A/N: Well, this was a week later than I meant it to be, but still not too bad! This one is a split POV chapter, it actually jumps a few times among Aedan, Alistair and Ayla - there's lots going on in this one. Hope you all enjoy!
Thanks to all who have read, favorited, and followed the story so far - there are nearly 200 followers now which is amazing for me! I'd love to hear from more of you as well so please let me know what you think when you have the chance!
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Disclaimer: Don't own Bioware's original characters and dialogue, do own the rest of this story.
Chapter 52: The Truth of the Wardens
Once he had finished speaking with all of the other nobles and thanking them for their support, Aedan led the others back to Arl Eamon's estate. He couldn't help but wonder if they would still be welcome when they returned, given the way he'd tricked the Arl and countered all his plans behind his back. Eamon had left the Landsmeet rather abruptly, and had looked both angry and disappointed. Still, they didn't really have anywhere else to go at the moment, so he could think of nothing else to do but try.
He exchanged a brief glance with Alistair as they finally spotted the estate in the distance, noticing the anxiety on his fellow Warden's face, and gave him a firm nod in an attempt to bolster his spirits. Surely Eamon wouldn't be so ungrateful for all they'd done before to refuse them entry, or so rude as to attempt to kick out their other companions while they were gone. He was relieved to find himself right when the two guards at the gate merely waved them in as usual, but was surprised to see how muddy and trampled the courtyard looked when they entered.
He frowned as they approached the double doors to find only one guard there, instead of the two that were usually stationed there. "Has the Arl reduced the number of guards at the door?" he asked the man, stopping briefly in front of him.
"Haven't you heard, my lord?" the guard asked, looking surprised. "His Grace has left already for Redcliffe, and taken most of the other knights with him. In quite a hurry, he was. Didn't bid goodbye to any of his guests and took very few servants with him. He's travelling light and fast; must be eager to get home to his wife and son."
"Yes, I suppose he must be," Aedan answered noncommittally. Inside, however, he was reeling with shock as he made his way into the estate, the others following. Of all the things he'd expected, it certainly hadn't been that Eamon would pack up and leave before they even had a chance to get back. He only hoped the Arl had a chance to get over his wounded pride and disappointment during the long trek back to Redcliffe.
"What are we going to do?" Alistair muttered in a low tone once they were all inside the doors, halting briefly in the hallway.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I don't particularly feel up to leaving right now," Aedan replied after a moment's thought. "We'd only have a few hours of travel left today anyway. I'd rather stay here tonight and set off in the morning. However Eamon feels about it, we have no choice but to go and meet up with him in Redcliffe. The horde is still in the south of Ferelden anyway. But . . . if you'd rather leave right now, we can."
Alistair seemed to consider it briefly for a moment before glancing at Ayla and then turning back to Aedan, shaking his head. "No, I agree it's best we stay here tonight. It's obvious the Arl would rather we not travel with him right now. I'll talk to him once we're back in Redcliffe. And we should pick up more supplies and things before we leave, anyway."
"Right." Aedan nodded. "Exactly what I was thinking. I'll let Morrigan and the others know tonight. We can meet here in the morning, and get our supplies in the marketplace before we leave. I'll see you all in the morning, then?"
Alistair and the others all nodded in agreement before everyone split up and headed to their rooms. Aedan had only just gotten changed into a tunic and breeches when a maid came knocking at his door, telling him the queen had returned and was asking for him.
He promptly headed to Anora's room, feeling a little anxious as he went. Had she changed her mind in spite of what she'd said at the Landsmeet? She'd seen her father die before her very eyes, only a few feet away, in fact. That couldn't have been easy, and it wasn't exactly the way he'd planned things to go, but Loghain had pushed his hand by refusing to back down. And though he regretted that Anora had been forced to see it, he didn't know what else he could have done.
So he knocked on the door more than a little nervously, and was relieved that Anora's voice sounded quite normal when she called for him to enter. When he came in, he saw that she had changed and cleaned up as well; there was no sign of the blood that she'd been splattered with at the Landsmeet.
He bowed to her, saying carefully, "I heard you wished to see me, Anora?"
She nodded, slowly, her face looking carefully blank as she met his gaze. She hesitated for a long moment before she finally spoke. "So it's done. My father is dead. I never thought he would go so far. I never thought it would end like it did. Such a waste." Her voice nearly broke at the end, and Aedan felt a renewed wave of guilt wash over him.
