So, in all fairness, I just wanted to let everyone know that I've run out of official plot. The rest of this story is going to be tying up loose ends and adorable fluff. Just kind of going with the flow. Not that I envision any of you having a problem with that, but I thought it only fair to say it up front :)
Hope you all had great holidays! Thanks to everyone who favorited/reviewed/alerted.
As always, thanks to JacksAreWild for being my editing buddy.
Lorelai looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, and blinked a few times. Raising her head, she blinked some more at the sight of Morrigan's garden. She didn't remember falling asleep. It seemed like a pretty inopportune time to do something like that. The last thing she remembered was crying.
"You're not sleeping."
Lorelai turned to watch the witch walk down the path, Brighid in tow. "Then how am I here?"
Morrigan gave an elegant shrug. "As I was watching your little hysteric fit, you simply materialized. Slowly, like you were taking form out of mist." She tilted her head to the side, her yellow eyes narrowed. "I suspect your emotional and physical exhaustion brought you here."
The archer stood up, a bit panicked. "Well, what is my body doing…back there, then? If I'm not sleeping? Andraste's boots, what do the others think is going on?"
"Be calm," Morrigan scolded. "Come see for yourself." She gestured to a corner of the clearing that held a short wall of white stone.
Crossing to it quickly, Lorelai saw the wall was a rim around a pool. In its pale yellow waters, she could see…everything. She could see all her friends, making their way through the jungle, a long line of people winding their way through the vegetation. She saw it all as if she were a bird in the trees, watching them from above.
The elephants pulled up the rear of the procession. Andraste only knew why. If she were here, like this, with her consciousness, she certainly had no hold over them. They followed of their own accord.
Best not tell Isabela that. Ever.
Eyes widening, she leaned closer to the pool. There was Alistair, still holding her in his arms. It was the strangest sensation, seeing herself as if she were someone else. Looking at her own body like a stranger would. She squinted; she couldn't see her face, not from this angle. Just the top of Alistair's head; the gleaming metal of his armor. The parts that weren't still liberally caked in blood, of course. And her own head, tucked down and against his shoulder, and her legs, draped over the crook of his arm.
As if reading her mind, the image in the pool spun and zoomed in. Now, it was like she was walking backwards in front of Alistair. She could see all of herself, from her blood-soaked frock to her disheveled hair.
"I look terrible," she commented, partly in shock and partly in detached amazement.
Morrigan laughed lightly. "This experience hasn't been kind to you, no. But I'm sure you'll be back to your radiant self in no time."
Lorelai ignored the compliment, peering closer. The pool obediently zoomed in, allowing her to stare right into her own face. She almost recoiled at her listless eyes. They stared, moving around every now and then, but for the most part looking forward. But it was abundantly clear her eyes saw nothing of what they looked at.
"It's like I'm," she struggled to find the words, "not there." She turned to Morrigan, desperate for answers. "Why would I do that? How am I doing it?"
The mage's lips curled up in an ugly sneer of impatience. "Honestly, Lorelai. I know it would absolutely kill your pride to admit this, but this ordeal has very nearly broken you. And not surprisingly! There are lesser women who would've gone mad months ago. Now, we are all very aware of and very impressed with how strong you are, but you cannot beat this into submission with sheer stubbornness!" She pointed at the pool. "So please, do stop acting like you have spontaneously become a mage!"
Lorelai didn't know what to say to that. Broken her? Nonsense. She'd gotten upset after Anders, had her crying fit before she'd made it to Isabela's ship, but broken? She was fine. Why wouldn't she be? She was rescued, everyone was alive. She was fine. "I'm assuming there's a point in there somewhere?"
Morrigan rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath. "You are having a very normal, very human reaction to trauma. You are not doing anything. Your mind has decided that your life is a bit too exciting for it at the moment, so it is going to leave and not deal with it."
"There's no time for that," she blurted out. "Look at Alistair's face, he looks like he might burn the entire jungle to the ground."
