57: A Promise Kept
"I need to speak with the actual Grey Warden, not you, dim-witted one," Morrigan's sharp tone normally would have provoked some biting remark from her victim but Alistair chose to stay his tongue. However, if looks could kill, Morrigan would have been buried six feet under twice over by now.
"Alistair, she's just goading you into saying something stupid and self-incriminating," the other Warden assuaged his lover while his hand caressed the blonde's lower back in soothing circles. It was a sneaky tactic on Hadrian's part but it never failed to calm Alistair, whether he liked it or not.
"'Tis true. But enough of this. I wish to speak to Hadrian," Morrigan continued and she glared at Alistair when the man remained at Hadrian's side. "Alone."
"He already knows," Hadrian said and he had the grace to look sheepish towards Morrigan when the witch's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"What? You can't expect me to keep secrets from my own heart," Hadrian said in response to Morrigan's baleful glare but it lacked the usual sting and Hadrian gave the witch a small smile.
"No matter. The way you two look at each other often compels me to look the other way and gag," Morrigan sighed rather dramatically. "I know you are well on your way to seeing my...my mother slain but I have one last favour to ask of you."
"A favour?" Hadrian was immediately intrigued by Morrigan's request while his lover still scowled at the witch. "There's a catch to this favour, I suppose?"
Everyone wanted something, even the most well-intentioned person. Unfortunately want and need were two entirely different things, a concept Hadrian understood all too well in this harsh life of being a Grey Warden and a noble as well.
"She will not stay dead but there is something that could prevent her from taking over another host," Morrigan continued and Hadrian tensed at what she could be suggesting.
"Blood magic?"
"Yes and I've...learned something that might interest you both."
"Just say whatever you have to say, Morrigan." Alistair spoke sharply to her and his arms crossed over, his posture becoming more and more aggressive by the second.
"Since you have not thrown me out of camp and actually made a lot of effort into...befriending me as it were, I...I want to say 'thank-you' and then I realized that actions speak more than mere words, at least to you men of physical prowess. So I've decided to tell you now instead of later, when it's too late to go back."
"What are you saying Morrigan?" Hadrian asked her.
The witch sighed again and both men noticed that goosebumps rose all along her arms. Her body shivered, and while the night was indeed a bit cooler than normal, the temperature was not cold enough to brook such a reaction from Morrigan.
"The real reason why Flemeth saved you, why she sent me with you is to hope that you and I would bear a child on the final battle's eve. This child would be a willing receptacle for another soul, either that of hers or the Archdemon when it is finally slain."
"What?! Why would she do this to us?! What would have been the point in letting us gather allies and slay the dragon in the end if it is all for naught?" Alistair cried out.
Morrigan had expected Alistair to shout and rant about Flemeth's true plans and under-handed ways. It was Hadrian's response that worried her truly. At best she would have lost a friend and at worst, she would receive a sword in the gut.
Hadrian's head was bowed down and so she couldn't see into his eyes, to decipher what he might think to do next. Eventually, Alistair calmed down but his body was tense, as if ready to strike the witch down if Hadrian wished him to.
Finally, after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Hadrian's head rose and two cerulean eyes met hers. They were unusually bright and fierce; so much so that the witch was painfully reminded of their little 'argument' back in the tower which ended her in being pinned against the wall and fearing for her life.
"Then, we'll cut off the snake's head and burn it," Hadrian growled and Morrigan would swear even far into the future that she could see another entity staring at her through those unnatural blue eyes.
"Well I am glad that you've decided to kill my dear, sweet mother," Morrigan continued, "she is not to be underestimated. She is a witch of great power and you'll need all the potions, all the balms available to you to survive her."
"Can I safely assume that you've already made these balms then?"
"Yes, they're all in this pouch and I gave some extras to that other mage," Morrigan replied and she gave Hadrian a small leather bag, its size too small to possibly contain all the essential potions. When Hadrian's eyebrows raised in question, Morrigan was quick to elaborate that the bag is much bigger on the inside. Hadrian opened it with just the tip of his index finger and Alistair whistled at the sight of a few dozen bottles, all coloured differently depending on the function of the potion.