He went to her, reaching to take her hands in his, fully expecting her to refuse, but she didn't. She allowed him to close his hands over hers and squeeze gently. "I'm sorry, Anora. I didn't know that he would refuse to back down, that he would push for a duel. I had thought perhaps to give you a chance to say a proper goodbye, but . . ." He trailed off before adding in a low voice, "I wish it could have been otherwise."
Her eyes were bright with unshed tears as she replied, a trifle sharply, "It could have been." She blinked and shook her head, as if regretting what she'd said, before she went on in a more gentle tone, "But what is done is done. My father had no illusions about the consequences of his actions, and neither do I. At least I was somewhat prepared for what happened."
Knowing she would appreciate a change in subject before she broke down, he squeezed her hands once more before releasing them and asking, "What will you do now? Eamon has left already for Redcliffe, and my companions and I plan to head there tomorrow."
"That is what I had intended, as well. I have a few . . . arrangements I must take care of first, and then I will be heading there as soon as I am able." She wiped briefly at her eyes, clearing her throat before continuing, "The Arl had told me that most of our armies would be gathering there, and I believe it best if I am there as well. Now that Ferelden is finally united, it is time for us to face the Blight. Once that is done, we will be able to discuss our plans for Ferelden."
"Indeed. There will be much for us to do." He was relieved at her use of the word 'our' – it meant she had not changed her mind after all. He bowed to her once more. "Then I will wish you safe travels, Anora, and I will see you when you arrive."
"Yes, thank you." She smiled at him, and though there was still a bit of sadness in the smile, it was genuine, and it gave him hope that things between them hadn't been damaged beyond repair. Now if only the Blight will go as well as the Landsmeet has, he thought as he nodded to her before leaving the room, his mind already busy going over all the plans he still had to make.
Though they had travelled as fast as they could upon leaving Denerim, making the trip to Redcliffe in a little over two weeks instead of the three it had taken before, Alistair and the others had never managed to catch up with Arl Eamon on the way. Probably, Alistair admitted to himself, it was because the Arl hadn't wanted them to. He could only hope that the Arl would be receptive to what he had to say once they were finally able to talk to him.
All during their journey back, he'd had increasing difficulty sensing where the darkspawn were; they seemed to be all over the place, and it was as though something was interfering with his ability to identify their locations, how many of them were there, and indeed even precisely where the bulk of the horde was. So he shouldn't really have been surprised when they had arrived at Redcliffe village to find it overrun with darkspawn, and yet he had been anyway.
Fortunately all the villagers but one had retreated to the safety of the castle before the arrival of the darkspawn, and they had succeeded in saving him before they'd fought their way through the village. There had been a few dozen darkspawn roaming through the houses, but none of them had been terribly difficult to defeat.
That had not been the case, however, with the darkspawn they had fought in the courtyard of the castle. Several knights had already fallen defending the castle by the time they'd arrived, and there had only been about half a dozen knights remaining, battling desperately on the stairs. The first wave of darkspawn their party had defeated with relative ease, but an ogre that was much larger and tougher than most of the other ones they'd faced had arrived with the second wave of darkspawn.
By the time that battle was done, both Leliana and Oghren had been seriously wounded; Leliana by a cart the ogre had thrown at them, and Oghren by a well-placed kick from the ogre while he'd been harrying its legs. Fortunately, the wounds had not been beyond Morrigan and Wynne's ability to heal, and though Alistair and the others had been injured as well, they were largely minor wounds easily taken care of by healing potions.
One of the knights ran up to them just as they had finished healing their wounds, crying, "My lord! You're here! Thank goodness!"
"Did the darkspawn get into the castle?" Aedan demanded, whirling on him, and Alistair held his breath, praying that the Arl and the others were safe.
"Just these ones here in the courtyard, my lord," the knight explained hastily, causing Alistair to sigh in relief as the man continued, "We were able to close the gates before they got into the castle itself, and you just took care of the last of them. I was told to watch for your arrival, Wardens. Your comrade, Riordan, arrived just ahead of the darkspawn attack. He has urgent news for you!"
"Riordan?" Aedan sounded shocked, and Alistair frowned as he remembered what Aedan had told him about Riordan travelling to Ostagar looking for the archdemon. What news could have brought him here instead? "What's he doing here?" Aedan echoed his thoughts to the knight.
The man shook his head. "I don't rightly know. Things happened so fast, I only know he was scouting in the south before he arrived. I shall take you to the hall right away, my lord. They'll be waiting for you there."
