Author's Note: Thanks for everyone reviewing and following! I can't tell you how amazing it is to see so many people enjoying the story.

Chapter 37 - Two Pendents, Two Families

The trip back from the Circle tower was strange for Alistair. They had emerged from the Tower at nearly midday, having fought the entire night and most of the morning. Zevran and Alistair had offered to ride the horses so the women could sleep in Bodahn's wagon for a few hours. He had protected Serena, Leliana, and the others well enough that Alistair thought perhaps he should give him a chance, and he had found himself surprised at the relatively pleasant, if not occasionally awkward, conversation he had with the elven assassin. Zevran was full of stories from his life with the Crows, and his experiences all over Thedas.

"I know we haven't know each other very long, but... would you mind if I asked you a personal question?"

Zevran grinned at the Grey Warden. "You may ask, but I may choose not to answer."

"Fair enough," Alistair replied. He trotted his horse closer so he wouldn't have to speak loudly. Maker only knew how his face would flare red if any of their female companions heard him asking this. "Have you... err, had, very many women in your time?" He blushed, trying to rephrase the question. "I mean, you seem like the sort of man who would-"

"I have indulged, from time to time, yes," Zevran interjected. "Perhaps when my interest is not... elsewhere."

"Right," Alistair said with a nod. "Well, how do you... woo them? Is there a... technique or... do you just... have at it...?"

The elven assassin threw back his head and laughed. "Woo them? Are you serious?"

"I... yes. I don't quite know what else to call it. You see..." Alistair could feel his face redden again as he tried to explain.

Zevran put up a hand, stopping him. "So let me get this straight. You have never wooed? Not once? You are... woo-less, as it were? Perhaps I am mistaken, but I had assumed you were... otherwise occupied... with your fellow Grey Warden? Is this untrue?"

"Serena and I are close..." Alistair paused, unsure of what to say to the man about his relationship with her. "I don't know. Why? Did she say something to you about it?"

"I simply thought her mention of sparring was some Grey Warden code for sex," the elf replied, shrugging. "Tell me you were not actually out in the woods beating each other up with all your clothes still on?" Zevran laughed; as if this was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "She is the one you intend to... woo, then?"

"Yes, uh, well... it's complicated," Alistair said lamely.

"My dear friend, Alistair... trust me when I say, at the base of every relationship, it is delightfully uncomplicated. She appears to care for you, even with that haircut." He laughed again as Alistair frowned, putting a hand to his head. "Wooing, as you call it, is as simple as knowing that a woman is interested in you, and having the confidence to take her to bed, or what have you." The assassin shrugged. "Serena is a very strong, capable girl. Women like that appreciate a man who can lead, especially when it comes to sex."

"I wasn't asking about that, specifically... just, well..." Alistair smiled crookedly at the elf. "Thanks, Zevran."

"Certainly, my friend."

They made good time back to Redcliffe Castle, arriving just after the mages and their templar guards, who they found out traveled straight across the lake by enchanted boats. Among the mages the first enchanter brought with him, Serena was surprised to see her doppelganger, the mage Solona. She found herself wondering absently if she had patched things up with Ser Cullen yet.

Upon entering the main hall, Irving waved her over, smiling broadly like a proud grandfather. "Ah, there you are. We have brought lyrium, and begun preparations for the ritual. We can start whenever you are ready."

Serena looked to her companions, motioning to Morrigan. "I... don't really want to ask you to do this Morrigan, but..." She lowered her voice. "Out of everyone, you were the only one who realized in the Fade you were speaking to a demon. Wynne is very..."

"Preachy?" Morrigan supplied, smirking.

Serena bit her lip on a smile. "Err, a bit, yes, but she took a lot of convincing in the Fade, that she wasn't, you know, talking to a bunch of dead apprentices. I'd rather send someone I know I don't have to worry about." Serena hoped appealing to her sense of pride would ease the transition.

"While I loathe going back into that dreadful place, 'tis unavoidable, since you seem to be correct in that I am the only one capable of coming back in one piece." The witch rolled her golden eyes and Serena smiled, knowing she was secretly pleased at being told she was the best for the job.

