Chapter 42) Vengeance

Aiden POV


"Now, it's important to not hate," Dad whispered to me. He clung to me desperately, and I pat him on the back. What else could I do? Mom was dead. I had to be strong for him. "Hate leads to anger, and anger just feeds vengeance."

I didn't know that word. "What that? The… ven… ven…" I tried to pronounce it, but I couldn't fit it around my teeth. It felt wrong. "That last one."

"It's a sickness that consumes you, Aiden. Leaves you with nothing of yourself." Dad shook. "Don't… don't hate… be wary. Oh, be wary always. But try not to HATE."

"Okay." I'd keep my temper in check. No matter how much I hated… I would always remember the 'good' ones existed with the bad.


I really hoped the others were having a much easier time than us. I really, really did.

I bit back a sigh as I shifted, trying to get comfortable on the stone floor. And trying to figure out if the tea being served was safe. Because yes, there was tea. Tea. Being served by… by some demon… spirit… thing… that I actually had next to no clue about and Morrigan wasn't explaining anything. Likely because she didn't know either. Not that she'd admit it.

I also wanted to know where the cups came from. Were they from the camp? There was something really disconcerting about that. There really was. At least the tea was good? I assumed so, at least. I was a little too weirded out to taste anything, but Lady Elspeth and Alistair seemed to enjoy it, and Morrigan and Cleon hadn't complained. Sten, showing he was the smartest of us, refused to touch it.

"I suppose it is best to simply be straightforward, yes?" she began gently. Her eyes were warm. I felt like I was in the branches of the Vhenadahl, watching the sunlight filtering through the leaves. "It was Zathrian who created the curse these beings suffer." …So, we were cleaning up someone else's mess. Terrific. "The same curse, of course, Zathrian's own people suffer." No wonder he'd known how to cure it.

"That would take considerable amount of power," Morrigan replied. Her frown implied skepticism, and she shifted to lean a little more into Cleon. How she was comfortable curling up when he was wearing armor, I had no clue. Where had that even come from? Cleon just said Morrigan passed it to him. "Blood magic might grant it, but even then…"

"Ah, little da'len, there are more secrets to the world than your mother told you." Morrigan bristled, and the Lady simply smiled. "You do not know everything. No one does." The Lady shook her head. "But you are right. It was blood magic that allowed him to do so." Did the Dalish not have the same… no, Cleon looked a bit shaken. I wasn't sure what to feel. I heard about the dangers and horrors of blood magic, yes, but… honestly, I think I've seen worst at this point.

"Then if had to take a great deal of emotion, right?" Alistair asked tentatively. He squirmed in his seat when all eyes focused on him, flinching when Sten prodded his shoulder to make him sit straighter. "It's something they teach templars. Emotions can give mages extra power. It's dangerous, but it can."

"Correct. Well done." Alistair ducked his head shyly at the praise, glowering when Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Centuries ago, when the Dalish first came to this land, a tribe of humans lived close to this forest." Cleon's eyes widened, and he noticeably winced. "Yes, Cleon. It is related to that. Would you like to tell the story?"

"I…" Cleon began, before sighing. "Very well." He straightened in his posture, eyes closed. I shifted so it was a little easier to look at him without straining my neck. "The shemlen had wanted to drive the Dalish away." This was different from modern times, how? "The Clan at the time was Zathrian's. He was still just the First, the heir, to the Keeper then. He had a son and a daughter he loved dearly." I had a sudden sick feeling of where this was going. "While he was out hunting, humans fell on the Clan. The Keeper slain, and many were captured. Zathrian's son and daughter among them." A very sick feeling. "The shemlen… they tortured the boy, slammed his head against the stone until it cracked open." A shift of movement caught my eye and I glanced to see it was Sten. Guilt was in his eyes, fury in his stiff posture. I wondered, but now wasn't the time. "The girl, they raped, left for dead." I was right. Shianni… were you okay? Please, be okay. "The Dalish found her, but she learned later she was with child, and in despair, threw herself from a cliff."

"In fury, and despair, Zathrian came to this ruin here, and dragged me from the trees and ground," the Lady continued. Her gently voice didn't soothe any of our spirits. "So, I was bound to the body of a great wolf, called 'Witherfang'." …Wasn't that the wolf we were supposed to… um… awkward. "Mad from disorientation, I fell on the humans of the tribe, killing many, and cursing even more."

