Dragon Age: Revengeance

ACT II

Chapter 17

After her capture by the Orlesian/Venatori army, Morrigan was taken to Aeonar. The former magical prison turned flying fortress had been converted into a palace for Razikale, and now floated above the ruins of Val Royeaux. Morrigan herself awoke after an unknown length of time, to find herself in human form wearing a silvery metal collar around her neck. It was slender, with intricate designs upon it, but she nevertheless recognised it as a variation of the Qunari Saarebas collars. As long as she wore it, her magical abilities were completely suppressed. She could not cast even the most basic of spells.

Despite this she was treated suspiciously well for a prisoner. Rather than a dungeon or cell, she was kept in a lavish private chamber, and was given plenty of fine food and drink. Eventually she was escorted to a somewhat plain meeting room containing a rectangular table, chairs, and Tevinter banners hanging from the walls. There she was left for almost half an hour, before finally her host arrived.

"Well, this is an honour," said Morrigan with just a hint of her well-known sarcasm. "'Tis not every day I find myself in the company of a goddess."

"Really?" said Razikale, the doors closing behind her, "That's not what I hear. You were raised by Mythal, after all." She gestured towards the chairs. "You can sit, you know. It won't make you appear weak."

Morrigan remained standing, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "I am perfectly content to appear weak, 'tis only actual weakness I find objectionable."

"The collar? It can't be helped I'm afraid. It's the only way I can hold a civil conversation with you."

"Ah yes, one must strive to remain civil whilst kidnapping a person one wishes to converse with."

Razikale sat at the head of the table and gestured idly. "You're free to leave at any time." She caught the extremely sceptical expression Morrigan threw in her direction, and tilted her head slightly. "I am being sincere. You can walk out of this room at your leisure; I have instructed the guards to allow you to depart from this place without incident."

Morrigan laughed humourlessly. "Indeed. And am I to take you at your word, given the tremendous effort you expended to capture me?"

"In my cynicism I doubted you would accept an invitation to come here and speak with me. Now that you are here, I would like to discuss something with you before you go..."

"Be that as it may, I think I shall accept your oh-so generous offer to leave," Morrigan said. She strode past Razikale and pushed open the doors to the meeting room. To her surprise, there were no guards outside waiting to block her passage.

"Taking you prisoner does seem rather redundant," admitted Razikale, "After all, you are Mythal's eternal slave, are you not?"

Morrigan hesitated as she was about to take her first step out of the room. Instead she paused at the open doorway. "Is there a point in there somewhere, or are you merely mocking my predicament?" she asked, mentally cursing herself for not simply departing without a word.

"I would like to extend the hand of friendship," replied Razikale, "Though I understand your natural caution. Perhaps it would put your suspicions more at ease if I were to say that I have a mutually beneficial arrangement in mind. We can help one another."

Cursing herself again for not immediately leaving, Morrigan turned around and crossed her arms. "I am under an unbreakable geas. How can you possibly help me?"

Razikale teleported from her seat at one end of the table to the chair at the opposite end, so that she was now facing Morrigan, an action generally regarded as impossible under the ordinary rules of magic. She then extended her hands. "I am a goddess. That which is impossible to a mere mortal is little more than an inconvenience to one such as myself. Besides, we have more in common than you might think."

"Is that so?"

"We both value freedom greatly. Perhaps you are aware, until recently I was imprisoned in the Deep Roads for a very long time. I would like to get revenge on the one who did that to me. I believe you and he are acquainted?"

"Solas."

She smiled. "Then of course we have a shared interest. After all, I am the Tevinter goddess of mystery and secrets. Is it not true that you are a seeker of ancient wisdom and knowledge?"

Morrigan took the tiniest of steps back into the room. "'Tis true, yes..."

"And I must confess I am in your debt for your actions during the last Blight. You saved my brother, Urthemiel, from total annihilation, because you could not bear the thought of letting another Old God fade from existence." She leaned against the table, her hands clasped together, her voice lowered to a soft murmur. "There are so few of us left now ... you risked everything to preserve an ancient divinity just like me. How can I stand idly by and allow Mythal to enslave you?"

Morrigan scoffed and looked away, but she couldn't deny there was truth to Razikale's words. Surely it couldn't hurt to at least hear what she had to say?