"Please do." Aedan turned back to their party. "Is everyone all right now?"
Everyone nodded in response; Alistair couldn't help his smile of relief when Ayla came up next to him, looping her arm through his. He'd not been able to keep much of an eye on her during the battle, and he'd been terrified the whole time that something would go wrong. Yet here she was, alive and well, and it sounded as though everyone in the castle was, as well, which was all he could hope for.
They followed Aedan and the knight up the stairs, through the front doors and into the main hall, to find the Arl and Teagan awaiting them along with Riordan.
Riordan smiled at them as he spotted them entering before they halted a few feet away. "It is a relief to see you unharmed, Brothers. The darkspawn that attacked Redcliffe were relatively few in number, I'm afraid. It was assumed the horde was marching in this direction . . . but that is not true."
Alistair frowned, exchanging a grim look with Aedan. It was true they'd both had trouble getting a proper read on the darkspawn, yet it had still seemed that the bulk of them where were they'd always been; south of Redcliffe, steadily marching towards it. Where could they possibly be going instead?
As if in answer to their unspoken question, Arl Eamon said, "Riordan tells us that the bulk of the horde is, in fact, heading towards Denerim. And, it would seem, they have at least two days' head start on us, were we to try and catch them before they reach the capital."
"What? Are we sure about that?" Alistair demanded, shocked, his gaze snapping to Riordan. How could he have misread the horde so badly? "If that's true . . . we'll never make it there in time."
Riordan nodded. "I ventured close enough to 'listen in', as it were. I am quite certain."
Aedan frowned. "But . . . it seemed like they were headed here. How could we have been so wrong?"
Riordan cast a quick glance at Eamon and Teagan, and Alistair realized that they probably shouldn't talk too much of their ability to read the location of the horde. "The darkspawn line is wide, and many of them roam away from the main horde," Riordan answered carefully, staring meaningfully at both himself and Aedan. "Until now, most of them have been spotted here in the west. Additionally, the archdemon is quite good at . . . . confusing the issue, as it were."
So the archdemon can cloud our ability to sense the horde. Isn't that just wonderful? Alistair thought. He'd become rather reliant on his ability to know where the darkspawn were at all times; he wasn't sure how to deal with the fact that he could no longer trust his senses. Not wanting to worry Ayla or the others, however, he strived to make his tone flippant as he replied, "Not to mention that we've been too busy killing each other to pay much attention to some silly old darkspawn horde."
"There is, I'm afraid, one other piece of news that is of even greater concern," Riordan added reluctantly. "The archdemon has chosen to finally show itself. The dragon is at the head of the horde."
"Maker preserve us!" Teagan exclaimed, looking panicked.
"But if they have two days' lead on us, we can't reach Denerim in time, can we?" Alistair demanded, staring at Riordan, hoping the senior Warden would have more answers somehow, but he merely shook his head grimly. All those people . . .
"We must begin a forced march to the capital immediately with what we have. Denerim must be defended at all costs," Arl Eamon stated.
"Even with a forced march, is it possible for us to reach the city in time?" Aedan asked, though he sounded no more hopeful than Alistair was.
"Perhaps not, but what is important is that we know where the archdemon will be." Riordan looked back and forth between Alistair and Aedan, saying firmly, "If we do not defeat the archdemon, it will not matter if Denerim is saved or the horde defeated. And only the Grey Wardens can defeat the archdemon. That is why we must go."
Alistair nodded, though he couldn't help the rising sense of worry he felt at the thought of facing the archdemon as he pulled Ayla just a bit closer, squeezing her hand as he said, "Then we march, and hope the army we've collected here gives us the chance we need. Arl Eamon, how long before the army can set out?"
The Arl gave him a small smile of approval, and even in the midst of everything, Alistair still felt relief at the thought that Eamon had perhaps forgiven him, as he replied, "By daybreak."
"Then let's get them ready. I won't let all those people die without giving them a chance." No, it was his duty as a Warden to keep them safe from the darkspawn, and so he would do his best to try, Alistair decided, even if it meant facing the archdemon. Ayla smiled up at him with such pride that he felt himself flushing in response even as his heart warmed at her look.
Aedan gave him a nod of approval as well, turning to the Arl. "Then we'd better get going. This is what we've been working for; let's get it done."
"I will give the orders at once," Eamon declared, "and will notify you the moment we are ready to march."
Alistair smiled at him gratefully. "That would be appreciated."
