Part 5: Leaders

Chapter 37: Past

"Do you understand what you're asking me to do? She's your mother, Morrigan."

"And she will not hesitate to kill me, as she has countless of her-"

Morrigan mouthed the word "daughters", yet no sound left her lips. The very word tasted sour and bitter at the same time. "There is no doubt that after this Blight is stopped, she will attempt to possess me. Perhaps she sent me along with you to allow my magical abilities to develop, so the compatibility would be greater." She wrung her hands together and inhaled deeply. "I have no other option. I cannot do it myself, lest she possess my body right then and there."

Aedan gulped. First, he had killed Marjolaine, yet only by instinct and because Leliana would have died then and there. Then, he had killed some of the werewolves, but only when driven against the wall. Now he was being asked to actively hunt down and kill somebody- an old woman who had saved his life. He sat there, his right hand quivering. After having held a sword for so long in his hand, Aedan could almost feel the hilt on his palm: that familiar cold steel brushing against his callouses.

Could he do this? Perhaps Morrigan was just using him to eliminate her mother; become the new de-facto Witch of the Wilds. Everyone he had ever met had told him not to trust her.

With a rare desperation in her now trembling voice, Morrigan murmured, "You are the only one left I can depend on...please." She still wouldn't look at him straight in the eyes. Aedan had never thought of the witch as frail until this moment; physically weak, yes, but she had such fierceness in her words, such passion in her magic. Looking at her now, her arms cradling herself and a distant, empty look in her eyes, Aedan couldn't say the words he wanted say, what he had always been taught not to do.

In the darkness, he outstretched his hands and gently took Morrigan's hands in his. Ignoring the unease in his gut, Aedan answered, "I'll do it."

His gesture had taken Morrigan aback, but she didn't feel the need to remove his hands once they were there. Her shoulders relaxed as the woman let out a long, cathartic, breath. "It does not need to be now. I understand we're already enroute to Orzammar. It just needs to be before the Blight ends."

Aedan nodded. "Then we'll do it after Orzammar."

He understood at least that Morrigan didn't want to talk about it. Perhaps that was how it should be. To talk about such a betrayal, to examine it from every angle, meant to think about it more and more. The only thing worse than a betrayal was the mental torture a person put themselves through thinking about it.

Half-expecting her to remove her hands, Aedan remained there in silence, his face slightly scrunched up in expectation of Morrigan's reprimanding. Morrigan sat there awhile longer, her hands in his. To be quite honest, Aedan had no idea what to do. Comforting people after they discovered their mother wanted to possess their body was foreign territory.

"Get some sleep, okay?" Aedan said, patting Morrigan on the back as he opened the flaps of his tent. The moonlight shone against her face, although her back was turned to Aedan, he could make out a sullen expression cast upon her face.

After Morrigan had left, Aedan clutched his knees to his chest as he sat there thinking. What surprised him was how easily he had said yes to Morrigan's request. Half a year ago, if someone had asked him to kill someone, he would have blinked at them in utter disbelief. Even now, the thought of someone asking him that sent a chill down his spine.

Yet when Aedan thought of her, of her presence, the chills stopped. His hand stopped wavering. The decision felt so much easier.

Aedan tried to shut his eyes and lay in bed, but the slumber that had once taken him was gone now. The imagery of the Archdemon had scared him witless; He shivered at the thought that if he shut his eyes and slumbered, he would see that monstrosity. One day he would have to confront it in person. He just hoped he had a lot of good men behind him to back him up then.

He stared up at the patched together top of his tent, counting the stitches. He rolled over from side to side, trying to make his blanket more comfortable. Despite his methods to calm his mind and go to sleep, his thoughts wandered to how he might manage to kill Flemeth. He doubted it be as easy as cutting her head off. Aedan sighed and buried his face in his pillow.

At the very least she wasn't a dragon.

The next few days, Aedan was wary to not bother Morrigan. Certainly, he remembered wanting his space after the death of his family. The ride back with Duncan had simply been the older Warden talking about logistics- things to distract Aedan from the atrocity that had occurred. Morrigan, however, was not the kind to enjoy idle chit-chat when she had other things on her mind. He gave her a wide berth: let her dally about her own business without bothering her with his requests.