"Or start blubbering like a baby," the witch taunted.
Lorelai pointed a finger at her companion. "Hey, watch how you talk about my husband."
"'Tis true!" Morrigan retorted. "Look at him! Besides, I have never watched my tongue about that dolt, and I will not start now. Husband or no."
The archer waved her hands in dismissal. "You're right. I won't win that fight. Never won it before, shouldn't be surprised I'm not winning it now. Anyway," she flailed her hands around, "can't you wake me up? Make it stop?"
"Are you really this thick?" the other woman asked, incredulous. "Marriage has dampened your intellect, to be sure." Morrigan grabbed her arm, digging her pale fingers in hard enough to make the ranger flinch. "You cannot bull through this with your stubbornness, or charm it with your silver tongue. You have been damaged, Lorelai. The same way your parents' deaths marked you, this tribulation has marked you. You will have nightmares about this until you start having other nightmares."
Morrigan squeezed harder, and it was all Lorelai could do to not squirm. "But you will beat this. You will not let it break you altogether. Damage can be overcome, and you will overcome it." She shook her arm. "But you must let it in. You must let every horror flow through you, because now you have the luxury to do so. Do not shut them out, push them away, and treat them like they never happened."
"I wouldn't have," Lorelai snapped.
"Please!" Morrigan snorted. "Do not pretend to lie to me! This is not the Blight any longer, and no one needs anyone to bravely lead them into battle. And even if they did, let someone else do it for a change! You have to let yourself heal, and you have to let them help you." She finally released her arm with a last shake.
Lorelai rubbed at her arm, and absently wondered if she'd have a bruise on her body. That would take some explaining. "I don't know how," she said after a few minutes of silence.
Morrigan sighed, and looked skyward. "I cannot believe I am going to say this." She looked back at the Warden. "Look into the eyes of the fool you married. He's never wanted anything else but to take your burdens away, to protect you. You so very rarely let him do it. Let him, and it will be a good start."
She stared at the raven-haired woman for a minute, before smirking. "You had better pray to whoever it is that you pray to that I don't tell anyone that you just had a sentimental, borderline romantic moment."
The mage laughed in a loud burst. "As if anyone would believe you've been speaking to me in your dreams, let alone what I said!" But her eyes were wary.
That was good enough for Lorelai. She laughed back, but she couldn't ignore Morrigan's words. She'd never done that before, let go like that. Even in her most vulnerable moments with Alistair, she had never pushed the burden all at his feet. Emotionally, at least. He'd clearly had to do a bit of legwork these past months.
She wasn't sure she could do it. She wasn't even sure she believed that things were as dire as Morrigan claimed. There was only one thing to do, then: look into his eyes, and give it a go. Her mind had apparently had enough of her way of handling things. Maybe it would take charge in this, too.
Brighid peeked out from behind Morrigan's skirts, and Lorelai's face lit up, emotional dilemmas forgotten. "Just the person I wanted to see," she said, bending down to be eye-level with the child.
She didn't answer, but bit her lip and held up a piece of Morrigan's skirt until just her painfully amber eyes were showing. She didn't duck away, though.
"Thank you, for sending me to the battlements," Lorelai said. "I would have lost something…precious if you hadn't done that."
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, the little girl nodded. "You're welcome."
"Don't forget to tell her about the other one," Morrigan urged gently. "You've got her gratitude, don't let up now."
Hiding her confusion, Lorelai smiled at the god-child. "She's right. What other one?"
"The elf," Brighid said. "The elf above the walls."
"I'm sorry, I don't know what that means."
"When your daring rescue party split up, the elves obviously intended to stay together," Morrigan explained. "What with the pair of them tripping over their tongues over the assassin," she added with a grimace. "But, at the last second, the blonde one changed her mind, going with Alistair instead."
The realization dawned on Lorelai finally, how odd it was that Aednat and Aideen split up. "You did that? You changed her mind? Why?"
Morrigan made a face. "Your pet mage, and not the old bat, ingenious and strong though he is, would not have managed to hold that shield for that long if there had been more people in it."
