Hands tugged her backwards, Lana not realizing she'd fallen silent for so long until she was resting upon the bed. "You need to sleep," he said. "I can take Gavin out and..."
"No, please," Lana didn't rise from where her husband helped her down, but she reached out to grab his arms, "stay, both of you. I miss you."
"Very well," a whisper of a smile drifted upon Cullen's weary face. He plucked up their son into his arms and the two of them rounded to the other side. Holding Gavin to his chest, Cullen flopped onto his back and let their baby slide into a safe gap between them. Entranced with the fur lining her robe, Gavin began to bend down to first grab then chew on it, until he face planted against his mother.
"Up we go," Cullen laughed, assisting their boy into a proper sit. Giggling along with, Lana poked at her boy's feet. Such a lovely shade of tan, not as lighter than hers as she'd thought he'd be. The white nails stuck out against his coloring, so tiny and adorable it made him seem even smaller and more fragile than he was. Her little fighter.
"I'm scared," Cullen spoke to the air. "I was...horrified to think that there was a witch stealing children. It's not as if I hadn't heard such rumors before; it was a favorite one for people to speak against blood mages. But it was a foolish whisper, almost never any evidence. And now," He cupped Gavin's chubby cheek, reaching back to mess up the curls. "I feel powerless to help."
Lana snuggled tighter to her husband, flipped onto her side. Wanting her nearer, Cullen raised an arm so she could rest her cheek upon his chest. The warmth of him, the feel of his body rising and falling with each breath soothed away some of the smoky fog in her brain. "You're helping me, you're keeping Gavin fed, bathed, happy, and even standing."
"No, I..." his breathing slowed and she felt the once soft pillow of his chest harden as if his entire body snapped rigid. "I haven't felt this debilitating of fear since the tower."
"Are you suffering from a Wednesday?" Lana tried to twist over. Maker, that'd be just what they'd need on top of this mess. It was a wonder she hadn't fallen down the dark path herself.
He shook his head quickly, his curls digging into the straw pillow while the honey eyes stared up at the ceiling. A breath passed, then two more before he spoke again as if half the conversation occurred in his head, "With Gavin. There are decisions that must be made, and I find myself choking up. He's teething and all I can do is beg for him to stop crying. What about further along? When he skins a knee, will I fall apart? Or if he should, Maker take me for even thinking it, succumb to a fever or other illness? What do I do if...if there's too much of me inside of him."
"What do you mean?"
Cullen sat up, shifting the baby who'd been happily prodding at his toes fully unaware of his parents talking about him. "I keep fearing, thinking that, what if our son's not a good man? What if he...if he goes as far as I did, or further?"
"Oh, sweetheart," she crumbled at the panicking tears in his eyes. Wrapping her arms around his head, she tugged the warm forehead to rest against hers. His eyes were shut tight, but she kept staring at the lids and the lashes that were almost caramel colored at the tips. "You're doing a good job. Really. I know it was a rocky start, but you're doing all you can. Gavin will become his own person. We don't know what that will be, but..."
She lifted his head from hers and Cullen opened his splotchy eyes. "We fought for a world so that he wouldn't have to face the same problems as we did. And, Maker willing, that'll make him better than the both of us."
Shuddering in a breath, Cullen dipped his head down and placed a kiss against her hands, then two more. "You're right, you're always right. I shouldn't worry. I..."
"Don't be silly," she laughed, "if you stopped worrying I wouldn't know it's you."
His lips lifted in a half smile, when he slid his head forward and caught hers in a kiss. Sweet as fiery honey, that always simmering burn erupted deep inside her weary bones. No doubt he felt it too, but Cullen slipped down to the pallet, doing his best to let Lana return to laying upon him. He placed a gentler kiss to her forehead before whispering, "You require sleep and I am keeping you from it. Do not worry, I'll keep an eye on Gavin."
She watched her baby a bit more before closing her eyes. Only the gentle wave of Cullen's breathing broke through the rising sleep, each one rocking her deeper into the fade. He waited until her hand dropped to his chest, no doubt hoping she was fully gone, to ask what must have been weighing upon him.