So Aedan would sit by himself on guard duty. The nights seemed longer- like a piece of fabric stretched out too far, it's threads slowly breaking. When he couldn't sleep, he'd relieve whoever was on guard duty, and sit by the fire and drink from Zathrian's flask. There was no longer any necessity for more than one person on guard duty, seeing as how Shale never slept. Aedan did however miss taking guard duty with others, as trying to hold a conversation with Shale was as hard as holding one with a rock. The irony was not lost on Aedan.

As yet another night of guard duty ended, the faintest glimmers of the sun trickled over the horizon. Aedan liked the quiet mornings: the way the trees rustled, the cool mountain breeze flowing, and the gradual warmth that the sun Ray's imparted and how they seeped into his tired bones. The rest of his companions began to rise. One by one they gathered around the fire for breakfast. Sten sat across from Aedan and sharpened his sword against a grindstone, even though all were present. The noise grated in Aedan's ears, but he had come to accept Sten's eccentricities, just as he hoped Sten had accepted this country's.

"I see you are up early. Discipline breeds the best soldiers," grunted Sten, whose eyes never left the edge of his sword as he sharpened. By Sten's standards, that was the closest thing to a compliment that Aedan thought he'd ever get from the giant. The qunari grazed his finger along the edge until he reached the very tip. A small drop of blood welled at the end of his large thumb. Aedan could swear he saw the giant smile.

"Thought you had guard duty. You sleep okay?" asked Alistair, plopping down next to Aedan. The templar yawned and scratched the stubble underneath his chin. His stomach growled as he anxiously waited for whoever's turn it was to cook.

"I'm fine. Just got up early." Aedan heard the slight shifting of stones as Shale turned to look at him. The golem's craggy face had something reminiscent of eyebrows, which Aedan thought were furrowed in confusion. Aedan simply glared until the golem turned it's gaze away, silent.

Clearly struggling, Morrigan carried in both hands a hot pot of soup from over at her tent. The group usually liked to wake up to breakfast, so people took turns waking up and cooking. With one final heave the witch placed it in the middle and removed the lid, letting the steam billow out the top of the container. In a fit of hunger Alistair grabbed a bowl and scooped it up before Morrigan had the chance to say anything.

"Yes, please, go right ahead, you're welcome," scowled Morrigan.

"Pardon me, I am quite star-" The templar's face dropped. "What...is this?" Alistair looked on in horror at the arrangement before him. Onions, peppers, celery, and tomato slices bobbed in a light broth. He squinted his eyes and attempted to look for meat within it. To no avail, only tiny bits swam in his soup. His stomach growled and Alistair, confused, narrowed his eyes at Morrigan.

Morrigan poured out a bowl and handed one to Aedan. "Alistair, you're looking at me like Gregory."

Alistair continued to glare.

"It occurs to me that some of us are lacking in proper nutrition," stated Morrigan, "They might find it helpful to partake in a balanced diet."

Aedan stared down at the motley soup and sniffed it suspiciously. "There's only a few pieces of meat." The edges of his mouth shifted ever so slightly into a frown. He too would have liked something more...substantial.

Morrigan noticed his subtle reaction and glared at him. "Is there something wrong?" She stopped pouring her own bowl, and she held her ladle suspended in mid-pour. Aedan could feel the eyes of others upon him, waiting for his next words. Zevran looked Aedan in the eyes and shook his head, slicing his hand across his throat. Leliana and Wynne covered their mouths, clearly trying to hold back their laughter. Sten glared at him, clearly unhappy with the lack of substance in the soup.

How is this my fault Sten? thought Aedan, trying to relay that by his exasperated expression. The qunari still stared him down with accusatory eyes.

"Tread carefully," muttered Alistair under his breath. "You better make sure we get more meat next time."

"What makes you think I can change her mind?" Aedan made sure his lips didn't move, as not to inform Morrigan of their conversation. However, the shadow of Morrigan soon blotted out the sunlight above the two wardens.

