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Co-Author and Beta: Ethereal-23

Forging and Breaking Ties

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx XxX

Sarya loved magic. If there was one thing she perhaps loved, it was people coming to her to learn it. Brianna was a delight to teach, always eager to learn. Neria was not so forthcoming when it came to the 'darker' Tamriel arts, but the young Thedosian elf showed a keen intellect and wisdom by learning more about other crafts. So she was both surprised and not surprised at the latest prospect who came to her for learning.

Surprised because he was not a mage and not surprised because it was Marcus.

The man sought her out in the middle of the great hall when Sarya used her downtime to read next to the great chimney and asked her to educate him in magic.

The noble was very open-minded about many things, and given the numerous times, they had faced so many magic-related dangers. Mages, demons, the Fade, the Thalmor, the man saw it best to get more insight into the Clever Craft. How to defend himself against it, recognize it, what to do when encountering different magics. He sought to learn, to understand.

Which suited Sarya just fine in this backwater land.

It helped that Marcus was a quick student. "So from what you're telling me, hexes work by different means then. Eye contact, direct contact, having something belonging to the person they wish to afflict, or casting a spell on an item."

"Yes. Depending on the nature of the hex, they can be removed by certain charms or warding. Holy magics often work best for that"

"Like Oryn and his magics," Marcus replied in understanding. "He said the nature of holy magic's energies is part of it; the other part is faith. So a mental component is important then?"

"Yes, yes!" Sarya replied, enthused at someone getting it on the first try. "Ohhh, you're a credit to your mudball of a country."

"Careful," Marcus said with a narrowed gaze, his national pride at the forefront.

"Right, sorry, sorry," Sarya replied apologetically. "It's just; you have no idea what it's been for me, having to endure so many dogmatic ravings from every part of this continent..."

"Well, this is something you dedicated your life to. I wouldn't be happy if something I were devoted to being vilified in such a manner."

"Indeed. Now, let's continue" Sarya went back to her 'teacher mode'. "Hexes are primarily part of the school of enthropy and conjuration, so-"

She stopped, feeling a sudden flare of transliminal space magic at work. She turned her gaze to the fast travel sigil they had carved into the great hall. "Oh, we've got company."

Marcus cocked a brow as Miara appeared in a flash of light. "You're-" His voice trailed off as ten other flashes of light came, and there stood eight individuals adorned in rugged leathers mixed with armor and hooded cloaks. The final two were towering Nord women, one with an ebony greatsword, the other an ebony sword and shield. Both ladies wore armors similarly to Sofie's but made from ebony as they were black as night like their weapons. "-Not alone..."

The Cosuland's eyes shone with recognition at the two Nordic women, as he had seen them before. In the Fade from Miara's past. Sarya, on her part, leaped from her chair as she gave a broad smile; "Aunt Lydia! Aunt Jordis!" She cheered, dancing on the balls of her feet.

It was indeed the Dragonborn's former housecarls, now the leaders of her Blades.

But they were different as Marcus recalled them. Both were a head taller than Serana but shorter than Sofie. Jordis's physique was leaned and toned like those of warrior maidens. Lydia looked muscular but kept her feminine figure much like Miara's human daughter. And her muscles were a bit smaller than said daughter's but still more impressive than most. Yet, there was something off to the noble.

Jordis and Lydia should be in their sixties if he recalled right. But both looked to be in their late thirties.

"Oh, I've missed you so much, my little skeever," Jordis warmly said as she hugged the younger woman.

"Why didn't you ever give me a cuter nickname?" Sarya asked with all the curiosity of a child.

"Because you're a little pest," The Sword-Maiden replied just as warmly as before.

"But I'm your little pest, right?"

"Well, of course, you are!"

"Awww, you're my third favorite aunt!"

"...oh, you're still a little pest" Lydia, for her part, laughed at the exchange. "Oh, laugh it up; at least I'm above you."

"Only because I was smart enough to sneak her sweets," The taller woman grinned, teasing her wife.

Miara could only shake her head and smile fondly at her family's antics. She turned to the Cousland, who observed the newcomers with apprehension. "Marcus Cousland, these are my oldest companions. Jordis the Sword-Maiden and Lydia Dragonsbane"

"A pleasure, I've heard much of your exploits," The young noble said respectfully before turning his gaze to the other armored and hooded individuals. "And these are..."

"People whose identities are safer the fewer people of these lands know," The Dragonborn said. "They are agents of the Empire; some have worked alongside my Blades. They are here to scout for the Thalmor."

At those words, the former noble understood before looking at the hooded individuals, "Thank you for coming to help us."

"You are welcome," Lydia gave a slight nod, "But for most of us, this is finally to be rid of those murderous bastards who caused Tamriel so much harm."

"I understand, my lady." He paused for a moment before glancing over to Miara; "Your 'Blades'?"

"An order of warriors sworn to service to the Dragonborn. It dates back to the second era of Tamriel," Jordis clarified with an academic tone.

Miara rested her hands on her hips; "The Thalmor nearly wiped it out sixty years ago. I had to rebuild it from the ground up thirty years ago after… some disagreements with the surviving two members were forced out."