In a quivering voice, he spoke, "Lana, what does Morrigan's boy mean to you?"
She didn't answer because she didn't have one to give.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Pride Goeth Before A Fall
"No."
She knew Cullen would refuse, but when Lana mentioned the fade he all but forbade her to even be thinking of it. It was a wonder he didn't also pluck her up over his shoulders and lock her in her room for entertaining the idea. The sleep did her good, Lana waking with a potential idea that was growing more and more to a possibility until it ran right into the wall of a concerned templar.
"If you'd just..." she tried, but Cullen began pacing again around the fire. For once everyone was there, even Morrigan, though she kept far abreast from Reiss and Alistair.
"This is madness; you do not belong in the fade."
Lana growled, wishing he'd knock off the protector crap and listen. At her funny noises, Gavin grabbed onto her collar and began to yank upon it. "No sweetie," she tried to stop him from destroying what few clothes she had, "not now."
"How would that even work?" Alistair spoke up. "Don't mages need a lot of you and lyrium to get across the veil? Least that's how I remember it."
At that her husband stopped wearing a hole into the ancient stone to wave his hand at Alistair. It screamed 'I can't believe I'm agreeing with this man, but listen to him.' Lana groaned and tipped her head back. She knew this wouldn't go over well, but Maker's sake it shouldn't be so hard either.
"I have some...special skills that require only one other mage to power it." She glanced over at Morrigan, "Seeing as it's your son I rather doubt you'd object." Morrigan's haunting eyes sized up Lana, seeming uncertain about this ability of a circle mage, but she tipped her chin. She was willing to try anything.
"No, no, no," Cullen dashed back in, all but ramming his hand between them. "There is no way you are being left at the behest of a witch." A solitary laugh drew Cullen to snarl at the smirk rising up Morrigan's mouth. "A witch who's likely to throw in with demons and Maker knows what else."
"Is it demons you fear templar, or your wife succumbing to their empty promises?" Morrigan spoke her first words to Cullen, to anyone aside from Lana. Of course that wasn't helping.
He sneered and spun on Morrigan, "What I fear is the fade itself. I know far too well the pains demons can inflict. Better than you can possibly imagine, witch."
"Cullen," Lana ran her fingers over his hand, trying to tug it down from the threatening point it gave to Morrigan. "I can do this."
The anger in his face faded as he stared down at her perched upon the altar. Doleful eyes blinked and he almost shyly tucked his chin deeper into the collar of his shirt, "The fade is not a safe place."
"Which I know, better than anyone here," she was getting tired of him treating her like she was glass, of all of them doing it. Lana's body may be broken but when it came to magic and her will both where iron clad. Thwarting demons was how she survived for two years.
"Lanny, please, there's got to be a better way. Something other than running headlong into demon land."
"There's not. I can sense it, a force not tugging on the boy the way possession would but blocking his mind, sundering it. I...I cannot explain it well, but I feel it." Two pairs of brown eyes all but begged her to give up this idiotic idea. Cullen wouldn't stop holding tight to her shoulder as if he just squeezed hard enough she'd stay put.
"Let her do it."
Both men whipped over to the lone voice willing to stand up with her. Reiss held a sleeping M
yra in her arms, her head tipped down as she stared at the floor.
"Reiss, the fade's not really a fun place to hang out in," Alistair tried to slide an arm around her, but he got a glare for it.
"No shit, but she's willing to try. To get us out of here. Or..." Reiss jerked her chin at Morrigan, her green eyes narrowing tight like a beam of light, "are you willing to release the curse on Myra and free us all from this prison."
The witch chuckled and folded her arms, "No."
"Then let her try. You trust her," Reiss asked Cullen, then turned to Alistair, "I assume you as well. What's the worst that could happen?"
Possession. Trauma. Death.
Lana shook the thought off the moment it struck. Going in fatalistic wouldn't help her. "If that's all settled," she said, rising up to her feet.