"Aedan, Alistair, could the two of you meet me before you retire?" Riordan requested, his tone and expression solemn. "We have Grey Warden business to discuss."
"Yes, of course," Aedan agreed, even as he was glancing at Alistair, frowning in question. Alistair shrugged in reply; he had no idea what the senior Warden wanted to talk about, but he had a sinking feeling that it wasn't good.
"I will have someone show you to your rooms." Arl Eamon gestured to one of the servants who'd entered from a side door. "I suggest you all get some rest, while you can. We will need it."
They followed the servant up to the second floor, and were shown to the rooms they'd used before. As the others headed off to their own rooms, Alistair stopped with Ayla in the door to hers. "I'll go talk to Riordan right now," he told her softly, "and then I'll come join you. It shouldn't take too long."
"You don't know what it's about, do you?" There was a trace of worry in her eyes, and he wished he could make it disappear, but he could only shake his head in answer.
"Sorry, love, I don't. But," he added lightly, "it's probably just a strategy for fighting the archdemon. You know, whatever secret method the Wardens use. I'll be back as soon as I can, since we will actually have some time alone together tonight."
She smiled, kissing him gently, though he saw that the worry had not left her eyes. "Then I will be waiting here for you."
He kissed her once more before turning to leave, heading towards the door that the servant had declared was Riordan's. Aedan was waiting for him outside of it. "Are you ready for this?" Aedan asked quietly, his face expressionless, though Alistair could see the tension in his shoulders.
"No," Alistair said honestly, "but let's get it over with anyway."
Aedan nodded, pushing the door open, and the two of them entered the room, shutting the door behind them. Riordan had been sitting in one of the chairs, but he stood up as they entered, meeting them halfway across the room. "You are both here. Good." The senior Warden hesitated for a moment before he went on, "You are new to the Grey Wardens, and you may not have been told how an archdemon is slain. I need to know if that is so."
"You mean there's more to it than just, say, chopping off its head?" When Riordan merely raised his eyebrows in response to the joke, Alistair sighed and shook his head. "No, Duncan never told me any details."
"So it is true. Duncan had not yet told you. I had simply assumed . . ." Riordan trailed off, a reluctant look passing across his face before he finally said, "Tell me, have you ever wondered why the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the darkspawn?"
"Well, yes, of course we did," Aedan replied, frowning. "I thought it likely had something to do with the taint and our ability to sense them."
Riordan nodded, pacing back and forth as he explained, "The taint, yes, is exactly what it involves. The archdemon may be slain as any other darkspawn, but should any other than a Grey Warden do the slaying, it will not be enough. The essence of the beast will pass through the taint to the nearest darkspawn and will be reborn anew in that body. The dragon is thus all but immortal. But if the archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden . . . its essence travels into the Grey Warden, instead."
"So . . . what then happens to that Grey Warden?" Aedan asked slowly, reluctantly, looking as though he didn't want to know the answer any more than Alistair did.
Riordan's voice was heavy with his reply, his gaze serious as it met theirs. "A darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel, but a Grey Warden is not. The essence of the archdemon is destroyed . . . and so is the Grey Warden."
Alistair could only feel a growing sense of horror and despair as he stared at the senior Warden. "Meaning . . . the Grey Warden who kills the archdemon . . . dies?" Will this be the way that I lose my future? Will I break my promise to her, after all?
"Yes. Without the archdemon, the Blight ends. It is the only way." Riordan said the words with a clipped finality, even as he looked pained at having to deliver them.
"Is there no other way? Must a Grey Warden die?" Aedan's voice held all the desperation that Alistair himself felt; he knew his fellow Warden had no more desire to die in this battle than he did, yet it seemed that one of them might not have a choice.
Riordan shook his head slowly. "As far as we know, the transfer of the archdemon's essence is automatic. If one of us is not present when the killing blow is made, it is all for nothing. There is no other way. For what it's worth, I'm sorry," he finished quietly.
"So it's up to the three of us to make sure that the archdemon is defeated, then," Aedan said, his face having now gone carefully blank. Alistair wondered what he was thinking; Aedan always had a plan, but if his plan was to somehow sacrifice himself, there was no way Alistair could allow that. Ferelden needed his brother too much.
"In Blights past, when the time came, the eldest of the Grey Wardens would decide which amongst them would take that final blow," Riordan informed them. "If possible, the final blow should be mine to make. I am the eldest, and the taint will not spare me much longer. But if I fail, the deed falls on one of you."
