Chapter Text

One Flew Over the Warden's Camp

Morrigan soared above the canopy of trees, observing the band of wardens cutting through the horde of darkspawn while collecting vials of their blood as they navigated the treacherous Wilds. . 'Twas curious they were, particularly the two mages amidst the group. While the warriors displayed strength, they seemed to be idiots lacking in finesse, relying heavily on the adept skills of these two women. One, a statuesque raven-haired healer who unleashed torrents of fire upon her foes, and the other, a short redhead who commanded lightning, fearlessly charging into battle with dual blades like a nimble assassin on the battlefield. The redhead's movements were graceful, akin to a mesmerizing dance that captivated Morrigan, fueling her growing fascination with this interesting woman.

The wardens arrived at their destination, a dilapidated Grey Warden ruin that once stood as a majestic tower, now reduced to mere rubble and faded tales. Morrigan swiftly transformed from a raven into her human form and observed discreetly from the shadows as the mages made their entrance, closely followed by the fools. She needed to know their business in her wilds; 'twas her home. The presence of the wardens and the encroaching darkspawn could only signify one ominous thing.

“Well, well, what do we have here? Are you a vulture, perhaps, a scavenger sifting through a carcass long stripped bare? Or simply an interloper, venturing into these darkspawn-infested Wilds of mine in search of easy prey? What is your purpose, I wonder? Scavenger or intruder?” The words flowed smoothly from her lips. The red-haired woman advanced, emitting a soft, almost imperceptible chuckle. Morrigan now discerned the woman's intricate features, and she was truly exquisite; something within the witch stirred, the atmosphere almost crackling with energy. The woman's eyes were a mesmerizing aquamarine, swirling greens and blues around a golden core, a sight Morrigan had never before beheld. 'Twas intriguing that the woman's vallaslin appeared faded in certain areas, as if an attempt had been made to erase it.

“Intruder? And by what means do you claim dominion over these untamed lands?” The woman's plump lips, tinged with a translucent dark hue of purple, formed a mischievous smile, unveiling a dimple in her cheek. Morrigan couldn’t help but feel captivated by the enigmatic charm of the woman standing before her. Morrigan chuckled at the coy remark.

“Because I recognize these lands as only one who possesses them truly could. Can you claim the same?” She gracefully navigated through the group, ascending to a vantage point. “I have watched your progress for some time. Where do they go, I wonder? Why are they here? And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long, why is that?”

The fair-haired fool advanced cautiously, his voice tinged with wariness.“Don’t answer her; she looks chasind, that means others may be nearby.”

Morrigan had encountered such men throughout her life; their simplicity and constant fear never failed to amuse her. Raising her hands in a mocking gesture, she taunted the man, “Oh! You fear barbarians would swoop down upon you.”

The man’s tone now carried a hint of annoyance, “Yes, swooping would be bad.” Before he could continue, another one of the idiots interjected. This one seemed to possess slightly more wisdom than the first.

“She’s a witch of the Wilds, she is; she'll turn us into toads!”

“Witch of the wilds.”  she mused, hands resting on her hips. The tales she had heard numerous times; men truly were predictable, much to her chagrin.“Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?” Turning to face the elf, the woman who seemed to be concealing her amusement at the three fools beside her, 'twas evident she possessed intellect beyond what she revealed. “You there, women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name, and I shall tell you mine.”

Her countenance broke into a slight, mischievous smile, as though she had been patiently awaiting this moment. “You can call me Kiera” a name Morrigan found to be quite exquisite.

“And you may call me Morrigan. Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?”

The fair-haired fool interjected once again, his voice now tinged with annoyance. “ Here no longer? You stole them, didn’t you? You’re… Some kind of... sneaky… Witch thief!” His words, as he stumbled through them, were most amusing.

“How very eloquent," she taunted. “How does one steal from dead men?”

“Quite easily, it seems. Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them,”  he stated firmly.

“I will not, for 'twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened”

"She is toying with us, let's go," the dark-haired woman finally spoke. Morrigan had nearly forgotten her presence. Casting a glance at her, she too possessed beauty; her complexion unmarred by the outside world, unmistakably a Circle mage. The witch recoiled at the idea of confinement in the tower; a mage should be liberated, not ensnared in a prison, stripped of autonomy. She appeared fatigued, her icy blue eyes betraying her revealing weariness, and although she seemed reserved, her countenance spoke volumes. She would not engage in the coy game the redhead played; 'twas unfortunate.

Before anyone else could interject, the elf took charge again. "Then who removed them?”

"'Twas, in fact, my mother," she revealed.

The elf appeared to accept her explanation; however, the fool piped up once more. "Your mother?"

"Did you assume I spawned from a log? Yes, my mother.”

“A thieving, weird-talking log, perhaps” he muttered, just loud enough for all to hear.

"Hush, Alistair. Can you lead us to her?" She fixed her gaze on the witch as if she already knew the witch would tell her yes.

Intriguing, this woman was. "Oh, I like you. Yes, I can take you to her.” She takes in the woman before her, her gaze gracefully traversing the contours of the woman's physique. Unlike herself, the elf was clad in armor from head to toe, armor that seemed to embrace her figure in a flattering manner. She glanced at Alistair, then back at the elf.  “Not all in the wilds are monsters. Flowers grow just as well as toads.”

The encounter with her mother unfolded as anticipated. Flemeth spoke in cryptic circles around the Wardens, yet the elf kept pace, much to the astonishment of both witches. Twas peculiar; her mother appeared to hold a fondness for the young woman so quickly. They engaged in banter, trading verbal jabs back and forth. Most individuals trembled in fear at the thought of her mother, but not this elf. She interacted with them as if they were merely two ordinary women. The swamp and the ominous specter of the witch's reputation did not perturb her. Someone this unbothered must have endured her fair share of horrors, for she exuded a profound self-awareness. Morrigan couldn’t help but ponder about the true identity of this woman, as she seemed akin to Morrigan herself, enigmatic. She could envision hapless men stumbling upon the elf in the woods, utterly terrified. This notion brought the witch immense delight.

“I don’t see why we have to be escorted out of the Wilds by this witch. We are not children," Alistair almost stamped his feet in a brewing fit of frustration.

"Must you cry about everything? Is this a trait of all men, or just you three?" Morrigan chuckled.