"You two do understand that all of us can hear you." Morrigan crossed her arms and awaited the two men's response to that statement. Struggling to maintain their composure, Aedan and Alistair creaked their faces up and smiled at her. When Morrigan failed to respond with anything but a frown, Alistair continued to whisper at Aedan, "You know...you're...stirring your ladle in her bowl. Sticking your carrot in her soup."

"Perhaps you two would rather not eat at all. Ever," interrupted Morrigan again, her foot tapping rather loudly against a nearby rock.. She placed the bowl in front of Alistair and gave him the most unholiest of stares. Alistair's stomach ceased it's growling while the templar went pale.

"Are you famished, I'm famished," stuttered Alsitair, who downed everything in his bowl in one go. "Wow! Delicious! Fantastic! I will see you all tomorrow bright and early."

"It's morning, you idiot," snapped Morrigan as Alistair fled the premise.

"Don't care!" The templar waved all of them off and scampered off to the river to take a rare bath.

After staring down Alistair and scaring him off, Morrigan's deadly gaze fell upon Aedan, who watched as he brought the bowl to his mouth. Aedan widened his eyes as he sipped upon the mixture: the soup had a light, savoury flavor to it which he rather enjoyed.

"It's good. Really good." He smiled and took another sip. The lack of meat surprisingly didn't bother him. The pain of hunger eased from his stomach. While Aedan looked away at the bottom of his bowl, Morrigan opened her mouth to say something, then covered it rather quickly with her hand, hiding her smile. By the time he looked back up at her, she had removed her hand to reveal an ambivalent scowl.

"Well then, I expect you to return the favor next time and not burn the food next you cook." Morrigan grabbed a bowl of her soup and left off to her own tent. Aedan presumed she still had parts of the book to translate. At the very least, it seemed that her mother's betrayal didn't have her feeling too down.

Frantically, Aedan had been up all night trying to translate the documents to no avail. Needless to say, decrypting several layers of well implemented coded message by pen and paper took a long time, especially having only the basic books in his father's library. Aedan banged his sleep-deprived and throbbing head against the desk.

"Aedan, the royal guard wants to talk to you about Adair," called his father from downstairs.

Aedan jumped in place and hurried to stuff the papers in the desk drawer. His father walked in to see the slightly jumpy Aedan rushing out of his chair. Aedan his best to look composed and rested.

"Still shaken up about Adair, son?" Bryce patted his son on the back. "There was nothing you could have done. You know that."

It's not about what I could have done. It's what I have to do, thought Aedan.

Despite the situation, Aedan didn't want to involve his father any further. Aedan had gotten into this mess, and he had a responsibility to get himself out. He eased himself out of the old oak chair and proceeded down the stairway, where two heavily armored guardsmen greeted him, adorned with a blue cape on the back to signify their higher rank. The leader of the group, indicated by the buckles which held his cape to the armor, stepped forward. He seemed surprisingly young for a member of the royal guard, with neatly parted blond hair and almost spotless skin. Kylon leaned against the wall behind them, also present.

"We'd like to go over what happened when you discovered when he was gone again," asked the leader of the guards. Compared to Kylon, who slouched against the wall, the commander stood upright, almost too formal.

"Like I was saying...I was going in to feed him, when I discovered his cell was empty. I dropped the food in shock, and scrambled around trying to find out how he had escaped. Other than that, I don't know anything." Aedan rubbed his eyes in sleepiness. He was thankful that he didn't have to change his story much, save for the part about meeting Adair.

"Where's that wound from?"

Aedan paused- the question had thrown him offguard. "What?"

"On your neck," stated the commander, rather matter of factly.

Aedan widened his eyes. He had forgotten that Adair sliced him lightly across the neck. It was a small nick: unnoticeable to the common eye. Even his own parents hadn't noticed it, and yet in one small moment the commander had.

"Just from an earlier night. You heard about the situation with Bann Abelard."

The commander glared at Aedan suspiciously, then broke into a smile. "Sorry, don't mean to be suspicious. We're just here to help. And regarding Bann Abelard...he still refuses to talk. We're at the end of our rope. We may have to use more unpleasant methods."