"It is not settled, I will not..." Cullen began but she shook off his hands.
"I'm doing it. Now you can either sit and watch me to make certain I'm well or keep an eye on Gavin."
Cullen growled out, "Fine, it's not as if I can stop you anyway. Will you entertain our son while my wife's in the fade?" He spun back to Alistair who nodded grimly. After handing over the baby that really wanted to rip the collars off of shirts that day, Cullen turned back to her and whispered, "I do not approve."
"I don't care," she spat back. This was her only option now. After that there was no answer but blood, and Lana wasn't going to let that happen.
"Maker's breath, how were you ever in the circle?" he groaned, taking her hand and helping her back towards Kieran. Morrigan followed close on their heels, leaving Alistair and Reiss to watch uncertainly.
"I wonder that myself some days," Lana confessed, leaning heavily onto her cane. She was going to need all the magic at her disposal to pull this off. "Here, I should be near the boy. It'll make this easier."
Cullen hefted her into his arms and gently laid her across a bench ten feet away from Kieran. Lana glanced down at her toes just skimming at the end and laughed, "It's a good thing I'm so short or..." her thought died at the terror bobbing in his eyes. Reaching out, she grabbed onto his hand, "Cullen?"
It took a moment before he spoke, his lips pursing in no doubt the hot, spitting anger he kept swallowing, "You will come back."
"I promise," she whispered.
"You will stay safe."
Lana smiled and patted his hand, "Don't I always?"
She thought it'd get a laugh out of him, but he grew more sullen. Glancing away from her, he spoke softly so she wouldn't hear but the words dropped to reach Lana. "No, you don't."
"I assume I will be acting as a conduit," Morrigan spoke up between them.
"That's the plan," Lana said. She shut her eyes, focusing on ripping apart the veil nearly touching her fingers, her skin, her brain. It would take a lot of mana, but not as much as it once did. Even with her eyes closed she could see Cullen shifting away from her but not far. He kept a grip to her hand, watching as she tried to control her magic.
If he was really against this idea, he could hit her with a dispel, knock away the magic before she got a grip. But he trusted her enough even while grumbling like mad about the idea of this. Reaching out with her mind, Lana tried to find Morrigan, who was perched beside her son. The bond was evident even through the veil, mother to child, tendrils of green and yellow darting from one to the other. Was that how love looked while in the fade? She'd never really seen it before.
Locking her mind tighter against the bond wafting from Morrigan into Kieran, Lana brushed her fingers against the veil. It wobbled, requiring more power. No, that wasn't what it wanted. Biting her lip, she ripped off the bandage that slotted over her mind after she walked in the fade. What she needed to survive every day. The veil sang to her anew, its crystal clear voice stronger than even the taint. With renewed vigor, Lana trailed after the song and sundered the veil.
Blood. Her eyes opened to find pools of it trapped between her legs, the sticky viscera glistening by candlelight. It soaked deep into her nightgown and the sheet below, crimson and fresh as if...
A baby's cry erupted from the shadows. Lana glanced away from the gore in her lap to find she was at home in her room and her bed. Not trapped in some cave in the deep roads. A sickening feeling struck and she realized what this was. Gavin's birth. When she nearly died, when he nearly died.
You're not losing blood. You're not in pain. This is the fade.
Sucking in a breath, Lana lowered her feet to the ground. As they struck it, the blood vanished from between her legs, but she spotted more of it splattered upon the stone floor. Splotches of the gore decorated the ground -- it looked as if someone smacked it with a blood soaked towel. Staggering up, Lana began to follow the trail of blood. A few of the puddles gave way to teeny tiny feet paddling unsteadily and leaving gruesome evidence as the gait steadied towards the exit. As she walked through the door out into the night air, the feet began to get larger. They looked child sized.
No wind swept through the fade, but a chill ramped up Lana's spine. She tried to huddle tighter into her nightgown and instinctively glanced up to check the clouds. There it was, the Black City. Never out of sight in the fade, no matter how deep the dream fantasy was. The pea green sky struck hard at her core, memories of her years scrabbling against the void to survive invading her mind.