He met their gazes, as though to gauge their resolve, and seemingly satisfied with what he saw, continued, "The Blight must be stopped now or it will destroy all of Ferelden before the rest of the Grey Wardens can assemble. Remember that. But enough," Riordan said suddenly, sounding weary as he waved his hand at them. "There will be much to do tomorrow and little enough time to rest before it. I will let you return to your rooms."
"We will see you once the army is ready to march, then," Alistair replied, feeling heartsick. Were his choices really limited to hoping that Riordan would be the one to take the final blow, or making sure that he got to do it himself before Aedan could? "I guess this ends soon, one way or another."
"That it does, my friend. That it does," Riordan said as the two of them turned and left the room.
Aedan seemed to be about to say something as Alistair followed him out into the hall, closing the door behind him, but he stopped dead instead, staring at the two people just outside the door. Alistair froze when he spotted them, as well; it was Zevran, with a clearly upset Ayla in his arms.
"Ayla?!" he exclaimed, horrified. He'd hoped to have time to break the news to her gently, but it seemed she already knew. "What are you doing out here?!"
She shouldn't be doing this, Ayla knew as she kept her ear pressed to the door of Riordan's room. She shouldn't be eavesdropping, especially when Alistair would tell her later what had occurred. But she'd been heading down to the kitchens to get some food for them both when she'd passed by and overheard Riordan say the words "you may not have been told how an archdemon is slain. I need to know if that is so." Her curiosity piqued, she'd been unable to prevent herself from stopping and listening in to the rest.
Zevran had come by a few seconds later, and seeing her there listening in, he'd grinned, shaken his head at her, and proceeded to press his ear to the door next to her. She hadn't bothered to scold him, not wanting to miss anything that was said, so she'd simply ignored him, continuing to listen with a growing sense of dread as Riordan described the truth of the Wardens and how they defeated an archdemon.
When she heard Alistair say, "Meaning . . . the Grey Warden who kills the archdemon . . . dies?" it hit her like a blow to the chest from a shield. She could only gasp in horror, frozen as she kept listening, struggling to breathe around her panicked fear for him.
She'd known that the final battle with the archdemon would be dangerous for Alistair, for all of them, really. But she had thought it would be an ordinary danger of battle, one that could be avoided if they were all only fast enough or strong enough. Or something that she could save him from, even if she had to take the blow herself. But she wasn't a Warden; she couldn't save him from this, from this sure and certain death if he was the one to finish the archdemon off. And she knew Alistair well enough to know that if it had to be him, he wouldn't be cowardly or selfish enough to shy away from it, and that knowledge hurt her more than anything she'd ever felt.
By the time Aedan said, "So it's up to the three of us to make sure that the archdemon is defeated, then," she couldn't listen to any more of it, unable to take it any longer. She stumbled backwards away from the door, breathing deeply, struggling not to give in to the tears that were clogging her throat and burning at her eyes. She felt Zevran's arms go hesitantly around her after a moment as she stood there in the hallway, and she turned blindly into his chest, trying to seek whatever small measure of comfort she could find.
"I am so sorry, my dear," he said quietly above her head as he rubbed soothing circles over her back. "I wish there was something I could do."
"This is exactly why I didn't want to fall in love with him, Zev," she choked out. "But I couldn't help it, even though I knew something like this would happen, and that it would be more painful than – than anything I'd ever . . ." she trailed off, gulping, knowing she would give in and cry if she kept talking about it.
"I know, Ayla, I know," he murmured, squeezing her gently.
They remained together quietly like that for a minute more, as Zevran attempted to soothe her and she tried her best not to break down. But then she heard the door open behind her, and Alistair's voice exclaim, "Ayla?! What are you doing out here?!"
No, she couldn't deal with this, not now, she thought. But before she'd fully realized what she was doing, she had broken away from Zevran and whirled to face Alistair, crying out, "I heard what happens when you face the archdemon! Alistair, I – you – I thought you said I was never going to lose you!"
She knew even as she said it that it was wildly unfair to bring that impulsive promise of his up. She'd never meant to hold him to it, had known he was only saying it to make both of them feel better, that he'd been praying it would come true. But she was hurting badly, and so she lashed out unthinkingly at the source of her pain. When he flinched as if she'd struck him, though, it only made her feel that much worse.
"Ayla, I'm so sorry," he said at last, his voice low and broken. "I – please let me explain –" He started to close the distance between them, reaching out for her.