Aedan grimaced. Torture was never a pretty thing to think about, let alone administer. He only imagined the kind of person who applied for a job as the official torturer of the dungeons.

"Nothing's gone missing?" asked the commander. His eyes bounced around the room, inspecting for any signs of damage.

"My wife and I have checked over all our valuables," said Bryce, "nothing is missing. I think he might have just wanted to escape."

The royal guard leader nodded several times, mulling over something in his head. Finally, he outstretched his hand to both Bryce and Aedan."I'm Commander Connal, I'd like to formally introduce myself. I'm going to be in charge of this case, seeing as how the city guard doesn't seem to be able to handle it."

Aedan examined the man briefly as he shook Connal's hand. Unlike Kylon, who seemed stressed and irritated to the point where he had gotten crow's feet at a young age, Connal had a certain radiance about him. His smile, although very subtle, looked truthful and genuinely glad. Perhaps the man enjoyed his work.

"Good. I'd rather stick to catching thieves and keeping gangs in check than this shady business," muttered Kylon, "I certainly can't leave the Market District in the care of my subordinates, the bloody incompetent bastards."

Aedan snickered at the mention of bastards. Unlike the city guard, the royal guard garnered a much higher level of respect from the city. Most anybody could be placed into the city guard, including but not limited to the various bastards that various Fereldan nobles had fostered. Aedan wondered he could have met Maric's bastard already, well hidden amongst the guards. He shook his head at the thought; he doubted that they would be so foolish as to keep him close in the city.

"Faith in your followers is a characteristic of a good leader, Kylon," chided Connal. Aedan chuckled under his breath-it felt odd to see someone younger than Kylon teach him a lesson.

Alistair marveled at the insides of Orzammar, having just made his way past the grand entrances. His gaze bounced from building to building, from the markets to the forges. The city housed as many citizens as Denerim, and yet manage to fit it all underground. Like the streets of Denerim, the alleyways of Orzammar bustled with life and merchants on the streets. Some of the dwarves looked at the wide-eyed Alistair and rolled their eyes: another surfacer.

"Amazing that they all don't develop claustrophobia or something. Wonder what happen if the ceiling caved?" mused Alistair in earshot of the dwarves. He snickered at their eye-rolling and carried on with his wonderment.

Aedan approached from behind and placed his hand on Alistair's shoulder. "Be careful here, Alistair. While Grey Wardens are well respected, we're going to be playing with the dwarven politicians... they don't like it when outsiders interfere." He glared around a bit. More people were staring at them than Aedan felt comfortable with. Back at Soldier's Keep, he and Alistair had picked up standard issue Grey Warden armor. Certainly, in Denerim and surface villages they would need to keep their insignia covered, but here in Orzammar the logo could only help them. Painted across their chest, though slightly dented and chipped due to the age of the armor, were the dual gryphons, their wings gloriously outstretched. Aedan failed to understand why the Warden would put the chalice in the middle though, as not many people actually knew of the Joining.

A large crowd of dwarves had begun to amass near the feet of Shale. The golem shifted uncomfortably as the dwarves looked upon the construct with wonderment. One child even began to run his hands against Shale's craggy metal feet. Panicking, Aedan hastily stepped in between the dwarves and Shale. Despite having very few expressions, Aedan didn't even need to look at Shale to know this sort of thing infuriated it. Years of being a statue would leave anyone bitter to prodding. Aedan shooed off the dwarven child, although all the other dwarves remained.

"You're Grey Wardens, right? Did you come from the deep roads? Did you?" asked one merchant excitedly. "They all said Branka was crazy, but here it is- an actual functioning golem."

"Sorry, we came from the surface." Aedan cringed as the dwarve's shoulders slumped.

"Oh," said the dwarf, his smile dissipating along with the rest of the crowd. He eyed the golem up and down suspiciously. "Then how did you get this- never mind. You surfacers probably already broke it somehow."

