Chapter Five: L'Etat, C'est Moi

The Wardens awoke to find themselves lying side by side in a big straw bed. Lyna blinked dazedly. "Morrigan? Is that you?" The elf groaned. "I'm getting really sick of being pushed to the brink of death and then miraculously rescued by dubiously motivated humans."

"Where are we?" Elissa demanded. "And where's my dog?"

"My mom turned into a giant bird, snatched you all off the tower, and carried you home," Morrigan explained.

"But why?"

"Well, we're going to need the guys as sperm donors for my magical hellspawn baby, but I'm not sure why she even bothered with you. As for the dog, I've been kind of lonely lately, and I was hoping maybe he'd be my friend if I tied a Mabari Crunch around my neck."

"Wow, that's really sad," Cousland observed.

"Is not!" Morrigan snapped defensively. "I'll have you know I'm perfectly happy here, with my single tattered dress, my bone-adorned hovel, and a mother who uses me as Templar bait."

"Let's not forget the fact that you don't appear to have a bed."

"Actually, the one you're lying in is mine. Mom sleeps hanging upside-down from the rafters."

"And, uh, you don't see anything unusual about that?"

The witch glared. "How dare you? My mother is a model parent! Always raping innocent tribesmen and smashing my prized possessions to kindling, and…and…I'm really not helping my case, am I?"

"Ah, leave the witch alone," Duran defended. "Her family's not half as twisted as mine. At least her mom's never tried to have her killed." An evil laugh resounded somewhere in the distance.

"Thanks, Aeducan," said Morrigan, "it's nice to meet someone who understands these things."

"Ditto." The dwarven prince eyed her scantily-clad form with new appreciation. "Say, Viconia?"

"Morrigan."

"Whatever. You don't happen to go for short guys, do you?"

She mulled it over. "Maybe. Buy me a gold necklace or two and then ask me again."

Duran sighed dreamily. "Just like all my casteless girlfriends back home."

"Um, right," Elissa coughed uncomfortably. "Listen, Morrigan, was there another Warden with us? I think we're missing someone."

"You mean the royal clone? Yeah, he's outside."

"No, I meant Brosca."

Right on cue, Faren burst through the front door, toting a wheelbarrow full of darkspawn crossbows, tattered pantaloons, and lotto tickets. "Hey, everybody," he chirped. "Good news, I've looted some darkspawn trail mix for our dinner. I think there's some human flesh in it, but we can pick it out."

"Why would we want to do that?" asked Darrian, cheerfully munching down a king-sized bag.

Alistair appeared in the doorway, tapping his feet impatiently. "Can we get this show on the road? I've been out here making polite small talk with the crazy lady over an hour."

The Wardens lumbered out of the creepy hovel. "See?" bragged Flemeth. "I've taken good care of your fellow Wardens. I even risked my life to save their stupid dog."

"But why?"

"Would you believe I'm genuinely concerned about the Blight?"

"No," all seven Wardens replied in unison. Dog shook his head furiously.

Flemeth thought a moment. "Then would you believe I'm Chaotic Neutral?"

"No."

"Well, tough, because that's all the explanation you're getting for now. So," she continued conversationally, "how were you planning on defeating this Blight and ending the civil war?"

"Wait a minute, who says we're planning on doing any of that?" Darrian asked.

"Yeah," Neria agreed. "We're just a bunch of oppressed and traumatized twenty-somethings. We should be popping antidepressants, going to keggers, and writing poetry about why we hate The Man, not overturning governments and leading militaries."

"But Loghain will destroy Ferelden!" Alistair protested.

"Good," said Darrian, popping a gory crumb of darkspawn trail mix into his mouth.

"But…but our homeland…"

"My people hate Ferelden. It's not my homeland," Lyna pointed out.

"Mine either," said Duran.

"Mine either," said Faren. "Let's blow this dump and get ourselves to Kirkwall with the rest of the refugees. I hear the Carta branch there is hiring."

