From the prompt: Nine months after her departure, your OC wonders about Morrigan and her child.
Mi corazón,
I would prefer to be where you are, you know that. Antiva is dreadfully dull without you, even with the Crows trying to hunt me down. And no, I do not give you permission to abandon your arling to come aid me. The Guildmaster is my archdemon, as it were. I must deal with the Crows, but I swear I will return to you and no one will be able to separate us.
As for your second question, no, I have not heard from our witch. If your intent is to ask me to kill her for abandoning you, I fear I cannot do such. I do not take contracts on my friends — not anymore, at least. However, if you have a mind to deal with her, I will be at your side.
I am saddened that you must deal with this darkspawn business without me. Do not let them run you ragged, my love. I intend to have a future with a stubborn, strong, beautiful man and it would not do for the Grey Wardens to wear him away.
Until then, you remain in my dreams — especially the naughty ones.
Yours always,
Z.
Darrian read the letter for what must have been the twentieth time, and just as each time before his mind wandered before reaching the end. He lifted his eyes to look at the sky. The last vestiges of sunset clung to the horizon, stars twinkling above without a care. Of course Zevran would assume he was angry with Morrigan. He would not be entirely wrong — but he was incorrect about the reason.
When Morrigan offered Darrian a way out of sacrificing his life to slay the archdemon, he had not taken appropriate time to consider it. He could hardly be blamed for that. He had been fighting for so long and was so tired, and then he had come to learn that in exchange for killing the archdemon he would die. Darrian had been on his way to tell Zevran, although he had no idea how one could possibly deliver such news, when Morrigan gave him another way.
And he had taken that way at once. After so much time being ready to die, accepting that life was nothing but pain, it had been strange to realize that he now wanted to live. The assassin sent to end his life had instead given him something to live for and Darrian had not been willing to give that up.
He had not considered the consequences until too late. Now he'd had nine months to think on it, for the regret to steadily build, for the guilt to creep around the corners of his mind.
What sort of life had he cursed the child to suffer? What did it even mean for it to hold the soul of an archdemon? Morrigan had claimed that the child would be free of corruption, but how could she possibly know that? He had not thought to question the veracity at the time, but why would she have insisted he would never set eyes on the child unless that was a lie? What would Morrigan do with it? She certainly must have some sort of plan — just as she'd planned to coerce Darrian into conceiving the child.
"My child," Darrian corrected under his breath, gaze falling back to the letter.
Yours always.
Would Zevran claim that if he knew what Darrian had done? Zev always had a soft spot for children — if he knew Darrian had potentially cursed a child, he would be furious. If he discovered that Darrian had fathered a child by sleeping with Morrigan, of all people, without at least discussing it with him first…Darrian had no idea how he would react to that.
Darrian lowered his head. There wasn't time for this. He should be resting or at least preparing for the inevitable siege on Vigil's Keep. This was no time to wallow in regrets. It all might not matter soon, anyway. There was no guarantee he would survive to see Zevran again.
Maybe he should have just died at Denerim after all.
"There you are!" a friendly voice chimed from behind him. "Andraste's tits, it's cold up here," the mage added quietly.
Darrian folded the letter and carefully slipped it into his pocket. "Hello, Anders," he said, forcing a small smile as he turned to face him.
Anders had his arms wrapped tightly over his chest. "Justice was looking for you. Had some idea about the walls or something. I didn't really listen." He hugged himself a bit tighter with a shiver.
"You could use your magic," Darrian pointed out.
Anders seemed taken aback. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, conjuring a ball of flame to hover between them.
"Why apologize?" Darrian stepped a touch closer to steal more of the warmth.
"I sometimes forget," Anders said with a shrug. "How you're different. I guess I'm just not used to it. Not being condemned and judged for…I don't—." His cheeks were red from the cold as he looked away. "I forget I can be me with you. I know that sounds stupid," he added, shutting his eyes with a wince. "Why do you let me go on like that?" Anders sighed and shook his head. "It isn't fair."
Darrian waited for Anders to continue, brow knitted with concern, but the mage did not elaborate. There was certainly a lot that could be considered unfair. Darrian's hand drifted to touch the earring Zev had given him, mind drifting back to his deception and questionable choices. It was hardly fair to Zevran. He deserved better.
"What isn't?" Darrian made himself ask, trying to shove aside his personal troubles. He was the Commander now and he should be worried about those under his command. They may all be dead in the coming days, after all.
Anders' gaze lingered on Darrian's hand, and the elf self-consciously released the earring. "It's nothing," the mage said finally. "Just thinking aloud and making a fool of myself. It's what I'm known for."
"You're hardly a fool," Darrian countered with a soft smile. "No more than the rest of us, anyway."
Anders chuckled. "I suppose that's fair. Oghren's still ranting about how terrible a Commander you are, you know."
"Oh, is he?" Darrian said, arching an eyebrow with mild amusement.
"Yes. Apparently you dared suggest that he just might be a good father?" Anders said with a shake of his head. "Clearly that's drunken madness. You would never have suggested such a thing."