"Esbern left after your teacher showed up and nearly beat Delphine to death before tossing her off the edge of Sky Haven Temple," Lydia droned, crossing her massive arms.

Marcus stared at the Dunmer, who peered back; "Explain later."

Miara turned to her agents, and Marcus saw just how she actually held herself when she took the mantle of general or Sentinel. She was firm in her voice and posture, enough for the agents to stand at attention. "These lands are similar yet different to home, make no mistake, treat them as hostile territory. Reveal nothing about yourselves, and inquire about any strange activity you find. I know it'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack, but the Thalmor have entrenched themselves in Thedas for decades. We have to know how deep their influence runs, what their intentions are, and most importantly, where they are"

The Imperial agents nodded in return, all silent; they did not speak to confirm they knew their situation.

"Proceed with utmost caution. Until the situation in Ferelden is resolved and our reinforcements arrive, we cannot form a proper base of operations, so our activities will be limited. If you need to rest up or require aid, return to the central fast travel point located in the northeast, that will be our temporary base."

Northeast, that was Soldier's Peak, Marcus realized. It made sense; that was the only safe place they regroup if things went south.

"You have your orders," The Sentinel said with finality as she crossed her arms. "Now go. Ad imperium"

"Ad imperium," The agents replied dutifully, a phrase that sounded very similar to Tevene. 'For the empire', Marcus believed it meant. One by one, the cloaked figures began to leave through different areas of the castle as not to be seen with suspicion. A group of cloaked individuals as numerous as this certainly drew the eye. The only ones who remained were Jordis and Lydia.

"What would have us do, old friend?" Lydia questioned, crossing her arms.

"Well, look what the Khajiit dragged in," All eyes sharply turned to see Serana entering the room and grinning, "what took you two so long?"

A light chuckle came from Jordis, "We should be asking why you didn't invite us earlier?"

"Oh, it was dreadfully boring up until now," the Nordic vampire quipped. The former Housecarls laughed before hugging Serana, who returned it, "Damn good to see you again, my friends."

"Likewise, you old snark," Lydia jested.

"No one else from the Blades here?"

"Brelyna is busy with the others on their respected missions. And Kodlak is working a contract in Markarth."

Marcus cocked a brow, "Kodlak?"

"Our son," Lydia clarified with affection as she laced her hand with Jordis; "We named him after the late Harbinger."

"Marcus met that Kodlak when I had to summon some help," Miara spoke up.

"Still giving the old man adventures, even after death," The former housecarl of Whiterun said fondly. "Now, what would you have us do, my thane?"

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

Though the ambient on the castle's battlements was sunny, to the three mages, it felt like the winter's winds were crashing down on them harshly, chilling them to the bones. Wynne's revelations were met with shock and dread. Neria stared, horrified at the thought of her dear teacher having 'died', while Brianna was trying to comprehend the elder mage's current circumstance.

"So now you know," Wynne finally said with a long breath, feeling she had taken a weight off her shoulders. But at the same time, placed that same weight on the young women.

Neria's gaze shifted from place to place. "You say your lifeforce was depleted, so the only thing keeping you alive now is..."

"The spirit in me" The Senior Enchanter nodded. "I do not know if it is permanent or not. I do not feel the spirit's essence dwindling precisely. But neither can I say for certain it will last until the remaining course of my natural life."

"You're certain it is a spirit and not some demon?"

"Bri!"

Wynne raised a calming hand to both, "Amell is right to ask that question. But, in truth, I had always known it was a kind spirit and no demon wanting my body."

Brianna leaned in, "And you believe that on a gut feeling?"

"Miara insisted on checking me regardless of my protests." Her answer caught the two off guard, "I am still myself with my soul intact."

"Was she able to speak with it?" Neria spoke the question before even realizing it.

Wynne nodded, "A little, it revealed itself to be a spirit of faith. I have only felt it close, accompanying me since I was young. Now it chooses to help me directly in my hour of need."

The young mages were silent as they processed what they had just learned. Finally, Bri crossed her arms under her generous bust, "Well, at least we can thank Miara's god powers to know what is what."

The elderly eyes on the enchanter grew stern but soon sighed, "I won't argue on whatever Miara is or isn't a real divine being. I'm too exhausted at the moment."

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" Neria asked, her voice soft and filled with concern.

"I did not want to worry you; I believed it would not be a consequence for our journey... But in Ostagar, I used the spirit's power and realized I would most likely have to do it again at some point, considering the dangers we faced"

Brianna tapped her chin. "From its looks, you two are more intertwined than it possesses you. But a spirit's nature is easily shaped by a mortal, and I recommend we find a way to shackle it before it changes."

Wynne frowned. "Shackle it?" She did not like the sound of it.

"Bri, it saved Wynne's life," Neria argued. "You can't treat it like it's an animal."

"It is exactly like an animal. Ruled by instinct, and worse, its nature can switch if Wynne's view on it changes. Which given your Chantry education..." The Amell said condescendingly.