"Ok," Hadrian sighed in relief, "I think we may just survive tomorrow then. First Flemeth and then Ostagar."
"I'm coming with you for both trips," Alistair stated, his nonsensical tone leaving no room for Hadrian to protest. The blonde Warden was still fairly shaken up by the first and last time he let Hadrian out of his sight for more than a week. The indelible images of Hadrian's pale visage and haunted eyes had kept Alistair up all night and the blonde would frequently find himself holding a shaking pale body tightly in his arms. The following week had been terrible for both men and it was only by comforting each other with soft kisses and strong embraces that they managed to endure the nightmares of the Deep Roads. Hadrian had spoken of it only once to Alistair but it was enough for the blonde to piece together what had happened in the forgotten roads of Ozammar.
During that time, Hadrian, had he not been so traumatized by the events that transpired out of selfishness and greed of a paragon, would have fought against Alistair's sudden possessiveness. The blonde kept an even closer eye on his partner and literally growled at anyone who glanced in Hadrian's way, whether it be out of friendliness or hostility. Luckily, their companions understood the reason behind Alistair's hostility towards anyone and everyone, even Zevran himself, went out of their way to ensure that the two Wardens were not disturbed at night.
The abrupt change in Alistair's behaviour made Zevran think of Fergus, of the way the older Cousland brother would smile wolfishly at him. The elf couldn't help but wonder if Fergus would act like this around him if he ever got seriously hurt or even just go out of his sight. Maybe he shouldn't have left Fergus' side but his oath to the Warden obligated him to stay at Hadrian's side, no matter how much his heart yearns to be with the other Cousland. Once this nigh impossible quest of saving Ferelden from the Blight was over, perhaps, he could go back to Fergus. While it was a stupid idea, it warmed Zevran's heart to imagine someone waiting for him at the end of all this, with no ulterior motives hiding behind a handsome face and brown eyes. Perhaps he could finally erase the other handsome visage that haunts his memory, a face covered in a woman's blood and tears. Taliesin...
-o0o-
Flemeth's hut appeared so much smaller than the Wardens remembered. Of course, at that time, they weren't exactly conscious either and, with Loghain's betrayal so fresh in their minds, everyone seemed larger than possible. Even Flemeth, who stood patiently outside her door, didn't seem to change much. Her dress was dull and dirty, the seams coming apart at the shoulders and sides. Despite her drabby appearance, the old woman was a dangerous person and not to be taken lightly.
"And so we've come to this at least," Flemeth spoke in a terribly calm voice for a woman expecting to battle the two Wardens and their friends. "What has Morrigan told you this time? Hmm?"
"A lot of things but she did not mention how horribly you dress yourself," Zevran commented and his remark earned him a collective shout of "Zev!" from his friends. The bronze-skinned elf apologized but his mischievous smile told everyone that the apology held no meaning.
Flemeth's hoarse laughter caused everyone's hair to stand up. "My, such levity in a well-armored group of humans and elves."
"Enough," Hadrian almost snarled at the old woman, thus ending the light-hearted tone of the conversation. "We know all about the ritual, Flemeth."
"You know a lot of rituals, don't you, young wolf?" Flemeth's voice hissed back and Hadrian grew startled at how her eyes turned yellow and the way her face shifted every so subtly into that of a great horned dragon. Someone snarled something beside him but the words were lost on him as he was locked into a hypnotic stare with the witch. Apparently, Hadrian was thought to be hurt or incapacitated for he was shoved aside suddenly, the move tearing his gaze away from the old woman's.
"Oh dear, it was never him, was it?" Someone cackled menacingly above him or was it in front of him? The voices were distorted and Hadrian had a hard time focusing his senses. What did she do to him? His thoughts refused to coalesce into a coherent stream and his body shook violently, as if he plunged into a frozen lake. Zarieth! Help!
The guardian's presence shimmered brightly in his mind and Hadrian gasped, shocked at how aggressive it appeared to him. Tail bristled outwards with ears laid back and teeth bared at him. Suddenly, without any warning, Zarieth charged at him and Hadrian couldn't move, couldn't do anything as his own guardian lunged at him, with the intent to kill clear in the wolf's blue eyes.
