I waited for Zathrian to slam his staff into the ground, for the magic to dissipate and take him and the spirit with it. I watched Swiftrunner, eager to witness the imminent transformation.
But none of that happened.
Zathrian turned to me and I shook my head in confusion.
"The ritual will take some time, Warden." He said, wearily. "It requires blood, but my own will not be enough to sustain the power I need. I am afraid I must ask more of you and your companions."
"You…need our blood?" I asked, doubtfully, looking down at the open cuts on my fingertips. "Um…I'm kind of…using it. Can't you just use lyrium?"
"I am afraid not. The curse was created by powerful, ancient magic - blood is the only thing strong enough to undo it."
"How much do you need?" Grayson asked, frowning. I could tell from his face that he didn't like this any more than I did.
"It is difficult to say, but…more than I can give before my body fails. The ritual will consume my life-force, and that of the spirit, but without a reserve of blood to fuel the magics once I am spent, I fear elements of the curse may linger."
"I will bleed, elf." Swiftrunner said, with a low growl. "I will give my life to end the suffering of my brothers and sisters."
"No, nobody dies." I said, sternly, and I realised that I had accidentally used my "bad dog" voice again when I heard Larry's confused whine. I stroked his head, reassuringly. "If everyone gives a little, will that work?"
Zathrian nodded.
"Alright, then. What do you need to get started?"
"Peace." He said, with a grim smile, as he cast his eyes around at the room full of werewolves. "Quiet. Time. Everything else, I have brought with me."
The Lady of the Forest calmed the werewolves and they remained in the chamber, reluctantly, while we made our way into a smaller adjoining room where Zathrian could begin preparations. He immediately busied himself, taking a seat on the stone floor and emptying ingredients from his pack, arranging them on the floor around him. He had brought everything he needed with him - I guessed he really had set out with the best of intentions.
I knelt beside him, holding up my bloody fingers.
"Do you have an empty bottle in that pack? I'm already bleeding so I may as well bleed usefully."
He met my eyes, and grimaced in shame, before reaching into his pack and producing a small, glass vial.
"I am not proud of my…of the way that I…" He trailed off, seemingly unable to think of how best to articulate the way he had almost been the death of us all. "I do not seek your forgiveness, nor your understanding. I only ask that when you return to my clan…"
"I'll tell them the truth." I said, gently, accepting the vial and replacing the cork with my bleeding fingers. "I'll tell them that you did the right thing. That you gave your life to save them. They don't need to know more than that."
"Thank you, Warden." He said, returning to his pack to fish out more ingredients. "You have shown me more grace than I have earned."
"You're earning it now." I assured him. He nodded, and I offered him a small smile of encouragement before returning to my friends.
I slumped against the wall by the door, sighing as I felt my shoulders start to relax. I held the vial up to check the progress, and noted that it was only about a fifth of the way full and the bleeding had stopped. Morrigan approached me, moving to lean against the wall beside me as I reopened my cuts, deepening them slightly with the blade of one of my daggers.
"So." She said, quietly, watching me with a cautious look. "Your aversion to blood magic is not quite as absolute as you would have had me believe."
I shrugged, noncommittally.
"Well…desperate times, desperate measures."
"A common refrain among blood mages." She said, narrowing her eyes.
"You sound like Wynne." I smirked. "I would have thought Flemeth's daughter would be a bit more open-minded when it comes to…unconventional practices."
"Lauren…I am no Circle Mage, but even I will admit that their teachings about the dangers of blood magic are not without merit. Especially for one as unpracticed in the arts of spell-casting as yourself."
"You heard Zathrian." I reminded her. "Lyrium won't cut it. I can't pretend I'm ecstatic about the idea, but on this one occasion…I think we can make an exception."
"Quite…but the elf's ritual is not what I am referring to." She said, sternly. I nodded, before realising I had no idea what she was talking about, and I threw her a confused look. She raised her eyebrows, pointedly, and her expression shifted from stern to dumbfounded. "And you have no idea what I am referring to, do you?"
"Not remotely." I confirmed.
"Did you think you conjured a force blast powerful enough to repel a werewolf with the strength of your willpower alone?" She snapped.
I stiffened as the implication of her words hit me, and I looked from her to the blood dripping from my fingers. "Are you saying I used blood magic?"
