Dragon Age: Destiny's Rise
Southern Passes, Frostback Mountains
Day 555 (Dragon Age 9:31, Month 7, Day 15)
It was the height of summer. Birds were flying, game was plentiful, the roads were clean. The mountain passes were all accessible.
Perfect timing actually.
Still...
"Should it not be warmer this time of year?"
A Dalish elf named Eranthea, a Keeper of a small clan, looked over at her traveling companion.
She was slightly tall for a human woman, pretty with dark hair and mesmerizing yellowish eyes.
"I told you Morrigan. This pass is quite high in altitude. It remains cold up here, year round."
"Yes...I recall." The witch turned and looked behind.
Some one hundred of the Keepers clan was behind. Strung out over more than a mile. Their pace was slow. Thankfully.
She turned to the Keeper. " 'Twill take some time to cross at this pace will it not?"
"Yes. A week." The Keeper pointed west. "But over the fifth peak there lies the downward journey into the Arbor Wilds. The Dales are beyond. They are well suited for travel."
Both women walked on in silence.
Morrigan had intentionally waited until the height of summer to cross. Trekking throughout the mountains over the last year had shown her, firsthand, that they could be treacherous.
And doing so alone was suicidal. Even for one as powerful as her.
As if I where still as powerful...
The witch sneered to herself in disgust.
Three and a half months pregnant, her stomach was just beginning to grow. That was expected, though, thankfully, none had yet noticed.
She had experienced the normal sickness associated with her condition. It had been rather mild truth be told. She was initially pleased, and had no trouble moving quickly through the Brecilian and into the Wilds.
But, as time began to pass, and she began to actually feel the life growing within her, she noticed her magical talents had very slowly begun to degenerate.
She could still cast spells, and defend herself if need be. But, not for as long, or with such force as she could have before.
Each week her powers seemed to diminish a little more and she could find no reason, save one, for such an occurrence.
The child.
For the last two months she had searched her books and her mother's grimoire in vain for an answer.
None was found.
It was certainly not normal, according to the tomes, for a mage of any talent level, to lose her powers to a simple pregnancy. Or even for them to degrade for a time.
Which left but one answer.
This was not a normal pregnancy.
So after having spent a month traveling to and staying in the Wilds, as planned, Morrigan had left as quickly as possible after realizing her powers were diminishing. Staying in such a dangerous place without the means to protect herself was terrifying.
She had left much sooner than she had wanted, and had to spend much more time closer to civilization than she had desired to. Fortunately, none had noticed her.
She had stumbled upon this small Dalish tribe a month ago, southwest of Redcliffe, as she waited for the weather to turn before attempting the crossing across the Frostbacks. Traveling north was not an option. The roads were to be avoided.
She sighed to herself. The days walk, not yet two hours old, was already beginning to wear on her.
She was beginning to notice a distinct lack of stamina as well. It was not unusual for her to travel up to thirty miles in a day before. They had all done so many times over the past year, sometimes more. But not now.
What is happening to me?
"Morrigan, are you well?"
The witch turned to the Keeper. She was quite short, as most elves were compared to humans. Her features were distinct, her hair looked to be recently turned white.
Morrigan had not asked, but she suspected the Keeper was well over seventy, perhaps much older. Elves, though no longer immortal, still tended to live much longer than humans.
" 'Tis nothing. Only a lack of sleep."
The elf raised an eyebrow. She laughed lightly to herself, shaking her head.
"My dear, I have born two sons and two daughters. I know you are with child."
Morrigan turned sharply. "I...I am not..." The elf's piercing brown eyes changed her mind. There was no point in hiding it now.
She sighed and nodded. " 'Tis true...three months plus two weeks."
The Keeper moved closer to her, placing a hand over the womb gently as they walked. Morrigan, surprising even herself, allowed it.
"The child is strong. Very strong." She moved away and looked up to the witch. "Your first I take it?"
Morrigan nodded.
The elf smiled again. "Always the most difficult. The days walks will prove harder the farther along you are. I can provide some potions to assist."
"I would be grateful."
The elder elf nodded. "I'll make some tonight then." She turned again, eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Shall I even ask?"
Morrigan looked over to her and shook her head. "No...'twould be best you did not."
"As you wish Len Asha'belannar."
Morrigan stopped walking and stared at her. The Keeper stopped as well.
Seeing the look in the young woman's eyes, the Keeper spoke first.
"I know. I knew before you even spoke to us. The Woman of Many Years is known to all Keepers. Her daughters are sometimes not recognized as they usually differ, but you stand out."