"Thus the werewolves of legend came to be," Lady Elspeth murmured, setting her empty cup next to Alistair's. She looked… surprisingly thoughtful in her stoicness. Was that even a word? I didn't know. I was still reeling at the whole 'gentle lady spirit person killed a bunch of people in the past and admitted it easily'. "If they are the same as the ones from human stories, they caused quite a bit of grief for those who had no knowledge of the conflict."

"That is, unfortunately, the nature of vengeance." She looked saddened. "But Zathrian got what he wanted. The human tribes fled the area, their cursed brethren left to rot in the forest, pitiful and mindless animals."

"Until we met you, Lady." I nearly jumped at Swiftrunner's voice. I'd half-forgotten about him. "You showed us another way," he mumbled, kneeling and talking to the ground. "You gave us peace." And they would defend her to the death and beyond for it. I knew of elves who would do the same for humans that showed them a bit of kindness.

"But you fell on the Dalish." Sten talking voluntarily to strangers? The world must be going mad. "Tore them asunder," he added. I thought there was a growl to his voice. "Just as beasts to."

"And I will not deny there was some motivation of revenge in it." The Lady was really calm, still smiling gently. "We seek to end the curse," she explained. "The crimes committed against Zathrian's children were grave, unforgivable, but they were committed by those who are long dead. Not a one of the werewolves you see before you was even born at the time." Not a… there had to be over fifty just here. "I have asked Zathrian to come here every time his Clan passed this way. He always ignored it, even when I asked Kieran to bear the message." Cleon started at the name. Who was that? "We will no longer be denied." Some of the gentleness hardened. "We attacked his Clan so that he could not ignore us." And then he sent us to go for an alternate way to end the curse. The one that saved his people, and left the ones here to suffer.

"So, would you like one of us to leave and get Zathrian?" I asked. I was surprised when she shook her head with an almost bitter smile. "Why not?"

"It shan't be necessary. After all, Cleon is here." My eyes darted to Cleon, who had an impassive look on his face. "Zathrian believes I am a threat, and has stopped me from approaching him many times, fearing what I, or the werewolves, might do to him." Cleon frowned in confusion, and I thought he was paying a lot of attention to her branches. "I've little doubt we'll see him soon. There are few things Zathrian cares for more, after all."

"…You were that wolf." Cleon, that was a subject change. "The wolf I would often see in the forest while growing up," he murmured, eyes still focused on the branches. The Lady simply smiled. "The wolf that howled that day, saved me from being dragged like Tamlen." What in Thedas was he talking about?

"I'd hoped to get to you sooner, but the defenses of the ruin are strong if you do not take the proper paths." She shrugged, still smiling. "I'm glad I got you to the Warden and the little mage. I know the former is deceased, but how fares the latter?" How did she know Master Duncan was… you know what? I wasn't going to even ask.

"Hopefully not dealing with anything so complicated." I definitely agreed with that statement. "But I've a question." Hmm? "Did you not think that, by attacking the Clan, you gave him justification for keeping the curse in place?" …Right, savagely attacking his clan, just like… well, yes, this wasn't very thought out.

"It was considered." She sighed, one hand resting on her cheek. "That is why we did not attack for so long." Finally tiring and snapping. Yeah, because that always turned out well…

"I see." Cleon's eyes darted to the side suddenly. "Someone is approaching." Really? I didn't hear anything.

But he was right. Coming down the hallway was someone. A someone we all knew well and whose presence made all of us stand up again. Seeing the dark, stern frown on Zathrian's face as he entered the room, I knew this wouldn't end well. Unless a miracle happened. Which we tended to be fresh out of. A lot.

"Zathrian!" Despite everything we heard, Cleon's face lit up with a bright smile and he immediately bolted for Zathrian's side. Zathrian's stern face softened into a smile when he saw Cleon. "Were you worried?" he asked, a touch teasing. An old joke? "I am a master hunter, Zathrien."