The archer stared at her. "What?"
"If your 'twins' had been in there, if the count within the shield had been six instead of five," she shrugged, "your mind would have quite a lot more to try to hide from, I believe."
Lorelai swallowed. It was a miracle any of them were going home at all. They had to get to Denerim immediately, before any other disasters could crop up. "I see," she said softly. "Well, thank you for all their lives, as well."
Brighid nodded, a little bolder. She smiled, and reached out for Lorelai's hand. When their palms touched, her son twisted around beneath her ribs, as if looking for the source of the power pulsing down her arm. Brighid's smile widened. "He will be my friend. I cannot wait to have a friend."
Morrigan let out a surprised exhale, and Lorelai's stomach dropped down to her toes. But she would not pull her hand away from the child. Not when she had saved the lives of so many strangers. "And he will be glad to have you as a friend, I'm sure."
The girl clapped her hands in delight, and darted off, disappearing into the garden's flowers.
Lorelai stood slowly, and stared at Morrigan. "What does she mean?"
"I have no idea," the witch answered. "I suspect we will never know."
"Or at least I'll never know," Lorelai snorted.
"Don't be morbid," the other woman scolded. "If you think I'm letting you traipse off to honorably commit suicide without a fight, you are greatly mistaken."
Lorelai blinked. "Oh?"
"I make no promises, but I also do not give up." She raised an eyebrow. "You're the only one who will speak with me. I cannot just let you go be swallowed by darkspawn."
"No one lives forever, Morrigan," Lorelai said gently. "Well, most of us," she added with a pointed look.
The mage sniffed. "That is neither here nor there."
"Thank you, for everything," the archer said, changing the subject. "None of this could've happened without you."
"I know." Morrigan held out her hand. "Come. I'll give you a tour, seeing as how you might be here for a while."
"A tour?" Lorelai echoed. "But isn't this just some dreamscape where you meet me?"
Morrigan smiled and wiggled her fingers. "Come along."
"Love?"
Alistair nearly dropped his wife in surprise at the small voice that came from below his chin. He gracelessly sat down on the beach, so he could turn her in his lap and see her face. His blood thudded in his temples as the knot in his chest loosened at the sight of her back in her eyes. "Hey," he said with a relieved smile, "there she is."
He could feel those of their companions standing nearby turn at his voice, and at the clanking of his armor, no doubt. But they didn't approach, leaving them in relative privacy. Thank the Maker for sensible people.
She gave him back a weak smile, a shadow of her normal grin. But it was a smile; he'd take whatever he could get. "I hope you weren't too worried," she bit her lip, "while I, um…"
He smoothed her hair gently. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried, at all," he admitted. "But you're all right, that's what matters."
Her lip quivered a little bit, and her eyes filled with tears. "Is Anders all right?"
His heart felt like breaking at her earnest question. "Yes, he's fine. He just needs to rest."
She nodded, and the tears spilled out to dash down her face.
"Oh, love," he whispered. "It's all over. Everyone's safe, and we're going home. Zevran hasn't even killed Liam yet, imagine that."
She blinked at his joke for a second, before laughing weakly. "Then we are doing good."
"Exactly," he agreed.
She sobered too quickly for his taste. "Is there time for me to…get cleaned up? I want to go but," she took a shaking breath, "I want his blood off me."
Alistair bit his tongue, desperate to know who she was talking about. But he didn't want to push her. Her catatonic state had frankly terrified him, even though Wynne had assured him she was fine. He didn't want to upset her again, not even a little bit. "I'm sure we can make time for that." Twisting his head around, he located the figure he wanted. "Leliana," he called, causing the bard's head to whip around sharply. He waved her over, and she trotted in close.
"Well, hello sunshine," the Orlesian said to Lorelai with a warm smile. "What can I do for you love birds?"