"Right, well, that's settled." She turned back to the first enchanter. "I think we are ready. Morrigan will be going into the Fade, to deal with the demon."

Irving nodded. "Then let us begin forthwith. This may... take a few hours, depending on the type of demon she encounters in the Fade."

Serena nodded, going to stand back with Alistair and the others as Wynne and Jowan joined the other mages in a circle. Morrigan stood in the middle, looking haughty and bored, while the mages linked hands and began to chant. Almost immediately, Morrigan seemed to go sleepy, her eyes closing and she slumped to the floor.

"She's... going to be all right, isn't she?" Serena whispered.

"Her tenacity alone will keep her safe in the Fade, Serena," Leliana answered quietly. "I have never met someone so... strong-willed before."

Alistair snorted. "That's putting it lightly."

They watched the ritual for the better part of an hour before Serena's companions started to wander off to do other things. Noticing she was alone with Alistair in the hall, Serena felt her heartbeat pick up. She hadn't talked to him one-on-one since their time in the Fade, and she still felt generally awkward around him, unable to shake her own nightmare. He seemed to sense her restlessness, because he put a hand on her arm, and tugged her along after him.

"Where...?"

"Just wait and see," Alistair replied. He paused, looking around, and then pulled her into a side room. Serena glanced around. It was a library. Or, at least someone's study. Books lined the walls floor to ceiling, and there was a large desk in the middle of the room.

"I was thinking about it, about you, really, and how you keep a journal... with your drawings. I... wanted to show you this," Alistair said, gesturing to the wall of books. Serena felt a grin tug at her lips as she moved to one of the bookcases, scanning the titles.

"Creatures of the Wilds, Antiva: The Politics of Blood, Uncharted Lands of the South, Journal of the Tranquil, oh goodness, I bet that's both creepy and tedious... The Search for the True Prophet... Maker, the arl has a... wide variety of books." Serena pulled one of the tomes and looked at the cover. "Ohhh, A History of Ferelden Kings."

"Oh, don't read that," Alistair said, coming to stand beside her. "That just sounds boring."

"Pfft, boring? That could be you one day, you know. King Alistair." Serena put the book back, pulling down Creatures of the Wilds instead and heading to one of the small couches. "Assuming we don't all die trying to destroy the archdemon, of course."

"Oh, of course." Alistair slumped down onto couch beside her and snorted. "Can you honestly imagine a scenario where it would be a good idea to put me on the throne?"

"I'd put ten-year-old you on the throne before I'd put Loghain and his shrew of a daughter," Serena replied, pulling out her journal. "You're kind, and considerate… you look out for your companions, even the ones you don't particularly like, and you care about your country. I can't say any of those things about either of them."

"Not a fan of my late half-brother's wife, are you?" Alistair's eyebrows raised curiously. "Do you two have... history?"

Serena sighed, flipping the pages absently. Drawings of creatures, and a few of her companions, littered the pages of the journal. "You could say that, I suppose. Anora has almost 12 years on me and, to her, I'm a child. I'll always be a child. Until I'm covered in wrinkles and using a cane to bash in darkspawn skulls, I will always be her lesser. And all because she caught me twirling around in a dress once when I was five." Serena sighed heavily. "I was five..."

"Anyway. She's... nice enough, when she wants something, which is often, and obviously she's a capable enough ruler. I imagine Cailan married her because she's pretty and smart and he didn't know any better." Serena looked up into Alistair's eyes, frowning slightly. "I guess the best I can say is she is her father's daughter, through and through."

"Oh," Alistair said. Serena knew that would get what she wanted across, what she couldn't explain in words. She saw a shadow pass over Alistair's face as memories of Ostagar washed to the surface. "What do you think will happen then? If Loghain tries to formally take the throne?"

"Well, you heard Bann Teagan... the Bannorn is what really holds the power in Ferelden." Serena paused, gathering her thoughts to explain it properly. "From what I understand, our monarchy isn't really like the rest of Thedas... it's not based on blood." She patted Alistair's hand lightly. "I mean, blood helps, King Calenhad united the country, so Theirin blood matters to a great deal of people, but it's not necessary to secure the throne if the freeholders, people like Teagan, Arl Eamon, my... my father... If they support a candidate for the throne, blood or not, they can take it. That's why we have the Landsmeet."

