A/N: With many thanks to oneplusme for the beta, and juri and sqbr for the plot advice. Hopefully by the time this posts, ffnet will still be running... fingers crossed!
Recap - The Architect, the Seeker, Morrigan, Ishantha - chapter 38
[The Deep Roads]
Sylvanna: *angsts*
Architect: *ignores her*
Sylvanna: Fine, I'll kill the Old God.
Architect: Good. Have a corneal tattoo and some grey warden blood in a vial. I am certain it will prove useful.
Sylvanna: Do I even want to know whose blood it is?
Architect: It's clearly not yours. That would be pointless.
Sylvanna: Right...
Seeker: The Old God must be saved!
Sylvanna: Why should I listen to you?
Seeker: I can bring you the Architect. Yes! He must be stopped, before he destroys the Song!
Sylvanna: I suppose vengeance has a nice ring to it. All right, talk. Talk fast.
[Meanwhile]
Ishantha: I'm tired of using my godly powers to dig up the arling. Can't I go play now?
Morrigan: No.
Ishantha: Ooh! A wisp! That means-
Morrigan: She's alive.
[Later]
Morrigan: Have you finished angsting yet?
Sylvanna: No.
Morrigan: Could we not do this inside? Someplace warm?
Sylvanna: *cuts off her hair* I suppose we can go now.
Morrigan: *sighs*
Sylvanna: The Architect wants the Old God dead, but the Seeker will help us.
Morrigan: Those inane names aside... help us do what?
Sylvanna: Help us entertain my ridiculously convoluted revenge fantasies, of course.
Morrigan: ...
Questions Unanswered
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The Deep Roads
Over the course of his lifespan, the Architect had made many mistakes, each one meticulously documented and scrupulously examined. He had even discussed a few with Utha, seeking her greater understanding of grey warden behavioural patterns and habits.
If forced to rate this mistake, he would place it somewhere between accidentally starting the Fifth Blight and taking First Enchanter Remille at his word. In other words, it was unlikely that the damage could be reversed.
When the dust settled, he carefully shifted, testing his control over his limbs. Both legs were impaired, as was one of his arms, making casting impossible. His free hand slid over the debris, testing the weight of the rock crushing his legs. Perhaps if he had a lever... but his staff remained where he had left it, with his books and papers. Another mistake.
"She will not reward you for these actions, Seeker," he said, his gaze seeking the genlock through the gloom. "Have you forgotten the consequences another Blight would bring?"
The Seeker shifted his weight from foot to foot. "The Old God must be saved," he hissed, voice raw from disuse. "She must know how you would betray Her. She will name me as Her true servant!"
That seemed particularly unlikely. Where had he gone wrong? The Architect had always assumed the Seeker to be rational, stable. A little vicious, perhaps, but no more so than any other darkspawn.
He had been surprised when he had felt the Seeker's presence. The Seeker had been due to report weeks ago, and the Architect had assumed him to be lost, possibly to the grey wardens he had been observing. The Seeker had lured him out of his study with promises of vital data, secrets he had learnt from the old warden mage at the keep. On reflection, he should have been more discerning, particularly after what had happened with Eadric.
The Seeker had indeed learnt something new, either at the hand of the mage warden or somewhere else. The first sign had been the trembling in the ground, the rumblings in the cavern. Neither speed nor levitation had saved the Architect from what came next - the sudden paralysis, the numbing pain, and silence.
Once the ringing cleared from his ears, he had found himself trapped, his body vainly trying to recover from the impact. Given time, even this could be healed, but time was not a courtesy he expected to receive from either the Seeker or the God he served.
He made one last attempt to be reasonable. "The Song is false, Seeker. It offers nothing for our kind apart from slavery and death. The Old God will lead you into the Void, as she has led so many others-"
"No!" The Seeker rounded on him, teeth bared. "She will lead us to victory, as was foretold. She will be our saviour! She-"
The diatribe stopped abruptly, the Seeker twisting his head around, eyes glazed, nostrils twitching. The Architect had detected Her proximity some time ago, but She had been moving closer to them ever since, Her presence becoming more and more unbearable.