Darrian's jaw tightened. He had suggested that Oghren go back to Felsi so he could raise his child. Knowing Oghren that may not be the best idea, but at least the dwarf had a choice. He had the opportunity to be there for his child.
Unlike Darrian.
"I didn't…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you if that's…oh Maker, I'm an idiot."
Darrian blinked, surprised to feel a tear rolling down his cheek. "Anders, it's fine."
Anders shook his head, cheeks still deeply flushed. "Do you…you and that Antivan…have a child?" he asked tentatively.
Darrian nearly choked, torn between the desires to laugh and cry. How had Anders read him so clearly? "Stranger things have happened, but I don't think it can work that way with two men." Anders blushed even more deeply, and Darrian could not help but tease a little more. At least it was almost a distraction. "Unless mages have some fascinating traits I'm unaware of?"
"No, that's not — well, actually I wouldn't be surprised if there was a way with blood magic," Anders suddenly considered with a small grin. "But no, I didn't mean it like that." The spark of amusement vanished from his eyes as he added seriously, "Not all children are raised by their birth parents. I think any one of them would be lucky to have you."
"The Warden Commander and the assassin for parents? I doubt it," Darrian deflected.
"You know, since we might die soon," Anders said slowly, "I never asked, but you say the strangest things about…well, about your lover. Zevran, I think you said his name was?"
Darrian shifted his weight uncomfortably, but was glad of the conversation's shift away from the idea of children. He was letting himself obsess, and that was not healthy. As Morrigan had said, he would never meet the child. He should put all thought of it from his mind.
"Yes, that's right," Darrian confirmed. "What about him?"
Anders' face was still oddly red. Maybe it was the light from the flame causing it and not the cold after all. "Well, you just called him an assassin."
"He is," Darrian confirmed lightly. "Once a Crow, in fact, though I don't think he'd appreciate being called that now." Anders slipped the smallest distance away, like he worried getting too close would bring this assassin's wrath onto him.
"So how did a Crow get involved with the Blight?" Anders asked. "Did you put out a contract on the archdemon or something?" he theorized with a smirk.
Darrian couldn't help but grin at the memory of meeting Zevran. "No, I don't think any would have taken that one. Zev accepted a contract on my life."
"What?" Anders' mouth fell open. "Are you…are you saying you met because he came to kill you?"
Darrian hummed as he nodded. "You know, I never thanked Loghain for that," he mused. "I suppose I really owe him. Too bad I killed him already."
"You are mental," Anders muttered, shaking his head. "How the fuck did you seduce the man paid to kill you?"
Darrian put a hand over his heart, near where he kept the letter from his love. "I think it was more the other way around, though he'd probably claim otherwise."
"Your choice in companions makes more sense by the minute," Anders said with a chuckle. "You really take all kinds."
"I thought that would get me killed, but it hasn't yet." He found his fingers stroking the earring again. "I assumed he'd kill me each night. Each morning, he expected to wake up dead. Neither of us ever got around to it." Darrian leaned on the stone wall behind him, tilting his head to look up at the stars again.
He was going to get through this. For Zevran, if not for himself, and the secret of the dark ritual would go with him to his grave. Zevran had been through enough — Darrian had put him through enough.
How long he would manage to cling to that perspective, he truly had no idea; but for now, his heart felt a little lighter.
Anders smiled as he stared up at the night sky, too. "You really love him," he said abruptly into the silence.
"Yes," Darrian said, eyes filling with tears that were finally not those of despair. "Yes, I do."
"Maybe I'll find that one day," Anders murmured.
"You will," Darrian said confidently. Anders looked a little startled. "You're a good man, Anders, and a damn talented one." Anders' breath stuttered as he searched for a reply. Darrian could see the doubt shining in his eyes — doubt all too similar to that which he felt himself. Darrian pushed off of the wall and put a hand on the mage's shoulder. "Be you, my friend. Let the world see you shine."
Anders put a hand over Darrian's, holding onto it tightly before finally replying. "I don't know what you see in me, but…I will try." He leaned slightly forward, taking a deep breath like he meant to say more, but then he shook his head and took a step back. "That's assuming we survive the darkspawn, of course. Which we won't if we catch our deaths of cold." Anders waved away the fire. "Shall we go try some of that stew Oghren whipped up?"
"I thought we meant to survive this," Darrian quipped, following the mage into the castle.
Anders laughed. "My dear Commander, you've seduced Crows and taken down Old Gods. If anyone can survive Oghren's cooking, it's you."
Thankfully, it turned out that Oghren had significant help with the meal and no one lost their lives to it.
Before settling down for bed, Darrian found himself finally writing an answer to Zevran's letter.
My little bird, he began the letter to his love, and ending it with a promise: My future is yours until you fulfill your contract, and my heart will remain such for eternity after.
As for the other letter to the child he would never know…well, he burned that one before he even finished. Watching the parchment curl and fall to ash, he let his concerns about the child similarly fade away — for the time being.
Connected to another prompt fic of mine, Apologies.