Morrigan started walking again and spoke quietly.
"How did you know?"
"The eyes dear girl. And the magic drips off you...Worry not. Your mother has not been seen in these parts, or any parts to my knowledge, for well over two years."
Morrigan looked at her intently. The elf clearly believed she and her mother had parted on less than stellar terms. Her curiosity was more than piqued.
"She has been...rather busy."
The Keeper laughed. "She always is."
"So you know her?"
"I know of your mother. I have not seen her in fifty years myself. Keepers and their apprentices will often seek her counsel when passing through the Korcari Wilds. Those trips are rather rare now however."
Morrigan watched her as she spoke. The Keeper turned to her.
"You have questions no doubt?"
"Thousands."
They camped for the night on a small plateau between two peaks. Progress was slow but that was to be expected.
Morrigan had spent the rest of the day gathering her thoughts and forming questions as the Keeper, Eranthea, had need to tend to other duties.
She knew of course of the connection her mother had always maintained with the Dalish clans, but as she had aged, that contact had first slowed, then ground to a halt. She could not remember any after she had been maybe ten, twelve at the most.
Sitting by the newly lit fire she frowned. It still bothered her that she did not know exactly how old she was. She could distinctly remember fifteen separate cycles of the sun. Years as she later learned they were called. She could also remember parts of five more.
Given the tendency for memories to form more coherently after the age of four, she suspected she was between twenty three and twenty seven.
She smiled to herself at the teasing Aedan had once given her for not knowing, and at her rather surprising act of violence against him for suggesting it was probably closer to thirty then twenty.
He had been attempting to jest with her then, but she had no such experience with such things at the time.
She had smacked him across the face and pushed him, hard. He had stumbled, falling directly into the fire. She had been terrified she had hurt him, frantically putting out the flames as he screamed.
It had taken her a few seconds to realize he was actually laughing and in no pain at all.
"Morrigan?"
She was staring at the flames, lost in thought, again, when she finally noticed Eranthea sitting beside her. Her arm was extended with a vial of some liquid. A dark substance lined the bottom while the top was much more clear.
She took the vial and looked at the contents, smelling it as well. Elfroot and mushrooms could be smelled, clearly, but the rest she could not place.
"What is it?"
"Six parts elfroot, two parts mushrooms, two parts crushed lifestone, a concentrator and distillation each, plus, and this is key, a very small dose of purified lyrium dust. The lyrium can be difficult to locate. It is called Suledin Da'Dorf in our tongue. In common it means the endurance of the grey."
Morrigan nearly dropped the vial. Recovering, she shook her head and laughed.
"Fitting..."
The elf looked at her strangely, not following. "The lyrium always goes in last and must not be shaken until ready for consumption. This is not a potion that can be made and stored. It loses it's value if you do, and can even be detrimental to some. You should have no trouble as you are a mage."
Morrigan looked down at her belly. "Will it hurt the child?"
"No. In fact, it should calm the child actually. Though once a day only. And never more than four or five days in a row. More is inadvisable."
Nodding, she shook the contents and downed it quickly. It tasted as almost any other potion would, bland and grainy. It seemed to have little effect.
She looked to the Keeper.
"It takes a few minutes to work into your system."
"My thanks."
Both sat for a full minute before speaking. Morrigan could feel her body rejuvenating, slowly.
"I can only assume, as no daughter of Asha'belannar has ever been seen at your age, much less a pregnant one, that much has happened."
Morrigan snorted. " 'Tis aptly put to say the least."
The Keeper smiled. "Well then...I must say I am curious."
Morrigan looked at her, then to her clan spread out over the field they were encamped on.
" 'Twould perhaps be best, for us all, if you remain curious."
The Keeper followed her gaze, then looked back at the witch.
"Very well. But answer me this. Are you a threat to us by being here?"
"No. I am an apostate, but Templars pose you little threat. Darkspawn are a threat to us all..."
Perhaps more so to me now however...
She continued.
"My mother will be most displeased should she find me, but only with me, and she would not risk the child. And 'tis safe to assume she is in no condition to do so at the moment."
Eranthea nodded satisfactorily. "I shall accept your word Len Asha'belannar. But only because of who you are."
Morrigan looked curious. The Keeper smiled.
"Your mother, whatever your problems, has always been a friend to our people. We have routinely sought her out when traveling the Wilds for advice and information. She has usually been accommodating, even friendly to us. When we could find her that is. I suspect our meetings have always been only at her direction."