"And if they don't support a candidate who plans on taking the throne? What then?"

"Then we risk civil war, I suppose," Serena answered. "That's why Loghain... I think that's why he was trying to get the Circle on his side; it was how King Calenhad originally took the throne. And why he sent the Crows after us. He knows the Grey Wardens, and anyone else who survived Ostagar, are aware of what he did to the king. With us out of the way, he'd only have to get a few banns on his side... he already has that snake, Howe, and he's probably parading around calling himself a teyrn now." Serena shook her head, her cheeks flaring with anger.

Now unable to relax, Serena stood, pacing the room. "I... I still can't believe it... that man... the nerve... to think he could just... ugh. If I could just get my hands on him..." She felt Alistair come to stand behind her, his hand moving to rest on her hip. Serena wished she could just lean into his embrace, but the memories of the Fade, more like scars now really, made her feel stiff around him. She put her hands on the arl's desk, her body fighting with itself at his touch.

"Serena... I... I just wanted-" His fingers lightly pressed against her skin and she felt her breath quicken. She searched the desk for something to distract him, anything. She just couldn't do this now, as badly as a large part of her wanted to touch him... Oh, Maker...

"D-d-did you see this?" Serena interrupted, moving out of his embrace and picking up a necklace from the top of the desk. "Oh, it looks like... it's seen better days." She felt Alistair turn beside her and his eyes went wide.

"Wait, that's..." He held the amulet in his hand, rubbing a thumb over the symbol of Andraste on the front. The locket looked like it had been shattered and then pain-stakingly repaired. "This is my mother's amulet."

Serena felt her jaw drop. "The... one that... broke? Why is it here?"

"The arl must have... found the amulet after I threw it at the wall," Alistair said softly. "He had... come to the monastery, to give it to me, and I... I was angry. I felt like a cast off, and didn't want anything he had to offer me, so I threw it at the wall and walked out." Alistair looked up at Serena and his hazel eyes were intense. "I can't believe you found this. I... thought I'd lost it to my own stupidity."

"I'm sure he meant you to have it, when he... woke up, you know. It looks like it took a long time to repair." Serena took the amulet from him and gently placed it around his neck so it hung next to his Grey Warden pendent. "Now you have both your families with you wherever you go. Arl Eamon, your mother, and us."

"I... I don't know what to say, Serena. I just..." Alistair pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her in a quick hug. "This means so much... thank you. I mean it."

Serena smiled, not sure what to say. "I... I'm just glad you have a piece of your childhood back. It's always bothered me, how you don't really have any memories of your mother... I've thought about it a lot, anyway, since that day we were sitting by the river..." Serena blushed. "I guess we've sat by a lot of rivers by now, haven't we?"

"You mean back in Ostagar, after the, err... tent... incident." Alistair's cheeks reddened at the memory, but he smiled. "Did you remember me mentioning it? I... wow. I'm more used to people not really listening when I go on about things."

"Of course I remembered," Serena said, pushing him lightly in the chest. "You're my best friend. You're..." She paused, blushing again. Maker, why couldn't she control her face around this man? "You know you mean a lot to me."

"So… is this the part where the music starts and we begin dancing? Because I'm game." Alistair grinned, playfully looking around. "Where's the minstrels?"

"No minstrels here, just mages." Serena smiled, the lump of nerves that had formed in her stomach since her nightmare felt like it was finally starting to unwind a bit. "We should probably head back, actually. I want to be there when Morrigan returns." And maybe talk to Solona, too, Serena added silently, heading out the door.

With Morrigan back safely from the Fade, although certainly more irritable for it, Serena and her companions quickly met up with Bann Teagan and Lady Isolde to discuss their options on dealing with the arl, who while no longer in an enchanted sleep from the demon, was still comatose from Jowan's poisoning.