“I am not crying! I am a Grey Warden, a seasoned fighter. I do not need a woman to protect me.”

“Oh? Is it that I'm a witch or a woman that bothers you most, I wonder?” She chuckled once more at the narrow-minded man. “It is amusing how you declare you need neither of those things, yet they are what have safeguarded you since you entered my Wilds, hmm?” Morrigan turned to the two other mages, her gaze lingering slightly longer on Kiera.

The raven-haired woman started to chuckle. “Oh, and what is so funny, Amell?” His eyes rolled, indicating he was accustomed to being the target of every jest. Morrigan was thoroughly enjoying herself; she relished when men were humbled. They were uncomplicated and simple creatures with minimal uses, none of which Morrigan truly cared to engage in.

“The fact that she is correct. If it were not for us healing you and enchanting your weaponry, you would have fled back to camp in terror, just as you tried to do when you all grew cocky at the bridge when we encountered that large group of darkspawn.”

Kiera couldn't suppress a chuckle as she interjected, "You looked so ridiculous running back down the hill, nine or so darkspawn in tow, screaming at the top of your lungs after I had just told you we needed to clear the area slowly”

Defeated, Alistair hung his head.  “I will admit, mistakes were made. But we are all alive riiight?” He grins in the face of the women's criticism.

"Thanks to us, we are indeed alive," Amelia stated matter-of-factly.

As they approached the outskirts of the Wilds, the Wardens' encampment came into view.

“Tis where I shall leave you, as I do not fare well near so many people. My place is in the Wilds, not this close to civilization.” she proclaimed with a tone that veiled disgust mingled with a hint of yearning. She pondered whether the elf detected these emotions as a quizzical expression crossed her face at the witch's declaration.

“Thank you, Morrigan,” the elf expressed as the ice-eyed woman nodded in agreement. The Wardens departed as she stealthily retreated into the shadows, transforming into a raven. Taking flight, she trailed the group; unwilling to let this narrative unfold without witnessing it in its entirety, she craved understanding, she craved insight. What were the intentions of this mysterious woman and the group of Wardens?

Morrigan shadowed them through the camp, eavesdropping on the various interactions the woman engaged in. The mage women displayed compassion by rescuing two mabari; evidently, both individuals harbored a tender spot for animals. Such sentiment was to be expected of a Dalish, but a Circle mage? 'Twas interesting. The most intriguing exchange occurred by the bonfire, where the Wardens divulged secrets that found their way to her keen ears. The elder Warden known as Duncan disclosed that the ritual carried a risk of mortality. It piqued her curiosity that the woman remained unperturbed by this revelation. Furthermore, during the account of their time in the Wilds, she conveniently omitted the encounter with the witches. This omission was surprising; most individuals would have undoubtedly recounted an encounter with an apostate in the Wilds, which would have inevitably attracted the attention of the Circle. Yet, this woman chose to keep it concealed. Morrigan made a mental note; she would not forget this.

She continued observing the group as they paused to rest at some tables. The two women sat closely together while the men engaged in a heated exchange. “And we're all just fine getting help from a witch of the Wilds," one of the idiots muttered quietly but with enough emphasis to make his point.

The elf's ears perked up as she responded, “Daveth, that was undeniably the most exquisite woman I have ever laid eyes upon, and you are upset that we had the privilege of spending time with her? Wild.” Morrigan took another mental note, musing to herself that the other woman had found her exquisite. Alistair nearly choked on his drink upon hearing this.  

“She’s a witch!” Daveth exclaimed, visibly uncomfortable at the mere thought of her. 'Twas most amusing watching this man squirm.

“What even is a witch?” the dark-haired woman interjected.

“Uh… well. It’s a woman who lives in the woods and knows magic and curses… They steal and eat babies!” He stumbled over his words as he faced the disapproving gazes of both mages.

"Witches are essentially mages who inhabit the woods and know magic?, so in essence, I too could be considered a witch.” Keira conjured a green flame from her hand, swirling it around playfully before extinguishing it.

“Instead of bickering, you should prepare yourselves for the Joining. To survive, you must be ready,” Alistair advised, wiping the liquid from his face. 'Twas probably the most sensible thing she'd heard come from the man thus far.

“To survive? What do you mean by survive? I did not sign up just to die!” The other man said, his voice trembling with panic.

The elf massaged her temple, a pained expression crossing her face. “At least you had a choice. I swear, I am the bravest one here, preserve me.”

“I only know I'm here, with my wife back home, with a child on the way… if I had known.”  the dark-haired man's voice faltered.

“If you had known? Jory, would you not have joined? I’d sacrifice anything just to stop the blight.” Daveth’s irritation escalated as he addressed Jory.

Keira furrowed her brow, turning to the man. “Fenhedis... Jory? Then, why did you even join us?”

The man interjected once more, "Think of your wife and that child. What if we don’t stop the blight? What is to happen to them then.” Jory hung his head in despair.

"Just leave it be, Daveth,” Alistair intervened before the conversation took a more controversial turn.

The elf’s words resonated with Morrigan. “At least you had a choice.” she contemplated the profound implications of those words for the woman. There was a subtle undertone of sorrow in their delivery. Their ceaseless chatter was abruptly halted by Duncan. He was a towering and rugged figure, the very embodiment of what Morrigan envisioned a Grey Warden to be. He explained the intricacies of the Joining, its significance, and the tasks that lay ahead. Kiera and Alistair appeared unbothered by this revelation. They gathered around the goblet brimming with darkspawn blood as Alistair finally spoke.

Join us, brothers and sisters.

Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant.

Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn.

And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten.

And that one day we shall join you.

Daveth was beckoned forth. With Duncan's help, he raised the chalice to his lips, and upon the first taste of the blood, he convulsed in agony, falling to the ground, blood trickling from his eyes and nostrils. His body quivered as he frothed at the mouth, until finally, he succumbed. The man lay lifeless. Jory took a step back, his gaze betraying fear. Duncan reminded the man of his duty, yet the fool attempted to flee, now showing concern for his wife and child. The Grey Warden swiftly approached, impaling him with a blade as he tried to escape. The ritual left no room for hesitation; 'twas a matter of survival. You either prevailed or perished. ‘Twas that simple. You displayed strength, or you did not.