"You're still the da'len who gets in over his head and tries to play it off." It must be. Zathrian's reply was immediate. "The sun was setting, and it is dangerous to be out in the forest at night," he murmured. Cleon nodded, eyes soft with understanding. "I came to make sure you all had not been waylaid." And, conveniently, this would allow him to check if we had the Heart or not. No way I'd say that aloud, of course. "And here you are, spirit." Zathrian's attention focused on the lady. "Still lingering with your-"

"She is the Lady of the Forest!" Swiftrunner snarled, leaping to growl right in Zathrian's face. I thought Cleon might leap, but he just looked… really confused over something. He kept frowning at Zathrian. "You will address her properly!"

"…You've taken a name, spirit?" You know; it did make sense she hadn't originally been called anything. "And you've given names to your pets?" The werewolves growled. Cleon, however, shook his head slightly, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "These beasts who follow you?"

"It was they who named me, Zathrian," the Lady answered, speaking calmly, coolly. With a gentle hand, she urged Swiftrunner back to the side. I noticed, though, that she kept a wary distance from Zathrian. And refused to let any of the werewolves come near her. "And the names they take are their own. They follow be because I help them find who they are."

"Who they are has not changed from whom their ancestors were," Zathrian growled. The grip on his staff tightened. Cleon actually stepped a bit back, looking like someone just suckerpunched him. Had… he not believed the Lady? Or was it just a shock to have it confirmed, right in front of him? "Wild savages! Worthless dogs!" I made myself find some amusement in how insulted Alistair and Lady Elspeth looked. This whole situation was just becoming tenser by the second. Not good for the heart. "Their twisted shape only mirrors their monstrous hearts!" I thought it a bit telling Cleon moved to the side, the same distance from Zathrian as from the Lady. "This is why I refused to come to talk. What is the point? We know where this ends." Because both sides were stubborn idio… wait, no, I had no right to say that. Think that.

"It does not have to be this way, Zathrian." The Lady held out her hands entreatingly. "There is room in your heart for compassion. Why else would you love Cleon and Lanaya so dearly?" The glare Zathrian threw told me it wasn't the best of ideas to try and bring them into it. "Surely, your retribution is spent." Oh, I don't know. He was old, and all he had were the memories. That had to weigh heavily, right?

"My retribution is eternal, as is my pain!" I… part of me knew I should intervene, but what right did I have? Yes, this group elected me leader, but really, that didn't mean anything. "This is justice!" I only yelled during the dragon fight because I remembered the story of Garahel, since it was so popular in the Alienage, and it just happened to work. "No more!"

"Are you certain your pain is the only reason you will not end this curse?" The Lady actually raised her voice, tone shifting into mockery. I instinctively winced, curling into myself. Wanting to hide, avoid becoming a scapegoat. "So long as it exists, so do you, after all." Oh, right, because people actually wanted to live forever when the world was so bloody messed up.

"As if I care about such things! Truly, it is wonderful, watching those I love wither and die around me!" Wrong thing to say. Really, really wrong thing to say. "But I did what was necessary! I did what was just!" …Was his staff glowing? I couldn't tell. "And it still is! I'll bear the burden of immortality if that's the price of justice!"

It all seemed to happen so slowly. Zathrian cast a spell. A very powerful spell, one that made the air shriek, the trees tremble. It headed for the Lady, slicing through werewolf limbs as they tried to intercept it and failed. The Lady didn't move, letting it come, looking very resigned to everything.

And then suddenly Cleon was pushing her out of the way, shielding her from the spell himself, and all I could see was red, red, red splatter everywhere as he flew back, landing at the base of the giant tree, tangled in the roots. Red trickling into the cracks. Red spotting the trunk. Red pooling underneath unmoving body. Red pouring down grey, sickly face.

Red, red, red. I wanted to shriek.

"CLEON!" Zathrian screamed for me, and I felt my blood boil as he threw his staff to the side, calmer, gentler magic wrapping around his hands as he cradled Cleon. It would probably be easier to describe where Cleon wasn't bleeding from. I had no idea how the armor was intact, though. I had no idea how he wasn't ripped apart like the werewolves who'd tried to do the same. But that didn't seem to matter with all the damn red seeping through the joints. "Ir abelas, da'len. Ir abelas…" Tears streamed down his face as he tried to do something with the magic. Heal? Was that healing magic?

That didn't matter. Cleon was hurt. Cleon was dying (or dead). And I had angry werewolves. Rightfully angry, but if they acted on their anger now…!

