"You..." Alistair's head staggered up at the admittance Cullen shouldn't have spoken. "Lanny didn't mention that."
"I haven't told her," he scrunched up his eyes, barely stemming the tears threatening to fall.
"Because you're worried she'll tell you stay with her and Gavin..."
"Because I know she'd tell me to fight for thedas. After all, if they lose, if our world is lost, then there will be no living for anyone. It is a salient point," Cullen admitted, rocking back and forth on his knees to keep them from locking up.
"We've all done it. Turned our back from safety, from a warm house, from food that didn't look like bronto vomit, to hold that line."
Cullen shuddered, he came to hate that phrase. It was one shouted by people who knew there was no chance to others who believed they'd make it out. For a time he didn't think he'd find retirement to his liking. Even with Lana in his arms, duty was in his blood, but then...
"I'm tired of fighting," he said, "of rising every morning never knowing if it will be the last while the floor crumbles below me."
"Then tell him no." Alistair, the last man in thedas Cullen could stand who'd never technically done him wrong, shrugged his shoulders while offering up heartfelt advice. "I'm certain the illustrious Inquisitor Gaerwn's heard it a time or two before. Though with him you have to be really strict about it, no 'perhaps' or 'I'll think about it.' Maybe it's being raised Dalish, he missed out on all the cues of 'Look, I hate the idea but I'm trying to be polite here. Stop making it so awkward.'"
"'No,' just like that?" Cullen laughed at the simplicity of it. There were few who knew what was happening, what could happen to the very fabric of life it they didn't act.
The man staggered to his feet and tried to wipe the dirt of the deep roads from his behind. "Be with your son, spend every damn second you can tickling his toes and singing Maker awful songs for them because..." his eyes trailed over towards Reiss who was sitting beside the fire, "it's over quicker than you can imagine."
Cullen released a hand off of Lana's to grip onto Alistair's forearm. "We will free your child from the witch's curse."
It took a moment for the man to shake off the cocky smile. A strange serenity warped his features and he nodded, "I know, Lanny's on the case. But no matter what happens, the damage has already been done."
"What do you...?" Cullen asked, when a slight tremor in the tan fingers gripped inside of his drew him down to his wife. Lana swallowed deeper, her eyelids fluttering. When she gripped onto his hand, her soulful brown eyes opened. For a moment she frowned, staring at the ceiling, before trying to stagger up to stare at her husband.
"Maker's grace," he cried, lifting her fingers to his lips to kiss them, "you're awake. You're alright?" In such a tizzy he forgot to inspect her for demons, but Lana's skin wasn't splitting in half, nor was she casting anyone aside. She frowned a moment, something weighing on her mind, before she let her free hand batter against Cullen's scruff.
"Honey eyes," she whispered to him, then sat fully up to bellow, "Morrigan!"
"Lanny," Alistair got nearer to her, trepidation and curiosity both obvious, "what happened? Did you find anything? Reiss, she's awake."
"She is?" the woman stumbled to her feet, racing quickly over the furniture in the way to stare down at Lana. Cullen almost expected her to wilt a moment at all this attention, but she was nearly glaring at the witch sliding closer. Keeping one hand beside her son, Morrigan seemed to be squaring her shoulders.
Gasping, as if she was kicked in the gut, Lana pitched forward and sighed. Cullen was quick to rub across her shoulders, peering down to ask, "Are you okay? Do you need some time to...?"
"No, no," she pinched into the bridge of her nose, then her eyes turned heavenward. "Promise me there's no black city above all the rock."
"None the last I checked," he admitted.
"Well..." Alistair was impatient, leaping into the matter before Lana had a chance to find her bearings. "What happened in the fade? Was there a demon?"
"Yes," Lana said as if it were a simple matter. But she gripped tighter to Cullen's hand and he returned it, the blood leaving his cheeks. It must have been a powerful one. Barely staring at her husband, or even the father pushing for answers, Lana's gaze landed right on Morrigan, "but that wasn't the solution. Was it?"
The witch blinked her yellow eyes, seeming to be unimpressed with his wife's glare. It was Reiss who butted in next, "What of the boy? Did you find Kieran?"