"I'll have you know, young lady, I think of this spirit as nothing short of kind," Wynnr heatedly defended its savior. "I will remind you I am a senior enchanter, and I know how the spirits behave."

"You know what the Chantry force-feed us. While I have actually been learning from a much greater source."

Her longtime elven friend narrowed her eyes at her words, "Tamriel magic is not infallible."

"No, but they damn sure treated magic far better than here, thanks to the Chantry."

"The Chantry brought order to the chaos here in Thedas," The lone senior enchanter countered, "Considering what the Tevinter Magisters had done through the ages."

Brianna strained herself in tempering her anger, rubbing her hand over her face before looking directly at the elderly woman, "Wynne, can you honestly tell me that EVERYTHING the Chantry has done was right?" Her tone held a tiny edge.

"All of us know full well the Chantry isn't perfect. Nothing is, but it is better than anarchy reigning."

"Was it in the name of order that the Chantry took your child from you?"

The older woman's face became stony as her body grew stiff instantly.

"Brianna!" Neria stood up from her chair in anger.

"No! I am tired of the Chantry and everything they did to us! I am tired of those self-righteous hypocrites singing how much they do the Maker's will while mages are imprisoned forever! And that's if they're lucky!" Brianna never held in how much anger and disdain she had for the authorities, but it was boiling over even then. She had been shown another possibility, a new reality that went in the face of everything the Chantry preached. She couldn't stomach the idea of the others being too afraid and just settling for their enslavers. "We all suffered because of the Chantry! So why do you keep forgiving them?!"

"The Chantry taught me to control myself," Wynne argued. "So I wouldn't be a danger to-"

"It taught you to be afraid," The Amell seethed. "Afraid of yourself. Afraid of others. All it ever taught us was fear because we are the sign of the Maker's hate... Well, I'm tired of being afraid. I finally found the strength to stand up."

"...I think you found too much strength," Neria spook up, harsh and judgemental eyes. "Ever since you started learning Tamriel magic, you grew too bold. You are too harsh, cold, and... unforgiving. You wanted Jowan to die"

"Because he deserved it!"

"Well, I wasn't going to let it happen!"

Roused from his nap on the floor, Bran's head shot up, gazing at the three women. Brianna was stock still as her eyes grew wide; Wynne cocked a brow at her former apprentice. "What do you mean by that?"

Realization struck Amell, and she soon glared with fury, "You set Jowan free!?"

Neria remained firm, "I wasn't just going to let him be executed or turned Tranquil because of his bad errors in judgment."

"He lied to us about being a blood mage! He poisoned Arl Eamon for Loghain!"

"And I gave him the chance to redeem himself!"

Wynne made her voice known, "That wasn't your decision to make, Neria," She accused.

"What else could I do?" Neria defended herself, "Teagan and the others were set on killing him."

"For gods fucking sake Neria!" Bri got off her chair and paced, "Of all the dumbest things to do!"

The elven mage soon stood before her friend, "I don't want to hear about dumb decisions coming from you. Considering all the dark magics you've been learning!"

"Ohhhh, of course!" Brianna rolled her eyes, laughing humorlessly at the accusation. "You think I'm like those blood mages in the tower? That I'll suddenly start killing people and doing horrible things for my benefit?" She shook her head in disgust. "Then you don't know me at all."

"I feel I know you less and less," The dark-skinned mage confessed, her gaze heavy. "When we talk, you always have this... anger and harshness in your voice. You constantly say how the Chantry can never cage you again, and you make it sound like you'd hurt them to make sure of it."

"Because I'm never going to be their prisoner again," Amell swore passionately, a fire burning in her eyes. "Nobody is ever going to cage me again. So, for the first time in my life, I am taking pride in my magic, in my power."

"You're getting drunk on it," Neria said, "They keep teaching you, and you want more!"

"And guess what? Nobody ever got hurt from them teaching me! On the contrary, I'm learning to be powerful in my efforts! No sacrifices, no torture! And already I'm ten times the mage than any enchanter on the Tower!"

"That power doesn't mean you should carelessly use it! You are already starting to view things so; differently; you wanted Jowan to die; you didn't want to give him a chance to-"

"Because he deserved it!" Brianna shouted, "He was our friend and betrayed us! We sacrificed everything for him, yet he was willing to throw us away like nothing!"

Neria snapped back with equal fury, "You are no better than Morrigan now!"

Those words struck a strong chord in Amell, who looked both shocked and hurt by the terms of her friend. But that soon faded as her anger surged, "I am nothing like her!"

A clinched hand slammed down on the table, "Enough!" Wynne's voice rose in anger but was joined by another, more ethereal voice that echoed through the room. "This is beneath both of you!"

Neria and Brianna sharply turned their gazes to the senior enchanter. A faint glow shone in her eyes as she glared at both younger women. The two soon looked back before Amell turned her heels and left. A lone groan came from the older woman, closing her eyes. She rubbed a hand over her face. Within moments her former apprentice was beside her.

"Wynne," concern was deep in the elven woman's voice.

"I am fine, my dear," The white-haired woman lowered her hand and looked at her former apprentice. "But that got out of hand."