Morrigan observed attentively as the two women took their turns. The Circle mage proceeded next, drinking her portion and doubling over in agony. Her eyes turned a ghostly white before she collapsed to the ground. Then came Kiera. Morrigan was convinced she would endure; this woman possessed a unique quality, evident to her. She lifted the goblet to her lips, consuming the last bit; a trickle of crimson descended from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes turned white, and she began to clutch her head in anguish, her teeth clenched to reveal a set of gilded canines, sharp enough to pierce a throat. Morrigan found this intriguing.

Her head jerked back, her eyes emanating a violet glow. The woman appeared primal, exuding an aura of unparalleled power. The men in front of her appeared unsettled, indicating this behavior was not characteristic of a Joining ceremony. As she attempted to speak, she was overcome by another wave of excruciating pain. Fortunately, Morrigan, skilled in the art of lip reading, deciphered the woman's muttered words as she collapsed to the ground, uttering defiantly, "You'll never stop me" before losing consciousness. She wondered if this was simply a side effect of the blood mixing with the woman's resolve or a manifestation of a deeper phenomenon.

Both women regained consciousness, unharmed and intact, unlike their comrades. Duncan and Alistair assisted the women in rising to their feet, with Alistair recounting how only one individual out of many had perished during his Joining ceremony, indicating that not all Joinings were as dramatic as the one they had just experienced. However, Duncan interjected, inquiring about the well-being of the women. The Circle mage described her ordeal as more excruciating than her “Harrowing," a term unfamiliar to Morrigan, while the elf simply stated that she was “fine." Evidently, the woman possessed a talent for concealing her true emotions. It seemed implausible that she could be unaffected by such an experience. The more Morrigan observed this small woman, the more captivated she became by her strength. She harbored a desire for the woman to survive so that she could continue to observe her from a distance.

Watching the world had been one of Morrigan's cherished pastimes. As an apostate, Morrigan found it challenging to forge deep connections with others, as such interactions often led to unfavorable outcomes. Being Flemeth's daughter meant that Morrigan was constantly under the watchful eye of the ambiguous woman, leaving little room for external affiliations.

The two women entered a tent in unison, leaving Morrigan perplexed. Could there possibly be a relationship between them? 'Twould not be inconceivable, given the dire circumstances they faced on the brink of battle, with mortality looming ominously at every turn.

As the women emerged from the tent, Morrigan, lost in contemplation, saw that both were now clad in formidable Grey Warden battle mage attire. It appeared they had merely sought privacy for a swift change, devoid of any clandestine activities during their brief seclusion. A sense of relief washed over Morrigan, prompting a sense of bewilderment at her own reaction; the cause of her relief remained shrouded in mystery.

The Wardens proceeded towards a grand table where a group of boorish men conversed animatedly about the impending battle. Duncan engaged in conversation with a man bearing a striking resemblance to Alistair, albeit more aesthetically pleasing, with golden, flowing locks of hair and the most radiant, deep blue eyes Morrigan had ever beheld. Adorned in lavish golden armor, he exuded an air of significance, likely the king himself. By his side stood a repulsive, older man with greasy black braids and lifeless, pale gray eyes, emanating an aura of untrustworthiness that caught the witch's attention, prompting her to remain vigilant.

The man in the beautiful gold armor extended his obnoxious congratulations to the two women on their joining; he couldn’t know the perils of the experience. ‘Twas clear he assumed it to be an enjoyable act, yet neither woman displayed amusement. Despite their lack of reaction, the interaction amused Morrigan. A hearty caw echoed across the gathering, drawing the attention of the elf, who locked eyes with her. Morrigan was nearly certain the elf recognized her in her avian form, evident from the elf's narrowed gaze upon her.  “I didn’t have a choice, really,” she remarked before redirecting her focus to the regal figure.

“I suppose none of us do, but we need grey wardens,” He said before he was chastised by the older man, revealing him to be Cailan, the King.

More arguing continued, which Morrigan cared not for; she was more focused on the man now being called Loghain. She certainly did not trust him. He was up to something, 'twas a typical man hungry for power, trying to put the king in his place and sorely being shut down.

They convened to strategize for the impending battle. The elf appeared affronted upon learning she would not be immediately deployed to the battlefield. Did she have a death wish? Did she always choose to rush in and risk it all? Duncan explained the significance of their mission, emphasizing the crucial role that lighting the beacon played as a vital component requiring a secondary assault. Duncan outlined the Wardens' mission, underscoring the urgency of their task with a scant hour allotted for its completion.

The army assembled below as Morrigan circled above, the rain drizzling on her wings while lightning flashed in the distance. The darkspawn began to emerge from the trees, a sight that left the witch stunned. The ragtag army had no chance against the overwhelming numbers. Duncan, aware of this grim reality, had dispatched them to the beacon as a first and last resort. Reinforcements were their sole hope; without a strategic counterattack, death was inevitable. The scene unfolding was gruesome; darkspawn feasted on the fallen, dragging away the wounded into caves, 'twas horrid to behold. Swiftly, Morrigan made her way towards the tower, meticulously searching for the trio. The trail of lifeless darkspawn marked their path. Approaching the tower, she shifted back into her human form to push open the door, seamlessly transitioning into the guise of a black cat, its fur wild and fluffy. The tower blazed with fire, the acrid scent of burning darkspawn permeating the air. 'Twas repulsive; the stench intensified as she assumed the form of the feline, nearly triggering a gag reflex.

She quickly traversed the chambers, following the trail of the deceased. 'Twas truly remarkable, not only the sheer number of lifeless bodies but the creativity in their demise. An alpha had been forcefully thrust into the wall with such magical force that their form melded with the stone, then had been lacerated with numerous blade gashes. As the witch ascended to higher floors, the scene of carnage grew more intense, with countless darkspawn lying lifeless; indeed, this woman was a fearsome presence on the battlefield. 'Twas unwise to engage the elf or the other two wardens in combat, unless one desired to be riddled with wounds.

Upon reaching the third floor, she slowed her pace slightly; all was tranquil now since everything had met its end, thanks to the wardens. With a confident stride, she paused to restore her energy, crucial for the remainder of her ascent. Her body instinctively tensed, her back arching, and her hackles raised. A subdued growl reverberated from the far end of the room. Mabaris, but of course she would run into a group of completely unscathed mabaris that oh so obviously the animal-loving warden women had saved from a fate of starvation after being confined in cages.

