Chapter 41
Emma woke abruptly, a scream still trapped in her throat, her body trembling and her heart racing like a scared animal. She rubbed at her eyes in an attempt to push away the last of the dream, particularly the image of her parents trapped in a burning car. She wrapped her arms around herself, hating the empty, hollow feeling in her chest; hating the Guardian for doing this to her. As the nightmare's disorientation subsided, she realised Aedan had left the tent and was glad he hadn't witnessed her weakness in the aftermath of the nightmare.
Emma got up, needing to move to keep her mind and body busy enough so that she wouldn't dwell on the stupid memory that kept hounding her, even in sleep. She grabbed her bag of toiletries and left the tent, shading her eyes as the afternoon sun momentarily blinded her. Having reached the small lake without encountering anyone, she quickly stripped down, mindful of the cold weather. Dipping the cloth in the chilly water she tried to get a bit of a lather by rubbing it against the soap. However, the lack of warmth made the task impossible, so she gave up and got on with her wash.
She was in the middle of dressing while wondering what to do with her damn hair when she heard a rustle from the bushes. Emma snatched her tunic and covered herself as best she could.
"It's only me, Angel."
She blew out a relieved sigh and threw the top at him. "A little warning next time, please."
He caught it and gazed admiringly at her breasts, but forced his ardour down. He'd sought her out for a different reason. Walking forward, he slipped the tunic over her head, noting a flicker of disappointment in her eyes as he covered her body. She grabbed her brush and started removing the stubborn knots from her long hair. "So, how are you feeling?"
Aedan chuckled. "It's funny because I was about to ask you that question."
Her hand stilled, and she pinned him with a questioning look. He walked up behind her and took the brush from her grip. Before she could protest he began to untangle her tousled mane. "Let me put it another way. How long have you been having the nightmares?"
She attempted to get away and then yelped as her hair caught in the brush. He gently moved her back to him. "Keep still, Angel, and answer the question."
"I've only had them a few times," she replied after a short pause.
"Is that because you've only slept a few times since I was injured?"
She blew out a long breath knowing that one of their companions had told him about her lack of sleep due to the nightmares. "Yes."
He dropped the brush into her bag and ran his fingers through her smooth hair. "There. All done."
She turned to face him, her expression wary. "We need to talk about this, Angel."
He felt her withdrawal from him as she nodded. "I know. Just give me some time. You've only just recovered, let me at least enjoy that for a while before we have to discuss..." She waved her hand, leaving the sentence unfinished, as though even mentioning the Temple or the Guardian was too painful to her.
Aedan hated to see her so closed off, she'd lost the spark of joy that made her his Angel, and he was worried that if the wound festered for too long, he could lose her love. He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, then dipped his head and brushed a tender kiss to her soft lips. A tremor ran through her body, and her arms slipped around his neck as she sighed softly. He felt a rush of joy at her response, his Angel was still in there, she was just a bit lost.
When the kiss ended, he walked her back to camp, intent on getting them both something to eat. Emma noticed Morrigan waving in their direction, so she tugged at Aedan's sleeve, bringing his attention to the waiting apostate. Upon reaching her, they were greeted with a rather facetious comment. "Finally! I thought you two were never going to leave the lake." The witch ran an observant eye over both of them. "It is good to see you well again, Aedan." She turned to Emma. "And I'm glad you no longer look like one of the walking corpses."
"Er... thanks?" Emma said, unsure if a reply was expected, but Morrigan had already turned her attention back to Aedan. "I have finished reading the grimoire you found in the Circle Tower."
"Riveting stuff, I'm sure," he remarked, his mind only half on the conversation as the aroma of spit-roasted chicken drifted past his nose. After being unconscious for a few days he was practically starving. A nudge at his elbow drew his focus back to the conversation at hand, and Morrigan's indignant expression. He cleared his throat, feeling ashamed for tuning her out. "Sorry, what did you say?" Might as well admit that he wasn't listening, rather than struggle to understand the topic.
"I haven't said anything, yet. I was waiting for you to stop daydreaming."
He had the good grace to blush at the well-deserved reprimand. "I apologise, Morrigan. What did you want to talk about?"
She gave a short nod in acknowledgement of his apology. "The grimoire contains information regarding the immortality of Flemeth. It would appear that she raises her daughters, then takes over their bodies."
Aedan's mouth dropped open in shock. "Are you serious?"
One daunting eyebrow rose as she glared at him. "Do I strike you as the type of person who would joke about something like this - or anything, for that matter?"
Aedan mouth closed with a snap. "No, it just seems so fantastical. You're absolutely sure about this?"