"Perhaps I should break you somehow," replied Shale curtly. The merchant's eyes widened in fear, and he took a few nervous steps backward, before running off back to his cart. Aedan scratched his chin and pondered: the dwarve's comment had gotten him thinking. "The dwarves used to make golem. Now that I think about, we don't really know that much about where you came from, Shale."

"It should not waste it's time. I remember nothing before the Mage Wilhelm found me...nothing but darkness."

"Oh. Seems sorta sad."

"Sad?" Shale crooked it's head toward Aedan and tilted it sideways, "I am a golem. I do not feel the same sentiments as it."

"A past...is an important thing to remember, Shale," mused Aedan. "It's what made you." He rubbed his right arm and reminisced while Shale considered his words.

"Hammers and anvils made me into what I am," responded Shale, "There is no doubt to that."

"I mean as a person."

"Ha! I don't need such a thing. I'm a golem; I don't need to grow as a person like humans."

"Have it your way." Aedan decided to let Shale handle its own problems. Despite its words, the golem kept peering around at the entire city, even more so than Alistair. He didn't want to linger on the subject and get Shale's hopes up at finding anything.

Whiling navigating through the bustling streets of Orzammar, Aedan grunted beneath his armor: the steam and furnaces of Orzammar had ensured his clothing was drenched in sweat. For all intents and purposes, he might as well have just stuck dinner in his armor to cook. Leaning against the nearby railing, Aedan loosened his gauntlets off and stared off into the molten metal below him. He felt a cool breeze as Morrigan walked past him and leaned against the railing next to him as well.

"You mind just walking back and forth behind me? It's sorta warm here." Aedan dabbed the sweat from his forehead using his armor rag. He didn't particularly care at this point that it was drenched in grease and blood; he just wanted some part of his body to be dry.

Scoffing at his request, the witch replied, "Coming from the one telling me only a few weeks ago to wear more layers." The witch rolled up her one sleeve and stuffed it by her waist. She watched as a royal guardsmen passed by a crier for Bhelen. The guardsmen rudely walked into the crier's shoulder, sending the papers he had been handing out flying everywhere. As the crier scampered about trying to pick them up, Morrigan scowled. "These dwarves squabbling over their precious Houses. Fools. They delay us even more, over a non-existent threat. At least the others had actual problems."

"Thought you were always one for the pursuit of power."

"Actual power, not this facade. For one, they waste so much potential soldiers by restricting others to become soldiers, others who are far more capable."

"You're talking about the casteless. The branded."

"Yes, and the casteless are even more the fools to allow themselves to be corralled by the warrior castes and nobles."

"They don't have a choice though. The warrior and noble caste have superior weapons and armor, as are better fed and prepared."

"They could fight."

"They'd die."

"Better to live a life well than to die a life barely lived." Morrigan turned to him in disbelief, her head shaking. "You approve of this utter stupidity?"

"No...but I understand why it hasn't changed. It's so deeply ingrained in them: in their culture, in their environment, in their upbringing. It's hard for people to change."

"Yes, that much is true. Tis hard to change from their life of frivolity and riches." She gazed outwards, not really looking at the scenery, a nostalgic look in her eyes. "There was this one time I ventured out beyond the Wilds as a child; the first time in fact. There were so many people, so many different smells and foods. I had only ever caught glimpses of different people. There was a little noble girl, carrying a golden mirror. It was beautiful, with such intricate gold lining and covered in jewels. So I snuck into her carriage and stole it."

"Can't imagine Flemeth was pleased."

"I had run back to her, my heart ablaze with my newfound treasure...the thrill of the theft...but when she found out what I had did, she took the mirror and smashed it to the ground. She screamed at me that such luxuries were meaningless, that I could have gotten myself discovered over such a pointless thing. My mother ingrained into me that day that beauty and riches are meaningless."

"Not a bad lesson to learn," muttered Aedan. Despite being second only to the king and one of the richest men in Ferelden, his father had been taken down by a weasel like Howe. Then again, Aedan didn't consider Howe in anyway powerful. Like Howe had clung to Aedan's father before, fawning over him, he now clung to Loghain.

"Yes...tis a good lesson indeed."