Morrigan nodded. "I remember such a meeting when I was very young. A clan had come through the Wilds and camped nearby. I remember playing with the children for a time. Later I recall another clan but only a few came that time. I have seen none since."
"Many have gone north over these last two decades. The Orlesian humans are very intolerant towards us. Ferelden grows more populated than before. Incidents increase. Many chose to leave as a result."
"I should think the population issue has been rectified for a time."
The Keeper frowned. "We all lost many this last year. This clan included."
Morrigan put her head down. She was trying but sometimes...
"My apologies...I sometimes have difficulty with..."
The Keeper held up her hand. "No. Your mother is the same. It is the truth. Nothing more."
The elf turned to the fire and stoked it. Having little effect she cast a flame spell and the timbers reheated immediately.
"Ask me then child."
Morrigan had thought all day regarding what to ask. Now here, she could think of little.
Seeing this Eranthea smiled. "We shall start with you then. You are clearly past your second decade correct?"
Morrigan nodded. "Most likely in the middle years of it."
"Well, you would perhaps be the first we have ever seen at such an age. Fifty years ago, when as a First, I visited your mother with our Keeper. She taught me shapeshifting. We studied animal forms, became them, learned of them. She was a terrific, if perhaps a little harsh, teacher. Her daughter learned with us. She would have been fifteen, sixteen maybe."
" 'Tis about the time she taught me as well."
"Yes. Discipline is harder to come by with the young. Best to wait she always said. Anyway, years later, maybe ten, another clan went through the Wilds and they did the same. Her daughter then was but a child of five, perhaps a little younger."
"Was Flemeth...my mother, was she younger?"
"No. Descriptions have always varied a little of course, but Asha'belannar has always been an older human woman, at least by appearance. We know she can change many shapes, and many have guessed she can even change her age, but no clan has ever witnessed this."
Morrigan was shocked.
"Then why..."
"There are stories of what happens to the children of course. We never considered it our place to ask."
"I have heard them all I'm sure. Mother would even tell them to me as a child. But...I had thought..."
She looked at the Keeper, a thought dawning on her. She reached into her pack and pulled out Flemeth's Grimoire, handing it gently to the Keeper.
"Can you read this?"
The elder mage opened the book gently, dragging her fingers lightly across the pages. She looked up at Morrigan.
"Where did you get this?"
" 'Twas my mother's. A book of spells and such. It contains a great deal of information. I can read it as she taught me how as a child, but I must confess, I do not know the language."
"It is dead. There are none alive who speak it."
"You recognize it?"
"The words? Yes. The name. No. I doubt any would know the name to be honest. We too have some books written in the language. It is said to be very old. Arlathan old."
"Could it be ancient Elvish?"
The Keeper shook her head. "No. We cannot write or read it as well as before of course, but recognizing it would prove no issue. This is something...else. Similar to be sure, perhaps related even. But not the same."
Morrigan narrowed her eyes in thought.
"Most strange. Would it be possible for me to read some of these books while we travel?"
Eranthea nodded. "I see no harm in it."
She gently closed the book and handed it back to Morrigan. The witch carefully wrapped it back up and placed it in her pack.
"The Grimoire claims my mother uses magic to overtake her daughters. To assume their bodies in an effort to stay young."
"Yes. We have heard such things before. They do not seem accurate however with what has actually been seen. I think it a rumor, a tale, misdirection even. Perhaps even begun by Asha'belannar herself."
Morrigan nodded. "I am beginning to think that now as well."
Especially given where the first book was found...
Thinking back, the real Grimoire, if it could even be called such, contained the same information but at greater detail with far greater latitude for interpretation. In retrospect it could perhaps have been an indication for many things and not just the overtaking of another body.
"You did not see it before?"
"No... I did not."
The elf watched Morrigan as she stared into the fire again.
"I see..."
Morrigan asked another question. "Do your people believe my mother's daughters are actually her children, by birth?"
"No. It is believed they are chosen. Many years ago...over a hundred actually, a clan passed this way and fell into a conflict with some humans. Your mother saved the clan and killed all the humans. Save one."
"A child?"
"Yes. A very young female. With magical talents." Eranthea stirred the fire. "A favor is always asked by your mother as well when visits are made. A gift for a gift. It is custom. On one occasion that gift was to be a child."
"When?"
"Many, many years ago. The tale has been told for centuries. My grandmother told me the tale when she was one hundred and six. Her grandmother told her at one hundred and twenty two. It goes back farther then that. Much farther."