Connor sat nearby, peacefully reading a book, his mannerisms back in sync with those of a young child. Lady Isolde was loath to let him out of her sight, now that he was no longer possessed. Serena couldn't help but smile when she looked at him reading, he reminded her so much of little Oren, copying lines from the Chant of Light back in Highever castle.

"I wanted to thank you all, for your assistance," Bann Teagan said, inclining his head to their group. "Connor is his old self, and he does not seem to remember anything, which is a blessing. I suppose we will need to send him to the Circle of Magi's tower for... training, once the war is over. It's so odd to think of the boy as a mage, of all things."

"First Enchanter Irving is a good man, I'm positive he'll receive an excellent education there," Serena replied. "Perhaps since Redcliffe isn't so far from the tower, you would be able to visit him often. Knight-Commander Greagoir is not... a completely unreasonable man."

"Yes, that would be good for me and Eamon..." Lady Isolde said, her eyes gazing on her only son as he read.

The bann nodded. "Eamon has much to mourn and rebuild, should he recover. But at least he can be thankful that both his son and wife are safe. There is, however, still the matter of Jowan. His poisoning of Eamon began this whole mess, yet he lives. We will hold him for Eamon to decide his fate. If he doesn't recover, Jowan's fate is sealed. What do you think, my lady?"

Serena paused, thinking about the dark haired mage. "I think he should be sent back to the Circle, if the arl can find it in his heart to offer him mercy. Jowan is a malificar, but at the same time, he was also manipulated into poisoning the arl, he did not set out to do it himself. And without him, we may not have even known of another way to help Connor. I think if anyone deserves the arl's vengeance, it is Loghain."

"Yes, there are... extenuating circumstances regarding him, I suppose. I shall have the mage imprisoned again, for now." Teagan glanced over at his brother, lying peaceful on the large bed. "I fear our task is not done yet, though. We are still unable to wake Eamon-"

"The Urn! The Urn of Sacred Ashes will save Eamon," Lady Isolde said suddenly. She turned to Serena. "You must find Brother Genitivi- he is a Chantry scholar in Denerim. He's been researching the Urn's location for several years now. The knights that returned say that they were unable to find him, but perhaps the Maker will lead you to him. After everything you have been able to do, He must show you His favor."

Serena ignored Isolde's blasphemy of her being favored by the Maker. It did not bode well to believe such things over one's own skills. "Then we shall travel to Denerim, to seek out this scholar," Serena answered quietly. "I must ask, though, would it be all right if we rested here for a day or two first? My companions and I have been traveling for weeks now, and to sleep in actual beds would be a welcome comfort to us all."

"Of course, I apologize, I should have offered... you must excuse my manners." Lady Isolde flushed. "We have rooms upstairs you all may use. Stay as long as you need."

Serena curtsied to the woman, thanking her for the hospitality. Serena led her companions out of the arl's room and up the stairs to the rooms Lady Isolde had mentioned. They divided up into different rooms, each looking pleased to not have to sleep on the cold ground for a few days.

At last it was simply Morrigan and Serena left in the hall, and Serena had a feeling the mage had planned it this way.

"I... would like to discuss something with you, if you have a moment," the dark haired witch said. "In my room, if you please." Serena followed Morrigan into the small, but wonderfully decorated, guest room.

"As I am sure you noticed, there was a range of books in the office of the first enchanter in that dreadful tower. One of the tomes happened to be a grimoire of my mother's. Taken, years ago, I saw it and… well, regardless, I have been studying it."

"That's the book you were reading in Bodahn's wagon, I take it?"

"Yes. I had hoped for a collection of her spells, a map of the power that she commands." Morrigan frowned; her golden eyes hooded with an emotion Serena couldn't quite read. "But this is not it."

"So, what is it?" Serena sat down in one of the plush chairs sitting behind the door. "You look... disturbed."

"Disturbed? Yes, perhaps that is the right word." The dark haired witch sighed, sitting down on the canopy bed. "One thing in particular within her writings disturbs me." She pulled the thick black book from her knapsack; opening it to a section she had marked with a bit of ribbon. "Here, in great detail, Flemeth explains the means by which she has survived the centuries."