Neria shifted her gaze to the side, "I stand by my words about Bri and my actions regarding Jowan." A whimper came from Bran as he came over to both ladies gazing at both. He got a head scratch from his mistress.

"Bann Teagan will not be pleased by your actions concerning Jowan. Any more than his brother the Arl if he can be saved."

"Then mine are the consequences to bear," Neria said, her voice soft but no less committed. "I just couldn't allow Jowan to die, regardless of what he did. That's... something I didn't want to compromise. Not even in the face of all the things my duty calls for me to do."

Wynne's gaze softened. "A Warden is a promise to protect others from the darkness and ensure justice is met. By all accounts, Jowan should have been punished for his crime... But I am very proud that you stood by your beliefs and strive to do right by others, not just as a Warden but also as Neria."

"'Neria' has barely an idea of what she is doing," The young mage said despondently.

"My dear, some people are born to greatness; others have greatness thrust upon them."

"I'm not sure 'greatness' comes to mind regarding all this."

"While you cannot see it, I look at you and see how much you've grown. Neria, you have indeed become great."

XxX ~ the following day ~ XxX

Much like the rest of Ferelden, Denerim was cloaked in a blanket of snow. Yet neither the snow nor cold could put a damper on the central market as it was as busy as ever. Walking out of a harbor warehouse, draped in their full hooded cloaks with some in winter gear. Miara took a small breath beside Serana, Alistair, Sereda, Sofie, Leliana, and Gin. "Have I mentioned that teleport thingy comes in handy," the former Templar quipped.

The exiled dwarven princess shivered, "Will never get used to that."

"Glad our Sarya took the time to put one up," the Nordic vampire stated while gazing up at the cloudy skies, "Least the sun won't be a hassle."

Miara kept her eyes on her oldest and Leli, "You're certain she is here?"

"Without question," The redheaded beauty remarked in a steely tone, "Marjolaine has always hated Ferelden and would only venture to Denerim to perform any duties as a bard."

Gin rubbed the back of his neck, "And you want just you and Sofie to go after her? You two are good, but this is the lady who taught you." He looked pointedly at Leliana, "Wouldn't you want some extra help?"

"Agree with Tabris on this," Sereda omitted with concern, "More hands, the better you know."

"I am the extra help," Sofie reproached sternly, "Whatever that woman has under her sleeve, I'll hack it off."

Serana turned her eyes to them, "You're certain?" She received a nod from both her daughter and the former Bard. "Then watch your backs and front."

Turning her eyes to the Nord Vampire, "And you saw Gorim living and selling stuff here?"

"Yup."

"Then I need to go see him. Be nice to know he is okay after all that happened."

"I'm heading out to the Alienage myself," Their Warden city elf stated, "I don't think the local banns would care much for it in wartime" At least he wanted to make sure his family was okay.

"If anything happens, return to Soldier's Peak," Miara advised. "We'll meet up there" She gave her daughter a nod with a simple worried look. It was not their safety she was concerned about, and she hardly believed this bard or whatever sellswords she had could threaten Sofie, especially if she were protecting Leliana. But the two were in a delicate place in their relationship at the moment, and she truly wished they'd be able to work through it. Perhaps doing this together was a step in the right direction.

Without any other words, the group split up. Serana and Miara accompanied Alistair as he guided them towards Goldanna's residence, walking through the busy marketplace and navigating the alleys as they went deeper into the residential area of Ferelden's center. They noted how he seemed to have a general idea of where she lived, showing he had researched quite a bit in hopes of one day actually meeting her. Still, he needed to ask around a few people they walked by on the street for her the direction of her house.

Apparently, she was a local laundry lady. So the neighborhood people were familiar with her, which made finding her house a simple task.

They stood in front of the door belonging to a house that was not in the best condition while looking serviceable. They noted multiple dwellings in the area: while the people living here were not precisely homeless and subsisting on alms, they seemed to be on the poorer side of the peasantry.

Alistair took his time, mustering the courage before stiffly rising an armored hang to bang on the door. He hesitated for a moment before finally knocking.

It took half a minute for someone to finally open, a woman in her late thirties, with light brown hair done in a few braids around the crown of her head. And that was the neatest thing about her as the rest of her hair looked unkempt, and given the dirt around her cheeks, she had not been able to shower for a time (not a surprise given the current weather. But they suspected it had been for longer than that), her clothes were serviceable but looked like they had been torn and repaired repeatedly given the patches of different fabrics on it. Her current state made it difficult to see any familial resemblance to Alistair.

She certainly did not have the Warden's friendly disposition, as she impatiently greeted them with short words and a tone for little friends. "If you're here to get your laundry done, I'm up to my elbows already, so you'll have to come back another day."

Alistair blinked for a few moments before clearing her throat. "Goldanna, right?"

"Yes, yes, that's me," She said when suddenly her head turned when she heard something heavy falling. "For the love of- Egwyn, I told you not to play on the table! Renna, control your brother while I'm busy, would you!" She sighed, pinching her nose. "Look, I have a lot of work. There are five kids to take care of, one that hasn't stopped coughing since this morning. So you either tell me what you're here for or beat it."

