The Spoiled Princess

9:32

Eight months after the end of the Fifth Blight

"Commander, if I may," Renaud interjected.

Maebh stopped, allowed herself a small sigh of frustration and turned around. Loghain continued walking toward the docks. "Yes, Renaud?"

"If the purpose of this visit is simply to restock our supplies, can we not do so adequately at this tavern? What is the point of wasting our time on a long, uncomfortable ferry just to visit the Mage's Tower?"

She took a deep breath. "We need lyrium as well, and you know as well as I that the Chantry and thus the Tower controls access to the lyrium trade. Don't worry, I have no desire to linger."

She turned away then, ending the conversation. She tried not to look too nervous as she quickly walked ahead and caught up with Loghain. "I think he suspects something," she muttered to him.

Loghain turned back and fixed a narrow-eyed stare on the Orlesian, who was occupied with hitching the horses to a post. "That makes us even, then," he replied.

The familiar panicked feeling hit Maebh like a punch in the gut as soon as she walked through the door. A templar she didn't recognize slammed it shut behind her and she started like a frightened rabbit. Maebh bit her lip and smoothed her robes, mentally chastising herself. Loghain put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Greagoir approached and they both stood with their hands behind their backs.

"Maebh!" Greagoir said with a smile, his normal air of authority broken momentarily. "What an unexpected pleasure!" He flicked a glance at Loghain, but did not acknowledge him.

"Yes, well, we were on our way to Ostagar and thought we would stop by, restock and such." She smiled back.

"Well, my girl, you know you are always welcome here."

The helmeted templar behind Greagoir's right shoulder removed his helm. Maebh's heart lifted. "Cullen?" she asked. "Is it really you?"

His smile was forced, his gaze hollow. "Welcome home, Maebh."

She bit her lip. Greagoir laughed uncomfortably. "No, Cullen. Remember? She doesn't live here anymore."

Cullen's smile faded, his brow furrowed. "It's not safe out there, Maebh."

She stepped forward and touched his arm. "I know that, Cullen. I'm trying to make it safer for everybody."

His hand lashed out lightning-quick and fixed a crushing grip on her arm.

Loghain and Greagoir instantly reached for their swords. Maebh held her hand up, halting them. Greagoir relaxed slightly, but Loghain kept his hand on his sword hilt.

Cullen pulled her intimately close. "You should stay here. I can keep you safe here," he said intensely, eyes pleading.

"It's alright, Cullen. I can take care of myself." She began to pry his gauntleted fingers from her upper arm. "How are you?

"I'm... fine," he turned his hollow gaze to his hand, still clinging to her arm. "Oh, excuse me," he said as he let go.

"Yes, indeed. He has been doing very well lately." Greagoir explained with false cheer. "Once we set up our routine and stuck to it, things got much easier,"

"Well, then," Maebh pounced on the opportunity to gracefully step out of this conversation. "We shouldn't keep you from your appointed rounds, should we?"

"No," Cullen seemed nervous. "We have to check everything."

"I've taken up enough of your time, Knight-Commander. Is the First Enchanter in his office?"

"He is," Greagoir's composure did not crack. "Shall I have somebody accompany you, show you the way?"

Maebh smiled ruefully. "That won't be necessary. I think I can still find it."

Things were not as Maebh expected as she progressed through the halls of the Tower. It was entirely too quiet. The hum and bustle she had come to expect was gone. The mood had gone from merely oppressive to unbearably tomblike. Maebh struggled to breathe.

She glanced into a classroom as they passed. The mage instructor looked up and met her eye. Petra, Maebh realized in that instant. Petra froze for a split-second then turned her attention back to her young charges. It was as if she didn't truly believe that Maebh was there. Or maybe she didn't believe that Maebh would be so bold as to bring Loghain with her into the Tower. If Wynne's reaction had been any indication, there were quite a few mages who held him personally responsible for the carnage that had occurred in the Tower, or believed that he had planned the horror of Uldred's uprising directly.

Maebh lifted her chin. She didn't care about the Circle Tower's popular opinion anymore. She was here on business and would be leaving within hours. The rumors and speculations about her visit, her purpose for coming, and just what exactly was said by her in Irving's office; these things would be the topic of endless hushed conversations for months, until the next scandal broke. If Maebh had done nothing else for her former dwelling place, she had at least provided plenty of entertainment.