Her eyes glinted angrily and her lips were held in a grim line. "Without a doubt. The process is explained quite clearly."
Emma noticed a flicker of sadness behind the anger and felt a wave of sympathy for Morrigan. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?" Apparently, Aedan had also spotted the momentary glimpse of sorrow.
Morrigan straightened her spine, rejecting any pity aimed her way. "Actually, yes. You can kill Flemeth for me. I can not be there as she may be able to take over my body when she dies. Once the deed is done, recover her main grimoire from the hut and bring it to me."
"You want me to fight Flemeth? The Witch of the Wilds, a powerful and, by all accounts, immortal mage?"
"Yes, that is correct."
"Right. Good. Just wanted to be sure."
"So, you'll help me?" Her tone held a touch of incredulity and a silent plea for reassurance.
Aedan smiled. "Of course, Morrigan. I'll see to the matter tomorrow."
"I am grateful for your assistance."
She gave one of her rare smiles, which in Emma's mind, made her truly beautiful.
As Aedan and Emma made their way to the campfire, he leaned towards her. "I have a feeling you have something to add?"
She briefly bobbed her head. "Yeah, though it might be better discussed in private."
By then, they had reached the others and the conversation was put on hold while they ate and caught up with the news. The subject of the Civil War sweeping Ferelden being the main topic of conversation over dinner.
"Damn Loghain and his pig-headed attitude. We need to get this Landsmeet underway as soon as possible," Aedan growled.
As the conversation died down, Emma thought of something she'd been meaning to ask everyone for a while. "So, how does everyone keep their hair so clean and shiny?" There was a stunned silence at the sudden change of subject, then Leliana chuckled. "Well, I can see your hair has lost some of its lovely sheen and I meant to talk to you about it."
Aedan pulled Emma closer and defended her. "She's got beautiful hair." He pressed a kiss to her crown to make his point. Emma chuckled and turned to brush a kiss against his lips. "Thank you, love, but I really do need to do something with it."
"How about a cut? Leliana can work wonders with your tresses," Zevran offered.
Emma clutched protectively at her ponytail. "Is there another option?"
Leliana smiled and rummaged in her bag. "Here." She passed over a medium-sized bottle and a small coloured glass jar. "The bottle contains a mix of vinegar and jasmine oil. The jar contains a mixture of beeswax and the same oil."
Emma opened the bottle and took a sniff, expecting the acidic smell of vinegar, but was pleasantly surprised by the fragrant aroma of jasmine. "So, I wash it in this first?" she asked.
Leliana nodded. "That's right. Afterwards, rinse it out and wait for your hair to dry, then rub in a small amount of the beeswax to give it a nice shine." Emma thanked her and tried to hand the bottle and jar back, but found her efforts rejected.
"No, keep them. I've still got some in my pack, and next time we pass a shop that sells toiletries, we can stock up."
Emma wanted to run off and wash her hair immediately, but the cold mountain air dissuaded her from following through.
As the evening drew to a close and everyone retired to their tents, Wynne approached her. "I was wondering if you were still interested in learning spirit magic?"
Emma rubbed a hand over her face. "I am. Sorry, with everything that's been happening, I completely forgot."
The older mage smiled perfunctorily but didn't immediately respond. "Is there something on your mind, Wynne?"
The woman rubbed a hand across the back of her neck, then lifted her head and met Emma's gaze. "I think you need to get yourself in a better place than you are at the moment. This school of magic means communing with the spirits, and in your current frame of mind, I don't think that would be such a good idea."
Emma flinched. "There's nothing wrong with my state of mind." Liar. "I've been a bit preoccupied with Aedan's injury, but..."
Wynne held up a hand. "Emma, you know what I mean. You need to talk to someone about this before it eats you up inside." With that, she wished Emma a good night's sleep and walked to her tent, leaving Emma feeling cold and empty inside.
She mentally shook off the worry, telling herself that just because she'd lost her temper. It didn't mean she'd be turning into an abomination any time soon. Well, she hoped not. No, she just had a bit of bottled-up anger. Nothing major to worry about. Then she recalled the raging desire to go and burn Haven to the ground and felt bile rise as her stomach twisted. She shrugged off the sensation, dismissing the cruel thought as nothing more than exhaustion and worry over Aedan's injury, on top of everything else that had happened. The anger would disperse on its own soon enough. She conveniently forgot about the hollow emptiness that was becoming a regular part of her. She turned in the direction of her tent and saw Aedan waiting. They stared at each other, and she could see by the concern in his eyes that he'd heard Wynne's little speech; damn the woman for interfering.