You have a job to do! Finish it and then you can leave.
Locking away the feel of demon blood burning her flesh or the taste of spider meat in her gut, Lana stood up. Another cry erupted from the darkness, still belonging to a young baby. The back of her neck crawled, but she had to ignore the conclusions her subconscious made. Stopping now was unwise, unavoidable. She had to know.
The blood trail led deeper into the abbey, the lights fading to shadows until all Lana could see were the bright red stains growing in size. Even the floor itself turned black as pitch, while that blood all but coalesced as if it burned with energy or anger. Each footstep became man sized, the owner stepping through a closed door without pausing. Sucking down a breath to steady herself, Lana gripped onto the handle of the door and turned it.
This wasn't her abbey, but a room in a castle -- well furnished with fine trappings. A familiar room that...
"You remember it, don't you?" a voice spoke from the shadows. As he lifted his head, the fireplace lit bright revealing what she remembered in her mind's eye. Lana had to blanket her eyes to keep them from searing, but as she pulled it down she nearly let loose a scream.
A young man sat perched in the chair but he was coated in blood as if he drowned in it. Thick as ink, the viscera clung to his skin until he looked more like a walking blood clot than a man. His crimson lips parted to reveal blinding white teeth framed by a horrifying smile. "Right there," he tipped his head towards the bed, "that's where I was created. Conceived."
This was Morrigan's room, the one they put her up in right before the march to Denerim. The one where she seduced Alistair to finish what she wanted, what she set out to do. Which meant this was... "Kieran?"
The abomination before her bowed his head, "At your service. Though, dear Amell, you seem unsteady here. Rocking back and forth on your feet, nearly trembling. Whatever for? Was it not your decision to give me life?"
"I think that was more your mother's department," Lana shuddered, but he was right. Even years after, even with a husband, Lana refused to look at this room again, knowing what Morrigan did in it. What she made Alistair do. What he agreed to do.
"Jealousy?" Kieran twisted his head, blood whipping off his coated body to splatter against the wall. "Is that what rests in your heart when you think upon me, Amell?"
"No," Lana said, "no it's not." She hated this room, and that bed, but she didn't hate the child created. "You saved my life."
"Yes, I did, didn't I?" Kieran staggered up to his legs, fresh blood pooling against the chair where he sat. Stepping slowly towards her, he smiled, "Not even bigger than a pea and I saved the hero of Ferelden. But that's not really the st
ory you want to tell, is it? To have that etched into all your monuments. The great savior of thedas was in fact protected by nothing more than a blip inside a witch's womb."
Lana gulped as he reached his fingers towards her, the scent of iron and pain filling her nose. When he touched her cheek, she kept from yelping even as the warm blood suckered to her skin and began to drip down onto her shoulder. "Are you angry at me, Kieran? Is that what this is about?"
"Me? Why would I be angry at you? I wouldn't exist if it weren't for you. If anything, I owe you." He leaned closer to her, his eyes swimming in blood all save the brown pupils that were strikingly similar to Alistair's. Lana felt a faint sliding up her legs, her vision turning white from being pounded by so much horror.
Kieran chuckled, "Right, auntie?" and Lana's head snapped down to save her.
When she glanced up, she found the gruesome nightmare was gone. She was perched, sitting upon the edge of a stair, her knees scabby, and naked, and tucked up tight to her chin. The staircase was tight, barely wide enough for a single person to slip through with low ceilings that'd bonk most heads. Not a castle and not familiar at all. Glancing around to find her bearings, she spotted Kieran -- no longer coated in blood -- sitting behind her.
"Where are we?"
"Shh," he placed a finger to his lips and smiled, "you'll ruin the surprise."
Lana didn't like where this was going, but she may have to play along. She knew the boy's mind was fractured, but this... Shaking her hair, she realized it was braided tight. Not the way she did it in her older age, but how her mother insisted when she was...
No. Oh, Maker no!
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