Finally they arrived at their destination. Irving's door was open, as this was how he usually kept it. Maebh walked in without knocking, followed closely by her father. Irving did not look up from his work. "Yes?" he asked without looking up, sounding irritable. "Is this important? I'm in the middle of something..."

"Is that how you greet all your guests?" Maebh asked archly. "Or just the former apprentices who went on to become national heroes?"

"Maebh?" he looked up, disbelieving. "By the Maker!" He rose to his feet and approached her, arms out for an embrace. "What a wonderful surprise!"

She grinned and hugged him. "Yes, well, we were in the area," she said, her tone light and casual. She met eyes with Loghain and tilted her head toward the door. Loghain closed it quietly. Maebh's smile disappeared and was replaced with a look of deadly seriousness.

He backed away, looking from one Warden to the other. Maebh felt him begin to gather his will. "I take it this is not a social visit then. What is this about?" he asked, cautious.

"We need to talk."

Loghain walked over to the window and stared out, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. Maebh consciously ignored the ominous swell of memories that came to her as she remembered the last time the three of them were in this office.

"Go on," Irving ceased gathering his will, but did not relax. He returned to his desk.

"The King came to see me. As it turns out, Weisshaupt is asking questions." Maebh made herself as comfortable as she could in the chair in front of Irving's desk. This particular piece of furniture was not designed for ease.

"What sort of questions?"

Maebh held up her hand. "First things first. I need some information from you."

Irving's finger tapped lightly upon the surface of his desk, his anger barely restrained. "What makes you so certain I am willing to give up this information without you answering my questions first?"

"Because I'm the one asking you. And you owe me."

"And yet you chose to bring him along when you try to claim these favors. How… curious."

Maebh shifted, frustrated. "He had nothing to do with Uldred's actions."

Loghain snorted. "Do be honest, Maebh. I had something to do with it, after all. Just not the way Irving thinks."

Irving glared at Loghain's back. Loghain did not turn around. "Anyway," Maebh continued. "I just need to know which mages were involved in my medical treatment after the battle with the archdemon, and in which way." She gestured toward Loghain, "He has been having trouble remembering. It seems he was actually upset about the prospect of my looming death. And I can't ask anybody else because I'm trying to keep this as quiet as possible."

Irving frowned. "At first it was just Wynne and myself. We decided to concentrate on you, ourselves, while the others tended to the rest of the wounded as best as possible. Our numbers were small enough as it was before the battle, and we lost a few ourselves."

Maebh let out a sigh of relief as Loghain relaxed. "That makes things much easier, thank you."

"Care to explain yourself, now?"

She bit her lip. "One of the things Weisshaupt wants to know is why I'm still alive."

Irving stroked his beard. "I must admit, I was curious about that myself. I assume some kind of magic was involved?"

"Well, sort of. Yes. It was..." Maebh could tell Loghain was tensing. He did not want her to tell Irving what he had done. But she knew she had to reveal something, or Irving would not go along with the plan. "It was a ritual Morrigan knew about. She conceived a child on the eve of battle. The child absorbed the soul of the old god."

Irving stared at her for an everlasting moment, betraying nothing. Maebh stared back, anticipating which of his questions she would evade and how.

"This is why she disappeared after the battle, is it?"

"Yes."

"How was this child conceived?"

"The usual manner."

"Was there blood magic involved?"

She fought an urge to smile. "Well, I was not personally witness to the conception, you understand. But from what I've read blood is not what is usually used to conceive a child."

"And the father?"

"Unimportant."

"Did the child survive?"

"I don't know. She disappeared, remember? She seemed to be convinced that it would, but," Maebh shrugged.

"So what do you plan to tell them? Not the truth, surely."

"No, no, don't be ridiculous." She shifted again. "What I was planning to do was to claim that I had conceived a child with Alistair. Neither of us knew, because I had not yet realized that I had quickened. That baby was killed when I slew the demon."

"But I thought it was impossible for two Grey Wardens to conceive a child," Irving pointed out.