"Only the one child then? Just that one time?"
"For us yes. As far as others are concerned? We do not know Morrigan."
Morrigan's mind was turning a thousand miles an hour.
Eranthea stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Enough for tonight child. It will be a long day tomorrow. The journey is long and we shall have more time. Do you still plan on leaving us in the Dales?"
"Yes. 'Tis necessary. I fear now I need to be stationary for the birth. I had thought to do so elsewhere to be honest but a...friend I suppose, has seen fit to inform me of a suitable location. 'Tis not far from the Dales."
"Very well. In the morning try making the potion we spoke of. It usually lasts for six to eight hours. It should get you through the day. It is not advisable to take it after your seventh month however, so you should be static by then."
Morrigan nodded. "I shall be then. My thanks again. I...I am only recently accustomed to such things. 'Tis still a shock at times..."
"We Dalish understand that very well. Sleep well."
She walked back to her tent, leaving Morrigan alone.
She stared into the fire for nearly an hour before laying down in her small tent and falling asleep.
Imperial Highway, Southern Outskirts of Montsimmard
Day 600
"Fifty!"
Morrigan closed her eyes and took a deep breath. At any point before five months ago she might have killed the man for such an outrageously blatant attempt at extortion, but now she simply dumped the silver on the counter and held out her hand.
The man passed her a key and pointed towards the stairs. "Second floor, third door on the left."
Not speaking, she turned and walked up the stairs.
She had left the Dalish a week ago in the Deauvin Flats, north of the Arbor Wilds at the west end of the Dales. She had decided to stay with them for an extra week. Eranthea had been a fountain of information and, well, truth be told, she liked the company.
She departed a friend. The clan had even provided a halla for her. An act of kindness and respect not lost on her. She had released the halla near the highway. It would find its way back. They always did.
She'd decided over the last weeks she much preferred the company of the Dalish to humans. The crook downstairs running this so called inn she was staying the night in did not help her opinions of the humans encountered of late.
Though human herself, she always identified more with the elves. Well, the Dalish, free and untamed as they were. City elves were sheep...
Opening the door she sighed.
What a dump...
The bed was small, but would do for a night. The wash basin and tub were filthy, but the water appeared clean in the buckets beside it. The rest was not important.
She dropped her packs on the floor and lay down on the bed.
Her stomach was clearly visible now but still concealable with the proper clothes.
Five months...four more of this...what have I done...
She sighed, closing her eyes.
I did what I must...what I had to do...
Hands went to her eyes. They were misty.
Sitting up, angry with herself for lacking control of her emotions, she rose from the bed and grabbed a heavy brush from the table near the wash basin. She started to clean off the mildew caked onto the stone of the tub.
She thanked whatever gods the Dalish worshiped for the potion the Keeper Eranthea had taught her. Without it she doubted she would be here yet. Or at all.
The end of each day was now a struggle to stay awake. Exhaustion was becoming common. More so than what had to be normal for a pregnancy.
And magic.
Her magic was now severely diminished.
She had cast an electrical storm yesterday in the woods before reaching the highway. It was the first major spell tried in many weeks. The storm had bristled at first, powerful and strong, bringing a smile to her face.
Then it had simply died after five seconds. Her mana drained. Completely consumed.
She could not explain it.
The child was also worrying her. There was no kicking, no squirming. No movement at all.
She knew the child was well due to the strong heartbeat felt, and the constant growth was normal. All seemed as it should be. Still...
It seemed to her that she was carrying a stoic, meditating monk inside her and not a child.
She found it disconcerting.
Looking down at the tub, she felt it clean enough. She poured the water into it and lit the coals beneath.
She waited, staring off into space.
She was lonely.
All her life she had been alone, even with Flemeth, which was the same as being alone. It was never an issue.
Now, even five months removed from the others, and only a week from the Dalish clan, she found herself wishing for company.
Cursed child...manipulating my emotions...
It was easier to blame it all on the pregnancy, but she knew better.
She spoke to her belly.
"I shall endeavor to stop blaming you..."
She stood and began to disrobe. She missed her usual attire. Sleek and sexy, she enjoyed the looks it used to get. Now...now she could no longer fit in the pants. And the blouse...nevermind.
Sliding into the warm water she lay back and closed her eyes. Relaxing had its benefits, but also its drawbacks. The magical link she'd created was felt clearly when relaxed. She began to feel the emotions again coming through it. Clearly.
His emotions.
The ring was still on him. Still emitting to her what he felt, after all this time. After all she'd done.