She lingered for a moment, locking eyes with the closest hound. Sensing its imminent movement, she swiftly dashed towards the corridor, prompting the trio of dogs behind her to give chase, causing chaos as they collided with each other and their surroundings. With agility, she crossed the threshold, reverting to her human form and sealing the door with a barrier of icy magic. Surveying the room, it resembled a scene from a chilling tale. What sinister machinations were these darkspawn up to? Despite being perceived as mindless beings, the coordinated display before her hinted at a level of intellect, perhaps even a semblance of religious devotion.

She walked up to the bloodied statue, and the purposeful display of heads surrounding it conveyed a message, either of deterrence or worship. She could hear fighting up the stairs, and quickly, she stepped over the darkspawn littered throughout the room before turning back into a cat and sneaking through to the fourth floor. Inside, she darted under a table, crouching as close to the ground as possible. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for the woman in the battle taking place in the center, and she saw her.

Kiera soared gracefully through the air, her twin blades poised to strike the ogre, her movements a whirlwind of precision. With precision, she plunged her blades into the beast's chest, causing it to crash to the ground. Extracting her weapons, she drove them back in with even greater force, causing the ogre's arms to go limp at its sides. Stepping back, she surveyed the creature, now drenched in its crimson lifeblood, and met the gaze of the witch. A subtle tilt of her head conveyed her silent intrigue.

"Hurry, we have to light the beacon. Surely we missed the signal.” Alistair exclaimed, his voice tinged with palpable anxiety. The azure-eyed mage cast a fiery blast into the hearth, causing the beacon to burst into flames. Arrows pierced through the air, finding their mark in the chest of the elf, one after another. The darkspawn began to swarm the group with alarming speed. Emerging from beneath the table, she shed her feline guise and assumed her human form, witnessing the elf collapse onto the cold, unforgiving stone floor, her body adorned with a tapestry of arrows. Morrigan unleashed a frigid blizzard, encasing the horde in ice and impeding their advance.

The roof erupted in a fiery explosion, rendering the other two Wardens unconscious before they could register her presence. A draconic head emerged, unleashing a torrent of flames that consumed the entire room. With the darkspawn vanquished, the dragon extended its talons, lifting each Warden before soaring into the night. "Mother," Morrigan gasped as she transformed into a bird, trailing the dragon closely. Swiftly, they returned to the cottage.

"Quickly now, child, bring them inside," Morrigan's mother commanded, prompting a frown from Morrigan at being ordered around. Utilizing her magic, she effortlessly lifted the little elf, whose weight belied her size, and placed her gently on the bed. Returning outside, she dragged the large human mage inside with the aid of a blanket and magic. Certainly, Morrigan wasn’t carrying this woman, as she was bigger than a man, setting her by the hearth. As for the fool? He could slumber in the mire as far as she was concerned.

Flemeth entered the main room of the hut, exiting the only bedroom. Her presence prompted Morrigan to inquire about her mother's reasons. “Mother, why did you save them?” Morrigan inquired, perplexed by her mother's unexpected appearance, especially in her dragon form.

"Why did you?" The elder witch chuckled, reveling in her victory. Flemeth always delighted in this dance around direct answers, shrouding herself in mystery. Morrigan rolled her eyes and returned to the room, where the injured elf lay peacefully under her mother's protective healing spell. With care, Morrigan began the delicate task of extracting the barbed arrows deeply embedded in the woman's body.

“Be grateful you slumber through this; it must be excruciating.” Morrigan's mastery over dissolving and reshaping objects proved invaluable as she swiftly removed the arrows, akin to sand slipping through an hourglass. Gently, she proceeded to strip away the blood-soaked armor, leaving the elf exposed, her beauty striking Morrigan with a twinge of guilt.

The elf's freckled body bore a tapestry of tattoos and scars, a narrative concealed beneath her garments, save for fleeting glimpses on her arms and neck. These markings defied any Dalish tradition, depicting a myriad of symbols: demons, women, weapons, and skulls. The scars, numerous and some even deliberate, formed a tactile story that begged to be deciphered, captivating Morrigan's curiosity. 

For someone who appeared so delicate in her armor, the woman possessed a surprising robustness that challenged expectations. Her hips, wider than the norm for an elf, emphasized her voluptuous silhouette, while her thighs and bosom boasted a substantial size that demanded attention. Each nipple adorned with a piercing added a touch of boldness to her overall demeanor. Her abdomen, supple, revealed well-defined muscles that subtly tensed with every breath she took. The woman exuded a charm that was both captivating and formidable.

“Are you just going to stare at the woman, or shall you apply a poultice to the wound?” Her mother's chuckling voice caught her off guard as she spilled the arrow's residue onto the floor of the hut. The elderly woman cackled.

“Mother!” Morrigan's heart raced; her mother could be so vexing at times, always finding amusement at Morrigan's expense. She draped a blanket over the elf, concealing her form, and proceeded to administer the salve to the woman's injuries. Placing her hands over the wounds, she attempted to heal them, but her magic faltered in its efforts to keep pace. “Blast and damnation!”

“Step aside, child. Allow me to handle this.” Flemeth practically pushed her daughter aside and commenced healing the wounds with utmost ease, as if they were ancient scars rather than fresh injuries. Morrigan had only just begun to grasp the basics of healing magic, insufficient for a case of this magnitude. Despite her mother's condescension, she was grateful for her intervention. The elf deserved the finest treatment, even if it came from her unruly mother.

A few hours had elapsed. Alistair and the mage had awakened; they conversed outside the hut, both sipping warm bone broth. "She has to be fine, Amell. We can't lose another warden!" His voice trembled with despair. The man appeared as a shattered shell, devoid of hope in his sorrowful eyes.

"She will recover. I personally checked on her; she simply requires rest." The man's lip quivered as he struggled to hold back tears. 'Twas a pitiful sight, truly disheartening. Dismissing the wardens in their moment of vulnerability, she returned to check on the warden resting in the bed. The woman sat up abruptly as Morrigan entered the room, wincing in pain as the blanket slipped, revealing her bosom. Morrigan was momentarily speechless; although she had already seen it, the sight still affected her.