This woman was an air of positivity, Serana mentally mused to herself. However, part of her could understand the woman's overall bluntness with raising five children while barely making much to support them. For his part, Alistair looked a tad nervous for an apparent reason but soon cleared his throat. Miara observed the multitude of emotions, the strongest being hope.

So fleeting, yet so desperate.

"My name is Alistair, and I'm not sure how to word this properly." But, by Goldana's expression, she wanted him to get to the point, "I'm your brother."

"What?" the young mother muttered with a guarded but cocked brow. "You get tossed on the head or something?"

"No," he cleared his throat again. By the Divines was the poor lad so nervous. "Our mother worked as a maid at Redcliffe castle. Where she met my father."

It was those words that realization had struck Goldanna. Her mouth moved before cursing, "The bloody lying fops! They told me the babe died with mother!" She began to pace, "They said mother and the babe died and to never breath a word of it to anyone!" Her anger drew the attention of some of her older children.

"Well, I didn't die with our mother. Here I am."

"That is fine and dandy for you. But how does that help me?"

At that, the former Templar was taken aback by her words. Under her hood, Miara closed her eyes with a slight shake of her head. "I'm sorry?"

Goldanna waved her hands about to her surroundings, "I have five mouths to feed and barely make a copper in my name to have a damn roof over our head, let alone food to feed everyone."

"I just... wanted to meet you," Alistair said pleadingly, the fantasy he had long envisioned cracking like glass before his eyes.

"And for what?" She demanded, "You want money? A roof? Unless you can actually pull your weight here, then forget it."

"No, that's not it at all!" The Warden shook his head quickly. "I wanted to know my sister, that's all. Look I... I spent a long time thinking about this. I don't have any memory of our mother, and I thought that maybe-"

"You'd be part of the family, just like that?" Goldanna snorted. "You killed mother; you did. And I had to scrape by! The money the castle men gave me to shut up barely lasted; now I have five mouths to feed while you lived up the high life."

"Well, shit..." Miara muttered to herself.

"High life?" Alistair repeated with indignation. "Being a royal bastard isn't a good thing, you know. I had to actually make something of my life and become a Warden."

"Ohhhh, a royal and a Warden!" She replied mockingly. "Why, excuse me! How dare such a lowly peasant think bad of someone so high and mighty. Look at you," The woman spat. "You have armor so shiny while not even working my arse off for a week. Would I even get to see a piece of silver half as shine like that? You look well-fed and like you can afford to bath often. So don't come crying to me about who has it bad."

The dunmer shook her head as Alistair's gaze dropped, looking heartbroken. She couldn't blame him; Goldanna was not acceptable to him in the least. It'd be easy to think of her as a vile, heart rotten woman, but the truth was not so simple. This peasant woman could barely scrape by to feed her family, let alone herself, and she's met many like her before.

"I... I think I should be going now," He muttered, sounding so lost.

"Yeah, I think you should," Goldanna agreed.

The Warden's lips pursed before reaching into his pouch and pulling out a bag of coins and a small red elixir. "Here, gold for your family. And a healing potion should help for the cough."

The woman looked at the items suspiciously before swiftly taking them from Alistair's grasp. "Thanks..." Even expressing gratitude sounded forced to her. "Kids, we are having meat today!" Her children chorused with cheer at the prospect of a good meal.

Their business was clearly done here; Miara and Serana followed after the former Templar as he walked away, head bowed without any sort of energy to his steps.

As they moved further from Goldanna's house, walking through the snow-trodden alleys, Alistair shook his head in disbelief. "This is what I sought after all this time? So that shrew of a woman is my sister?"

"Her situation leaves her little time to play nice, Alistair," Miara said; it wouldn't be right of her to insult a poor woman with five children and minor prospects of a future. Oh, Goldanna had been terrible to Alistair, and he didn't deserve it, but that did not make his sister evil at heart. "Life has not been kind to her"

"It has not been kind to me either," He snapped back. "But I'm not taking it out on others."

"Compared to most orphans, you've had it much better," Serana threw in her two septims.

"I... I know, but still I..." He sighed. "This isn't what I wanted. I could have fought for it more, and I could have actually tried to build something there. But instead, I just let her walk all over me, and then I walked away..."

"You know you'll always have friends to rely on, Alistair," Miara said softly. "But it won't be possible to have them at your side every step of the way; that's not how the world works; there are times where you will need to stand up for yourself. At times, the only thing you will be able to count on is your own courage."

The warm maternal words quelled some of the discord within his aching heart. Still, sadness glowed in his gaze as he nodded to the elf before walking away in silence. "He was hoping so hard to be accepted by someone who was family," Serana addressed with compassion in her voice.

"Reality can be harsh for some," the Dragonborn quipped, watching the young man enter the market area. "But this was a lesson he had to learn. And maybe he will also learn family is not always about sharing the same blood."

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

Sofie only glanced at her redheaded companion with some worry. The tension in the former bard's body grew more and more as they journeyed through Denerim's back alleys. "You're sure she will be where you think?"

"Without question," Leliana reproached steelily, "It was the safe house we used as a bard. It was the only place she would use."

