Damon watched Kieran hang on every word he spoke. He spun a tale of dragons and demons wrecking havoc on enchanted lands, and the heroes who protected the innocent people from their rage.
"Is that what you did, father?" Kieran asked, tilting his head to the side and allowing his bottom lip to purse slightly.
"Your mother and I have done a lot of things, Pup." Damon grinned.
"Demons weren't much of a problem. Dragons, however..." Morrigan's voice chimed in like the wind. Damon turned to see her leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed.
Damon looked back to Kieran, "Don't listen to your mother, Dragons aren't scary."
"They're kinda scary," Kieran replied.
"'Tis time for bed, little man." Morrigan said with a stern edge in her voice.
Damon stood up, "You should listen to your mother, Pup. It is getting late."
Kieran pouted for but a moment and then headed for his room after bidding his parents a goodnight.
Once his bedroom door closed, Damon turned towards Morrigan with a soft grin, "Hello, love."
"My warden," She pulled on a grin, and took long strides over to him. Her hands found his shoulders as she ran her fingers down his chest and rested her lips at his ear, "I believe it is time for us to retire to the bedroom as well, no?" Her sweet breath nipped at his ear, causing a tingle down his neck.
He turned his head and looked at her with his steely grey eyes. Her vibrant golden irises were enough to make his body completely render to her control. "As you wish." He breathed softly.
"To your feet, Warden!" A bulky voice called out. It echoed through every cell, including Damon's. He snapped away from his daydreaming at the sound.
His back was against the damp wall as his body felt too heavy to even attempt to stand.
"Are you daft?" The voice shouted again from the only glimmer of light that entered room besides that few lit candles. The heavy feet of the shouting voice grew closer to Damon.
Damon simply sighed; keeping his eyes to the adjacent wall, "Is that an order, Warden Adler, or are you just being an ass?"
Adler spat as he approached Damon's cell, "It's an order, 'commander'. I'm here to deliver your bread ration." He slipped his armored hand through the bars and dropped the piece of bread on the floor, causing an echoing smash to ripple through the cell.
Damon sneered, almost ready to adopt the mannerisms of his ten year old son. He refused to move- looking from the bread to Warden Adler, then back to the wall with a cocky smirk. "I'll see you tomorrow, puppet."
"Watch your tone, Warden." Adler pointed at him. His face distorted into twirls of disgust. "Keep it up and we'll just send your ashes to pretty little wife."
Damon scoffed and laughed boisterously. He shot his narrowed eyes at Adler, "Maker's breath, you could try."
Adler stared at Damon with begrudging eyes. Without a word, he turned away and headed out of the dungeon. "Maybe Oghren could teach you a thing or two of respect."
Damon hid his smirk beneath the darkness of the room, and let out a cool breath when the dungeon door closed.
He looked to the golden ring on his finger. He could feel her energy through it. She wasn't far from him, which caused a wave of worry in his chest. He knew Morrigan would try something, and he had no doubts it would be an elaborate plan that involved points that only her wit could manage. He even trusted she would succeed, but the sheer thought of her getting hurt in the process made his body ache and put weight on his chest.
"Maker, Morrigan..." He mumbled, twisting the enchanted ring on his finger, "What are you doing?"
Hawke walked the rebel camp alone, watching the wardens sit by the fire and drink their conscription ale. Isabela was by the fire with Varric, both of them playing off each other, telling a ridiculous tale about their adventures in Kirkwall. Carver sat near the wardens, showing a rare smile on his face while the wardens laughed at the story Varric was spinning. She saw Merrill walk up with the blonde haired elf, Zevran, at her side. The wardens nodded as she walked by, raising their bottles to her with slight smiles. She simply smiled back and returned a nod.
Varric caught the sight of her and gestured for her to come over, "C'mon Hawke, join us. We could get a game of Wicked Grace going."
"I'm not playing if Hawke is," Carver protested. "I'm tired of losing coin to my sister."
"Oh, lighten up, Junior." Varric quipped.
"Very tempting," She smiled at her companions, "But it's about time I get to my tent."
"Suit yourself," Isabela added, grabbing a bottle from one of the warden's hands and taking a slug of it with quickness, "I guess we'll be getting drunk without you."
Her head felt heavy on her shoulders and her body yearned for any type of rest. "Tomorrow night, I'll wipe the floor with you all." She barbed, and began to head for her tent. She could hear them scoff behind her with playful notes in their voices. Her feet continued along, the only light being the moon above her. She couldn't remember how long she had been in this maker-forsaken area, but she had decided it had been far too long yesterday.
"Hawke?" A voice called out from a few paces behind her.
She turned around, "Yes, Morrigan?"
"I would like to discuss something, if you do not mind." Morrigan said, her voice carried like a wind chime.
"Of course."
Morrigan tilted her head and motioned for Hawke to follow. She complied, following Morrigan to an area out of reach of any ears.