No. If he touched her right now, she really would cry, and she might not ever be able to stop. "I – I can't deal with this right now," she managed, before she turned and fled down the hallway.
"You had better fix this, my friend," Zevran said coldly, as he also turned to leave, tossing over his shoulder, "I do not wish to see her like this."
"You think I do?!" Alistair snapped after him, filled with frustration and heartbroken despair. He'd been so close to having the future he wanted with her. Maker, he even had the ring for her in his pack that Aedan had helped him pick out the morning before they'd left Denerim, and now, he might never even have the chance to give it to her. And the absolute last thing in the world he wanted was to cause her pain, and yet here he was, doing just that simply because he was a Warden, and this was a Blight. Just how in the Maker's name could he fix this?
He felt Aedan's hand land on his shoulder, squeezing as he said, "Alistair, if Riordan fails, I can –"
"No," Alistair interrupted him, shaking his head. "I can't ask that of you, not when you're going to be King and Ferelden needs you."
"Alistair –"
"Just what have you done, fool Templar?" Morrigan snarled, interrupting Aedan as she stormed down the hall, her eyes lit with fury. "Do you care to explain what you have done to upset Ayla so that she would flee outside, refusing to speak with me?!"
Alistair didn't even bother to defend himself as she stopped in front of him, hands planted on her hips. It was true enough that he'd been the one to upset Ayla, after all. Aedan, however, came to his rescue, stepping forward and saying softly to Morrigan, "He didn't do anything. Ayla overheard how Wardens defeat the archdemon and . . ." he trailed off, as if he'd suddenly realized explaining everything might also upset Morrigan.
But Morrigan did not appear surprised or confused at Aedan's lack of explanation, merely saying, "Ah, I see." Alistair stared at her in growing suspicion, wondering if she had somehow known all along what he and Aedan had not. This suspicion was only confirmed when she continued, "'Tis fortunate, then, that I have a way out for you both, a plan to keep you both alive. The loop in your hole."
Aedan was gaping at her in clear shock, even as Alistair demanded, "Just what is this plan? And how did you know about this?"
Morrigan shrugged carelessly. "I know a great many things. How I know is not quite as important as what I am offering the both of you, however. And I only require Aedan's assistance for this plan, in any event. I suggest you go to Ayla and explain that she has nothing to worry about, that you will not die when facing the archdemon. Or will you insist upon looking a gift horse in the mouth, and break my sister's heart while doing so?"
Alistair stared at her, blinking in surprise. He'd never been able to fully trust her, and the fact that she'd known about this and had a plan in place for it did nothing to help that. But it was very clear how much she cared about both Ayla and Aedan, and she was right; was he really going to reject this plan, whatever it was, when doing so would break Ayla's heart? When following along with it would allow him to remain alive and with the woman he loved? He looked to Aedan, silently asking his opinion.
Aedan nodded. "Go. Tell her we're both going to live through the battle. I'll find out the details from Morrigan and make sure that we all get through this."
"Okay," Alistair said after a long moment. He might not trust the witch, but he trusted Aedan completely. He knew his fellow Warden would not go ahead with this plan if it was too dangerous or just . . . not right. And if it turned out later that Aedan had rejected the plan, he would at least have the opportunity to break it to Ayla more gently. But, he realized as he turned and hurried down the hall after Ayla, he was just selfish enough to take any chance at salvation he was offered, even if it did come from Morrigan.
He found her just outside the main doors, sitting on the parapet above the courtyard, her back to the balcony and to him. "Ayla," he said softly, reaching for her, but she slid just out of his grasp as soon as she heard his voice.
"Don't, Alistair," she whispered, not even turning to look at him. "Please. I just can't, not right now."
"Morrigan has a plan," he blurted out desperately, willing her to look at him, to stop hurting him like this. That finally got her attention, though; she turned at last to face him, sliding off the wall, though her expression remained carefully guarded and she stayed just out of his reach.
"What sort of plan?" she asked warily.
He shook his head. "She didn't tell me any details, but she says she has a way out for both Aedan and I. A – a loophole, a way to keep us both alive when we defeat the archdemon. I'm guessing it's some sort of spell, but she says she only needs Aedan's help for it. Anyway . . . it means you won't lose me."
She was wide-eyed with surprise by the time he'd finished, her hand over her mouth, and then suddenly, she was racing to him. He pulled her up into his arms desperately as she buried her face in his neck, the only part of him not currently covered in his armor, and he clung to her as tightly as he dared. "Goddess, Alistair, I was so terrified and it was hurting me so much . . . I'm sorry," she mumbled against his neck, wrapping her arms around him tighter.