He was happy now...well, most of the time. She knew he still thought of her. But...but he clearly had strong feelings now for another. She knew who.
A few tears began to form in her eyes and she wiped them away.
It had to be done...
"At least it worked...the fool has not followed..."
Regret would on occasion consume her briefly. Now was such a time.
'Tis the pregnancy no doubt...
She closed her eyes again. Things had not exactly played out as she had planned.
'Twas foolish to fall so far. And more so to sic that girl on him after...though necessary...and mother dear...
Opening her eyes she pushed it from her mind. She gathered her thoughts on other matters, recently found. Matters that, perhaps, could sway many things.
Matters that needed attending to.
Shores of Lake Celestine, Orlesian Heartlands
Day 620
Morrigan stood atop a high cliff, overlooking the gorgeous Lake Celestine.
She was impressed.
The vista was amongst the most beautiful she had ever seen. The lake spread out wide for miles, forests dotted the landscape with but a few, very small towns, hamlets really, lining the lake. On the outskirts of these tiny hamlets stood ornate homes, many palatial.
Pulling a piece of parchment from her pack she opened it. It was a map. Hand drawn but easily understood and readable.
Markers and directions were indicated. She recognized them all. Seeing her intended destination, she began to walk back down the hill towards the lakefront.
Two hours later she stood in front of a fairly large mansion. It was not as large as those seen from the cliff, but it was well built and well situated.
Most importantly, this one was farther away from the others, down a winding, tree laden path. It was not visible from the roads. In fact, without knowing it was there, it could be missed entirely.
Standing in front of the main doors she tried the handles. Both were locked, as expected.
She backtracked to the steps, sat down, and pulled her pack around, opening it.
Digging in the pack for ten minutes, she finally found what she was looking for.
She pulled out an amulet, shaped like a wheel. It was of religious make, given to those seeking inspiration, or for those in need of succor and shelter with the chantry.
Morrigan smirked as she turned it over in her fingers.
Such irony...
Pressing her fingernail against the lip on the inside, the wheel popped open and a small key fell out. Morrigan picked it up and rose, heading back to the door.
She inserted the key into the lock and turned.
The door opened.
She turned, grabbed her pack and closed the amulet again, placing the key carefully back inside first. She walked through the doors, inside.
"Maker's breath indeed..."
The house was gorgeous, albeit quite dusty and dirty. It looked as though it befitted a noble of perhaps high rank with moderate, more common sense tastes.
A rarity in Orlais from what she had been told.
It was clear however that none had been here for quite some time.
Walking along the marble floors she wiped her hands across a staircase rail, rubbing the dirt off on her pants as it was filthy.
Checking each room she found more than what she expected. Ornate but comfortable furniture was in each room. Clothes were found in closets, well made and expensive. Even the views outside the windows where fantastic.
"My word."
She turned, heading towards the kitchen. Finding no food, as expected, she made a note to stock up as quickly as possible for the duration.
Heading down some stairs, to a room built beneath the ground, she quickly decided that this was where she would stay.
Small windows let in light and large candle stands lined the walls. Bookshelves with perhaps a thousand books dotted the entire room. A small chamber to the right contained a moderate sized bed and with a wash room next to it.
"Yes. This will do just fine."
She walked up to the bookshelves and perused the books. Most were frivolous. Orlesian romances and such stories told by fools with too much imagination and not enough sense.
Typical...
Others were more to her liking. She even noticed some more elven books, even a few on magic, mostly Tevinter in origin.
She looked to the left and found a large fireplace.
Walking back up the stairs, she walked out the rear doors, standing on a large deck overlooking the lake, and looked around. Finding what she was looking for she grabbed four cut logs and walked back to the stairs, heading directly for the fireplace.
Placing the logs in the hearth she shot a fire spell at them and opened her eyes in complete shock.
Nothing happened.
She tried again, concentrating deeply, but only a tiny amount of flame came out. No where near enough to ignite the wood by itself.
She sat on the floor in total shock.
She placed a hand on her stomach, just beginning to expand to where she could no longer hide it. She looked down at it.
"What is happening to me?"
A/N: Quickly done. The next may take a week as I'll be busy and we are chronologically about to hit Awakenings. I'll skip the vast majority of that, focusing on other people instead of Aedan, but bring the characters into the story, some more than others. It gets more interesting from here I think. Before was a little fluffy and explanation heavy perhaps.
I'd love to know if anyone is even reading this but the site seems broken, again, on my end. So I'll just assume...many thanks.