Chapter I

Alone. If there was one word to describe just how Morrigan felt anymore, that would be it. The events of the Inquisition were two years past, but to the witch, it might as well been a lifetime ago. Ever since her beloved Grey Warden departed on a quest to rid himself of the taint that lay dormant in his body, Morrigan felt as though the largest part of her was missing.

Grey Wardens are tasked with the most unenviable jobs: to stem the tide of the Blights which roll across the lands of Thedas and to slay the Archdemon; for as fate would decree, or perhaps it was the wishes of the gods, only a true Grey Warden can kill an Archdemon. But the taint that coursed through the veins of her love and gave him his ability was also a slow and agonizing death sentence. Inevitably, the Calling would come to The Warden and he would embark for the Deep Roads in order to meet his end in combat against the corrupted darkspawn or else suffer an even more horrifying fate of madness and death.

While the witch was loathe to see her husband embark on his journey without her, the chance of success far outweighed any costs. Indeed, it was she who urged him to go. She was even the one to find the first clues as to where he should start looking. Thus, he set out looking for a way to cleanse, not only himself, but all wardens. That was more than four years ago.

At first, things weren't bad at all. Morrigan even enjoyed the time alone more far more than she thought she was going to. It had been ages since she'd had any length of time to herself and she found it to be relaxing. Not to mention her hope and optimism that someday soon she and her warden would be able to live out long lives together quashed any feelings of loneliness that tried to force its way through. Her love was the Hero of Ferelden, after all. He'd conquered so many foes and saved so many lives that there was no way to count them. Surely his current task was not beyond his capabilities.

The two would write to each other often. He would give updates as to the status of his endeavors while she would tell him about the affairs back home. Neither of them would shower the other with words of love and affection; instead preferring to generally keep to the topic at hand. That wasn't to say that either didn't convey how much they missed the other, one just needed to read between the lines to get the implied intent. It was how Morrigan preferred it, lest prying eyes find their way into she and her warden's private correspondence.

And, often to the witch's dismay, it wasn't as if she was ever really alone. People would come calling to check up on the witch and her children nearly every single day. Morrigan knew it was at the behest of her warden that they did so. How very much like him, she would think to herself. But she endured the visits as gracefully as she could muster. Fortunately, they never stayed too long.

Usually it was Teyrn Fergus, The Warden's older brother, but others would stop by as well. The flame-haired bard, Leliana, paid a couple of visits and even King Alistair once when he was in Highever on official royal business. Admittedly, the witch even thought it was pleasant to see them. Although, Leliana's final visit did end in such a way that it made Morrigan shudder. It was something she refused to think about. It wasn't that Morrigan was angry with the bard, but no one could ever know of what happened between them. It was beyond her control, she told herself, and left it at that.

Soon, though, the letters from her warden began arriving less often. As time dragged on and her love was away, the pit in her stomach began to grow ever larger. It became almost like a torture to have to sit at her table and put pen to paper. The task only served to remind her that he wasn't there and that she would be alone once more in their large bed that night. The entire situation became maddening.

Day in and day out she was forced to look at the same walls of their small cottage by the river. He'd been gone over a year and by this time the witch missed her husband desperately. If she wrote to him and told him what she felt, he would, of course, stop what he was doing and instantly return home to her. She knew this. But she had to be stronger than that. Morrigan would forever curse her weakness if her feelings caused him to fail in his mission. If being away from him now meant she could have him for longer in the future, then she just had to deal with it.

But such thoughts did little to make things easier. If the witch was forced to endure one more day staring at the same four walls she would go completely mad. She needed to get out. She had to get away. She needed to leave and go as far from Highever as her feet would take her. That's when an idea popped into her head.

Morrigan had heard rumors that the court of Orlais was in need of an arcane advisor. Better still were the whispers that Empress Celene sought out knowledge forbidden to the Chantry mages of the Circle. It was something that Morrigan was uniquely qualified for. Being an apostate gave the witch insights into certain aspects of magic that few, if any, in the Circle of Magi would ever have been given access to. Better still, her warden was a member of the Cousland family which meant that she could freely move among the highborn of Ferelden.

Ever since the Blight, when Morrigan was forced from her home in the wilds and into the world of men, the witch had to learn a great many things. The greatest among these lessons was the true nature of love and everything it entailed. But another skill she gleaned from The Warden was how to behave among the nobility. She remembered a time when the servants at Arl Eamon's estate in Denerim looked upon her as though she were nothing but a lowly savage; a well spoken savage, but a savage nonetheless. She didn't know or understand the rules. Now, however, she was a member of one of the most powerful families in all Ferelden, outside of King Alistair. And even he would be wary to oppose the Couslands. Their lands covered more than a third of the country and contained numerous bannorns and arlings within their borders.