"It just doesn't seem she'd choose a place which location you know."

"She's always been very overconfident," Leliana replied, taking out her daggers. A bow would not help her much in such tight quarters.

"You know she most likely has company."

"I am aware," The redhead said. "They will not bother us for long."

The way she acidly said it made Sofie quirk a brow, wondering how much of her old life was slipping into the present. If the bard's viciousness still remained in her. "When we go in, what do you want to do about her?"

"...I'm still deciding," Leliana said, her eyes wavering before settling into a house deep into the alley's edge. She thrust her chin forward, indicating that was the place.

Sofie nodded and motioned for her to stay back. Then, her axes drawn, Sofie lifted her leg, rearing it back and delivering a powerful kick that splintered wood and tore the door off its hinges. The two quickly stormed in; a small handful of mercenaries in leathers and armor spread around the rooms, panicked in shock as they were suddenly invaded.

A human man got in their way, sword drawn. Sofie parried it away and slammed him against the wall, using her right ax to cut his throat. Another mercenary stepped out from one of the bedrooms; confused and alarmed, Leliana dashed around Sofie, kicking the wall as she clashed her daggers against his blade, the force weakening his balance. The moment she touched the floor, she crouched, swiftly kicking the man's feet and making him fall; she wasted no time burying a dagger in his chest.

"Magnifique, tu es toujours aussi mortelle et belle," that voice... Leliana could have gone the rest of her entire life, never hearing that once again. Her husky thick Orlesian accent had not changed in the passing years.

Both ladies turn their heads to the opposite end of the room. Then, finally, a woman stood; she was in her mid-years but retained her youthful beauty with pale white creamy skin. Her long raven-haired locks draped over her oval face, a small smile graced her luscious lips. If Sofie guessed, her clothes were of a posh make, likely Orlesian. A thick-clothed light pink gown with leather bracers and leather on the shoulders and boots. She leaned against the wall gazing at both of them.

"Marjolaine," pure malice glowed from Leli's tone as she growled.

Her former bardmaster let out a dramatic sigh with a hand on her hip, "And here I was preparing for you. But you showed up quicker than even I expected." She spoke in the common tongue. Then, her almond orbs shifted to Sofie, "And you only brought your Avvar lover?"

"I'm more than enough for you," the Nord warrior declared icily.

Leliana pulled her dagger from her enemy's chest as she quickly stood, "I told you at Forlorn Cove to never come for me again. We were done."

"Ahh, that takes me back. Killing poor Commander Raleigh for what he did to you, sweet Tug, and dear Sketch."

"Ne prononcez pas leurs noms!"

The righteous anger from her former student only seemed to amuse the older woman, "Do the scars still hurt, my dear?" Marjolaine laughed condescendingly. "What did you come here to do, anyway? Were you hoping to kill me? If so, you would have done so already."

"You sent assassins after me!" The redhead hissed.

"Well, once I learned you were out there, I couldn't just have any loose ends," She replied as though that was the most obvious thing.

"This is still because of what I saw in those documents," Leliana stated with a shake of her head. "You thought I would betray you, sell you out to Orlais. But I never would have; you knew I was loyal to you! ...You made sure I was loyal only to you" She added the last part in a broken whisper.

She once venerated the ground Marjolaine walked on; how could she think she would turn on her?

The older woman waved her hand in the air. "I taught you to be a bard. How I could not think you wouldn't bet against me if the opportunity arose?"

"You don't know, Leliana," Sofie said with loathing.

"Ohhh, she must have you so fooled," Marjolaine laughed. "The quiet life in the village, the cloister robes, oh, she tried to play the part, but I knew that was not her deep down. Indeed, I know all about what happened after you escaped the Fereldens," She said, and Leliana shouldn't be surprised she knew. "Such an odd behavior, not a letter sent, not even a whisper to anyway. You almost fooled me, and I knew you were just biding your time. And the moment you joined the Wardens' party, I realized you found the right opportunity. I do admit your movements afterward became... erratic. Very hard to follow. But it was only a matter of time before my employees would find you."

"You think I was planning all this time?" Leliana said incredulously. "You're... deluded, paranoid!"

Sofie snorted, "You think everything is about you, huh?"

"Yet here she is," The bard said as if vindicated. "She lies to herself as much as she lies to you. The sweetness, the gentleness, and warmth, all fronts she had masterfully used time and time again. She wrapped you around her finger like she did so many men and women before."

Leliana's grip on her daggers tightened to the point a few knuckles popped. But Sofie was unmoved by Marjolaine's taunts.

"She told you what she did, didn't she?" The grin on Marjolaine's face was one of cruelty. "The lives she ended, by blade, arrow or without even the need of taking them. There were a few whispers in the right ears and evidence in the right place" Her gaze shifted to the redhead. "You were amazing, Leliana, and you became such a master of the game because you enjoyed it so much."

"I..." Leliana swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing down an uncomfortable truth. "I saw what you were turning me into, and I had to leave."