"And you were not even aware of it." She groaned, dropping her head back to smack against the wall and closing her eyes. "'Twas bad enough when I thought it was intentional and foolish. That it was unintentional and apparently instinctive…that is far more dangerous."
"It was an accident." I insisted. "It won't happen again."
"A hollow vow, given that you seemingly had no control over it the first time." She said, with faux-sweetness.
"It was force magic…just force magic…are you saying I drew mana from my own blood?" I hissed, unconsciously tightening my grip on the vial. "But…I've never even seen anyone practise blood magic. I assumed it would be more…well…bloody."
"It can be, but you only drained a few drops of your own blood. I felt it, and I'm certain the old woman did too, but it is unlikely that any of the others could tell the difference." She said, and I started to relax a little, thinking that at least I could avoid another lecture from Grayson while I worked all of this out. "Although…" She nudged me with her elbow and nodded towards Alistair. "Given that your templar is seemingly unable to look at you for the first time today, it would seem that it may not have entirely escaped his notice."
I looked from her to Alistair and realised she was right. He was leaning against the wall on the other side of the room staring unseeingly at the map in his hands and his jaw was working, furiously.
"Crap." I muttered, frowning over at him. "I was just starting to think we could actually be friends and I was almost starting to be kind of okay with it. I guess we're back to not talking."
I looked back down at the now half-full vial and swirled the dark red substance around, thoughtfully.
"Morrigan…I didn't even try, and that force blast was way stronger than anything I've been able to do before. I only nicked my fingers, I was barely bleeding…is blood magic really just that much more powerful than regular magic?"
"Regular magic." She said, snidely. "How swiftly you condemn to mundanity the power to manipulate elemental forces with a thought."
"I think you know I didn't mean it that way. I just meant…you know. The non-blood variety."
She huffed a sigh and her shoulders twitched in an almost imperceptible shrug.
"It can be. It depends."
"Depends on what?"
"Why do you ask such things?" She snapped, irritably. "Do not say you intend to pursue this foolishness?"
"No." I frowned, shaking my head and scolding myself, internally. "No, of course not. I just…I can see why it's so dangerous. Such a temptation…for some people."
"For some." She said, in a low, warning tone. "And…for you?"
"No." I said, quickly. "No, I've done a lot of stupid things, Morrigan. Losing myself to blood magic isn't going to be one of them. I'm barely okay with doing regul- I mean non-blood magic. I would much rather stick to my daggers, to be honest."
"Your apparently instinctive command of such magic must be addressed, if you are to prevent future…mishaps." She said, diplomatically. "But we shall discuss it later, once the matter at hand has been dealt with. We are not yet out of the woods, as it were."
"Of course. Thanks." I said, with a grim smile. I turned to her, but she wasn't looking at me anymore.
I followed her line of sight to see Grayson talking to Leliana. We watched as he reached into a leather pouch on his hip and produced a small, white flower, which he handed, delicately, to the bard. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes were wide and immediately misty with shocked tears of gratitude as she gingerly accepted it.
He flashed her a brilliant smile, and she threw her arms around him, hugging him gratefully.
I felt Morrigan stiffen beside me and turned back to her to see her face frozen in a forced, neutral expression, but her eyes blazed with hurt.
"I don't think that's what it looks like." I said, gently. "I gave that flower to her too - before, when I was him. It was a token of friendship - something that reminds her of her mother - that's all."
I expected her shoulders to relax, but her blazing eyes turned to me, the fire in them tempered with confusion.
"When you were him?" She asked, searching my face. "What does that mean?"
"It means…" I chewed my lip, realising I had given away more than I had intended in an effort to spare her from the gut-wrenching jealousy I had felt the day before, when Alistair had smiled at Lanaya. "It's not important. Just a detail of my precognition that I didn't think was worth mentioning because it's too hard to explain. Just…trust me? You're allowed to pull him up for this later if you feel that he's being inappropriate - you're always allowed to feel your feelings, Morrigan - I just wanted you to know that it's not…it's not what it looks like. Okay?"
"We will discuss this later, Lauren Duval." She said, through pursed lips. "As always, you have opened your mouth to answer a question I did not ask, and you have succeeded only in leaving me with a thousand questions I am not sure I want to know the answers to."