"We'd like to get cleaned up," he said. "Didn't we pass a little pond on the way out? I wasn't exactly paying attention…"
"Yes, we did," she agreed. "It's just in there. I'll get clothes for the both of you, since you really do need to take that armor off, Alistair, honestly. How you can stand it in this heat is beyond me. And I'll get a little group together, just to make sure you're safe. How about Sigrun, Shale, and Wynne, hmm?"
"I think I'll just put my armor back on after," Alistair said, not liking the idea of not being ready to protect Lorelai in an instant.
"No," his wife said, her eyes a little bit wide. "No, I'd like it off."
"Lorelai," he responded, "I just don't want to be caught-"
"We have enough guards," she interrupted. "I want to feel you," she reached up, placing a trembling hand against his breastplate, "not this." Her hand clenched, and her fingers slid against the metal and old blood. "All I've felt of you since I've seen you is your face. I need more."
"All right," he answered quickly. "All right, you've got it. All of me, it's yours. Always has been."
"I'll just go get your things," Leliana said, and started off across the sand to their pile of supplies.
"Can you walk?" Alistair asked her, taking her hands gently. "It's not far, if you want-"
"Carry me."
He blinked. Then blinked some more. He was pretty sure that Lorelai had never opted to be carried in the history of their lives. Except maybe the night they were married, and that certainly didn't count. Over the threshold and all that.
He was about to ask her if she was all right, then stopped himself. That might be the stupidest question he could ask in his whole life. Of course she wasn't all right. Let's see…kidnapped for months, pregnant, drugged, thought her beloved mabari was dead, connecting with the elephants (which from what she'd briefly mentioned was unlike any other animal ever), terror that she'd killed their friends, watching the killing of those animals, and Anders attempting to martyr himself in the tunnel. Worked that last bit out all on his own.
And those were just the things he knew about. He still had no clue whose blood was all over her, how she'd gotten out of her cell, or what had happened to Grady.
And those were just the things he knew he didn't know.
Funny. In his head, he'd thought about holding her in his arms until they got to Denerim. It looked like that might actually happen.
"Yeah, I'll carry you, love."
That was much better.
The clean dress flowed around Lorelai's body loosely in the warm, ocean breeze. She'd let Sigrun braid her hair into two plaits. The snugness of them against her scalp felt nice. It was an Orlesian style, something Leliana had taught the ex-legionnaire on the road, where the braids started at the crown of her head rather than the nape of her neck. Sigrun had been very proud of the result.
She wiggled her toes into the sand. Who needed shoes? As soon as this was done, she'd have Alistair pick her up again.
The bath in the pond had been lovely, especially with Alistair with her. She was feeling a bit too overwhelmed to have done anything about the fact that the pair of them had been naked in the water. Didn't mean staring at his bare chest and broad shoulders hadn't been nice.
What had been even nicer was when he kneeled down in the water and placed a gentle kiss on her swollen stomach.
Everyone was waiting on her. It was time to get it over with.
Lorelai stepped forward, and hugged the matriarch's trunk tightly. The stiff hairs poked against her arms as she dug her fingers into the wrinkled skin. Tears squeezed out from beneath her closed lids. The elephant wrapped her trunk around her waist gently, hugging back. "Thank you," she said, then laughed a little. "If I could take you all back to Denerim with me, I would."
The elephant rumbled, and Lorelai felt the vibrations permeate her entire body.
At first, she couldn't make herself pull away. But everyone was waiting. No one would interrupt, but she couldn't stand here forever. Reluctantly, she let go and stepped back. The matriarch reached out her trunk and touched Lorelai's hand.
Oh, now she was really going to start crying.
With a wave, she turned away, unable to look at them anymore. She approached Alistair, who wiped her tears away. Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and started down the beach to the row boats, the rest of their group following behind.
She rested her head against his shoulder. Yes, this was much better with no armor. They all climbed aboard the row boats, and they were off, headed into the deeper waters to the ships.