"How are you feeling about her now?" It seemed rude to ask such a question, but Aedan wondered why Morrigan didn't look as down as he expected.

"Tis strange." Morrigan played with a stray sweaty bang that lingered over her forehead as she spoke, "She has betrayed me. She has made me question every action she had ever taken...but..."

"But?"

"She still raised. Fed me. Protected me. Taught me. Despite my discovery, despite what she plans to do-" Morrigan sighed and twisted her bangs in thought. "She is still my mother, and I am thankful for what she has taught me."

Aedan avoided asking her anymore probing questions about the topic. He wouldn't want others to probe onto his own personal affairs. They let the clanging of hammers against anvils fill the silence, until Morrigan asked, "Tell me of your own mother."

"Why? There's nothing much to tell," said Aedan, attempting to navigate around the subject.

"Tis only fair. You prod me with all your inane questions." The witch scooted over and nudged him with her elbow. "Come on. A story for a story." She laughed and continued to prod him in the side.

It had been the first time in awhile someone had asked him about his family in awhile- actually asked him. Not like the awkward first meetings between strangers where they'd ask half-heartedly- "You have family?". Not like when Kylon had asked him back at the Pearl, with a strange mix of pity. Not like when Zevran would ask him how he'd avenge them.

She asked, not questioning their existence or under the assumption they were dead, to just talk about them.

Aedan made a sour face while thinking of an appropriate story. Compared to Morrigan's tales of the wilds, of the magic that her mother performed and the legends she had been in, his own mother seemed tame in comparison. Finally, Aedan just decided to go with the first thing that came to mind.

"There was this one time, I had gone outside all day in the woods to play in the woods with my brother. By the time we came back, we were covered in all sorts of leaves and mud. We probably looked disgusting. As we walked into the castle, our mother had the most horrified look on her face. She screamed at to go take a bath and go to our rooms, but Fergus and I were so scared we ran off around the castle. So there my mother was, chasing us around the castle to take a bath while we got our muddy footprints everywhere. If she had just calmed down and stopped chasing us, we would have stopped, but she just kept chasing us. By the time she caught us, she was so drenched in sweat that she said, "I'll be taking the bath first.""

The laughter arose naturally from deep within his chest as a warm feeling crept through Aedan. He smiled and looked far off in remembrance.

"...Was there a point to that?" Morrigan furrowed her brow in confusion, expecting there to be more to the tale other than frivolity."

"There doesn't need to be a point to every story. I just thought it was funny."

A rare smile fell across Morrigan's face. "Well, I certainly can imagine you causing havoc for others." Morrigan glanced over at Aedan's cheerful disposition, a question on the tip of her tongue. Would he answer now, with his brightened spirits? Her curiosity got the better of her: with a bit more hesitance, Morrigan asked, "Did I hear mention of a brother?"

"Yes, well..." Aedan trailed off and looked around for something to change the subject. Luckily for him, Shale was once again being swarmed by dwarven merchants. "I should go." The warden scampered off to shoo off the dwarves, who at the moment were appraising Shale. Glancing over at the commotion, Morrigan leaned over the edge of the railing and grumbled.

Author's Notes

Sorry for the later chapter, it's a bit longer to make up for it. Forgot to respond to review last time, so I'll do that now.

beattiematt7: Glad you liked 35; favorite and hardest one to write so far.

Guest: If you like Orzammar, you'll really like the next chapter when we meet Bhelen and Harrowmont.

Guest: Glad you like the side plot and the enriching! I try to add as much side-stuff/character thoughts as I can because you can have no plot-twists in regard to the Origins storyline.

Guest: The concotion plays an important role, especially in regards to the decisions Aedan has to make soon. As for the short leash, I always liked the Morrigan/Warden romance story because of how it's almost in reverse, unlike other Bioware romances.

Guest: ":L"? Sounds like something didn't sit right with you for CH35. The ending is intended to be disconcerting, but if you have any specific complaints/criticism over writing style/other things, I'll be glad to hear them out.

As always, don't be shy and leave a review/constructive criticism. If you really liked/disliked something, let me know!