"But you're going to ask them anyway." I rolled my eyes, more at myself than at her.
"Naturally." She said, narrowing her eyes.
I sighed, glancing down at the vial in my hands to see it was almost full - I guessed my fresh cuts had been slightly deeper than I had intended. I felt her gaze boring into me but I ignored her, corking the vial and handing it to her. She accepted it, her eyes flashing in a silent question.
"We'll talk later." I said, shortly. "Give this to Zathrian. Grab Wynne and see if you can help him prepare for the ritual. The sooner we can get this thing over with, the better."
"Hmm." She said, looking over at the keeper, turning the vial over in her hands, thoughtfully. He was arranging bowls of ingredients on the floor around him, checking a scroll in his hand and muttering to himself. "When you say "help him prepare", should I take that to mean…?"
"Make sure he doesn't go postal on us again?" I nodded. "I'm cautiously optimistic that there will be no more theatrics…but I've been wrong before."
"Quite." She smirked, pushing off the wall and taking a few steps towards Wynne before she turned back to me, with a curious look on her face. "Fade Child."
"I'm sorry?" I frowned.
"Fade Child." She repeated, searching my face as though trying to glean something from my reaction. "'Tis what the spirit called you. What could it mean, I wonder?"
"Nothing." I chuckled, shaking my head. "Since when did you pay any attention to what spirits have to say?"
"When most spirits speak, it is with the sole intention of manipulating mortals into hosting them in flesh, and so what they have to say is rarely anything of interest. This was different. This was of interest." She said, with a half-shrug. "What do you think it could mean?"
"Who knows, Morrigan?" I sighed, rolling my eyes. "It's either the Valour thing, or the death thing, or it's the other-worldly-origin thing. Take your pick."
"Perhaps…" She said, thoughtfully. "You are not curious?"
"No, I'm not curious. I'm impatient." I said, nodding pointedly towards Zathrian. "If he so much as twitches, you let me know."
She quirked an amused eyebrow at me and nodded, but reached for my injured hand first and muttered under her breath, healing my wounds. I nodded in thanks and she smirked in response.
"Just removing temptation." She said, dryly. "You are no blood mage, Lauren Duval. I intend to keep it that way."
I scoffed, looking from her to Alistair and catching his eye before he quickly looked away again, returning his attention to the map in his hand.
"No blood mage." I muttered, grimly. "Tell him that."
"No." She said, with the ghost of an amused smile dancing on her lips. "But perhaps you ought to. I do not care, of course…but I need you to be as focused as possible while we bring your new, bloody tendencies to heel and I can already sense that Alistair's pouting will prove to be a distraction. Go…talk to him, and eliminate the distraction. I will ensure the elf stays on task."
She turned to leave, flashing me one final, sardonic smile before making her way over to Wynne, who I noted was watching me with an air of stark disapproval. I sighed, steeling myself, and forced my face into what I hoped was an easy smile as I approached the brooding templar before I could lose my nerve.
"Alistair, do you have a moment?"
"Gah!"
He jumped so hard at the sound of my voice that the map jerked out of his hands, landing face-down in a particularly damp-looking patch of foul-smelling dirt near his feet. We both moved to pick it up at the same time before I quickly drew back, narrowly avoiding a cliche, highschool, fingers-accidentally-brushing-as-we-both-reach-for-your-dropped-paper scene. I quickly tried to morph my expression into something as close to a smile as I was capable of by the time he straightened back up, brushing gobs of muck from the parchment, though I needn't have bothered - he didn't so much as glance up at me.
"Sorry." I cringed. "I didn't mean to startle you."
His eyes remained fixed on the map in his hands, as though afraid of what he might find if he raised them to meet my own.
"That's okay." He said, in a clipped voice. "Although I'm afraid Denerim is completely covered in werewolf poo now."
"And we thought Howe and Loghain were the only pieces of shit they had to worry about."
"Ha!" His bark of a laugh forced itself from behind tight lips, and the furrow of his brow told me that it was entirely involuntary.
I tried again.
"On the bright side, it adds a new dimension of authenticity to the map, don't you think? Just add a dash of rotten mushroom and a sprinkling of stale ale and I reckon you'll capture that unmistakable Denerim signature scent of drunks, dogshit and despair."