"Don't you dare!" I growled, sliding in front of Swiftrunner as he tried to lunge at Zathrian. He tried to force past me, but anger made me strong, too strong, and I shoved him back, pressing on his shoulder to make him kneel. "You will not interfere!" I glared up at the others. "Make sure none of the werewolves move!" Elspeth, surprisingly, was the first to move, actually pinning a couple of werewolves down with well-placed arrows. Sten and Alistair moved next, almost in tandem, knocking down those that lunged. Morrigan, however, ignored them entirely. Ashen, shaking and actually tripping, she went to Cleon, whispering hurriedly to Zathrian. He whispered back and, within a couple moments, Morrigan had the same gentle magic around her hands. Did… did she just learn healing magic? On the fly?

Not my concern. Really, really not my concern right now.

"He attacked the Lady!" Swiftrunner snarled. He tried to stand, but I shoved him down, feeling myself grow colder, stronger, angrier. It was almost sickening how exhilarating the feeling was. "He violated parley!"

"And it was one of mine who protected her," I hissed back, glaring down at him. He flinched away. "If Cleon dies despite their efforts, I will gladly let you have him. I will even help." I would. I almost longed for it. "But if your people kill Zathrian, Cleon loses the only chance he has of surviving this. No one else here knows how to heal. Morrigan is only helping, not leading." I didn't like how she kept going paler and paler. How bad was he? Was he…? "If that happens, I will turn my wrath on you and yours." I pressed a little harder on his shoulders. "Stand. Down. Wait. I won't hesitate to protect Cleon."

Swiftrunner actually whimpered before scooting away, still kneeling. His fellows mimicked him, the ones not bleeding out from severed limbs, at least. Elspeth kept an arrow notched, though, and Alistair and Sten kept their weapons in hand.

Trusting them, I moved to the Lady. She looked… absolutely frozen. Only a quick flick of her eyes hinted she even knew I was at her side.

"I… never thought he would do that," she whispered. All of her attention was on Zathrian and Morrigan, trying to save Cleon. There was so much red. I felt myself shaking over it, feeling nauseous. I couldn't look. I tried to look down, but the red had already streamed down to us, curling around my feet. I tried looking at the sides, but there was always the red in the corner of my eye. I settled on the ceiling. Nothing there yet. "I always figured he could talk Zathrian down. Convince Zathrian to do away with the curse." Once he got over his shock. "I never thought he'd be willing to shield me, willing to take the brunt of Zathrian's vengeance himself." And now look. "I don't know if he'll live." I thought I saw her branched hands shake as they came up, pressing together briefly as if in prayer. Did Spirits pray? "Even with that armor's protection, I do not know if he will live." What about the armor? What did Morrigan give Cleon? "I would be willing to do anything to save him, yet I am helpless." She laughed bitterly. "So, this is that feeling. I have never experienced it before. It seems even the old learn new things."

That was great, but I still felt like this was my fault. This was the second time acting as a proper elf got someone I cared about hurt. Shianni, beaten and raped because I was too slow, because I had been so polite to Vaughan when I could have done away with him then, making him focus on me and not her. Nola, dead because I… I… because of myself, because of hum… no. no, no, no, I…

"No, I can't…" I mumbled, trying to get a grip. If I thought aloud, would it be easier? "I promised. And bad things just happened and…"

"Promise?" It was a bit startling to see her bend down, to peer up at my face. I hadn't thought she'd pay attention. "What promise?" she asked gently. Maybe in her helplessness, she chose to focus on something she could do. Listen.

And I, shaking, wanting to be ill from all the read and all the tension, talked. "To my dad. He said to not hate humans after Mom died, and-"

"Did he truly say that?" Her smile was soft. "Or was he simply encouraging you not to become so lost in your hatred you forgot to think clearly?" …I… um… "It's healthy to hate. It's healthy to love. These are things I've learned, walking the world as I have." She laughed, as gentle as her smile. "It must've been so hard, swallowing all that anger down. You must've hurt a lot." Um… "The werewolves say they hate elves. They know, of course, that 'not all' elves are like Zathrian, but still, they must express their anger in some way. It's fine. It's healthy. The ones who protest are probably the ones who, directly or indirectly, guilty of something, becoming so defensive." A-ah… "Think on it, Aiden."

