Well, when she could forget his more flawed actions, like the time he stood outside of the gallows throwing expensive bottles of wine at random mages in a drunken rage. Marian had been unable to relinquish the memory of that incident even while floating on the currents of the unreal. It made her smile; his obstinacy had no bounds.

Eventually, when Marian's sexual desires were satiated she would walk with Fenris through the woods or the meadow, speaking at length about their wishes and desires. Often, these conversations were filled with laughter, and the worrisome life they led in reality faded.

The pleasant existence she had created in the Fade was about to end. Marian did not welcome it. She had spoken to her father at length about her fears and the agony of returning to a body that had been damaged. "Perhaps," she had said to Malcolm, "it would be best if she remained."

But he had said that her memories would fade with time. Smell, touch taste, sound, it would leave and become impossible to imagine, and eventually she would crave sensations again. She would forget what it was to be touched, to listen to another, to hear the sound of children, to be loved. That is why he had clung desperately to the place that felt like home, where his favorite and strongest memories held the most meaning. But it had dwindled down to a moment of one day, and since he could no longer accurately imagine his wife and children, he sat alone in the warm sunlight, drinking his tea in the kitchen. It was the last part of his life that he could distinctly remember until Marian had returned and reminded him of his past life. That was why it had become so hard for him to possess a person and return to the Fade. He had done it for her, for his Marian, but he had suffered like a man without water. The yearning to return was cruel and he told her the same would happen if she were to remain.

When the time to return had finally come, Marian tried to go back to her father, but he would not receive her no matter how much she pleaded. Instead, Malcolm used what influence he had in the Fade to expedite her journey back to her body. It had taken all his will not follow through the open door and posses his own daughter.

Marian awoke, urged onwards by her father's words. There was a sound, a rhythmic humming. She turned in the direction of the sound and a blurry image of Fenris suddenly came in to her field of vision. He was seated next to the bed reading. The lines of concentration on his brow brought about a small wave of happiness in Marian. It had been a pleasure to teach him to read and rewarding beyond words to watch. It was a perfect sight.

Her mind focused elsewhere. This was not Kirkwall, of that she was certain. The air felt warm and dry, it smelled like a fresh spring day just after it had rained. Green, she guessed, if a color had to be attributed to a smell. The water was clearing from her eyes, the room coming into focus for the first time.

She was lying on an overstuffed feather mattress, her head cradled by pillows, and a bright quilt embroiled with dainty flowers covered her body. A steady breeze, which she felt upon waking, was blowing through two large rustic windows. Outside, she could see the tops of pink coneflowers intermixed with purple sage wavering around in the playful wind. Somehow, and she could never figure out how, the fat bees that had nestled into the heads were not flicked away when the stems bowed. Sticky feet, she guessed.

The bedroom was large, made of limestone and plaster that had been painted a pleasant beige. Above, there was a beamed ceiling and below, tiles of reddish brown. She was surrounded by sturdy Orlesian country furniture, some of which was engraved and stenciled with simple designs. It was tasteful, more cheery and inviting than her furniture in Kirkwall. This place, it felt… like a real home, not some pretentious display of wealth.

She was ready now, ready to put the Fade behind and join the living again.

"My Lord Broodyship," Marian whispered despite her parched throat. "I have missed you."

Fenris's olivine eyes snapped up from his book to meet her own. For a moment he did nothing but stare, his face a picture of wonderment. At last, when reality dispersed his doubts, he threw his book to the ground and leapt from his chair. Marian watched as the chair toppled over from the force of his movement.

Fenris was at her side and she smiled in defiance of the pain. His stern features melted into a soft display of love and adoration. "Thank the Maker," Marian heard him whisper. The elf knelt by the bedside, his eyes wide and tearful, and he did not hesitate to gently kiss her on the lips.

"Marian," he whispered against her lips. It was not the Fade and the pain was real, but to feel his warm breath, to smell his sun kissed skin and to taste him was more rewarding than anything she could imagine. He was real, tangible, the colors of his clothing and body vivid and alive.

