1. The Fall

He awoke in the dark, no longer falling, but lying in a crude bed, its frayed blanket rough and itchy against his bare skin. The place smelled of damp mud and braken. Loki groaned and tried to sit up. He was yet weak.

Lamplight filtered through the cracks of the makeshift door, then spilled in, preceding a wizened crone. "Ah," she spoke, "the godling is awake."

Loki bit down on a snarl. 'Godling,' indeed! "Where am I? What's happening? Who are you?"

"I am Flemeth. You may have heard of me." She waited expectantly, but no recognition was forthcoming. "No?" She shrugged. "This is my hut. Welcome!"

"How did I get here? The last thing I remember..." Falling. He'd been falling through the Void when- "I was attacked by a dragon."

"Attacked?" Flemeth put a hand to her chest, aghast. "'Twas a rescue, dear boy." Her yellow eyes flared with golden fire, and Loki could sense the power behind them, the weight of ancient strength. She was an immortal, then, one of the lesser outworld gods. "I tore the Veil to fish you out. You could be more grateful."

All he remembered was the terrifying sight of that great open maw coming at him, those sword-like teeth, the saliva-slick gullet. He shuddered. "Of course I am grateful," he allowed. It would behoove him to not to antagonize her, at least. He pushed himself into a seated position, clutching the threadbare blanket to his chest.

"Good!" The crone grinned a bit too toothily. "And I'm sure you honor the ancient traditions of Blood Debt."

He forebore to sigh. "Of course, Grandmother." Of course it was all a ploy to get something from him. He might as well get it over with. "What is it you need?"

"I need a newborn babe."

"You want me to get you with child!?" he asked in a panic.

Flemeth cackled mightily. "Not me, silly boy! I need the seed of a Tainted warrior, a Grey Warden. And I need the guile of a Trickster God with the abilities of a shapeshifter. Like you."

"How do you know so much about me?" Loki asked in concern.

"Flemeth is as wise as she is old." She licked her lips with another disturbing grin. "And blood tells all."

He clutched the blanket tighter. "I'm not sure I understand."

"I sent my fool daughter to perform the necessary deeds, but she's gone and gotten herself banished from their merry band. I need you to take her place."

Loki blanched. "B-But, Grandmother," he said, laying it on thick, "I'm a man!"

She leaned over him, her shadow growing longer. "Don't play coy with me. Why do you think I mentioned the shapeshifting part?"

"But-"

"I know 'tis not impossible."

Loki flushed.

"Hurry up and agree, so we can get on with this. There is a lot I must teach you."

"Yes, Grandmother. I will say I agree, then do everything in my power to get out of actually going through with it." What? What had just come out of his mouth?

Flemeth shrieked in glee. "I know, dear boy, I know! It will do you no good, but you can try."

Loki's hand shot to his throat, where it encountered a stone pendant, fastened tightly to his neck with a cord. He gripped it and made to tear it off, but to no avail.

Flemeth waited, almost patiently, for Loki to catch up with the situation she'd trapped him into. 'Twas a geas, then, binding him in a spell - by his blood, no doubt.

"Fine, witch," he growled. "Let us get on with this, then."

"That's better. None of that 'Grandmamma' shit - it makes me feel old. Now, pay attention..."

===#===

2. The Three Kings

The Dragon Witch made it sound easy. With three targets to choose from, certainly at least one could be seduced. But mortals were confoundingly complicated when it came to their only pale imitation of immortality - their bloodline. They jealously guarded their mates from one another. If Loki picked one and failed, the others would be likely to stay away from the 'spoiled property.'

He ruffled up his breast feathers against a chill breeze and contemplated his targets. They had christened themselves 'The Three Kings.'

First was the only true king, Durgan Aeducan, son of the king of the Dwarven Kingdom. He had been betrayed and exiled by his brother, who had also conspired to murder their father. Loki could empathize. Well, with both princes, let's be honest.