"But we both know you did not do it by choice. Face it, my darling, you cannot escape this life; you do not want to escape it. Because in the end, Leliana" She walked closer to the bard, uncaring about the daggers still in her hands. As though she had nothing to fear. Marjolaine had been in control for so long she found little reason to be afraid of anything, even the giant warrior woman who readied herself to jump to the redhead's defense at a moment's notice. "You and I are the same"

Leliana's lips trembled, unable to utter anything. She remembered... thrill, passion, excitement. The joy in the hunt, the deception, and the intrigue behind the palace walls and alleys of Orlais...

And how much a part of her longed to go back to those days, even as she helped the people in Lothering. A noble calling... and yet she could not deny she still sought to return to her old life.

"This is what you are, Leliana," Marjolaine whispered, her face inches from the other woman's. "I made you, and I gave you this life. You should be grateful."

Leliana's body seized. "Grateful...?"

Grateful for the skills, the strength, the passionate life?

Grateful for turning her into a killer, a manipulator, a ruiner of lives?

Her hands shook, teeth gnashing together. "Grateful?"

Grateful for discarding her like a broken tool, at the cruel mercies of the Ferelden soldiers who inflicted pain and degraded her?

She was grateful for the horrible nightmare she endured and the suffering and violation she faced, while Marjolaine gloated in satisfaction?

"Grateful?!" Leliana snapped with fury, tears trailing down her eyes as her breath raggedly escaped her lips. Such outburst managed to shatter Marjolaine's mask of control, taking a step back as Leliana stepped forward. "For what they did to me?! For what you did to me?!"

Whatever words were to be spoken by Marjolaine next were lost in a sharp exhale filled with pain, for before either of them knew, including Leliana herself, the redhead's dagger found itself right buried right underneath the older woman's sternum.

Marjolaine's voice became a garbled sound as Leliana's second blade was at her throat and slid across the skin. Blood partially sprayed onto the redhead's face making her gasp. Her former Bardmaster gasped and gargled, falling to the ground dead.

The world around her felt like a blur, with Leliana's daggers slipping from her hand and hitting the ground. Renewed tears ran through her cheeks while she swayed and staggered before falling onto her knees. Like the wind, Sofie was kneeling beside her. "Leli," Her voice whispered with concern, but the redhead seemed not to hear her.

Leliana grabbed both sides of her head as the past poured into her mind like a flood. The words from her lips were cracked, broken in between Common and Orlesian tongues as her body began to shake. Then, two prominent arms wrapped around her, embraced by the towering Nord woman sitting beside her.

Sofie spoke not a word, letting her friend let out the pain that soon turned to pain-filled wails.

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

The swamp witch had to be browsing multiple books at the time; someone like Alfe could easily accomplish such a task and take all the knowledge she needed without any drop in efficiency. Still, Morrigan's eye movements were swift, darting from page to page in a desperate attempt to find anything that would ease her worries.

Sarya looked at her in concern, and the human was sorting through those books as though the key to her salvation lay buried between the words. Morrigan snarled in contempt and irritation as she threw one book away, unsatisfied with the results.

"-Soul gem warding would not work; it'd only leave my body even more vulnerable to her possession," She muttered, her voice fast and just a little bit crazed. "Fake vestige copy? No, no, no, takes too long, and there's no guarantee" She ran her hands through those raven locks in growing desperation. "Damnation..!"

Morrigan knew her mother being slain would only be a temporary measure. But now, she understood that Flemeth was truly always one step ahead. Already her soul was out there, and she had no idea how long it'd take to acquire form once more. So part of her genuinely hoped Miara would be able to slay her forever, claim her soul, and that'd be it.

'Twas a fool's hope.

Alfe glanced over from her desk near Avernus, who peered up from his papers. "I must admit, before my exile, I had assumed Flemeth was a myth." The Dunmeri magister eyed him, "My long centuries and traversing the Fade and beyond showed me I barely knew anything about the world."

"You encountered this Flemeth?"

"No, but I felt her power through the Fade. She masked it well, but the details were there if you looked hard enough. And I had nothing but time after all."

Morrigan glared over upon overhearing the conversation, "This does very little for my situation." She snapped in annoyance.

"Okay, let us calm down for a moment," Sarya came over to the witch's side. "You have been at this for several hours. You need a break."

"A break. You do not fully grasp just how relentless my mother can be."

"Considering one of my mothers is also a dragon. So I am very adept in that area, thank you."

"And I counted on said mother of yours to deal with mine, permanently," The witch said, as though she was accusing, but Sarya knew she was merely venting her anger. "At the very least, buy me time, so I could develop a way to deal with my mother on my terms. But now... I do not know how this variable affects things. My mother could return in a year or next week. And I am not safe while she is around."

"I doubt she'd try anything so long as you are near my mother."

"That will not always be an option," Morrigan countered. "And I have no desire to spend the rest of my days sequestered at Miara's side, jumping at the shadows waiting for my mother to make her move."

Sarya did not think her mother would like it very much either.

"I am done doing my mother's bidding," The swamp witch spat in disgust. "All she wanted of me was to turn me into the ideal host body."

"She had originally sent you to spy on us," Sarya said; it wasn't a question.