"It is real," Marian confirmed, her voice coarse and her words nearly inaudible. But those keen Elven ears heard every one and they were enough to make the tears drop from his eyes. "You are here, Fenris."

"No," Fenris smiled. "You are here."

She tried to laugh but the pain from the inhalation of air was so great that she believed her chest had collapsed. Hot tears fell sharply down her cheeks, over the tender flesh on her face and it stung. Marian felt as if she had buried her head deeply into a thorn-filled rosebush. Fenris noticed that she was trying to scream. He grabbed an elfroot potion on the bedside table and bade her to drink. Marian did without question. After a deep breath the pain faded from her face and chest.

"Why do I hurt, Fenris?" Marian asked, her eyes searching his like a hurt and scared child. "Every part of me feels as if it has been torn and broken."

Fenris looked away, to the ground, anywhere but at Marian. "They tried to destroy you," he answered. "Do you not remember what I said to you in the Fade?"

"Yes... I do not know," Marian finally admitted. "The memories of that place are not as clear to me now."

"Perhaps, it would be best to have this conversation later," Fenris said. "It can wait." He lightly petted her hand. "You are here and awake. Please do not rush this moment."

Marian's hand reached out and cupped his cheek. His eyes closed as he reveled in her touch, a feeling he once believed he may never experience again. "Fenris," Marian whispered. "What has happened?"

"Another time, Marian," Fenris said. It sounded selfish to deny her an explanation, but he had lived this mess she had created every single day since she had been found in the crate. She slept and he fought to keep her alive. The same questions hour after hour, sometimes each minute, went through his mind: Will she die, will she not? How do we feed her? Why will she not wake? What do we do if she never wakes? How do we escape to Orlais with her body? And it had never ceased. "This can wait." He laid his forehead against her own and his eyes closed in what looked to be immeasurable pain. "Let me have this moment."

She looked at him askance, the Hawke stubbornness ever present. "I need answers, Fenris. I am... confused." Marian tried to raise her head to see the extent of the damage to her body, but her neck felt as if it would buckle under the wait of her head. "I feel so weak."

Fenris rose from the ground. He turned away and his hand buried itself deep into his scruffy hair where it worriedly massaged his scalp. "Leave it be for now." He heard the inevitable argument form on her lips and he faced her then, stopping the words before they could be spoken. "Do this for me, Marian. Do it for yourself."

Her eyes closed and she nodded. "I am sorry," she said. "I… cannot think. My thoughts are jumbled."

It was odd for Fenris to see the body that he had watched and prayed over, move and react. This was what he had wanted, dreamed of, fought for, but now that she was finally awake he found it did not live up to expectations. Fenris had come to terms with Marian's injuries while she slept and he had forgiven her, but their relationship needed time to heal.

"Fenris?" Marian asked, her voice tinged with concern. "Do you…"

Fenris walked away from the window and to her side. He looked down into her eyes and there he saw a very frightened woman. "What is it Marian?" he whispered, gentle as a breeze. "Are you in pain? Should I fetch Sol?"

"Sol?" Marian asked. "Where are we?" Of course she did not know, the events had unfolded while she slept.

"We are in Val Jouel," Fenris said softly. Patience, this was going to require patience. "The world has changed since you were last aware." They were speaking together, she was awake and the questions were pouring out from her lips, but it felt unreal. He did not want to answer or listen; he only wished to stare into her open eyes, to see the life in them that had been closed away for weeks.

She rolled her head to the side. It was one of the few parts of her body she could move without feeling excruciating pain. "Do you still love me?"

Fenris leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Perhaps the question should be: how could I not?" He saw that she had attempted to smile through her pain, it had tugged at her lips, but never fully blossomed. That saddened him more than their current conversation. He had missed that smile. "But Marian…" She looked up at him. "What we had no longer exists; therefore, we will have to forge something new."

She nodded, but said nothing. The elfroot was wearing thin and the pain was edging towards unbearable. Fenris's words had provided her with enough comfort to know that he was still a part of her life. Exactly what that entailed remained a mystery.