Without a further word, the Seeker left the cavern, his taint receding even as the Old God approached. The Architect was left behind in the darkness, his blood telling him that he was alone, conclusive in a way that sight or sound could never be. From above, a settling of the rock caused a patter of dirt to fall upon him, brushing over his robes like the first sprinkling of spring rain.
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Redcliffe
Mother would not stop fretting. Not that she said as much, but it was plainly obvious: the look of hurt on her face when she found Sylvanna asleep in the servants' quarters instead of her own room; the way she insisted on making conversation when the elf clearly preferred to be left alone.
Sylvanna was hiding something, that much was certain, but it was nothing that Morrigan would find in a hurry. Certainly not if she continued behaving in such a fashion.
It made Ishantha doubt her plans for the future. She had not anticipated Sylvanna's return - who could have known? Still, now Sylvanna was back, it made little difference to her plans. Their family was just going to be slightly larger than she had bargained for, that was all. Nothing to be concerned about.
She had never understood the concept of monogamy. What a cruel and terrible punishment, devised by a jealous god who could not bear to share His love with one, let alone many. In all the years she had been with Morrigan, her mother's eyes had never wandered very far from home; not even when she returned from her lengthy sojourns, smelling of nothing more than road dust and rain.
It was perplexing.
Unnatural.
Well, Morrigan would have to grow accustomed to the thought of loving another, soon enough. Both Father's and Sylvanna's Callings were not long - perhaps two decades hence - whereas Morrigan, free of the taint, could quite conceivably extend her life for centuries (with her daughter's help, of course). It would be foolish for Morrigan to expect her friends and lovers to warrant the same treatment.
Ishantha yawned. Perhaps she ought to end her mother's ridiculous fussing and find out what Sylvanna was truly hiding - by force, if necessary. Then again, it was so illuminating, watching Mother squirming.
"I'm cold," Ishantha complained, rubbing her arms. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she contemplated the warmth of a wolf's coat, or the downy fluff of an owl. Somehow, that only made it worse.
"Hush." Morrigan turned her back to her, head bowed. "The creature approaches."
She moved a little closer to her mother, fighting the impulse to use Morrigan as a shield. Beneath the bright moonlight, the bald little thing looked even more repulsive, the pointed ears seeming almost elvish rather than dwarven in origin. It trotted up to them on short, stumpy legs, exposed teeth gleaming yellow.
"No further, please," Morrigan said, when it stood ten yards or so from them. Even that was too close. Ishantha peeked out from behind her mother's skirts. The scent of unwashed darkspawn assailed her senses, causing her nose to wrinkle most unbecomingly.
"You are the Seeker?" Morrigan asked.
The darkspawn nodded eagerly. "The grey warden told you of me. She is not with you." It almost sounded disappointed.
"It doesn't matter," Ishantha said. "Where is he? Where is the Architect?"
The creature wrung its hands and gibbered uncontrollably. "He is close, very close, Great One. Come with me and I will show you."
Ishantha screwed up her face in a frown. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Bring him to us," Morrigan said.
The creature shook its head, whimpering. "No, Great One. You must come. You must!"
"No!" Ishantha yelled, even as Morrigan moved forwards, towards the darkspawn. The thing turned, beckoning over its shoulder for them to follow. "Mother-"
"Do as you please," Morrigan said, turning to glare at her. "This ends tonight, one way or the other."
The darkspawn bobbed its head, skull gleaming in the moonlight. The air seemed cooler without Morrigan next to her. Ishantha shivered, rubbing her arms. "Wait for me!" She darted forwards, clinging to Morrigan. Her mother sighed, and they strode ahead together, following the darkspawn into the depths of the earth.
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The Deep Roads
They were headed straight for a trap, and Morrigan could not bring herself to care. Beside her, Ishantha continued to whine bitterly under her breath, clinging onto her arm with such force that it made it difficult to walk. The girl's willingness to delve below ground was surprising in itself. They had not travelled far - perhaps half a mile, though it was impossible to judge distances here, the passageway lit only by the light of Morrigan's staff and a faint glow that seemed to emanate from patches of fungus.
"I can feel them," Ishantha hissed in a loud whisper. "Hundreds of them, thousands, somewhere beneath the rock. They're so loud, Mother-"
"Are they close?" So far, they had passed no openings to the path, meaning the route back to the surface was clear and straight-forward. Still, that would not save them if something chose to descend upon them from above.