"Don't be," he told her, his heart singing with relief. "Maker, it was killing me, but I didn't know how I could make it better. But if Morrigan really has a plan, then I'm going to do everything I can to come out of this alive. For you. For us."
She leaned back to look up at him, her expression serious as she said, "You'd better. Because it's either we make it out of this together, or not at all, you understand?"
Alistair blinked, nodding slowly, even as he wondered if she really meant what he thought she did. Well, Zevran had promised him he wouldn't let Ayla do anything drastic if he died, and he felt sure the elf would keep that promise if he had to. He'd just have to do his best to make sure it wasn't necessary. "Let's go back to your room," he murmured against her lips before he kissed her slowly. "I want to spend every minute I can with you tonight before we leave. It's the last chance we'll have to be alone before . . ."
She kissed him hard, cutting off the end of his sentence, before she pulled away and nodded. "Let's go." He set her down, following her back inside as he sent a silent prayer to the Maker, to her Goddess, to anyone who would listen, to let this battle with the archdemon work out.
"So, Morrigan, you say you have a plan to keep us both alive?" Aedan asked after they had returned to his room, the door closed behind them. To say he was badly shaken would be an understatement; first finding out that the only way to kill the archdemon was for a Warden to die, then realizing that Alistair was determined to sacrifice himself if Riordan failed, only to find out that Morrigan already knew all about this and had a plan to get them out of it? His emotions had run the gamut over the last few moments, and right now, he wasn't sure just what he was feeling. Relief, maybe, that neither he nor Alistair would have to die? Anger that Morrigan had known and hadn't told him? He wasn't sure.
Morrigan nodded; he could see that she was nervous as she crossed to the fireplace and turned to face him, wringing her hands just a little bit, but enough for him to notice. "Yes, I have a way out. I . . . knew that a Grey Warden had to be sacrificed when the archdemon dies, and I know that sacrifice could be you. Or the love of my sister. But this does not need to be so."
"So how exactly did you know about this before I did?" he demanded, realizing by the edge in his tone that maybe he was angry right now. "You've obviously known long enough to come up with a plan. You didn't just find out in the hallway. How could you not tell me?"
She looked away for a moment, as though to avoid the heat in his gaze, before she finally answered, "Yes, I have known for quite some time; Flemeth informed me before I went with you. I did not tell you because initially I thought you already knew; until recently, that is, and by then . . . I was reluctant to explain the reason why I accompanied you, by bringing it up. But. . . I had thought Duncan would have told Alistair, and he would have told you . . . " She shrugged, looking almost ashamed, he thought, startled, as she continued with a slight plea in her tone, "But I'm offering you a way out. A way out for you and Alistair, that there need be no sacrifice."
If she had known all along . . . if this plan was the reason she had accompanied them on this journey . . . then it had to have come from Flemeth, he mused. Which meant he wasn't entirely sure it would be the right thing to do, and yet did he really want to die? Did he really want Alistair to die? There was always the hope, of course, that Riordan would succeed, but given the way their luck had been, Aedan wasn't willing to pin their lives on that chance. So he asked, a trifle reluctantly, "What is this way out? Why did you come with us?"
"'Tis a ritual . . . performed before battle, in the dark of night," Morrigan explained slowly.
A ritual, of course it was. "Just what sort of ritual is this, Morrigan?" He sincerely hoped it would be one that he could agree to.
"It is old magic, from a time before the Circle of Magi was created. Some would call it blood magic, but it is not of the sort that would cost anyone their lives. And think, after all, of how the Wardens are created. Is that not a sort of blood magic?" She was watching him steadily, gauging his reaction, as if expecting him to explode at the mention of blood magic, but he didn't feel the need to. He could see her point about the Wardens; they drank magically enhanced blood to gain their abilities, after all. And most of his objections to blood magic stemmed from the fact that it was normally harmful. But if this would not cost anyone their lives, but instead save lives, wouldn't it be worth it?
On the other hand, he was fairly certain this ritual came from Flemeth, and that was the part he wasn't sure about, so he had to know, "And where exactly did you get this ritual, Morrigan? Did your mother give it to you? I thought that you didn't trust her?"
She shook her head. "I do not trust her, but her plan was for me to return to her once this was done, and I do not intend to. That is why I have to leave, to remain on the move, so that she cannot find me. But yes, the ritual is hers."