"Y-yeah, sure?" I thought I heard a muffled groan, and automatically whirled to find the source. I damn near started crying when I realized it was Cleon, his hand moving sluggishly to brush against Morrigan's cheek, smearing blood over it. Alive. He was alive. Whatever the damage, whatever the consequences, he was alive, and we could all work to help him.

"Zathri…" Cleon tried to say. His voiced sounded a bit flat, and a little slurred. Did he have a concussion? …Wait, what was I thinking? That would probably be the least of his injuries! "Zathri… an… " His hand fell on Zathrian's shoulder, curling into it like a child taking comfort in a parent's embrace. "Kind." Huh? "Kind… stern… protect… ive…" I couldn't move as I realized Cleon was… was praising Zathrian. Even after what just happened, he just… "Safe… always there…" His hand tightened on Zathrian's robes. "Not yelling… never scary…" His hand shook. "Don't go…" Zathrian was crying even harder now. "Don't go away…" Cleon's voice was unsteady. He… he was going to be okay, right? Right?! "Don't change… please… stay like that…" I thought I saw Cleon smile. "Please stay… like you are… don't be… please…"

"…Ir abelas, da'len," Zathrian murmured, smiling far more warmly than I'd seen. "I… I will have to go away, but I'll be watching over you. With Kieran and Róisín." Who and who? "But I'll… be the person you want me to be, until the end, okay?" Cleon's smile was a bit confused, but he seemed to understand what Zathrian was saying. Certainly, he looked happy. "Here, he'll need support still." He gently passed Cleon over to Morrigan, who clung to him tighter than I would've expected. "Ma serranas." He stood carefully, not even bothering to wipe the tears from his face as he looked to the Lady. "Are you certain of this?" The Lady smiled at him. I thought I saw tears in her eyes too. "The curses end means your death too."

"…You are my maker, Zathrian," the Lady whispered. She was smiling so gently, so sweetly. "You gave me form and consciousness where none existed." She pressed her hands over… well, over where a heart would be. Did she have one? "I have known pain and love, hope and fear. All the joy that is life." How were pain and fear 'joyful'? It just seemed weigh heavily on us. …Unless… unless she meant it as a way of… appreciating the good with the bad…? "Yet, of all things, I desire nothing more than an end. A rest at the end of a long, beautiful journey." She held her hands out to him. "I beg you, Zathrian. Put an end to me. Show mercy."

Zathrian laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "I am shamed. I am an old man, alive long past his time, with hatred gnawing at his soul like a twisted, gnarled root. A festering wound I wouldn't let heal." He glanced back at Cleon. "It is often children who show the elders how wrong their paths can be." His smile was wry. "All the more, when you love them dearly." He stepped to the center raised mosaic, and the Lady joined him there. They held still, but something just seemed to sing in the air. I could barely breathe as I stood still, still next to the kneeling Swiftrunner.

"He's barely moved," Alistair murmured. He had come to my side and, unlike me, his eyes were firmly on Cleon. I almost thought he was trembling, studying Cleon with darkly worried eyes. "Will he really be all right?"

"Zathrian would not have left his side unless Cleon was as healed as possible," Lady Elspeth reassured firmly, standing at his side. She smiled slightly, hesitantly touching his arm to catch his attention. "Maybe he's simply enjoying cuddling with Morrigan." Alistair snorted softly, shaking his head with a smile. He made no move to remove Lady Elspeth's hand, and so she kept it there. "Though, Morrigan's reaction is interesting."

"I can't tell if she's more shaken by what happened to Cleon, or by how shaken she is," I added softly. That… was a thought for another time. I was far too frazzled to think properly. "Regardless…" Sten was standing near the werewolves, frowning deeply. Right, someone mentioned he didn't like magic. But that, too, was a thought for another time. Because… "I think… it's starting?"

Indeed it was. It was strangely beautiful, watching the gold and crimson magic wrap around Zathrian, the trees rustling in anticipation, as burst from him. It swirled and danced, like ribbons in the air… no, like flags, flapping proudly in the wind.

I almost gasped when Zathrian suddenly collapsed, but then realized. He was dead. But the magic was still there, and it wrapped around the Lady, churning into a bright, golden light. For a second, I thought I saw fear in her eyes. But even that seemed to make her smile. As the light grew even brighter, she looked at all the werewolves, and all of us. In her smile, I thought I heard the words, 'thank you', and 'I will watch over you, no matter what'. And, with that smile, she disappeared in a pulse of flower petals, the trees practically singing at her return to them. As the petals danced in the air, the werewolves glowed and shrank one by one.