"I did," she said, watching as Morrigan's eyes opened wide in surprise. The witch gasped a moment, struggling to hide her burst of emotion.
"Are you certain it was him?" Cullen put to his wife and she groaned.
"I can tell the difference between a demon posing as a human and the real deal in the fade. They glimmer strangely," Lana threw off the cuff as if it was well known information, but he'd never heard of any mage talking about glimmering demons. They were often fooled or seduced by demons, the monsters far too easily wearing the skins of loved ones.
"Glimmering demons? Are you sure you weren't fighting in a brothel? I assume the Fade has a brothel, everywhere else seems to," Alistair chirped away, needing his voice to fill the void.
Lana rolled her eyes, but it was Reiss who jabbed him in the arm, "Maker's sake, what would the fade need a brothel for? They have those boob demons floating around everywhere already."
"Boob de...oh the desire ones," he chuckled. "Damn, why didn't we call them boob demons during templar training? That may have gotten me to pay attention."
Over the snickers of people who barely understood the veil or the fade, a single voice honed in on Lana. "How is he?" Morrigan whispered.
At that his wife shuddered, her arms wrapping around herself as if she was blisteringly cold. Cullen tried to help, but she felt the same temperature as normal. Whatever frost seeped into her was touching her soul instead. After a moment Lana glanced up at Morrigan and said, "Scared. Kieran was clearly broken up, terrified, and sad...because of what you did to him."
"What she...?" Cullen whipped around, watching the witch slide ever slightly back from the group. Her fingers cupped her son's cheek as if she needed to keep him between her and the rest to save herself.
"I don't understand," Reiss said. "If you killed the demon, shouldn't he wake up? Isn't that how it works?"
"Usually. At least every time I've been involved in one of these," Alistair added, glancing over at the boy who remained as comatose as when they entered.
Lana twisted in her seat, letting her short legs dangle above the ground. At her look, Cullen shifted to the side so she could step down. For a moment her face twisted as the pain of the real world returned, but she shook it off to hobble over to Morrigan. "The demon didn't keep him trapped. It couldn't touch Kieran, but it was drawn to the source of the power that trapped the boy. A tasty treat for a pride demon. No wonder it couldn't turn down such hubris. You knew it was in there, didn't you? Could have warned me."
"I've seen you destroy far more dangerous enemies. I had every confidence in you," Morrigan snickered, but her pillar was wobbling. As tiny Lana -- who made it up to her chin -- stepped closer, Morrigan began to scamper further away.
"Make's sake, a pride demon? Lana, you had to fight off..." Cullen tried to reach for her, but she waved him away.
"If it's not the demon, then what?" Alistair honed in on the problem, his eyes narrowing back to the witch. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the King's hand drifting to the hilt on his side.
"Tell them, Morrigan," Lana sneered. "Tell the truth, for once in your existence." The witch rolled her shoulders back, stretching her thin neck long as if she was daring them to cleave her head off. She glared, but wouldn't open her mouth. Unwilling to damn herself, or incapable of it?
"She did it, she cast a spell, something to protect Kieran from an outside source, a threat. Except she got it wrong."
The self-imposed muzzle snapped and Morrigan shouted loud enough to rattle the pillars, "I
did every step of the spell correctly! It had no effect upon me. How could I know it would...would trap my son in a wakeless existence?"
"Protect him from what?" Alistair stepped closer, his fingers tightening to the grip of his sword.
Morrigan sneered, "From my mother, of course. She's threatened to come for me all my life. And then my son. I couldn't let her have him, hurt him. I thought I was one step ahead of her, but then that wolf of hers started moving again. Yes, I know all about the veil and Fen'Harel. Do not act surprised. There are more people in thedas than your little Inquisition who are keeping an eye on this threat."
"Wolf? Fen'Harel? I know that word. It's one of the creators, right? A bad one, I think," Reiss spoke, at first more to herself before turning to Alistair, "What's she talking about?"
"That's kinda a long story that will take time and hand puppets to explain. Uh," he stalled as her eyes narrowed down at him. Cullen was grateful he never had to faced that withering glare. "The really short version, Fen'Harel is real, he made the veil, and now he's got it in his eggy head to destroy it. So...yup," Alistair slapped his hands together and ended in a shrug.