I ducked my head down as I spoke, trying to catch his eyes, but he studiously avoided my gaze. I felt the try-hard smile slide from my face before I could catch it. He nodded, politely, but said nothing.
I cleared my throat, awkwardly.
"I wondered if you had a moment to talk."
"I…have a moment." He said, shifting his weight anxiously from one foot to the other. "What's on your mind, Lauren?"
I hesitated, silenced for a moment by his use of my name, but I quickly gathered myself, remembering my purpose.
"Blood magic." Finally, at long fucking last, he lifted his head and looked at me. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion, and he pursed his lips.
"Yes…so it would seem."
"It was an accident." I said, quickly, before he could look away again. "I didn't even know I had…Morrigan told me. I didn't mean to, I…it won't happen again."
"Wow." He said, raising his eyebrows, and I started to relax before I saw his lips tug into an angry sneer. "Wow." He repeated, slowly, shaking his head at me. "You really expect me to believe that, don't you?"
"I…yes?" I frowned up at him, taken-aback by his uncharacteristic coolness towards me. "It's the truth."
"Let me guess." He said, his voice dripping with derision - it sounded so close to amusement that I might have thought he was joking if not for the obvious contempt in his eyes. "Morrigan told you I'd fall for that, right? After all, she thought I'd fall for that ridiculous "magical exertion" excuse yesterday."
"Alistair, what-"
"You know, Lauren, I expect this sort of thing from Morrigan - the blood magic, the lying, the belief that I'm some gullible oaf that will swallow anything you say as long as you bat your eyelashes at me…but I really thought you were better than that. Perhaps that does make me gullible…but even I'm not that gullible."
I stared at him, open-mouthed. He had never spoken to me like this. I knew I should have expected some push-back - I had been prepared for an interrogation similar to the one I'd had from Morrigan. I hadn't been prepared for a personal attack.
"Huh." I said, quietly, dropping my gaze when I could no longer bear the scorn in his eyes. His cold, judgemental expression forcibly reminded me of the way he had spoken about the blood mage, Jowan, in Redcliffe all those months ago.
"Huh?" He scoffed. "That's all you have to say? Huh?"
"I know your feelings on blood magic, Alistair." I said, surprising even myself by how calm my voice sounded. "I know your feelings on blood magic, because your feelings are my feelings. I don't know enough to know how unlikely it is that I used it without knowing - I can guess from the way you and Morrigan have reacted that it's not very likely. But that doesn't change the fact that it's the truth. I'd like to think I've earned the benefit of the doubt…especially from you."
"THE BENEFIT-" He cut himself off, apparently realising how loudly he was yelling, and lowered his voice, stepping closer to me. "The benefit of the doubt? What exactly do you think I've been giving you for the last six months?"
"We both know what you've given me, Alistair." I snarled, defensively.
"No, don't do that." He said, with a humourless laugh. "Don't make this about us. This isn't about us, Lauren, this is about you. If it was just the one thing…do you know how many times I've fought with Grayson about you? How many of his doubts I've ignored, how many of my own? Do you have any idea how many excuses I've made for you?"
"Careful." I whispered, feeling tears sting my eyes. "You're about to cross a line, Alistair."
"First, it was the Sight, and I defended you. I defended you to Grayson, I defended you to Duncan. I believed you, I never questioned you, never demanded to know how you knew those things, never demanded that you share anything you were uncomfortable with. I trusted you."
"I never asked for-"
"Then, it was the spirit of Valour." He raised his voice, slightly, cutting me off, and I could feel the conversation behind me die as our companions took notice. "I trained as a templar, Lauren. Do you have any idea how deeply I betrayed my own instincts, betrayed myself to accept that the woman I lov-" He cut himself off, swearing under his breath. "That my fellow Grey Warden was an abomination?"
"An abomination." I repeated, numbly, staring at him. Suddenly, I felt like I was looking at a stranger.
"But I did it anyway. Then, you told me you were from another world, and I accepted it. Then, you returned from the dead, and I was so grateful, so unfathomably grateful that you were alive that I couldn't allow myself to question it. I knew it was impossible, I knew that whatever brought you back had to be something dark and twisted, against the laws of nature, in direct violation of everything I was sworn to uphold, but I didn't care, because you were alive."