"That's what my research has told me," Maebh agreed. "But we were both very new to the Taint, so the corruption had not had time to take its full effect on us. And the specific circumstances surrounding me slaying the archdemon? They were very different than what had happened with the other four Blights. They have no evidence that it isn't possible, at any rate."

"So what do you expect me to do?"

"Nothing, if they don't ask. If they do, all I want from you is to say that I hemorrhaged in a way consistent with a miscarriage early in a pregnancy. That isn't too much to ask, is it? I'll worry about the rest."

"I suppose I can do that. For you." He flicked a glance at Loghain, who was still staring out the window and did not notice the venomous look. He turned back to her, expression sorrowful. "But, Maebh, what you have done is... troubling."

She leaned back and crossed her arms. "Is it now."

"How can you even pretend that you are not troubled by the implications of what you have done?"

"I haven't--"

"Semantics!" He interrupted her emphatically, a hint of anger creeping into his tone. "You suggested it, or facilitated it, or at least were aware of it before it happened. You were a part of this, and your protests are meaningless. The only reason you could even try to claim innocence is biology. You know as well as I do, you would not have sought out the aid of whomever it was you coerced into siring this child if you could have done it yourself."

Maebh opened her mouth to protest, but quickly realized he was right. She looked down, chastised.

Spurred on by her apparent shame, Irving continued. "You say it's possible the child did not survive, but you don't know, do you? You have no idea where the apostate even is. You have no way of knowing what she is doing with the child."

"She said she just wanted to raise it alone, in peace," she said quietly, still looking down.

"Yes, I'm sure that's what she said. But you have no idea what she's actually doing, do you?"

"She's my friend." A statement so simple but so hard to voice aloud. Morrigan's absence was still an open wound. The first woman she had ever trusted with that label, the first person to whom it really stuck. And she knew, because she was Morrigan's friend, that Morrigan had felt the same way. And she was out there, somewhere, raising Maebh's sibling alone.

Irving softened slightly. "Even assuming that the apostate's intentions were honest, there is no way to ensure that she will even be able to control the child once it is grown. Maebh, you know as well as anybody that children with the souls of children get into enough trouble as it is."

Maebh bit her lip and furrowed her brow.

Irving sighed. "I can understand being afraid, child. But from what I've always been told, the Grey Wardens believe it is their duty to sacrifice themselves to protect the greater good. A harsh fate, but a necessary and honored one."

"Duty," Maebh scoffed bitterly. "And of Greagoir's duty?"

"That is neither here nor there," Irving dismissed.

"No it isn't. It's the heart of the matter." She lifted her head. "You, him, everybody else. You're always telling me what my duty is and what the proper course of action is, but you're wrong." She started to stand up.

"Simply because you do not care for the harsh realities of your responsibilities does not give you the right to ignore them, child."

"When Uldred was running amok with his demons and abominations, Greagoir told me it was his duty to kill all of you. I didn't listen to him. You were certainly fine with that particular dereliction." She began ticking the instances off on her fingers. "When I went to Redcliffe and found that Connor Guerrin was possessed by a demon and was told that I would have to kill the boy. I didn't. The fact that he is now living here and neither you nor Greagoir have seen fit to dispatch the child shows me that you both agree with that decision. I've freed murderers and forgiven assassins and put crowns on bastards and pardoned traitors and you... you doubters and detractors have opposed me at every turn. But I've been right. Every time I was right!"

Her face flushed with anger, her voice rang with righteous indignation. "So spare me your lectures about responsibility and duty, Irving. Until somebody actually steps up and offers to start making the kind of decisions I have had to make, I am going to continue keeping my own council. All I need from you is to keep your end of the deal. If you're unwilling to do that, I shall find another way."

Irving's face was stone. "That will not be necessary. I will do as you ask of me."

She sighed. "Thank you." She turned to leave. "Let's go, Warden. We don't want to overstay our welcome." Maebh did not even attempt to hide her bitterness.

Loghain joined her, and she caught a glimmer of approval in his eye. The knot in her stomach eased. At least he stood by her. They reached the door and Irving spoke one last time.

"Warden, after this, I consider the Circle's debt to you as paid in full."

"I saved your life and the lives of everybody in this Tower, and you want to call us even after I ask you to tell one lie? First Enchanter, we are not even close to the debt you owe me being paid."