"The elven gods are real and you didn't tell me?!" Reiss twisted on him, the witch seeming to be forgotten. Shrinking in on himself, Alistair tried to wave for Lana to come to his rescue.
"Also, her mother was, or is, Mythal," Cullen added, earning the wrathful glare of the King. Cullen lifted one shoulder in response. She was likely to learn it soon enough; may as well get it out now.
Morrigan leaned towards Reiss and smiled, "Congratulations, your entire world has been ripped upside down. Turns out your gods are nothing more than powerful mages or spirits. Perhaps you should try worshipping a tree or rock instead."
That earned her a growl, Reiss yanking a dagger free faster than any eye caught it, "I don't give two shits for the Dalish whatevers. My life was ripped apart by you, and I'll be the one piecing it back together when I cut your cold, dead heart out from your chest." She began to advance fast on the witch, when Lana lifted her fingers and pinned Reiss in place.
"Not now," Lana massaged her weary hand into her head while releasing Reiss from the quick spell. The elven woman snarled. She didn't advance, but she didn't drop the knife either. Groaning, Lana said, "We still have yet to fix this mess."
"My son," Morrigan impressed quickly upon the only one to show her a mercy, "you said you spoke to him? What did he say?"
"He knows what you did wrong, for starters," Lana clucked her tongue at her. "So damn smart, that was always you. Aloof from everyone because we couldn't understand your level of intelligence. Could never hope to reach it as you lorded it over us. But you missed it. I have no idea what spell you cast, but I'm getting the impression it was meant to shield someone from elven mage eyes."
That caused the witch to gasp in surprise, "How did you...?"
"Oh shit," Alistair took over, his head tipping upward.
Morrigan honed in on him seeming to be a page ahead of everyone else, "You...what is going on? What is wrong with my son?"
"He's a blighted elf blood, Morrigan," Lana shrieked. "You all but cursed your own child's body to hide from itself. His mind is fractured, incapable of reforming to return to the corporeal form!"
"No," she shook her head like mad. "No that cannot be. It worked on me, and I could not have passed any..."
"It didn't come from you," Lana sneered at the witch.
Those bright yellow eyes snapped to Alistair and she all but leaped towards him, "You! You have the old blood of the elves inside you?! And you never told me!"
"Oh right, I should have told you about something I just learned myself a few years back. You know, when we were being bestest pals right before you stabbed us in the back and then ran away," he smiled and tucked his hands under his chin in an impish move before grabbing tight to the sword. "Fuck you."
"No," Morrigan trembled, leaving it hard to tell if it was from agony or fury. Perhaps both as she faced the truth that her son was dying because of her mistake, her choice. "No, this wasn't my... I had to protect him. He's my child, please..." She turned towards her only hope, her fingers grasping onto Lana's robes. Cullen moved to shrug her off, but his wife calmed him with a wave.
"Please," Morrigan begged, "you must know a way. The blood, it could still work."
"Stop," Lana begged, "stop this. Let us go, break the curse you put on the baby. Myra's more elven than human. More than likely it would only doom Kieran to the void if you used her blood."
"No!" she gasped, sliding away from Lana and turning back to her son. The tremors rattled the witch's shoulders, but she didn't cry. Her fingers tenderly swooped away the hair clinging against the young man's forehead. She focused only on his shallow breaths, the eyelids gently twitching as he was locked away inside the Fade.
"Morrigan," Lana's voice softened, "you have to let him go."
The witch didn't seem to hear her as she gazed down at the young man she'd been raising these past eighteen or so years. Raising and no doubt loving. "He's all I have in this world. You're a mother," she shouted at Lana, then turned to Reiss, "and you as well. How can you expect me to give up, to walk away from my child?!"
"Myra can't..."
"You know nothing of blood magic," Morrigan hissed. "Chantry mage, collared and beaten to swallow their rhetoric. Do not speak to me of what blood magic can and cannot do. I know things, I have seen things that you can never imagine."
In all their time together, he'd rarely seen Lana snap. When it did occur, it was almost always when she or someone she loved was in imminent danger. His wife was a gentle soul right up until the button was pushed. Morrigan just hurled a potted plant at it.