"No!" Alistair whined. "We've got to go visit every major faction in Ferelden, solve all their problems, convince them to ally with us, then go see Arl Eamon and solve all his problems, get him to summon the Landsmeet on our behalf, then convince everyone we're not regicides, turn Ferelden against its most beloved living hero, put Arl Eamon on the throne, and then slay an ancient god with the body of a giant dragon."

Neria stared. "But no pressure or anything, right?"

"Why would Arl Eamon listen to us anyway?" Faren demanded, not looking up from the looted Powerball tickets he was scratching.

"Oh, Eamon's cool. He's my foster father."

"We can trust him, then?" asked Duran. "He's an honest man, always keeps his word?"

"Well, now that you mention it, he did once sell me down the river in order to make his own life a bit easier. When I was young, abandoned, and utterly helpless. Against the wishes of the king. But other than that, yeah, he's a great guy."

Elissa groaned. "Isn't there anyone a little more trustworthy we could put on the throne?"

Alistair refused to meet her eyes. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," he said stiffly. "Now come on, we've got to go get that traitor off my br-, er, my bright, shiny king's throne."

"Damn right you do," said Flemeth with a sinister smirk. "And you can take my daughter with you."

"Aw, Mom," whined Morrigan, "do I have to go right now? Sabrina the Teenaged Witch is on in five minutes."

"I don't care, I want my hellspawn kid."

"Hey, don't you mean my hellspawn kid?"

"Whatever you say, sweetie."

Alistair glared. "And why would we want a cunning, ruthless sorceress, taught by the most powerful mage in Thedas, on our side?"

"Uh, you kids weren't planning on letting this guy lead, were you?"

"Hell, no!" said Alistair and his comrades in unison.

"Phew, good. Now beat it, I've got places to go and people to terrorize."

Back in Denerim, Teyrn Loghain was addressing the Landsmeet. "And I expect you to provide me with troops, supplies, and fifty thousand bumper stickers that say NOrlesians."

Teagan Guerrin rolled his eyes. "You know, we wouldn't need to give you anything if you hadn't left the whole damn army to die pointlessly."

"Bite me!" growled Loghain.

"The Bannorn will not bow to you simply because you demand it!" Bann Tegan thundered boldly, his eyes glinting with barely-concealed fury. Several women standing nearby swooned, but he paid them no mind.

"Bah, who needs you?" Loghain sneered, stomping out of the room. "L'etat, c'est moi!"

"Wow," whispered Bann Alfstanna, "that sounded eerily Orlesian."

"RAUGH!"

Teagan gazed up at Queen Anora suspiciously. "He's off his medication again, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but what can ya do?"

"Um, Anora? You're the freaking queen! You can do anything you want!"

Anora considered this. "True. I guess I could have him committed or something, but that'll have to wait for another day. I have an appointment with my hairdresser in fifteen minutes. It's not easy staying this fabulous, you know."

Bann Teagan sighed wearily. "I miss Meghren."

Meanwhile, back on the road to Lothering, a little genlock came bounding enthusiastically up to the Wardens. "Rah!" he gurgled cheerfully.

"It's him!" Delighted, Neria threw her arms around the stumpy darkspawn. "My friend from Ostagar!" She patted his little bald head. "I missed you, too, boy! Want another cookie?"

The dimunitive darkspawn rolled happily on his back.

"Not this again, Surana!" Elissa groaned.

Ignoring her, Neria rubbed the genlock's tummy. "Aw, he's so cute and snuggly. I know, I'll call him Snugglebug!"

"Neria, we're not keeping the genlock."

The elven mage frowned. "Hey, if you get to have a faithful pet, then why shouldn't I?"

"Fine, whatever, let's just get to Lothering before all the good quests are gone."

Duran fell in step beside Neria and Snugglebug. "This is shaping up to be one seriously motley band of adventurers."

"Yeah," whispered Lyna, "and I've got a feeling that this is just the beginning."