"Were I remotely interested in your proposal, what precisely would it entail?" she enquired with some reluctance.

Razikale leaned back in her chair and draped her arms over the armrests. "There's a weapon. Forged by June for use in the war against my brothers and I. Before it was finished, the Evanuris turned it on Mythal, almost destroying her in the process. If you help me to find it, I can complete the weapon so that it works as intended. With it, I can slay Mythal completely, freeing you from an eternity of servitude to her."

"And what would you get from this arrangement?"

"Solas intends to destroy the Veil so that he can restore his people to their glorious past. A noble goal, but one that would entail the complete destruction of this world and everything in it." She smiled again. "I don't know about you, Morrigan, but I for one rather like this world. I'd hate to see it perish. That weapon may be the only way to stop him. To say nothing of the satisfaction I'd gain from killing the one who imprisoned me."

Morrigan closed her eyes and sighed. Whilst every instinct screamed that she was being manipulated by Razikale, the logic of the Old God's argument seemed sound. A weapon that could kill a god could stop Solas from destroying the Veil and free her from Mythal's hold. And whilst she was loathe to destroy two ancient elven deities, both of them represented a grave threat to the world and to Morrigan herself. And she had saved Urthemiel, who had recently confessed his gratitude to her for doing so. Despite the Tevinter Old Gods being painted by history as creatures of pure evil, thus far Morrigan had seen them in a better light than she had the likes of Mythal and Solas.

She closed the doors to the meeting room, then turned and leaned across the table, extending her hand towards Razikale. "Give me a dagger," she said.

Razikale did so without hesitation, conjuring a plain, unremarkable steel dagger out of the air, which she handed to Morrigan. Morrigan used it to carve a design upon the table, whilst Razikale stood and moved to her side in order to get a better look at it. It was a stylized sword, wreathed in flames.

"That's the symbol of the Templar Order," she said, brushing her fingertips over the carving. Morrigan stabbed the dagger into the table next to her handiwork.

"Which represents?"

"The Blade of Mercy." Razikale gasped and gazed into her eyes. "Are you saying that the sword Archon Hessarian used to slay Andraste-"

"Is June's weapon, yes."

A stunned silence descended upon the strategy room aboard the Astera. Avernus scowled at the implications.

"Did Hessarian know what he had?"

Andraste shook her head. "No. It was looted from the ruins of Arlathan, and presumed to be just an enchanted blade. Hessarian purchased it without the vaguest notion as to what it truly was. I doubt even Dumat realised what it was after he possessed Hessarian, though likely only because he was unaware of the existence of June's creation."

"So where is it now?" asked Leonie. Andraste shrugged helplessly.

"That I cannot say. Even Urthemiel doesn't know."

Fiona sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I ... know where it is."

"You do?" Solona was startled. "How?"

"You haven't heard?" She looked around at everyone and could see that none of them were aware of the news. Taking a deep breath, Fiona launched into an explanation. "You have heard of the Blades of Hessarian, at least? The legend goes that after Andraste's-" She glanced over at the prophet herself and winced slightly. "-death? Forgive me, if you were snatched from the flames by time magic, whose ashes were collected and venerated?"

"My mabari's," Andraste replied sourly. Solona whimpered in dismay.

"Awww, not the puppy..." She sniffled. "I miss my dog."

Fiona cleared her throat politely. "As I was saying, the legend tells that the sword was stolen from Hessarian by a slave named Trefir, who transported it to Ferelden and founded the group known as the Blades of Hessarian. This group was recruited by the Inquisition during the conflict with Corypheus, and the blade was given to the Herald when he assumed command of them. Inquisitor Trevelyan did not know if it was the original Blade of Mercy or merely a replica, so he offered it to his sister, Evelyn, as a gift."

"So Lady Evelyn Trevelyan has it?" asked Leonie. Fiona hesitated.

"Yes, but not for long. The reason I asked if any of you had heard the news, was that it was recently announced that Lady Trevelyan is to present the Blade of Mercy to the King and Queen of Ferelden at a ceremony in Denerim, commemorating the birth of Andraste."

Solona gasped. "That's only a few days from now." She broke into a grin and punched the air. "Aww, yeah, we're going to Denerim!" She grabbed Andraste's hand excitedly. "Hey, guess what? You're going home for your birthday!"