Maebh stormed out of Irving's office. She was halfway to the apprentice quarters before she even realized where she was. She stopped and held her hands to her head, trying to will it to stop spinning.

Loghain placed his hand on her shoulder. "Do you need a moment?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I need to get out of here." This cage. This prison. She clenched her fists, the fighting the familiar anxiety. They couldn't keep her locked up anymore. She could leave. She would leave. She turned to take the stairs to the first floor when a familiar form caught her eye. "Oh Maker," she breathed. "No." She approached him against her better judgment, against her own will. Driven by a compulsion she could not name, she reached out and spoke a name she desperately hoped would be left unacknowledged. "Jowan?"

The man turned, his face blank, eyes dull. The unnerving placid face of the Tranquil stared back at her. Her stomach lurched.

"Hello, Warden. Your arrival was unexpected. I hope you are finding everything you came here to find." His voice flat and pleasant. He turned his face to Loghain. "Ah, Teyrn Loghain. Welcome to you, as well."

"Actually," Loghain cleared his throat. "I no longer hold that title. I am simply a Grey Warden, now."

"Ah. My apologies, then. It was not my intent to cause offense."

"Not at all," Loghain shifted his weight and looked over Jowan's head.

"How are you, Jowan?" Maebh asked, voice cracking, hands pressed together to keep from trembling.

"I am comfortable. There is much work to do. I would like to return to it."

"Of... Of course." Maebh shook herself. "Stay well, Jowan."

He turned back to the storeroom. She swallowed, mouth dry.

"We shouldn't linger," Loghain prodded her gently.

"Yes, we should go," she muttered. She tried to remember how her legs worked, and could not connect thought to movement. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and reached for Loghain's hand. "Please," she begged softly. "Until we get out of here."

His eyes widened in surprise, but he did not pull away.

The boat trip back to the docks was as cold and miserable as always, with the damp breeze turning every attempt to bundle against it into a soggy, clammy failure. Maebh huddled under her cloak in the gathering gloom of dusk, arms wrapped around her bent legs. Loghain reached up and patted her back.

"It's not a bad plan. What you're going to tell them, I mean" he said.

She grunted.

"I thank you for keeping my name out of it."

She turned her face and rested her cheek on her knees as she looked at him. "Irving would never have gone along with it, if I had told him you were involved. They still blame you."

He frowned. "How can they possibly do so? It doesn't make sense. Why would I--"

"I know it doesn't make sense. But they're hurting, and they want somebody to blame." She turned her head and rested her chin on her knees, staring at the small inn on the shore. "It's easier to believe that you somehow convinced Uldred to do that to us. I mean them. It's harder to accept that one of … their own would have... would have..." She bit her lip and curled into a ball of misery.

"I can appreciate that," he conceded. "Having you in charge does make it easier to deal with them."

"I would have joined him," Maebh muttered into her cloak.

"What's that?"

She turned her tear streaked face to Loghain. "If Duncan hadn't come, or if he hadn't recruited me, if I had been left in the Tower and after Cailan died? I would have joined Uldred. I would have joined him in a heartbeat. I couldn't bear that place. Cailan's promise to come get me was the only thing keeping me sane in there. Without that hope?" She bit back a wave of tears. "I would have killed anybody in my way to get out."

He crossed his arms. "It was that bad." He didn't make it a question

"What were my other options, Father? To slowly loose my mind like Cullen or submit to the Rite of Tranquility like Jowan? You don't know what it's like in there. You don't know what that place is. It's a poison. It seeps into your soul and twists you until there's nothing left, just a never ending series fears and schemes. Always trying to hold on to something of yourself while keeping one step ahead of a Templar's blade. And you're always just running in circles. There's no way out." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Every day I thank the Maker for the Grey Wardens and Duncan conscripting me."

He tilted his head at her. "You don't regret that you were born a mage?"

"Don't be absurd," she huffed, turning away. "Why would I wish away my best weapon?"

They were silent a moment. "I am sorry about what happened to your friends, Maybe."

"Why? You didn't do it."

He half-smiled. "Semantics. I aided Uldred, I encouraged him. But I didn't know him, and I shouldn't have trusted him."

She shifted closer and lay her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."