What all this meant was Morrigan would be able to endear herself to the Empress' court as one of their own. That was the idea, anyway. In truth, the stories she'd heard of the Court of Orlais and their internal dealings with one another, a ritual known as 'The Game', was something she hadn't been subjected to before. While Ferelden politics certainly had its fair share of secrets, backstabbing, and intrigue, at the end of the day things tended to be fairly straightforward. Not so in Orlais. But she was confident in her abilities as a mage and reasoned that she could just adapt to the rest. She reckoned that the hardest part of the entire plan was telling Fergus she was leaving.

If Morrigan knew her warden, she could be certain that he told his brother to take care of his family while he was away. And being like The Warden in many ways, Teyrn Fergus intended on doing exactly as requested, but at a distance. Fergus had grown to know the witch quite well and knew she enjoyed her space. While he wasn't willing to risk her ire, he made sure she was well looked after.

So naturally the teyrn objected to Morrigan's plans when she did tell him. He did his best to use reason and logic to sway the witch with his argument. His words did little to assuage Morrigan, however. She was determined to leave on her fool's errand and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Normally, she could be persuaded with a logical argument, even if she did cast a menacing glare towards the offending person. But not this time. This time the look in her empty eyes informed the teyrn just how much she missed her husband and needed to find some relief from the continual agony.

She did at least agree to one of Fergus' request: the three youngest children would stay behind with him at his castle. He told her that they were far too young to attempt crossing the Frostback Mountains into Orlais. And while he made no mention of it, the teyrn also hoped that by leaving her children with him she would long for home and return all the sooner. Not only was he concerned his brother would hold him accountable for what happened to Morrigan, but he also held a fondness for the witch and didn't wish to see her harmed. Fergus felt as though his brother was truly lucky to find someone like her.

"Lucas, you shall be in charge of your sisters until I return. Is that understood?" Morrigan informed her younger son who was barely seven years old at the time. "I want you to watch over them and be all the things a big brother is meant to be." she finished while bending over and placing a gentle kiss on top of his head.

"Why does Seth get to go and I don't?" the boy exclaimed, feeling more than a little frustrated at being left out. "'Tis not fair!"

Morrigan chose not to acknowledge her son's outburst and instead turned her attention to her two small daughters: Penelope who was six and Erin who had just turned four. "Mind yourselves while I am away." she told them. "I shall return soon, my darlings."

It was extremely difficult for the witch to leave her children behind. But heading to Val Royeaux and the Empress' court was something she felt she had to do in order to maintain her sanity. She knew that Fergus would care for her children as if they were his own. He cherished his nephews and nieces and made no secret of it. But that didn't make leaving them any easier. Still, she knew that the teyrn was right. It would be unfair of her, not to mention dangerous, to drag her three youngest along with her while she escaped her misery.

And so Morrigan found her hunch had been correct. Celene was interested in the services only the witch could provide. It wasn't always easy, but it was far better than sitting at home in her humble cottage and wallowing in her own self-pity while she awaited the return of her warden.

After a time, it became clear to Morrigan that her services to the empress where nearing their eventual end. She and Seth had spent just over a year in the heart of the Orlisian Empire, but it was time to move on. Fortunately for the witch, another opportunity became available almost as soon as she decided to leave Celene's court.

At the time, it was known throughout all Thedas that the darkspawn magister known as Corypheus was a great danger to everyone. He was intent on entering the fade in physical form and storming the Black City to have its throne as his own. Indeed, he even claimed to be one the very magisters who first set foot into the city all those centuries ago. Morrigan could not verify Corypheus' stories, but she did know one thing for certain: even if he wasn't able to sack the Dark City, the attempt alone could ravage the world. She was determined that wouldn't be the case. The crazed darkspawn magister could never be allowed to enter the fade at any cost.

So Morrigan joined the ranks of the Inquisition. She would serve as an arcane advisor to its leader, Inquisitor Trevelyan. Together, they would defeat Corypheus at every turn. It was a time that the witch very much enjoyed, although she made no indication of it. It's wasn't that she reveled in the death and destruction such world shaking events tend to bring about, but it brought back feelings of her time during the Fifth Blight. It made her feel a part of something grand, something special. She was reminded of the creature she was when she first met her warden and the long road she had taken since. Somehow, it made him feel closer to her even though he couldn't be there in the flesh. She knew that he would be proud of her, and although she would never tell a single soul, that thought alone meant everything to her.