"Sorry to disappoint." My voice hissed past the unshed tears sticking in my throat in a whisper that I wasn't sure he had heard, as he continued.
"Then, it was the mysterious sudden-onset of magic. Now…that gave me pause. I questioned it. It bothered me. But the only person who seemed to share my feelings was Sten, so again, I accepted it. Again, I ignored my better instincts. But now…blood magic? Fade Child?" He shook his head, staring at me like I was on fire. "How much do you expect me - do you expect any of us - to keep taking on faith? How many more terrible, impossible things am I supposed to accept?"
Grayson appeared beside me, suddenly, looking between the two of us with a worried expression on his face as Alistair and I stared each other down.
"Whatever this is about, don't you think it can wait until we're somewhere a little less crawling with werewolves?" He hissed, clasping a hand on my shoulder, as though I was the aggressor. "You can talk about this later."
"No." I said, returning Alistair's glare with my own. "I think we're done talking. We have nothing more to say to each other."
I wrenched my shoulder from his grasp and turned from them, but I had only taken a few steps when my rage wheeled me back around.
"No, do you know what? I do have something to say."
"Lauren…" Grayson groaned, but I ignored him, brushing past him to square up to the man I loved - the man I had been so sure had loved me back.
"What a surprise." He drawled, but he seemed less confident now in the face of my anger.
"Do you think I asked for this? For any of it?" I demanded. "I don't need you to accept it, Alistair, because I don't. I don't accept it. I still don't understand any of it. I don't understand how or why I'm even here, and any time I try to think about it, my head starts to swim - like something doesn't want me to see the bigger picture. Maybe the same something that orchestrated this whole thing to begin with. That made sure I had this knowledge, that killed my sister, and brought me here, stuck a spirit inside of me, put a sword in my hand and said go. Go fight Darkspawn, and demons, and dead things. Go get tortured, see how much you can bend before you break. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? So go die." I spat, angrily.
His face had started to soften, and the contempt in his eyes was slowly giving way to regret, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
"Go die, and find out that whatever does kill you makes you so much weaker than you were before. Oh, but don't worry, you're not done yet. How about a respawn and a re-spec? Here, take this dangerous, volatile power that you have no control over - sure, it's tied to your emotions, but that should be fine, right? It's not as if anyone's planning on ripping your fucking heart out of your chest? Right?"
He reached out a hand, as though to comfort me, but I batted it away. I didn't even realise I was crying, but my cheeks were damp with silent tears of anger. I opened my mouth, but closed it again, swearing under my breath as I glowered up at him.
"Alistair, you told me you wanted to be my friend, and that felt as unlikely to me as accidental blood magic is to you, but I accepted it. Now you want to know if I expect you to believe me? Yes. I do. I expect you to."
"Lauren, I'm s-"
"Don't apologise to me right now." I snapped. "It'll only be a reflex because I'm…what was it? Batting my eyelashes at you? No. Don't apologise. Think about it. Think about it all. If you decide that you really believe it, then you can apologise. But I'm done. I'm done apologising for who I am. I like myself - weird, dangerous, impossible warts and all. I don't actually care if you do. Not anymore."
I turned on my heel and strode towards the door, before Grayson caught up with me and grabbed my shoulder, spinning me to face him.
"What are you doing?" He demanded. "You can't go back in there, the place is full of werewolves and they're all extremely on edge."
"Whose afraid of the big, bad wolves?" I sneered. "There are more dangerous things than werewolves in this world, Grayson, and right now, I'm one of them. I'm taking a walk."
"But…I just spoke to Zathrian, he said it won't be much longer until he's ready to start - only another hour or so."
"Perfect!" I exclaimed, loudly, before looking past him, directing my next comment at Alistair. "There's a phylactery lying around here somewhere that contains the memories of an ancient Arcane Warrior. I'm going to go find it and suck the power out of it. Add that to the list of terrible, impossible things you can't accept about me."
I wrenched my arm out of Grayson's grip and left the room, slamming the door shut behind me.
AN: I hate writing angry Alistair but I couldn't just have him be all cool and dopey and sweet about the whole blood magic thing. And it gave me an excuse to counter with angry Lauren, which I do enjoy.
Leave a review! It's like online graffiti that says "I was here!", and don't we all like people to know we exist? No? We're all solipsists? How boring!