He found himself reluctant to pursue this one. The offspring would be a half-breed - not that all of them wouldn't be half god and half mortal - but besides that, it would be half dwarf and half 'human.' Somehow lesser than its taller brethren, seen as weaker, impure. That hadn't done Loki any favors in his life, nor especially that of his son.

The second king was the least deserving of the title, yet the most likely to succeed. He was Hadrian Cousland, merely a nobleman, a teyrn by title, but he had his sights set on the currently-reigning monarch, the widowed queen.

Yet he wasn't shy about spreading his seed far and wide. He had quite healthy appetites for a young man his age. An easy enough mark, yes, but those appetites gave Loki pause. This Ritual, Flemeth ahd impressed upon him, could only be performed on the eve of battle. No more than a fortnight could pass for the Lifespark's ignition.

Loki didn't fancy all the beddings Coulsand would no doubt claim from his lover between now and then.

So that left the third, the half-king, Alistair Theirin. A bastard son of the former monarch, neglected and forgotten until the 'true' heir had perished.

Alistair was trained by the prudish religious sect of the land, and blushed if the redhead even crinkled her cute nose at him. Clearly, it would be difficult to seduce this one, but while doing so, Loki could remain chaste without rousing suspicion, then unleash his... womanly wiles at the appropriate time.

Besides, Loki relished a good challenge.

Ah, if only he had been able to learn more of Alistair's relationship with the former Morrigan.

===#===

"No one asked for your opinion, witch." Alistair glared at Loki. "Why did you even come back if you still don't give a damn about anyone but yourself?"

"I just don't understand why everyone's problem is our problem. Our mission is to save the land from being ravaged by this Blight, to find and slay this Archdemon. Not rescue every kitten up a tree."

"We're heroes. Helping people is what we do. We don't just say, 'Oh, you're being attacked by bandits instead of darkspawn? Sorry, not our problem.'"

"Why don't they just handle their own problems?"

Alistair frowned. "Haven't you ever needed help in your life?"

Loki thought back. "Even if I did, I never expected anyone to do anything." Life was less disappointing that way.

"I guess out in the middle of a swamp, there wouldn't be much of anyone around."

The Chantry Sister's voice piped up. "Not even your mother?"

Images of Frigga tried to swim to the surface of Loki's thoughts, but he shoved them back down. They meant Flemeth, that damned witch. "No. Especially not her. I was always quite self-sufficient, thank you." He scowled.

Alistair said, "Well, I don't know whether to envy you or pity you."

"I don't need your-"

"All right," Cousland interrupted. "Don't you two ever get tired of this? Morrigan - your opinion and objection to this, and every other plan we ever come up with, are duly noted. If at any time you should ever have any helpful suggestions, or in the unlikely event you should actually agree with a plan, do let us know."

Loki opened his mouth for a sharp retort, but Cousland didn't give him a chance to deliver it.

"Meanwhile, let me remind you that you agreed to follow orders when we allowed you, provisionally, to rejoin us."

"Yes, of course," he replied meekly.

===#===

Loki had flown ahead on the companions' path, near a small village. He shifted into human form, reflexively reaching for his throat, touching the stone pendant. At first, he feared shifting to a larger form and being strangled, but it had changed size and shape, fitting beneath feathers or fur, or tight against scales.

He couldn't get it off, and so he was still in the thrall of the Dragon Witch. The only thing to do was go along with her plan... at least until he figured a way out of it.

He slid his hands over his body... his very feminine body. He needed to make sure he got the measurements and proportions right: the heft of the breasts, the flare of the hips, the shapely curve of the long lean legs.

From Morrigan's pouch, he took a small hand mirror to examine his face. Her face - Morrigan's. He set it in his mind, the sight, the feel. If he were wounded in battle or knocked unconscious, he would need to retain his form. He made it his. His new true form.

His ears had caught the sound of footsteps on the road. He straightened and turned, putting the mirror away.

The Three Kings came around a bend and stopped.