"Ooh, really? Is it... an immortality spell or something?" Serena bit her lip. "Never mind, I suppose they don't have those, otherwise there would be mages wandering around at 100 years old..."

"If 'twere only that simple," Morrigan replied sullenly. "Flemeth has raised many daughters over her long lifetime. There are stories of these many Witches of the Wilds throughout Chasind legend, yet I have never seen a one and always wondered why not."

"And now I know." Morrigan looked up, her golden eyes intense. "They are all Flemeth."

"What?" Serena blinked. "But… you just said... oh... oh, Maker..."

"When her body becomes old and wizened, she raises a daughter," Morrigan explained. "And when the time is right, she takes her daughter's body for her own. This tome... details... the various daughters that Flemeth has... acquired. Their preparation and training."

Serena felt horror creep up inside her at the thought of the old woman raising a daughter simply to steal her life for her own. "Are... are you in it?"

"Only briefly," Morrigan replied curtly. "The tome was taken by templars years ago, before she began training me in earnest. But I recognize all of it. I... am to be her next host. This is my purpose."

"So why would she risk sending you with us?"

"I don't know. Perhaps 'tis as she said; the darkspawn threaten her as much as they threaten anyone else. Or perhaps she believes that this journey will make me more powerful." Morrigan looked down at the book in her lap, her nails tapping a dark rhythm into its pages. "According to the tome, if the... host... is already powerful and trained in magic, it takes less time for Flemeth to... settle in."

"Wow." Serena had no idea what to say to the woman. "Your own mother... I... I'm sorry, Morrigan."

"Do not be sorry, Serena," Morrigan snapped. "I am not. I am angry." The witch straightened her shoulders, pushing the thick volume onto the bedspread. "There is only one possible response to this. Flemeth needs to die."

Serena didn't reply. She simply stared in shock.

"I will not sit about like an empty sack waiting to be filled," the witch continued, her eyes practically shooting sparks. "Flemeth must be slain and I need your help to do it."

"M-my help?" Serena sputtered. "Why do you need my help? You're... a lot stronger than I am."

"While I value your opinion of my skills, I fear if she is slain while I am near, I am not certain that... she will not simply be able to take possession of me right there. So obviously I cannot be the one to do it." Morrigan pursed her lips; her golden eyes wholly focused on Serena's own blue ones. "You must go to her hut in the Kocari Wilds, I will make you a map if you need."

"Confront her and slay her quickly. I doubt she will truly be dead, even then, but it will take her years to find a new host and recover her power... if that is even possible."

"Alright, I... I cannot believe I am agreeing to this," Serena said slowly. "I must have lost my bloody mind." She sighed. "Can I... can I let anyone know?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "I suppose you want to tell the fool templar, don't you?"

"Well, your mother is a very powerful mage, it's not like he wouldn't be helpful." Serena picked at the lacing on her breastplate absently. "Does Sten know?"

"No, I haven't had the chance to speak with the qunari since we returned. I was busy saving an obnoxious little child in the Fade. Surely you remember."

"Are you going to tell him...?"

"Possibly." Morrigan eyed her warily. "What is it you want to ask?"

Serena grinned. "Are you two... you know…?"

"Are you and the talking toadstool... you know?" Morrigan taunted.

"He's not a toadstool. He's lovely." Serena giggled. "That's quite good, though. Talking toadstool."

"As I was saying before we started down this ridiculous line of questioning," Morrigan said, rolling her eyes. "The thing I must have is her true grimoire. With it, I can defend against her power in the future. Everything else in her hut is yours."

"Right, so, murder your mother, steal her spell book, is there anything else you require? Perhaps I should kill a dragon and make a necklace of its teeth whilst I'm down there? I know how you like jewelry. That is... assuming we're not devoured by darkspawn, of course. Or eaten by wolves... Wow, I am finding so much wrong with this plan already..."

"I know what I ask is... ambitious, to say the least, but I know not what else to do." Morrigan's normally fierce golden eyes went soft. "You are... the closest I have ever had to a friend, Serena. Know that I am grateful for this."

Serena stood from the chair, smiling gently at the witch. "Of course I know we're friends. Why do you think I even agreed to this mad quest in the first place?"