Snarling like a rabid dog, Lana launched off her toes to get right into Morrigan's face, "And I survived in the Fade for two years. Two years! The magics I've done, the magic I can command if I put one thought to it would turn your hair white. But none of that matters. Morrigan! Free Myra, stop this death curse you put her on. Let Alistair and Reiss return to their lives."
Morrigan glanced over at them, Alistair wrapping an arm around Reiss. Whether it was to protect her or stop her from gutting the witch, Cullen couldn't say. The witch seemed to soften a bit. Not much as those hard edges would never vanish, but Morrigan's sharp glare faded.
Reaching over, Lana wrapped a hand around Morrigan's fingers. She whispered, "Let your son go."
Snarling, Morrigan threw off Lana's hand and her support in one go. "Let him go?! Abandon all I've...! You," she jabbed a finger at Lana, "made a promise. A deal. I would spare the baby's life if you returned my son to me."
"For the love of the Maker, Morrigan. See reason."
"I am seeing reason. I didn't split the child's throat while you were traipsing through the fade." At that Reiss lashed forward, her arms trying to gouge out Morrigan's eyes, but this time it was Cullen who stopped her. Not to protect the witch but because his wife was in the way. In her state, it was doubtful Reiss would notice, nor stop.
Morrigan turned her backs to them, her head bent down to stare at Kieran's almost angelic face. They always looked so virtuous while sleeping, as if nothing of this world could be blamed upon their brows. "The deal stands as is. Bring me back my son, and you're free to go wherever you wish," the witch spat out.
"For the love of..." Lana snarled, "Fine! Fine I'll..." She breathed hard, huffing as if from a run before turning to Alistair. The man looked beaten, his eyes shattered at the fate of his baby blowing in the breeze. "I have some ideas. I'll need research, new research on elves. And you damn well better tell me what spell you used, all of it; etymology, history, everything you have on it."
The witch breathed a moment more, her forehead hovering close to her son's. "I shall," she said, her voice stripped. "You...you spoke to Kieran. Was there anything else he said?"
"We talked for awhile, I think he was...he's scared to face the void alone and having another voice there with him helped soothe it."
&
nbsp; Morrigan shuddered, this one full of regrets and agony. "What did my son say?"
"He asked me about his father. Wanted to know everything I did about you, Alistair. I hope you don't mind me telling him?" Lana turned to the man whose eyes were wide with unshed tears. Slowly he shook his head in the negative at Lana, before staring towards the son he never knew.
"And," Lana swallowed hard, squaring up to face Morrigan's turned back, "Kieran told me that he forgives you for what you did to him."
A single sob erupted from the cold witch's mouth. She buried her face into her son's empty body, trying to hide the tears from the world.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
The Straw
The cave got colder now that every single person knew it was all Morrigan's fault. Of course the witch was acting even more cruel in response to the knowledge, doing her best to throw out a single word or phrase to cut down all of them to her level. But none of it would work. She doomed her son, and was now dooming his daughter. There was no sticking your nose up in the air after that. Alistair watched from the sides of the wash basin as Lanny all but ripped her hair out while face deep into some ancient elven tome.
How he wound up in charge of trying to get every filthy nappy sparkling white was beyond him. Was there a bet? Those always tended to end in him washing. Or if he told a joke that didn't go over well, or screamed down a well to see if the well would scream back. Maker, the Sisters never found that one hilarious. Didn't matter how many times he tried to explain it, they'd just cross their arms then point to the kitchen.
The witch staggered up from her knees and said something curt to Lanny. Barely acknowledging the words, Lanny dug back to work while Morrigan stalked off to no doubt drain the life essence of small furry woodland animals. Swallowing, Alistair wadded up the scrubbed diaper and let it hang dry off the lip of the bucket. It wasn't proper procedure, but his mind was far from them.
Like a man with a fake foot, he hobbled towards Lanny and the altar behind her. The altar holding his son. It shouldn't bother him, it wasn't as if he'd had any real say in the kid. Not in making him, certainly not in raising him. Who's to say the kid didn't turn out an exact copy of Morrigan? Sneaky and cruel because it's more fun that way.
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