"No, they're not." Ishantha's voice shook. "But I can hear them, calling me."
The passageway opened up to a small cavern, walls encrusted with some kind of glimmering mineral deposit. The ceiling was so low that Morrigan could reach up and touch it, if she desired, and she shuddered at the thought of all that rock pressing in against her.
"He is here, Great One," the darkspawn said, shifting its weight restlessly from foot to foot. "As promised."
Morrigan spoke a word, and the light from her staff brightened. The Seeker had not been lying - there was another darkspawn in the chamber. At least a tonne of rock had fallen upon it, crushing its legs and pinning them in place, but despite its predicament, it did not seem overly perturbed. It was as ugly as any darkspawn she had ever seen, woefully misshapen, half its face distorted as if it were a doll of wax that some mischievous child had melted in a fire. One eye drooped, almost completely obscured by a protruding brow. Its jaw extended into a thin web of flesh, more aquatic than human in nature, melding across its neck and into a strange growth elongating its head.
Sylvanna had spent weeks locked up with this thing.
"Urthemiel," it said. "I regret the circumstances of our meeting, the last we spoke. You must have many questions."
Morrigan drew back with a start. Its voice was unexpectedly cultured, even hampered as it was by that misshapen mouth; nothing at all like the Seeker's gravelly tones. She glanced at her daughter: Ishantha looked pale, her small hands clenched into fists.
"Questions?" Ishantha sneered, but Morrigan recognised false bravado when she heard it. "I suppose I do have questions, darkspawn." She spat the word as though it offended her lips.
The Seeker wrung its hands. "Talk? No. Are you not to be killing the Architect, Great One? He dared disturb your slumber, tried to turn you into-"
"Shut up!"
Light filled the chamber, forcing Morrigan to shield her eyes. From between her fingers she saw the Seeker consumed by illumination, its body rising from the ground as though an invisible hand was holding it up by the neck. Garbled screams echoed around them, and then the corpse fell down with a thump.
The Architect exhaled, the noise sounding almost like a sigh of regret.
"Let us kill it also and begone," Morrigan said in a low voice.
"Not yet." Ishantha straightened, power fading from her hands. Before them, the Seeker's corpse continued to smoke, issuing a repulsive odour. "What did you do to my mother?"
The Architect tilted its head to one side, its gaze shifting from Morrigan to her daughter. "Ah," it said at last. "You refer to the elven grey warden. I cannot claim credit for her current state. I only acted as a catalyst, accelerating what would have occurred naturally in time."
"You lie," Morrigan said. It must have done something to Sylvanna, despite the warden's protestations to the contrary. It must have done something - if only Morrigan could figure out what, she could reverse it, set things to rights.
Ishantha took a step towards the Architect's prone body, looking down at him with puzzlement. "I remember you being smaller."
"That is not unexpected. Your new body is greatly changed," the Architect said. Morrigan thought she could hear a muttered 'and deficient' from under its breath.
"The Seeker said you were trying to turn me. Turn me into what?"
The Architect exhaled again with a breathy sigh. "I had hopes that the Old Gods could be freed, that there could be an end to the Blights. I wished to release you from the corruption that I knew my brethren would inflict upon you."
"But it didn't work, and we all know what happened next." Ishantha's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here now? I am no archdemon. I want nothing to do with your people."
"Sadly, the opposite is untrue." The Architect seemed genuinely sorrowful at the thought; either that, or darkspawn were capable of greater deception than Morrigan had previously given them credit for. "Even now, they clamour to find you. So few possess any means of defence against the Song, and of those, fewer still can be trusted," he said, glancing at the Seeker's body.
"You fear another Blight," Morrigan said.
The darkspawn nodded. "No matter the form taken by an Old God, they can still be corrupted."
Ishantha wrinkled her nose. "It's silly to worry about such a thing. Mother, isn't it silly?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch. "I don't want to waste this body becoming an archdemon again, and so I won't."
The darkspawn cleared its throat. "Simply wanting may not be sufficient-"
"It is!" Ishantha's eyes flashed, energy gathering around her.