The elf rubbed her head in discomfort. Her long black nails ran across her scalp flicking her long ginger hair, a charming sight to behold. "Fenedhis… what happened?" Morrigan proceeded to explain and address all inquiries the warden had. Once the woman had exhausted her questions, she locked eyes with Morrigan, sparking something within the witch. "Thank you, Morrigan." She was caught off guard by the gratitude. Often, her actions seemed unappreciated.

“Twas not I who did anything; 'twas mother. She healed your wounds and saved your companions."

The warden gazed at her, seemingly peering into her soul. This woman was unlike any other; she seemed to strip Morrigan bare, truly understanding her. "Morrigan… thank you."

"I... I will leave you to prepare. Mother wishes to speak with you." Hastily exiting the room, she thought she caught a faint giggle from the elf.

Morrigan could not believe her ears when she overheard her mother essentially offering her up to the Grey Wardens as a prize. She refused to be treated as a mere commodity. Her mother's behavior seemed irrational and unbearable. Yet, the elf accompanying them was surprisingly pleasant; there was a certain sweetness about her that Morrigan found tolerable. So, leaving with the group didn’t seem that awful as long as the elf was present; she could endure it.

As they neared Lothering, they were suddenly ambushed by darkspawn. A sleek black Mabari leaped into the fray, swiftly dispatching the largest enemy. A cream-colored hound emerged from behind a shattered carriage, viciously attacking another darkspawn. With the final foe defeated, the hounds approached the Wardens. "Aren't these the same Mabari's you both helped back at the camp?" Alistair inquired cheerfully.

Both women stooped to caress the Mabari's. The black one affectionately licked the elf's face, causing Morrigan to grimace in disgust. "It's repulsive. Allowing such a putrid creature to lick your lips," she remarked.

“Oh, you’re such a smelly boy! Yes, you are, a stinky, stinky boy.” the elf exclaimed playfully as she petted the exuberant dog prancing before her. Amell knelt gracefully, showing reverence and admiration towards the other Mabari. These contrasting scenes hinted at the women's deep fondness for animals, a source of potential vexation for the witch.

Upon finally reaching the outskirts of Lothering, they were approached by bandits masquerading as toll collectors. The feeble attempt by the "toll collectors" to extort coin from the Wardens was met with scorn. The diminutive elf displayed a remarkable display of audacity and petulance, leaving the bandits bloodied and humiliated. She demanded their apologies, confiscated their ill-gotten gains, disparaged their enterprise, and sent them fleeing with their tails tucked between their legs. Morrigan found herself both entertained and impressed by the elf's unexpected behavior. "Hmm, 'tis curious," she pondered to herself.

Chapter Text

No Country for Dead Wardens

“So, what do I do, sister? Our mother is too scared to leave, my brother believes he can simply vanquish every darkspawn, and Marian…May Andraste guide us.” The young woman massaged her forehead, endeavoring to suppress her irritation. A sigh escaped her lips. “She is too busy seducing the recent widows, a venture in which she is proving successful, to even stop and listen to my protests.”

Leliana contemplated wittily for a moment; her hands enveloped around a steaming cup of tea. The tavern was teeming with activity, as individuals sought solace from the looming threat of the darkspawn through drunken nights. Undoubtedly, the tavern proprietors were reaping substantial profits. Having been in Lothering for a considerable duration, Leliana had encountered an array of personalities, yet one of her favored acquaintances was the young woman who frequented her table at the tavern. Seeking her counsel ever since the rogue shielded her from the revelation of her apostate status.

The young woman had been making her way home alone one evening when a man, drunk and with a menacing demeanor, approached her. He still bore the remnants of the alcohol he had been consuming, with droplets of it trickling down from his beard, having just been ejected from the village's only tavern moments before. Backed into a wall in a narrow alley adjacent to the tavern, she found herself in a perilous situation. Leliana, seated inside the tavern and overhearing the commotion from an open window, swiftly made her way out the back and through the alley. As she arrived, she witnessed the unsettling scene: a girl of merely seventeen, visibly frightened by the towering figure of the man looming over her. Without hesitation, Leliana drew a dagger and advanced toward them, but before she could intervene, a sudden burst of magical energy propelled the man forcefully into the neighboring building, where he collided with a stack of crates.

Approaching the girl, Leliana noticed her honey-brown eyes brimming with fear, her round cheeks reddened and tear-stained, a look all too familiar to the red-haired woman. Meanwhile, the drunken man struggled to his feet, his movements unsteady and his voice trembling with dread. "An... An... Apostate!" He stammered, pointing an unkempt, accusatory finger toward the young girl. Leliana turned her gaze towards the girl, noting her disheveled dark brown locks cascading down her shoulders, her eyes still reflecting profound fear.

“Now wherever do you see an apostate ser? Her voice tinged with playfulness.

“The girl! She attacked me with magic!” 

“I have been present the entire time, and I witnessed no such thing.” Leliana knelt before the man, his breath labored and foul. Her tone lowered, emphasizing her point to the man. “What I did witness, however, was a drunken man attempting to have his way with a young girl, only for the girl to defend herself by pushing him away, causing him to fall and briefly lose consciousness.” She fixed a stern gaze on the man. “Dare I say your memories may have been misconstrued. Should I consider involving the authorities for your mistreatment of this poor girl?”

The man hesitated in his speech. “nnnn… no ma’am. P..pp… please.” he uttered with a faltering voice. His words stumbled out uncontrollably. She offered a sincere smile as she leaned back, revealing her dagger aimed directly at the man's heart, poised to strike if necessary, unbeknownst to him. His eyes widened in fear as she gracefully sheathed her blade.

“Run along now, the misses surely must be worried.” she smiled gracefully, motioning for the man to leave. For being so drunk, he certainly stumbled away quickly. Leliana turned her attention back to the girl, gently cupping her face and examining her for any traces of harm.

"He didn’t hurt me” the girl’s voice was soft and trusting.

Relief washed over the rogue, grateful that she had arrived in time to prevent any harm. However, she couldn’t help but wish the same could be said for her own past traumas.“If you ever need anything, even if it's just to talk, you can find me in the shadows of the tavern” she offered, escorting the girl safely to her home.