Morrigan sighed; "She did." So at least Miara had recovered Flemeth's true grimoire... but that made Morrigan more paranoid. Why had she left her tome there when she had taken preparations for when Miara arrived?

She hesitated to open that book…

"There is a lot about Flemeth we don't know," Sarya argued, "'The truth' is subjective. But if she remains a threat to you, I promise we'll find a way to make sure you're safe from her, for good."

The expression bloomed upon the face of the young witch was confusion. "Thank" She paused as the words she spoke felt alien to her, at least, it felt strange to speak it so sincerely. "you."

"It is what friends do," Sarya quipped back with a grin.

Morrigan's brow furrowed, "I never had such companionship. Such amiability would imply weakness."

"Well, your mother likely had severe trust issues by its sounds." The Telvanni elf addressed bluntly. "I'd say most of what she taught you were out of touch rhetoric from an embittered dragon."

A deadpan came from the witch, "I did not have much else to be educated from." Then, scowling in annoyance, "And not all of her lessons were worthless." Much as she wanted to protest it.

Sarya's hands made a scale motion, "Have to take the good with the bad. But on the topic of friendship, no. There is no weakness in having comrades to trust and even love." Once more, Morrigan's face soured, "Oh, come on!"

"Well, you can indulge such emotions for one such as yourself and your family. Being as powerful as you all are."

Now that made the young Dunmeri elf deadpan, "You think we can love because of my family's strength?" By her Grandmother, how much dovah blood was in this girl? Cause only a damn dragon would think like that!

"I believe strength allows you to do as you please. The world itself stands against you the moment you are born, 'tis only through strength which you can stand free to pursue whatever your heart desires."

Sarya stared at the witch, "Is that what you want, Morrigan? To be free?"

Morrigan's lips parted slightly, but she quickly closed them, not wanting to answer.

The Circles who would capture her, the Templars who would enforce the Chantry's decree, the kingdoms which followed their dogma. And above all else, Flemeth, to whom her own daughter was another means to an end. Like any other mage, Morrigan was persecuted just because of what she was. She made no attempt to understand the world and the human societies, nor did she care to do so. After all, that same society would instead put her in chains.

She had no freedom amongst people. And she never had freedom next to her mother.

The only place where Morrigan could indeed be free was the wilds, where nature itself could go from ally to foe at a moment's notice. With nobody to ever accompany her, nobody to ever show any sort of concern.

Sarya looked at Morrigan with newfound understanding, and the witch thought compassion and love to be a weakness because she had never been afforded any. Nevertheless, she survived because of her own wits and strength, so she looked down on others who did not have to struggle as she did, free to show affections she herself did not understand.

Sarya made a decision, and before the witch could protest, she hugged her.

Morrigan remained in place, her eyes blinking slowly. "What are you doing?"

"Everyone needs a hug from time to time. Even you," She broke no argument on the matter by her tone.

A cocked brow came from Avernus before turning his gaze to Alfe, who shrugged. A befuddled expression bloomed on the swamp witch's face. "You are the most confusing person I have ever met." Sarya only let go of her offering a kind smile, "No one will ever figure you out, will they?"

"Be boring if they ever did."

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX

Faren whistled a light tune strolling through the hall of Soldier's Peak. Felt rather good relaxing from all the hero business his group was doing. He scratched his head; huh, sounded weird just thinking about it. Nearing the rooms where everyone stayed, he glanced to see their Qunari comrade kneeling on the floor. Was he doing that meditation thingy or just sleeping?

He could never tell.

After sharing a drink with Oryrn, he felt like taking a quick shut-eye. But, instead, he stretched, going to the end of the hallway where his room was located. His hand was about to reach for the knob when he heard something, a muffled sob coming from right in front of his room across the hall.

It was coming from Sereda's room.

He turned around slowly and walked towards her room. His usual easygoing expression shifted to concern as the sobbing intensified; the door wasn't closed all the way, which allowed him to hear it. Faren's hand stopped before finally pushing the door open, this one creaking slightly as he peered inside.

The first thing he saw was her bed, and it was a mess like someone had rolled around it repeatedly. There was a crumbled piece of paper on it, but Sereda was not in sight.

Yet the sobbing continued to be heard; following the fallen over sheets, Faren turned his gaze towards the floor, right next to the bed, as he saw a bundle wrapped tightly with the sheets. There he found the source of the sobbing.

Sharply turning her heartbroken gaze, Sereda's wide eyes met Faren's, quick to her side with concern. Pure immense grief had gripped the exiled princess's being as she could not utter a word to him. Her eyes soon broke from his as she continued sobbing, holding the sheets tighter around her.

Turning his orbs back to the bed, he looked at the crumbled-up paper. Then, reaching over and snatching the item into his hand, he quickly straightened it.

It was a letter. From her father…

The expression on his face grew from curiosity to sadden melancholy. Then, closing his eyes while lowering his head, he put the letter back on the bed.

Without another word, he came to the side of the wall near Sereda and sat down beside her. He spoke not a word; what words could be said?

The castless dwarf only kept to her side, as no one should be alone when in such grief.

XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX