My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  For a time the witch held her hands in place as if she was still holding Myra, or perhaps another baby she once remembered so many years ago. Slowly, she folded her arms together tight to hug herself. "Your child is free of my curse, as are you. And in its place, my son...is gone."

  "You're lying. All you do is lie!" Reiss sneered at her, but she couldn't lie to Lana. "Get out there! Walk back into the main room," she jabbed the dagger at the witch who sighed, but followed her orders. There was no sneer, no pedestal, something inside Morrigan seemed to have shattered as her head hung low.

  When the witch appeared, Alistair glanced up from scrubbing the stones, then he paled at the sight of Reiss holding a blade on her. "What's going on? What happened?" He stumbled to his feet and rushed over as if afraid he'd have to save Morrigan in order to save their baby.

  "She cast something on our daughter. I couldn't stop her, but..." Reiss passed Myra over to Alistair so she could better hold first the dagger on Morrigan, and then unsheathe her sword. Both blades honed in tight on the witch, baying for her blood.

  Alistair stared hard at his baby who looked unaffected, then he glared at Morrigan, "What did you do to her?"

  The witch only smirked at him, a single snort her answer.

  Clattering sounds drew both Alistair and Reiss to watch Cullen and Lana advancing upon them. The Commander was silent, his face a storm cloud, but Lana shouted, "Whatever you're planning, don't!"

  She clearly meant it for Reiss holding Morrigan at knife point, but it was the witch who turned to her. In a voice beaten to a pulp, she whispered, "Too late."

  "Morrigan..." Lana's eyes narrowed to slits.

  Reiss interrupted, jerking her chin at her baby, "Check Myra. Please. Is there a curse, or something worse? Is she...is she dying?"

  The Hero of Ferleden's eyes closed, her fingers dipping through the air. At first her face looked calm and focused, but as she tugged deeper into the fade, shock replaced it. Reiss braced herself for the worst, but Lana shouted in surprise at Morrigan, "There's nothing. No curse, no...the baby is--."

  "Free, as I already explained."

  No... Reiss staggered back, her hands locking around her husband and baby as she tried to blink against the impossibility. This nightmare was over? Just...just like that. The witch gave it and then took it away as easily.

  "Morrigan?" Lana was the only one to care, her hand gripping to the witch's arm as she tried to stare into the haunting eyes. "What about Kieran?"

  At the name of her son, Morrigan shuddered and Alistair turned in Reiss' grip. Please, Maker no, don't let him get it into his head to do the right thing. Not when they were so close to freedom.

  Morrigan's eyes drifted down to perhaps her only friend in the world and she smiled sadly. "He asked me to let him go, I am obeying my son's wishes."

  "But..."

  "Do not!" Morrigan shouted in pain before tugging it back, "Go, all of you. Pack up your things, leave me." She turned to gaze back at the boy sentenced to death, "Leave us." For a moment the witch stared right into Reiss' eyes, was she trying to apologize or...was there potentially worse on the horizon?

  "Will you come after us? For revenge?" she asked point blank, the other adults groaning but Reiss had to know for herself.

  "Revenge?" Morrigan chuckled mirthlessly. "It all seemed so simple at twenty. Now... I can no longer tell where the real monsters lurk. No, you shall never hear nor see from me again. Any of you."

  "But Morrigan," Lana wouldn't give up. She kept guiltily glancing back at her patient as if pleading with the witch would somehow change her mind. As if that were a good thing.

  Cullen grabbed onto his wife's hand and spun her to face him. He was sneering at what seemed to be the whole world while juggling Gavin nearer to his mother. "We should go, do as she asks. Or would you give up everything," he snarled and turned to their boy, "everyone in your life?"

  At that Reiss and Alistair shared a look, both of them having missed something major. Was that why Morrigan suddenly changed her mind? What in thedas had the Hero promised for their child's life?

  For a moment Lana looked stricken as if his harsh words physically slapped her. Her eyes fell and she cuddled closer to her son, "No, no, you're...we should leave. Pack up everything and..."

  Cullen left her standing there holding tight to her baby while he rounded up everything they'd need. For a moment Alistair and Reiss both stood dumb stricken, staring at the witch and then Lana who seemed to be crumbling from the inside. "You hold her," Alistair dumped Myra back into her arms, "I'll get everything we need."

  Nodding, Reiss left him to run off. While she clung tight to her baby, she did her best to not look back at the young man stretched out upon his true death bed. But Lana said Myra's blood wouldn't even work. It's not her fault for saving her baby. This was all Morrigan's doing. All the mother's choice...

  Three mothers, three children, and one wouldn't survive. There was nothing to be said, no hollow words to make it right, no fists of victory. Death stung the air worse than the smell of darkspawn blood. For so long Reiss was running on nothing but vengeance and hatred; her chest felt hollow, her veins drained of energy. Lana looked worse, the poor woman who was the last to speak to Kieran, to try and comfort him. Did she assure him in the Fade that he would be saved?

  Reiss reached over to try and pat her back, when Cullen appeared with a bag tossed over his shoulder. No smile crossed his lips, he still looked as if he wanted to knock down the walls with his bare fists. Still, at the sight of his wife waning under the weight of their son, he plucked up Gavin into his arms and then steadied her by the elbow. It wasn't the typical warmth Reiss expected between them, but a sign of necessity to keep her upright. What in the Maker's name happened?

  When Alistair ran out, Morrigan seemed to wake from her trance. She wiped a hand across her face as if chasing away all the pains of her son's final moments. It was Lana who reached out, "Do you wish me to stay until he's...gone?"

  A doleful smile flitted with Morrigan's lips as she gazed over at her. "No." The hazy moment fell away, the armor of cruelty the witch wore returning, "No, all of you must leave, now. There shall be nothing for you to find, or follow. I assure you. Now leave me."

  All four stared at each other, but it took the Commander's overbearing tone to shake them out of it, "You heard her. Let's get going before she changes her mind." He wrapped a hand around his wife's waist and guided her towards the entrance. The cane clipped and clopped against stone stained with darkspawn blood, Lana focused fully upon her baby.

  "We should go too," Alistair said curling a hand around Myra before half hugging Reiss. Her eyes darted over to Morrigan, pity finally managing to bob to the surface. But she knew anything she said wouldn't touch the witch. Turning, Reiss began the short walk to freedom with her baby safely in her arms.

  It was Alistair who remained behind longer, his eyes stuck upon the young man, his child, doomed to the void. "I..." his voice was hollow, all mirth fully drained, "I'm sorry."

  Morrigan snorted and she leaned closer to him. At that Reiss spun on her heels, terrified she was about to stab Alistair and drain his blood or do something worse, but the witch merely whispered something so softly it carried only to Alistair's ears. His eyes widened at that and he glanced back at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted two heads. Gulping, Alistair scattered away from Morrigan to Reiss' side. He cupped the small of her back and helped her towards the entrance.

  No one looked back at the witch, or the young man about to die. No ones heart was in it.

  By the time they reached the entrance, they had to coordinate to get Lana and the two babies up the broken ramp. One of the guards held Gavin as Cullen was moving to tug his wife up, when a massive explosion erupted from behind them. Everyone turned around to watch as dust and debris rolled over the ancient rocks. When the filthy air cleared, rubble and the thaig's walls lay in true ruins blocking the entrance. Morrigan sealed herself in. She wasn't planning on anyone following he
r, wherever she was going.

  "Up we go," Alistair climbed the ramp first, then plucked Myra from Reiss' arms. After far too much hefting and fretting, they finally stepped out into the fading light of day. She had to throw a hand over her eyes, squinting against a sun some part of Reiss feared she'd never see again. Myra's eyes lit up at all the green around them. The forest was far more alive than the city her baby knew, unless you counted the sewers. She kicked her little feet, wanting to get down to play in the moss and forest undergrowth.

  A bit away from them, Lana stared at her son clutched tight to her chest. She seemed stunned at it all, looking at Gavin as if she thought she'd never see or hold him again. Beside but not close, Cullen paced back and forth, putting the screws to the guards to find a trail and lodging for the night. Reiss turned to Alistair, about to point out that something was very wrong, but he was watching them too, his lips puckered in a frown.