Leliana savored the taste of her tea, reminiscing as she took a delicate sip. "Well, Bethany dear, there doesn't seem to be much you can do. You could consider abandoning them, no? But that doesn't seem like something you would do.” Leliana giggled “I suggest preparing your belongings for a potential evacuation. Your sister, although provocative, is intelligent. She will support you when the time comes."

“Yeah, hopefully then it’s not too late.” Bethany sighed. The tavern door creaked open, revealing a petite elf clad in silver-scaled armor. Her blue coat flowed down to her knees, brushing against her brown leather boots that bore signs of battle with scuffed steel on the toes and heels. A strikingly beautiful woman in rags wore her hair in a messy updo and followed closely behind, accompanied by a burly man exuding a pleasant demeanor.

"Why is Marian with... wait, that's not my sister," Bethany was at a loss for words. The woman bringing up the rear bore a striking resemblance to the eldest Hawke sibling. Her icy blue eyes, pointed nose, strong jawline, and exceptionally long legs all mirrored Marian's features, except for her shaggy mess that barely crept past her ears, which was a rival to this woman's well-kept shoulder-length braid of raven-black hair that cascaded over her almost identical blue and silver armor, matching the elf's and man's attire.

The vibrant hues, the gleaming armor, the icy eyes. It all resembled small pieces of her dream, fragmented visions coming together. Leliana sensed a divine purpose in this moment, a calling from the Maker.

The rowdy soldiers in the tavern exuded hostility towards the group before them. There was an inexplicable pull towards this particular group, as if Andraste had orchestrated this meeting. Accusations of treachery from Loghain's men and doubts cast upon the villagers' honesty about the Wardens created an air of hostility. Yet, an inner force urged her to intervene.

“Gentlemen, there’s no need for trouble; these are no doubt more poor souls seeking refuge.” she implored.

The man, growing more incensed, retorted sharply, “They’re more than that. Now stay out of our way, sister. You protect these traitors, you’ll get the same as them.”

The unkempt woman stepped protectively behind the elf, her stature commanding attention, silently challenging the men to act first. With a sly smile playing on her lips, the elf’s words carried a hint of mockery, as if daring the men to step forward. “Lets talk about this before things get out of hand” she suggests, her smile widening as she raises her hands.

"I doubt he would listen. His kind only listen to their masters” Leliana remarked wryly.

“I am no idiot," his words slurred on his tongue “I am not blind either. Enough talk, take the wardens into custody, and kill the sister and anyone else that gets in your way.”

The low-ranking man let out a weary sigh. "Let's make this quick”

The elf's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. She exuded an aura of mischief, poised for a brawl in the tavern. The commander threw the first blow, but the small woman effortlessly parried his attack with her sword. The trio of female mages unleashed their elemental powers on the man, who soon found himself pleading for mercy. Clearly, he had not anticipated facing not one, but three skilled mages. “Good. They have learned their lesson, and we can all stop fighting now” Leliana remarked with a smile.

A grave expression crossed the elf's face. “They aim to butcher us; they deserve no mercy”

The man interjected angrily, “The Grey Wardens betrayed the king, they are the ones who deserve no mercy.”

A look of disbelief clouded the elf's features. “The Grey Wardens did not betray your king; it was Loghain who did so.”

Appalled by the accusation, the man retorted, “I was there! The Teyrn pulled us out of a trap.”

The elf's expression turned incredulous as if she were tempted to wipe the smugness off the man's face. “The Teyrn left your king to die!” She scoffed at the soldier.

Face contorted with rage, the man moved closer to her, his words almost spewing spit. “The Teyrn could do nothing!”

Leaning in, her eyes now ominously aglow, she delivered her message with authority. “Take a message to your Teyrn.”

Something in her tone compelled the man to straighten his posture, anticipating new orders. Though he braced himself for his demise, it did not come to pass. “W-what would you have me tell him?” he stammered in fear.

The woman chuckled darkly. "Firstly, he’s going to have to do better than you, sorry lot” She held her blade out to the man. It began to crackle with electricity “You tell that bastard that the Grey Wardens know the truth. He will pay for what he’s done. We are coming for him.”

The man bowed his head in acquiescence.

“And one final thing, if you ever speak to me with breath as foul as a dragon's, I will personally cut out your tongue and slay it for you.” The elf stood there, her face unwavering.

“I... I shall tell him, "He mumbled before hastily exiting the tavern with his men.

Leliana chuckled at the interaction before turning to address the elf. "I apologize for interfering, but I just couldn’t stand by and not help.”

“We are grateful, sister,” the tall woman responds, almost as if ingrained in her. Leliana locked eyes with her, mesmerized by her icy gaze. The woman's voice, soft and somewhat melancholic, contradicted her outward appearance of strength, exuding an unexpected gentleness.

The elf reciprocates the laughter, exchanging glances with her tall companion before assessing the redhead with a discerning gaze. “So I see. Where does a sister learn to fight like that?”

“I wasn’t born in a chantry, you know. Some of us lived more colorful lives before joining. Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana. I am a lay sister of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or… I was”

 She explained.

The woman furrowed her brow, a hint of confusion clouding her features. “What does that mean?”

Leliana delves into an explanation of her former role when the woman interrupts with a giggle. “That does sound dreadful, but it wasn't what I meant. I am confused by your use of 'was' in reference to your affiliation with the Chantry, especially since you're standing here in their bright pink robes.”

“Oh, I do apologize," she giggled “I had assumed, you being a Dalish elf, you might be unfamiliar with Chantry customs.” She paused for a moment, smiling at the warden. “However, that is a tale for another time, yes”

"All right, you can keep your secrets, Leliana.” The woman said with a sly smile. The brunette standing silently beside her rolled her eyes at the exchange. “I am Kiera, delighted to make your acquaintance.” She playfully bowed before pulling the other Warden who was behind her and placing her by her side. “And this is Amell, who is also pleased to meet you.” The woman's cheeks turned crimson.

“Um, yes, hello. Nice to meet you.” The woman struggled to meet the intense gaze of the rogue. Leliana found her nervousness cute; it was unexpected from a Grey Warden who had just displayed such strength. The moment the ice-eyed woman was introduced to the beautiful woman, she succumbed to nervousness. Leliana gracefully took the mage’s hand and bestowed a gentle kiss upon it. “The pleasure is truly mine,” she expressed, observing the woman’s stunned expression as she timidly withdrew her hand to her chest in an attempt to conceal her reaction.

Leliana chuckled softly before adopting a more solemn tone. “I had heard of your Grey Warden status, but witnessing an elf engaged in combat against darkspawn is a rarity. It is uncommon to encounter elves who are not subjected to mistreatment or secluded within the depths of the forest," she remarked, casting a glance toward the enchanting blue-eyed mage. 'And to have such formidable mages present; it's rare to see a mage outside the circle, this is truly a blessing, no?” Having made her decision, Leliana was resolute in her choice to accompany these Wardens. Convinced that Andraste and the Maker had orchestrated their meeting for a purpose, she felt compelled to heed their guidance.  “That is what Grey Wardens do, after all, battle darkspawn, no? I know after what happened, you will need all the help you can find. That's why I am going to come with you."

“I will need help, that much is obvious, but dare I ask why so eager to come with us?”

“The Maker told me to”

“Absolutely not,” the disheveled woman finally interjected.

“Morrigan,” her voice softened as she addressed the mage. The elf reached out to touch the woman's elbow, only for it to be swiftly pulled away as she clutched the staff before her, snapping her head towards the elf.

 "'Tis where we back away slowly from the lunatic! "She tightened her grip on her staff.

“Can you… elaborate?” the elf inquired, seeking clarity.

“I... I know that sounds absolutely insane, but it's true! I had a dream, a vision!”

The man who had remained silent throughout the encounter finally spoke, his voice laden with defeat.  “More crazy? I thought we were all full up”

Morrigan's head snapped towards the man, her piercing golden gaze seemingly capable of boring a hole through him.

“Look at the people here; they are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos, will spread. The Maker doesn’t want this. What you do, what you are meant to do, is the Maker's work. Let me help!”

The elf scanned her, pursing her lips. “I require more than mere prayers, I am afraid.

“I can fight. I can do more than fight. As I said, I was not always a lay sister; I gave up that life, but if it is the Maker's will, I will take it up again, gladly. Please, let me help you.”

The elf paused briefly, contemplating before nodding her head in agreement. "Very well. I will not turn away help when it is offered.” A resounding thwack followed by a sharp cry of pain. "OUCH" echoed from the elf. Morrigan had struck her shin with her staff, causing Kiera to wince in pain and crouch down, massaging the affected area.

“Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than Mother thought!” She chastised, displaying utter indifference toward the pain she inflicted upon the woman. It was peculiar how the little elf, exuding an aura of power, allowed the other mage to unleash her fury upon her without resistance. With an abrupt movement, she lifted her head, a foolish grin spreading across her countenance, prompting a scoff from her counterpart.

“Should have opted for the shin guards, huh?” The man laughed. The sound of his sword lightly tapping against his leg resonated with a delicate "tink."

The taller mage locked eyes with Leliana.“ Ignore them, you will get used to it eventually.”  She gracefully stepped over the small elf as if she were a simple rock obstructing her path, proceeding towards the bar. "I am sorry about the mess…”

“They had it coming, the name is Danal. I can't chat much as you see we have a full house.”

She nodded, acknowledging the man by leaving a pouch of coins on the counter. "For your inconvenience," she states before taking her departure. Her sincerity and charm captivated Leliana, sparking a keen interest in getting to know this intriguing woman.

In the rear of the tavern, a man effortlessly persuades the wardens to address the issues with the merchants. Both women exhibit a profound aversion to injustice and exploitation. They refused to stand idly by and tolerate the exploitation of the vulnerable and unfortunate. Despite Morrigan's disapproval, she reprimanded the young elf for her actions, being excessively critical of the mage among all the companions. “So, we're taking to solve all of the village's problems personally? Shall we start saving kittens from trees now?” Morrigan rolled her eyes.

“If they were rich, it wouldn’t matter to me. Eat the rich for all I care, but these people? They have nothing but each other and feeding off of that for-profit when there’s bigger fish and better money to be made elsewhere is wrong.” Kiera retorted resolutely. The disapproval emanating from the witch did not deter her. The dynamic between the two seemed to revolve around this recurring pattern; the elf would act in a manner that Morrigan disapproved of, leading to either physical or verbal chastisement. Nonetheless, it appeared that Kiera remained unbothered and, if Leliana would be so bold, the elf may even enjoy it.

Leliana observed her companions as they made their rounds in Lothering, assisting those in need. While the group decided to enter the chantry, Leliana embarked on a personal mission of her own. As she made her way to the outskirts of the village, she spotted Bethany sitting outside her home engrossed in a book, while her sister, who preferred to be addressed by her surname, worked on crafting a magnificent staff, most likely for the young mage.

“Oh, Leliana there you are” chimed the young girl as she looked up, a playful smile gracing her lips.

“Hey there, gorgeous. What brings you this far out?” The woman's gaze lingered on Leliana suggestively, as if she were a tantalizing delicacy she desired to savor. Under different circumstances, Leliana might have been tempted to engage in a passionate affair with the woman, confident in her prowess in the art of seduction. Hawke would have no idea the game she would have stepped into. Smirking at the thought, Leliana glanced at Bethany, who had witnessed her sister captivate women numerous times before and now simply rolled her eyes.

"I am departing with the Wardens to aid in the battle against the darkspawn," Leliana announced, her tone resolute. Bethany's jaw dropped in disbelief at the redhead's revelation. "I believe," she continued, fixing her gaze sternly on Hawke, "that you all should depart as well, and swiftly. The darkspawn are approaching, it's only a matter of time. If you wish to ensure your family's safety, no?"

"How much time do we have?" Hawke's voice now carried a sense of urgency.

"Not much. The Wardens have informed us that the horde has been trailing them, and they have been present here for two days already. I implore you to safeguard Bethany, take her from this place," Leliana urged.

Hawke nodded, acknowledging Leliana's grave tone. She was indeed a formidable woman, concealing her magical abilities beneath the facade of a warrior. She always went to great lengths to ensure her sister's well-being and protection. Leliana was confident in Hawke's capabilities; failure was not an option for the elder Hawke when it came to her younger sister.