And with the defeat of Corypheus, Morrigan and her son returned to Highever. She had been away more than a year and very much longed to see her children again. She feared that she missed so much about them that they would hardly recognize her at all. And best of all, her love had given every indication that his search was drawing to a close. The last letter he had written her gave her hope that soon she would see his smiling face again and that this time, they would be together for many years to come.

But the hope soon faded to despair. The letter she received from him at Skyhold while working with the Inquisition would be the last thing she heard about her husband. For two years Morrigan tried in vain to deal with the emotions and emptiness that bombarded her. She finally came to the realization that, for whatever reason, he wasn't coming back to her. It would be best if she just moved on with her life. But her love for him would not fade. All she desired was to be with her husband again, if even for the briefest of moments. But even that was denied her.

As word of The Warden's disappearance spread across the land, Ferelden mourned the loss of its hero. King Alistair even erected a statue to him on the very spot in Denerim where he'd slain the archdemon. The king had lost his best friend. The teyrn of Highever had lost his brother. A nation had lost its hero. But it was Morrigan who grieved hardest of all. She felt as though she would never know what took her warden from her. And not knowing was the worst form of torture that exists.

The Warden was no ordinary man. He'd done things that most men couldn't have even dreamt of accomplishing. Whatever it was that caused his demise must have been a great foe, indeed. But unbeknownst to the witch, forces were aligning themselves. Some in her favor, some against.

If there was an all-knowing Maker, perhaps he did hold some form of fairness. For in the coming weeks and months, Morrigan would get her chance to set things right, but it would prove to be the single hardest struggle she'd ever known. But as they say, every journey starts with but a single step; or in this case, a knock at the door…

"Who goes there?" was the witch's reply. She was in the middle of separating her girls' laundry for the week's wash when the knock came.

"I have a letter for Lady Morrigan" a frail sounding voice on the other side of the door answered. "I'm told it's urgent."

The witch grumbled and walked toward the door. She didn't enjoy being interrupted, especially when some peddler or beggar came knocking. Her hand reached for the latch and gave the handle a quick turn to open it. "I am rather busy and have little time for games." she said as she swung the door wide.

Once open, a small man was revealed to Morrigan. He had long gray hair and a slight build. But despite his appearance, the witch didn't think he looked malnourished or sickly. He was just a small older man. "No games, my lady." he said. "This letter came for you and I was instructed to deliver it straight away."

The messenger held out an envelope to the witch. She could plainly see the large wax seal that held it closed, although she didn't recognize the seal, itself. It certainly wasn't one Fergus or Alistair had ever used.

She snatched the envelope for the small man's hand and looked at it. Ever since her warden had gone, there had been little reason for the throngs of his admirers to visit or send letters. The letter's origin was a complete mystery to her.

"Ahem." the old man cleared his throat as he held out his hand. "It is a long way out here from the village, my lady." he said. "My old bones don't make these trips like they used to."

"Yes, of course." the witch replied, although she was still focused more on the letter than the man. She reached into her apron and pulled three gold coins from within the pocket, which she dropped into the old man's hand.

The small man plucked his dusty hat from his head and clasped it in his gnarled hands as he bowed in gratification. "Thank you, my lady. Maker watch over you." he said as he began to back away from the door, which Morrigan had already begun closing.

Once back behind the door, the witch cracked the wax seal with her thumb nail and opened the letter as quickly as she could. Her curiosity was greatly piqued by what the envelope contained within. She knew she was probably in for a letdown, but that didn't stop her from pulling the letter from its sheath and opening the folded paper with great interest.

As she read the words, her hand went to cover her mouth to stifle a gasp that was escaping. Of all the letters she ever expected to receive, this would have never been one of them. She read the words over and over again to make sure she was reading it correctly. At first her reaction was one of disbelief, but there was something within she couldn't deny; something only he had said to her. Morrigan dropped to her knees, her hand covering her face, and began to sob.

Your warden is alive but he isn't where he's supposed to be. They've trapped him there. Only you can get him back from where he is. Meet me tomorrow night by the dark temple that you hate. He made me promise.

A friend of The Warden

P.S. He told me to tell you your handwriting looks like shit.