By the time the light faded, there were no werewolves. Only humans wearing clothes I had never seen before, some with tattoos I was certain had lost its meanings in the distant past, others with scars they likely no longer remembered the cause.

"It's over…" I glanced down and saw 'Swiftrunner', now a man with olive skin not unlike Cleon's. I assumed it was him, at least. His hair… was the same color as Swiftrunner's fur. "She's gone, and we are human." Carefully, he rose, marveling at his clawless hands. "I can… scarcely believe it."

"What will you do now?" I asked softly. The air… was light and cheerful. Two deaths, but… but I had a feeling both were celebrating their long-deserved rest. "Leave the forest?"

"Yes." Swiftrunner nodded. "Find other humans. See what's out there." Well, what we had right now was a Blight. "It'll be interesting." He bowed, some formal bow I'd never seen before. "We will never forget you, though."

"Careful of the darkspawn." I waved as they ran. I noted with a small smile that the ones who had lost limbs were being carried by their fellows. No one left behind. How… wonderful.

…Wait, we just… saved them, didn't we? It wasn't without deaths, of course, but at the same time… we saved the werewolves. We saved the Dalish Clan too. For once… for once, we saved something.

Yes, I could see why the Lady had named 'pain' and 'fear' among the joys of life. The sheer elation I felt at realizing that… that we'd done something right after a string of losses or feelings of pointlessness… it surpassed anything. I felt like I could take on the Maker himself, and win.

"Aiden?" Blinking slowly, I focused on Lady Elspeth, who stood in front of me. "Sten and Alistair are taking down the barricade," she informed me. A quick look around proved they were, indeed, down one of the small hallways. "We decided against using one of my bombs, to lessen the risk of the ruins toppling on us and to give Cleon more time to rest." I… had forgotten she knew how to make… I needed help keeping track of what everyone could do. "There is also a side room here, with books?" She fiddled with her hands and I couldn't help but smile a little. "I will be there. I believe Morrigan is going to continue holding Cleon." She pointed to the two, and I realized with a smile that Cleon was sitting up on his own. Good… good, he'd be all right.

I waved to let her know it was okay, and watched her dart off before focusing my attention on Morrigan and Cleon. And frowned, noticing Morrigan's wide-eyed stare and shaking hands. "Cleon?" I called, walking over to them. To my surprise, he didn't react at all. That… wasn't really like him. "Cleon?" I knelt by them. Still nothing. "Cleon." I rested my hand on his shoulder and he jolted, twisting and almost falling with force. Morrigan wrapped her arms around him to keep him steady. "Are you that much in your thoughts?" The attempt of a joke fell flat as he continued staring at me with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "Cleon?" Okay, now I was worried. "Cleon, come on. Talk to me." Cleon continued to stare, one shaking hand reaching for his ear. Why would he do… wait. "Cleon, can you hear me?" I reached up to tap the skin right in front of my ear, the 'sign' for 'hearing' at the Denerim Alienage. …Which was probably really stupid since there was no way he'd know that. Um… "Cleon?" I wondered if I should speak slowly, but thought maybe that would just make things worse. "Can you… hear anything?"

Cleon stared at me for a long, painfully tense moment, before he slowly shook his head. "I can't…" he whispered. His words still sounded flat, and a little slurred. "I can't… hear you at all… lethallin."

Well... this was going to be interesting.


Author's Note: Yes, from this point forth, Cleon is unable to hear. I chose this for a couple of reasons, after thinking long and hard. I will, of course, do my best with research to write him accurately, but I'm well aware that I will make mistakes, and encourage any suggestions people might have. Pretty sure Bioware has a theme of 'justice versus vengeance' running through this whole series. It's showed up in all three games now. (Also, haha, Morrigan. More attached than she thought~) For those curious about Róisín, that's what Cleon's mother's name is in Saga, since she isn't named (much like how I named Cleon's father 'Kieran'). It's Irish, pronounced 'Ro-sheen' according to my Irish friend, and means 'little rose'. I thought it pretty.

Next Chapter – Freeing the Tower with Nuada