"Wait," Morrigan urged. Turning to the darkspawn, she tried posing her question again. "What did you do to the grey warden?"
The Architect blinked. "I merely offered a chance for peace. Does that not align with your goals?"
"I like peace," Ishantha said. "But not if it means letting a single darkspawn live."
The Architect sighed again. Morrigan found herself wishing that her daughter would just put it out of its misery, since gleaning information from the creature was proving to be as difficult as wringing blood from a stone.
"The Seeker told me you knew the locations of the other two Old Gods. Where are they?" Ishantha asked.
The Architect tilted its head slightly to one side, dark eyes gleaming. "I must decline to answer that question, Urthemiel. I do not wish for my brethren to be harmed by your search."
Ishantha became deathly quiet, and stirrings of power raised the hairs on the nape of Morrigan's neck. She recognised the beginning of a tantrum all too well - in her experience, the best solution was to simply ignore the girl until her rage and frustration were spent. Either that, or enlist Sylvanna's aid in distracting her.
Neither option was available to her now. She snuck a glance at Ishantha, the girl pale with anger, brow furrowed. Her sneer reminded Morrigan of nothing so much as the lines in Flemeth's face, the way her mother used to laugh as she flayed another templar to the bone.
TELL ME.
Ishantha's Voice shook the walls of the chamber, dislodging dirt from the ceiling which rained down, coating Morrigan's hair with dust. The Architect closed its eyes and sighed again, seemingly unfazed.
It was going to be a long, long night.
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The Architect had not anticipated that the end would come so soon. Darkspawn did not feel pain in the same way as other organic creatures; in any case, he had experimented on his own body sufficiently to know how to ignore physical discomfort. His lack of response seemed to displease the Old God; he attempted to distract Her with some audible feedback, but he suspected that his manufactured screams were not entirely convincing.
It was shamelessly crude, this farce, and his disappointment in Urthemiel grew. He had expected greater sophistication from a being as ancient and terrible, who had led both men and darkspawn alike in Her time. There was only so much grace he could grant on account of Her weakened form and mortal attachments.
"Stop this," said Urthemiel's mother. The Old God paused, but only for a moment before directing Her attention back to the Architect.
There were limits to the amount of abuse that a body could take, even the body of a darkspawn. The end would not be long. It was lamentable. He left so much work unfinished, left so many theories and ideas that would die with him, or with his notes, left buried and forgotten. He had not even perfected his study of the darkspawn breeding cycle. Who would continue his mission once he was gone?
A voice broke through his pain-induced inattention. "'Tis clear that this is leading nowhere. What more can you hope to gain? Finish the creature and let us depart, before the night turns into day."
He opened his remaining eye, vision blurred by a red-tinged film. Urthemiel's mother grasped Her by the shoulder, with predictable results. Power arced between them, tossing the human to the ground where she landed with a groan, unmoving for long moments.
Urthemiel stepped closer towards him. "Why did you wake me? I was happier, asleep. At peace. What did you want? Did you imagine you could control me?"
He tried to shake his head, but his neck would not obey his commands. He wet his lips, grateful that She had allowed him to keep his tongue. "I have never desired control, Urthemiel - only freedom for others of my kind. Freedom from the Song of the Old Gods."
Urthemiel lowered Her hands. "You're telling the truth." She sounded almost confused, and he found himself moved by something - pity, perhaps. "Then you really did love me."
It was an odd choice of phrasing. Could a fish love water? He supposed that the Call of the Song could be termed 'love', in a limited, inadequate way.
"Yes," he said, mulling the word over. His response seemed to please Her; She rocked back on Her heels, a pensive look in Her eyes.
"I'm free now," She said. "What you tried to accomplish, all those years ago. Shouldn't you be pleased? Why do you want to kill me?"
"You may be free, Urthemiel, but my brethren are not. I know now that the Song will prove irresistible to them. You are free, but for how much longer? Your fall would doom many of my kind to suffer the same fate, and I cannot allow that to happen again. I am sorry."
She shook Her head. "You are sorry?" She repeated, Her voice mocking. From the corner of his vision, he saw Her mother beginning to stir. Urthemiel raised Her hands. "Well, I suppose that I am sorry, too."