As they slid through the water, Lorelai tried to sit still. She felt like her insides, from her mind to her stomach, were all a precarious house of cards…and the cards were made of glass. One wrong move and the whole thing would shatter. "Shatter" could be anything from a hysteric fit to another little "vacation" to Morrigan's garden. As it was, she could look at damn near anything and start crying.
If she talked to Morrigan again, she'd have to assure her there was no need to worry about her shoving all of her experiences in the farthest recesses of her mind and making a show of her strength. She couldn't do it if she tried. It was too much. How she'd held it back for so long was a testament to her stubbornness, she supposed.
It was better this way. She didn't know if, given the choice, she'd have felt this way on purpose.
The only part of her that felt solid was her son. Now that they'd released the elephants, the sense of his power had faded away to nothing. Just a resting baby, pulling her thoughts inward now that she had thoughts to spare. Wynne had examined him with gentle, pulsing magic, and the mage had promised her the boy was in perfect health. Lorelai had cried, so grateful that this mess had not affected her child. It had to be some kind of miracle.
She wondered if Morrigan had told her everything she'd had hands in.
Lorelai startled as the smaller boat bumped into the side of Isabela's ship. She looked to her left, to see that Sten's boat had already made it to his larger ship. Shale had opted to go with him, and the pair would meet up with everyone in Denerim. The golem climbed out of the boat smoothly, and it bobbed up considerably at the loss of her weight.
"I wonder, do you think boats make her nervous?" Alistair asked from behind her.
"Why?" Wynne asked.
"Well, you know, because she'll sink."
"I imagine she would just walk to shore along the bottom, in that case."
There was a pause. "I guess I never thought about that…"
"Your Majesty," said the grizzly-looking pirate who'd been rowing their boat. He held a hand out to her in a gallant gesture, and motioned toward the ladder going up into the ship with the opposite, heavily tattooed arm.
She looked up the ladder, and it seemed like it disappeared into the sky.
A head stuck out over the railing, hair blowing in the wind. "Do not trouble yourself, my beautiful barbarian Queen," Zevran called. "We can just as easily pull you up with a rope swing. We tested it on Anders first, so I assure you it is safe."
"Hey," an injured voice objected.
Lorelai looked at the ladder, then back up at Zevran. With a shake of her head, she took the pirate's outstretched hand and got shakily to her feet.
"Are you sure, love?" Alistair asked.
"I'm sure," she answered, ignoring the majority of her body that felt so fragile and instead focusing on her son's warm weight. Getting a firm hold, she started up. The ship swayed on the waves, but it was a gentle motion and it didn't try to shake her off. The salt spray from the water faded gradually as she climbed, until all that was left was a saline scent in the breeze.
The deck came into view, and Zevran grabbed her hand to help her the rest of the way up. "Such a wily, unpredictable creature you are," he flirted, kissing both her hands. "How is it that I did not manage to woo you away from your husband before he married you, hmm? Surely there must have been a reason."
"Yeah, like maybe that I could snap you like a twig?" Alistair chimed, coming up the ladder right behind her.
Zevran snapped his fingers. "Ah, yes. That was it."
Everyone kept talking, banter and plans and ideas. But Lorelai wasn't hearing any of it. On the other side of Isabela's ship, to the left, another ship was anchored off shore. There was nothing special about it. It looked like any other ship one would see.
Her fists clenched at her sides. She'd never seen it before; she'd never been lucid enough to remember it. She remembered the hold though, chained up in the bowels of the ship. Trapped not knowing where she was going, or how her husband and friends would find her. Adrift in the sea as surely as if she'd been thrown overboard. Trapped underneath the deck with only Grady for company. Where he'd finally told her the reason for all of this. Or at least what he thought the reason was.
Fool. Stupid, honorable, chivalrous fool.
"Lorelai?" Alistair asked.
She belatedly realized she'd been staring at the other vessel with seething hatred, and that everyone had noticed and fallen silent.
"Wynne," she called.
The mage stepped up next to her. "Yes, dear?"
Lorelai pressed her lips together tightly, as tears fell down her face. Again. "Burn it."