"What is it?" Hawke asked, "Wait, let me guess. Are the voices in your head giving us valuable information? Perhaps a recipe on how to make a better charred rabbit for dinner."
"No," Morrigan let out a sigh. "The warden isn't fairing too well."
"I'm going to assume Weisshaupt dungeons isn't the vacation they claim it is." Hawke crossed her arms.
Morrigan shook her head, "He's faltering. I can feel it." She looked to a ring and twisted it in circles around her finger.
Hawke's brows inched towards the middle of her face, "Then, what do you suggest?"
"I-" Morrigan stopped herself, her face distorted from a straight expression to one of worry, "Whatever we must do, we must do it quickly."
Hawke placed a cool hand on Morrigan's arm, "We'll get him, alright?" She gave her a look full of sympathy, "You have my word with that."
"You do not understand," Morrigan slinked away from Hawke, causing her to retract her hand. "I cannot stand by idly any longer."
"This whole 'worry' thing with you is new to me," Hawke commented, pursing her lips to the side, "You're going to have to give me a moment to gauge whether you're the type to, i don't know, assault Weisshaupt as a dragon." Hawke looked up at the thought, "Though, that would be great."
Morrigan scoffed, "You- are impossible." She crossed her arms, "If you plan on doing absolutely nothing-"
"Oh, I have a plan." Hawke argued, "You did your part by getting the Inquisition's aid. Just relax, Morrigan. The Inquisition should be here any day now. That's when we'll get him."
Morrigan huffed a labored breath from her chest, "It's been a week and-" She caught herself and slouched her shoulders in the slightest, "Very well, Champion." She turned away, but then redirected her attention back to Hawke for a moment, "You better be right."
Hawke watched her walk away, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She understood her concern, but knew from experience an unprepared attack would be unsuccessful every time. She felt a weight on her chest, a familiar one. Responsibility always found it's way onto Hawke, whether it was the protection of Kirkwall or deciding to help the Inquisition- even the rebellion on Weisshaupt seemed to weigh on her. She wondered when it would all break her, but she was determined to never find out.
At least the night was calm, she thought.
The walk to her tent felt too long for her taste, every step feeling like a mile in her tired body. She could see a silhouette of a prone body in her tent against a small light that illuminated inside of it. She found herself smiling.
She pulled back the tent and saw him reading underneath the light.
"Finally, love. I didn't think you were ever coming to bed." He didn't look up from his book.
"Anders." She said softly, practically collapsing next to him. "Are you really reading Hard in Hightown again?"
"I suppose I am." Anders chuckled and looked to her at his side. She was laying on her back and looking to the top of the tent with her blue eyes dulled by her lack of sleep. He tossed his book to the back of the tent, "You need rest."
Hawke closed her eyes tightly, "No," She looked over to him, "I need a plan."
Days in the crossroads put a constant strain in the back of Brady's skull. He was fascinated by all of it- the elvhen people were remarkable to him, creating a highway of mirrors to get places was ingenious. Still, it didn't make it easier to trudge through the portals.
Walking through the crossroads was taxing- like carrying an extra one hundred pounds on your back. For Briala and her elves, however, they walked with ease- their bodies looking as though they were a mile away from Brady and the rest of the soldiers.
"This is torturous." Cullen had said, walking by the inquisitor's side. "It's aggravating how they are unaffected while we walk with lead in our shoes."
"C'mon, Commander," Brady grinned, "It's not all bad."
"Briala!" Cullen called out, a vein showing up on his forehead, "How much longer?"
She turned, but Brady could only make out her figure. Soon, though, she was by their side. "The portal is right ahead."
"Thank the maker." Cullen murmured, and continued to press on.
In the distance, there was a collection of mirrors. Some were cracked, while others only held the frame. Brady looked to them with sympathy, only thinking of the waste of brilliant magic a broken Eluvian was.
"This is it." Briala pointed.
It looked just as an ordinary mirror, even showing Brady and Briala's reflection in it. Briala ran her hand over the surface, and turned away to a pedestal where a deep red ruby sat.
"Assuming I know Morrigan," Briala touched the ruby, "she'll have a mirror ready for your arrival."
"Alright, no time to waste." Brady said with haste in his voice. He couldn't bear the headache this place brought anymore. Even if he ended up in the middle of the Hissing Wastes, he would have preferred it to the stagnant atmosphere of the crossroads. "Do what you must."
Briala murmured something inaudible, and the mirrored roared to life with colors of white and purple circulating on it's surface.
"After you, Inquisitor." She said with a slight smile.
Brady took a small breath, and walked through the mirror.
After a bright light that hit his eyes like a pommel to the head, he walked through into what looked of a burned down barn. The wood was broken and charred, leaving a grey blur around the area. The air was full of refreshment and life as green vines curled around the old wood.
"Well, well," A familiar voice spoke, "What have we here?"
"Morrigan," His breathing was labored. "You might want to take a step back."