  "Your Highness," one of the soldiers approached, "I take it the child is now safe."

  "Yeah, send a raven back to Denerim that we're coming home. It's good news...all good news," his chin tipped down and a sob rattled in his chest. Reiss reached over to try and comfort him when a massive form burst through the forest and into the sky. Bright crimson scales glittered in the setting sun as a dragon beat wings to rise higher into the air.

  "Bloody hell, just what we need!" the guard shouted, about to unsheathe his sword, but Alistair grabbed his hand to stop him.

  "Look," he said, pointing towards the dragon's claws. Clutched inside was what looked like a man -- a young man still asleep and cursed to never wake. "Guess she figured out how to turn into a dragon after all."

  "What do we do now?" Reiss asked.

  Alistair wrapped first one hand then the other around her and Myra, his face smooshing into her shoulder. "We go home," he said to them, no doubt meaning it in his heart. The Commander and Hero didn't make eye contact as they shifted towards their horses, the guards assisting in any way they could.

  The other guard reached out for Myra, no doubt to let Reiss get mounted, but she gripped tighter to her baby. She wasn't letting Myra out of her sight, not unless it was into Alistair's hands. Turning over, she spotted him standing rooted in the spot. Despite his declaration to head home, he hadn't moved, a hand above his eyes while he kept watch in the sky trailing where the dragon flew off with his bastard child.

  "Alistair," Reiss reached over, startling him. He weakly smiled at her and sighed to join her. Sliding nearer, she whispered to him, "What did Morrigan say to you?"

  At that he laughed once, his eyes welling up in tears, "She said, that, um...she said I was a good father."

  Reiss buried her head into his cheek, trying to mask her tears with his. Whispering to the world, she said, "You are."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Bet On It

  A warm wind whipped through the air, the paper lanterns swaying off their perch while Cullen did his best to not glare at them so hard they burst into flames. People gathered under them singing, or dancing, or whatever villagers did in this part of Ferelden during the solstice. He used to know, he used to do it too. There was always fresh mead, the honey practically glued to every chin. And a girl wearing daisies in her hair, with soft skin and a birthmark shaped like a flower dashed across her...

  Snarling at his brain for bringing up that memory, he crossed his arms and continued to stare menacingly at the celebrators. He didn't mean to, but there'd already been a few complaints about the stranger pacing up and down the outer balcony like a fiend in the night because he couldn't stand to be around her for more than a few minutes. They'd made it to a small town on the outskirts of what used to be Lothering. Apparently that was where all the guards were pilfering baby supplies from. Of course they were more than happy to put the King and his friends up in one of the fanciest suites available, giving them all a beautiful view of the empty stars and cold landscape. Maybe to the people celebrating it was gorgeous, but all Cullen could see was the vast nothing. It'd been a long time since he gazed out at the wide world and felt only hollowness in his bones.

  "Here's where you're hiding."

  Maker's blighted ass, he did not need that! Not now.

  Unaware of any pain he was causing Cullen, or perhaps aware and enjoying it, the king stepped out onto the stone balcony. That may not be the proper term for it, as it circled fully around the building with stairs leading up to it, but Cullen never studied architecture. Maybe he could ask someone later; at least it'd be an excuse to keep him busy for awhile.

  Alistair stopped not near Cullen, his hands gripping to the stone edge as he gazed down at the drunken debauchery. "Andraste, watching all that really drives home how old I am. I keep thinking 'shut up already, it's nearing ten and some of us have kids that need to sleep!'" He snickered at his inane prattle, then shot a glance over at Cullen.

  "Alright," Alistair shoved himself back from the banister to spin and lean upon it. Folding his arms he said, "Out with it."

  "With what?" he tried to not growl, but it seemed like every sentence that came out was that. He was a man with nothing left in this world snarling at shadows of what was.

  Alistair groaned, tipping his head back as if in agony, "Whatever happened between you and Lanny."

