"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."
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 THIRTY-THREE
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.
Alistair stopped before the boy who'd begun to sprout the first real hints of facial hair above his top lip. It was true adolescent dusting, reminding him of the time he attempted it around age eighteen. Some part of it was to try and stick it to the templars who preferred their recruits clean shaven for a sense of uniformity, or because beard hair could get clogged in helmet rivets. But by day five, when all it looked like was that Alistair stuck his nose into a pot of dirt, he shaved it off and found other ways to mess with the chantry.
"You don't look much like me," he said to himself. The boy was square jawed, thin in the face still but give it a few years and he'd probably be one of those rakish mages that give young girls fits. "That was probably all your mother's doing," Alistair mused to himself before flinching.
His eyes darted over towards Lanny, but she seemed to be entranced in whatever she was reading. Maybe she found the answer. Maybe they'd all be freed today. Just have to mix up a magical potion and boom, all of Morrigan's mistakes wiped away. Once again the witch got everything she wanted and the rest of them were left to pick up the pieces alone.
Slowly, Alistair took a knee beside the boy's sleeping face. "If you thought I'd have a great opening line, you clearly don't know me very well. I admit, for a time I didn't think about you, didn't want to know if Morrigan had the baby. It was all...felt like a dream, a bad one, where you feel snakes crawling all over your skin and bugs sneaking into your ears and nostrils."
He shuddered at the thought, thinking it might be a bit too hyperbolic, until he remembered slivers of the night Alistair did his best to destroy with booze and willpower. If anything he was too kind on the comparison. Acid should probably be involved as well.
Scurrying closer, he placed a hand beside the boy's head. His
hair was chestnut, not as dark as Morrigan's, and nowhere near his dusky, strawberry mop. "At least you're not a demon with giant horns, or claws. Given your mother that seemed a good possibility, but..."
The words faded as Alistair kept struggling to separate the child from the mother. It wasn't fair to Kieran and he'd come to accept the concept with time and maturity. But faced with the obstacle and after the shit his mother just pulled, it was growing harder. "I am sorry that I didn't get a chance to meet you, to know you. My father was the same, funny enough. Distant King, aware he had a bastard, but pretty much ordered everyone to pretend it didn't happen. A shame to him."
"I hate your mother, I can't deny that. Certainly think I'm well within my rights now, but..." Alistair bent his head down, trying to chew through the pounding in his heart that sometimes made him wake from a nightmare. It felt as if an ocean kept swooping in over his head, slowly drowning him until at the last moment it receded with the tide. "I don't regret you," he admitted to Kieran. Reiss would snarl for it; she made insinuations before that they should end the boy's suffering. Learning the full truth of what occurred, she considered it a mercy now.
To her he was an inconvenience. Alistair could understand it, she wanted to protect her baby, to get free of this nightmare. But he couldn't stop staring at Kieran, trying to find reflections of himself in this young man that was also his son. "If you're a good man, kind, loves kittens and puppies, I don't know. You could be prone to fits of despair, or dour as a lemon -- in which case you'd get on swimmingly with the templar over there. But I am sorry that I missed out on knowing. Even if..."
Even if Lanny pulled off the impossible, saved everyone, convinced Reiss to stand down, got Morrigan to agree to leave Ferelden for good, he'd never talk to Kieran. Certainly never come to understand this other person with his blood in him. Was that to forever be Alistair's curse? To have family within sight but always out of grasp? Maric, his brother Cailan, both dead before he came to consider reaching for them. His mother, sequestering herself away, all but making it known she wanted nothing to do with him.
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