"So what is this ritual about? What do you need me for?" he demanded. He wasn't a mage, after all. What use could he be in performing the ritual? Would she use his blood?
He wasn't expecting the answer that she gave him, though, as she replied, "What I propose is this: lay with me. Here, tonight. And from our joining, a child will be conceived. The child will bear the taint, and when the archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon." He must have looked horrified, for she quickly elaborated, "At this early stage, the child can absorb that essence and not perish. The child will not even be hurt, merely changed. The archdemon is still destroyed, with no Grey Warden dying in the process."
A child. He wasn't sure how he felt about her proposal, besides shocked. He had, of course, thought about having a child together with Morrigan, before she had turned him down. But like this? As part of some ritual to save his own life? He couldn't pin down his feelings on it, and unsure how to respond, he finally blurted out, "You really want to have my child?"
"Well, it would be a necessary part of the ritual, but . . . yes." Her expression softened, and she gave him that sweet smile that he liked to think of as his alone. "I think I do want to have your child – our child. To have some piece of you with me, always, after I leave, even when you cannot be there."
He smiled, feeling the warmth spread through his heart at her words, but at the same time, he couldn't help feeling a little niggling doubt in his mind. He knew she was good at seducing men, telling them exactly what they wanted to hear. Maybe she was even better at than he'd thought. So he couldn't help but pose the question to her, even as he was afraid to hear the answer. "So . . .this is the reason why you wanted to be with me? Was any of it ever real? Did you ever really want me at all?"
She flinched as though he had yelled at her, even though he'd struggled not to lose his cool, and he suddenly remembered her asking him for a favour when he had begged her forgiveness. I may find myself in need of your forgiveness, one day. He felt suddenly awful for doubting her. She'd been afraid he would be angry with her when he found out about this, he realized. Maybe even afraid he would leave her over it. That was why she'd extracted that promise from him. He knew she loved him. How many times had he seen it, even when she'd been trying to hide it?
Before he could apologize for his brief moment of doubt, however, she was already replying. "It's . . . why I was sent with you by my mother. It's why she saved your lives to begin with. But . . . yes, I did want you, and was intrigued by you, from the moment I spotted you in the Wilds. And falling in love with you . . . was most certainly not part of my plan." There were tears gathering in her eyes as she went on, clearly finding it difficult to keep her voice even, "But I cannot let what we feel for one another interfere with what I must do. This is important to me. The fact that it saves your life – that it saves Alistair's life, so that Ayla might be happy – makes me all the more determined to see it done. Please do not . . . cloud the issue. The fact that you love me will make what we must do . . . easier, will it not?"
"I'm sorry, my pretty witch," he apologized, crossing the room to her, taking her hands in his and bringing them up to place a kiss on them both. "I shouldn't have doubted you . . . I just couldn't seem to stop myself from asking."
"It is all right, Aedan," she said softly, her eyes warm as she looked up at him, though they were still bright with unshed tears. "I cannot blame you for having your doubts, given the way that it looked. But . . . what is your answer?"
"I just have one more question before I can agree," he told her. One more doubt that must be laid to rest, not of her, but of the plan that she had received from Flemeth. "What about our child? Will it become . . . something else?" What will the soul of an archdemon do to it? he wondered, even as he was unsure how to ask that question.
"Allow me to say that what I seek is the essence of the Old God that once was and not the dark forces that corrupted it. Some things are worth preserving in this world. I do not know entirely what will happen; not even Flemeth does. But I do not believe the child would be harmed, or become . . . evil." Her voice was sure, her gaze certain this time as it met his, and he realized that was really what his worry had been; that their child would turn into some horrifying creature of evil.
But she seemed certain that it would not, and he could see the pleading in her gaze as she continued to meet his eyes, the way she was almost begging him to say yes. And he could remember the clear anguish in Ayla's gaze, the heartbreak in his brother's tone, as they had confronted one another out in the hallway. He could make all of that better, all by simply being with Morrigan tonight as he wanted to be. And if things went differently than she expected with the child – well, they could worry about that when it came to it. He nodded firmly. "All right, I agree. If this is the way that I can save us both . . . I will do it."
A bright, dazzling smile broke over Morrigan's face. "A wise decision. Come, my love. Put the thoughts of the ritual aside and let us make this last night together one to remember."
"Oh, we will, my lovely witch," he murmured as he let her draw him over to the bed. "We will."