He closed his eye again. There were three heartbeats in the chamber, and he focused his mind on Urthemiel's, the rhythm setting a reassuring pace for his own. With aching slowness, he lowered his defences and allowed himself to hear the Song, its strain almost unbearably loud after so many years of silence. It was a pleasure he had long denied himself, lest he succumb, as the Seeker had succumbed. Now, at the end, there was no harm in submitting to this private vice.
Light burned the back of his eyelid in the shape of Her form, glowing white with radiance, the image imprinting itself on his mind. Heat came as an afterthought, and the Song rose with each searing breath until the air scorched his throat, finally robbing him of the speech that had been his triumph and his curse.
Despite all he had worked for, he found himself glad - honoured - that it was Her, that Her light would scour him at last until nothing more remained save Her memories of his voice, waking Her from deepest slumber.
Perhaps that, in its own way, was a form of love.
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Morrigan's throat ached from screaming and she wet her lips, collecting her thoughts. There had been light - so much light, and the heat of it, a furnace blazing against her skin.
Ishantha raised her hands to cast, and Morrigan recognised the shape of her hands, the pitch of her voice - as though they were standing on a wooden pier on a summer's day, learning the touch of fire and how to bend it with mere will.
This was no lakeside lesson - the cavern was too small, the walls too close. Fire demanded space, air. She scrambled to her feet, lunging for her daughter. "Not here! Ishantha, for pity's sake just stop and think for one minute-"
The blast tossed her against the far wall, and the heat blew over her in a rush, blistering her flesh. Her throat seized up, stopping her from casting to save herself from the inferno. Blind panic took over, and then everything became mercifully still - silent, pain fading as though she were waking from a dream.
The odour of burnt flesh filled the air, and she drew in a breath, tensing for the agony that never came. Morrigan shifted, and her clothes pulled against her skin, dissolving into flakes of soot as she climbed to her feet, her hands shaking.
The darkness came as a relief to her eyes, stinging with the memory of the light burned into her sockets. She stretched out a hand, snapping her fingers - once, twice, three times - until a wisp ended her blindness, filling the chamber with greenish glow.
Two mounds of soot lay at either end of the cavern, offering no distinguishing features to tell one from the other. Morrigan took a step forwards, and the remnants of her skirt caught on her heel and blew into ash, revealing her blackened but otherwise unmarked skin.
A cool touch at her wrist caused her to start, a spell springing to her lips. Her daughter clutched her with whitened knuckles, staring up with a tear-stained face, trails revealing pink cheeks beneath a fine layer of soot.
"I want-" Ishantha began, and her breath caught in her throat, choked with moisture.
Morrigan quelled the urge to tear away from that deathly grip. She reached out, fingers brushing ash from Ishantha's hair, seeking the lines of the child beneath the Old God. Tears dripped onto her palm as she cupped Ishantha's face with her hand.
"I want to go home."
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END OF PART II
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A/N: It's been almost a year since I started posting this thing. Good grief. For a oneshot, this really got out of hand...
I'm taking a short break before I wrap this up in the next ten chapters or so. There'll be at least one update to 'Fables' and another to 'Good For Six' (DA2 drabbles) in the meantime.
Lots of thanks & hugs to oneplusme for not only tidying up my chapters, but for relenting to the inexorable pull of the fandom. See, aren't we nice people? Isn't it pretty here? Don't you want to play DA2 now?
Thanks to oneplusme, juri and sqbr for reviewing my Part III synopsis and all the helpful suggestions. The ending will totally be better for it!
Last but not least, huge thank yous to everyone reading, and especially to those who take the time to review. The story has been improved immensely by your thoughts and feedback. Thank you: Asher77, Auroraas, Avarenda, Bad Girl762, Gemini1179, IamWithinTemptation, interesting2125, J. E. Talveran, juri, KyaniteD, Metroidvania, Misdirection, Mm-Burnt-Toast-mM, mutive, Noah Sila, often indecisive, Ondjage, oneplusme, PhoenixFawkes210, RandyNanna, Snafu1000, Spikesagitta, sqbr, Technyx, thatgirlwiththe, Victorita9, wayfaringpanda, XoOMGiTSpiNsox and Zero-Vision!