"Morrigan?" Alistair yelped.

With a suspicious scowl, Durgan said, "What are you doing here?"

The others - Leliana, Wynne, Zevran, Sten - gathered around with expressions ranging from neutral to curious to disapproving.

A large, heavyset dog stepped forward, lips drawn back as he growled deep and low.

"Even Ferron doesn't want to see you, it seems," Cousland said wryly.

Flemeth hadn't mentioned a dog! Of course the beast would be harder to trick. Luckily, Loki had a way with animals.

He crouched, surreptitiously extending the first and third fingers of his left hand. "Peace, friend hound," he murmured in Asgardian.

The dog's demeanor instantly changed, and he darted forward, stubby tail wagging. Loki affectionately ruffled his fur. Once the animal was settled, Loki straightened. "I... wanted to rejoin you."

"Well, you're not welcome here," Alistair growled.

Cousland quieted his companion with a gesture. "Why?" he asked bluntly.

Loki turned and paced. He'd rehearsed this, so it should be easy, but the art of trickery took finesse. And timing. "I've given it a lot of thought. The greater mission of the Grey Wardens is paramount. I do want to help." He paused and glanced at them, especially Alistair, to gauge their reactions. "You were right." He looked at the ground. "And I... do apologize for my behavior."

That seemed to stun them into silence, and Loki worried he'd pushed it a step too far.

Then Cousland said, "All right."

Alistair yelped, "What!?"

"We can use her."

"He's got a point," Durgan added.

The Templar threw up his hands in defeat.

To Loki, Cousland said, "You can rejoin us, as long as you agree that you will follow orders. Understood?"

"Yes, of course."

===#===

3. Potion-Making Time

"Morrigan...!" sang the annoying priestess.

Loki looked up to see her and the old mage invading his camp. They carried a small crate that clinked with glass as it was set down, and a bag full of dried weeds. "What is this?" he growled.

"It's potion-making time," said Wynne.

"Since you didn't come to Wynne's tent, we came to you." Leliana dimpled. "It must be hard, coming back after... well."

"Parting on such bad terms?"

Leliana looked sad for a moment. "You must feel bad, afraid to mingle."

"Must I?" Truth be told, Loki was eager to stay away from the main camp, and any social interaction with the Wardens and their various companions. It was trying, constantly being someone else, always double-thinking every response, every action. Nighttime was always good for a respite. A lot of times he even slept instead of prowling around as a cat or an owl.

"That's why we came to you!" The two women settled themselves in, unpacking the supplies for rendering potions, oblivious to Loki's desire to be left alone. He was supposed to be targeting the Templar; where had he gotten off to?

"I see that look," Leliana said with a suppressed giggle.

"What?" Loki's eyes snapped back to her.

"Youuuuuu... like Alistair."

"What!?"

"Mm hmm," Wynne added smugly. "I told you so."

"How can you even think that?" Despite Loki's protests, Wynne pressed a bundle of herbs into his hands and he had no choice but to work on them.

"Let's see," said Leliana, her hands also busy with work as the women gossipped. "You're constantly poking at him, teasing him. Engaging him, yes?" Her eyes sparkled.

Wynne nodded. "And he snipes right back. Every time." She shared a wink with her cohort.

"Yes! He's absolutely smitten!"

"What!?"

"Just like two youngsters." Wynne sighed fondly. "One day they're pulling hair and hiding frogs under pillows, the next they're in the corner wrestling like rabid weasels."

Leliana was nodding, and Loki just gaped. Mortals... were completely idiotic! "That's absurd!"

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Wynne said with a tight smile.

Leliana giggled.

Loki scowled and tried to copy what the befuddled old mage was doing with the herbs. But he had to hope. Could it be that easy? It was certainly more appealing than trying to become a simpering puritan in order to attract that dolt.

Good. He wouldn't have to change his behavior. He could continue as he was, and keep an eye out for opportunities.

===X===