Another large form intercepted him and pushed the silver wolf down on the ground, the intruder's teeth latching tightly unto Zarieth's neck.
Wait! Don't...don't kill him!
The witch has threatened my claim over you...in doing so your own instincts are fighting between what's right and what you needed.
The voice shared that unmistakable tenor with that of his lover's and the last thing Hadrian saw, as the intruder turned its full gaze on him, was Alistair's face.
-o0o-
Zevran let out a string of Antivan curses as he blocked Hadrian's strikes while Alistair focused on the dragon herself. The two males and even Wynne were prepared for a full assault from the witch herself. What they didn't expect, however, was Hadrian suddenly turning his sword against them, their friends' eyes strangely blank and his moves too smoothly coordinated, as if he was merely a puppet of someone's will.
"He's enthralled!" Wynne warned the others just as she cast a glyph beneath her feet that repelled the oncoming warrior. The force of the spell knocked the warrior back into the side of the wooden hut but their friend got to his feet quickly, seemingly unaffected by the concussive force. Zevran whistled at the apparent invulnerability of his friend, all the while dodging and slashing shallow cuts into Hadrian's arms, hoping to slow their friend down enough to be knocked out.
The elf held his own against the constant barrage of Hadrian's attacks but eventually time worked against him and his footwork slowed enough to where Zevran tripped slightly backwards. The elf yelped as his other foot went deeper into the ground, mud and water easily giving way to his greater weight. Zevran saw Hadrian jump at him, his longsword held above his head and just waiting to strike the killing blow.
Zevran let out a sigh of resignation and positioned his dagger to where it would hit a non-vital area. It would hurt but perhaps the agony would break whatever hold the witch had on him. His planned defense, fortunately, was not needed as Alistair let out a snarl and tackled the other warrior down just in time for the downswing of Hadrian's sword to miss the bronze-skinned elf's face by mere inches.
What happened next could be anybody's guess, especially Zevran as he was not wholly experienced with blood magic and its thralls. All the elf saw and heard were vicious snarls and hasty scuffles followed by a pained howl and then just silence. A heavy silence that permeated the area around the witch's hut was what roused Zevran from his slight daze.
Wynne knelt at the elf's side, her hands gliding effortlessly over his body.
"Though I can't complain about having a splendid view of your bosom, I am fine," Zevran commented and he let out an 'ow!' when the elderly mage smacked him not too lightly over the head. "But what about our fearless leader?"
"Alistair has taken care of him," Wynne quietly spoke and Zevran's bad habit of making lewd comments about any situation made itself known, despite the wholly inappropriate timing of it.
"And tucked him into bed, right?" Zevran's soft chuckle was met with stoney looks from his friends and the elf's jovial manner disappeared as soon as he saw Alistair's fierce gaze and then Hadrian's bleeding neck. "Is he..."
"The witch's hold has broken. We need to move out, now." Alistair readjusted Hadrian's slumped form as he spoke until he now carried his lover over his shoulders.
"What about that book the old witch kept talking about?" Zevran asked and before Alistair could argue against it, the elf had already picked the lock and then going inside for a short moment before reappearing outside, this time, with a hefty book in hand.
"This witch took her reading seriously!" Zevran groaned and the elf struggled to manhandle the cumbersome book.
"Zevran, quit fondling that book and come on!" Wynne's shout echoed rather eerily in the now vacant area, the hut's owner lying dead right next to it. Even in death, the dragon that was once Flemeth made for an imposing figure of terror and horror.
As the three figures slowly disappeared into the vast wilderness of the Kocari Wilds, a ghostly apparition appeared next to the dragon and she patted the dead beast on the head, whispering quietly as both beast and ghost merged into one being before finally disappearing altogether.
-TBC-
A/N: So, what happens next as the trio defeated the old hag that talks too much? Find out in the next chapter as the trio will not only battle the monsters of Ostagar long thought dead but their own demons as well.