  Anger burned in Cullen's veins, the white hot rage he thought he'd moved beyond. The one he never wanted to feel for her. "That is..."

  "Don't say 'none of my business,' okay. Like it or not, she's my friend. And...if it weren't for me, neither of you, all three of you, would have been caught up in this mess." He stared at Cullen, and the stand-off pose faded, "I want to help."

  He wanted to smack the man right in the nose again. To send him toppling off the balcony. The fall wouldn't kill him, but it'd certainly shut him up. Balling up a fist, Cullen began to pace in agitation. "How? How can you possibly help? Are you capable of altering the past? Can you stop Lana, my wife, from saying she'd...from agreeing to walk away from me?" Cullen paused, the burn building behind his eyes as he dug tighter into his palms, "From our son?"

  A great sigh broke from Alistair and he pinched into the bridge of his nose. "I should have guessed that's what she did."

  For two decades, Cullen thought he knew her. That she went from this unreachable, impossible woman to a light in his life he never wanted to lose. Through so much she remained at his side, the good and bad. But at this, for this, she would have walked away. He wanted to say he was madder at her turning her back on their boy, but he wasn't. Not really. It was the fear of having to wake every day without her at his side that terrorized his thoughts, and the idea that she'd choose it struck him right to the core.

  "I get you're mad," the king began, walking out onto very creaking ice. "And I don't blame you, but...this is Lanny we're talking about."

  "Yes, Lana, my wife, the woman who swore she'd..." Cullen stepped back into the shadows, refusing to let Alistair see the tears building in his eyes. But he couldn't shake the sob in his voice as he whispered to himself, "she'd never leave me. I can't, not again."

  Those were the longest two years of his life. He thought he'd found salvation, began to move beyond the chantry and its siren call of the lyrium burning in his mind. Made friends, pledged himself to a better cause. Found love where he never thought possible. Only to have her abandon him to the fade, to take the fall in order to save her cousin, to save them all. He could forgive her for that choice, but this... How could he ever look at her again for it?

  "You know her," Alistair whispered against the sound of crickets chirping through the night.

  "Do I?" Cullen whipped over at him, "I thought I did, but..."

  "Solona Amell, Hero of Ferelden, a woman who thinks she can walk into any situation, any fire, and fix it because...Maker guide us, she usually can. Stopped a blight in a year, unheard of. Survived two years in the Fade. No one's ever done that. Every time the Maker throws an obstacle in her way, she's so damn pigheaded she butts right back into it until she can
save the day."

  Cullen gripped harder to his hands, letting the king's words wash over him. It was all true, she was those things. But she was also his partner, his lover, his other half.

  "She thought she could do it again, yank another miracle out of her ass. Maybe knowing you were safe, her son was safe, she thought she'd stumble across the answer in a week at most and be back home with you. Save the day, everyone lives, happy ending." Alistair shuddered in a breath and haunted eyes stared across the landscape. Somewhere out there was the dragon that plucked Kieran's unresponsive body up into the sky. "Even she had to run out of luck eventually."

  A miracle. She should be dead, a good dozen times over. Lana would laugh about the idea, shrugging as if none of it mattered, but he felt it, he knew. Kinloch, Ostagaar, Denerim, Amaranthine, the Deep Roads, the Fade, The Anderfels. All of it should have done her in but she kept striking back. Wounded, scarred, but alive.

  Was that to be the same? Did she really think she'd be back in his arms so soon? Even Lana at her most optimistic wasn't that delusional, she was the one to give the year long timeline.

  A hand landed across Cullen's back and he glanced over at a soft pain in Alistair's face. "You know Lanny, better than me, better than anyone else. You know she loves you." Cullen growled at that, the fact slipping further and further through his fingers, but Alistair continued. "And you know that she has to do what's right and damn the consequences to herself."

  "Why?" Cullen gasped, in far too much pain to shrug the man away. He hated Alistair, but right now he hated himself more.

  "Because 'Magic should serve man and never rule over him.' Been hearing that her whole life, and..." Alistair sucked in a breath as he turned towards the room Cullen left Lana alone in with their boy, "she can't escape it."

  "Escape what?"