Bethany wrapped her arms around the redhead, who tenderly placed a kiss on her forehead. "I will miss you, my dear," Leliana whispered. Bethany embraced her tighter, expressing her gratitude silently before pulling away. It wasn't about what Bethany could do to persuade her family, but what Leliana could achieve. The young mage had sought her counsel, recognizing Leliana's gift of eloquence and persuasion. Leliana excelled in the art of rhetoric, always striving to emerge victorious in the game of persuasion.

She gracefully traversed the path where the wardens stood at the fork, releasing the Qunari named Sten from his imprisonment. The man stood accused of murdering an entire homestead yet turned himself in. A peaceful exchange unfolded between the elf and the Qunari, reminiscent of a sophisticated business negotiation, while the large mabaris playfully frolicked around the group, signaling no signs of hostility. As Leliana approached, Alistair interjected. "Ah, perfect timing now we can finally leave. I am tired and I am starving, and there’s been a rock in my boot since the spiders.” He lamented, his voice tapering into a weary tone similar to a sleepy child. Morrigan, in response, rolled her eyes and distanced herself from the group, heading towards the highway.

Kiera nonchalantly shrugged and followed suit. “Sten is also coming with us. We can head out to make camp.” Of course, the Wardens would be ambushed by refugees and then attacked by darkspawn. Nobody ever accused the Wardens of leading an easy life. Saving the dwarven father and son on the bridge was well enough a reward in the eyes of the Maker.

The camp was expansive, and the group wasted no time in establishing their individual areas. Morrigan decided to set up her camp slightly apart from the group, as her solitary nature was well-known. Leliana positioned her camp close to the fire, unsurprisingly next to Amell’s, who was a woman of few words, observing those around her attentively, storing away every detail she could grasp.

Kiera placed her tent next to Amell's but further back than the others, seeking a semblance of privacy. The sound of her argument with the mabari over tent usage for animals echoed through the camp, causing the poor creature to whimper. Both women barely removed their armor before collapsing from exhaustion. It was evident that the mages had been running on empty. As soon as she fell, the black mabari crawled into the tent with the elf, immediately succumbing to slumber. His snores reverberated through the camp. Alistair sat by the fire on a bedroll, while Sten lay sprawled out on an embankment. He was an odd fellow.

The raven-haired Warden stirred in her sleep, followed by the elf, both plagued by nightmares. Alistair quickly moved to the elf's side, displaying a close bond between them. Leliana approached the other warden her eyes snapped open, revealing a gaze as chilling as an arctic wasteland. Whatever horrors she had witnessed must have been truly harrowing. Kneeling beside her, Leliana inquired, "Are you alright?" The warden rubbed her eyes, responding, "I will be, I just need a moment." Sitting up, she appeared fragile, sighing as she gazed at the stars, her beauty accentuated by the moonlight casting a glow on her pale skin and sharp features.

“So, this vision of yours, what was it like?” Her gaze was now fixed on Leliana. She hadn't expected to be met with this question so abruptly, but she knew it was inevitable that someone would ask. She began describing the darkness, the falling sensation, and the vivid imagery, aiming for honesty to earn the woman's trust. "You dreamt of the blight?" the mage asked intently.

"I suppose I did, that’s what the darkness was, no?” She continued to explain the emergence of a flower from a long-dead rose bush she encountered upon her wake, interpreting it as a sign from the Maker himself. "Even amidst this darkness, there lies hope and beauty. Have faith."

The warden sighed, looking down. "And this is what motivated you to join us?"

“In my dream, I fell or maybe I jumped. I will do anything to stop the blight. There is so much beauty in the Maker's world; how can I sit by while the blight devours everything.”

"I suppose you’re right. I could not sit by either."

The Warden gazed back at the rogue. "And that is why you are a Grey Warden," she concluded, reaching out to gently touch her forearm. "Come now, Amell, there is a blight to be stopped."

“I…” The other woman hesitated. "You can call me Amelia. I am no longer part of the Circle, and if we are going to be companions, you should know my first name.” The mage smiled.  

“Very well then, Amelia it is. Shall I prepare some tea before we start the day?” She assisted the woman to rise, nearly colliding as she helped the mage up, the woman now towering over her, with Leliana's head barely reaching the other woman's collarbone. The presence of Amelia looking down at her sent a shiver of excitement through her skin. A wave of heat washed over her as Amelia's icy gaze met hers, causing both to blush, with the mage quickly turning her head to break the eye contact.  

“I… Um, yes, tea sounds great. "Lets… um, do that then, yes.” The mage hastily retreated, almost stumbling over her mabari who lay gracefully beside the tent. Leliana couldn't help but chuckle and follow the woman to the kettle.

Chapter Text

The Season of the Apostate

Morrigan tended to the fire as it flickered through the serene night. She detected the sound of deliberate footsteps drawing near. 'Twas evident that the individual desired to make their presence known. The small elf emerged from around the corner, exuding a captivating beauty. She appeared as though she had just awakened. “I hope you at least slew the dragon before coming to speak with me.” She chimed.

Initially taken aback, the elf couldn't help but release a soft chuckle. "I wouldn't risk approaching you with foul breath; I fear you might knock the teeth right out of my mouth if I dared."

Morrigan entertained the thought with a smile; 'twas within her nature. "What has prompted you to venture all this way at such a late hour to seek my company, hmm?" Her voice carried a seductive undertone.

The elf laughed and playfully rolled her eyes. "I couldn’t sleep, and well, I saw you were awake, figured I'd check up on you, see how you were doing, maybe get to know you a little.” the elf expressed candidly.

Morrigan was taken aback by the sincerity, as no one had ever shown interest in getting to know her before. Suddenly feeling a twinge of irritation at the notion of someone prying, “Why do you ask me such questions? I do not probe you for such pointless information, now do I?”  The elf began to grin mischievously; 'twas something always going on behind her eyes, her wheels ever turning. Conversations with the woman were surely never dull. Leaning back slightly, she cocked her head.  

“It’s my favorite way of annoying you,” the elf said, her smile inching further up her cheek. That dimple of hers revealed itself once again.

Morrigan rolled her eyes at the other woman. “Would it not simply be easier to poke at me with a stick?”

She chuckled at the witch leaning in closer, bracing herself on her arm. “I guess I could give it a whirl” mimicking gestures towards Morrigan as though she were physically prodding her with an imaginary stick.

Familiar with the woman, Morrigan was certain she would act upon her playful threats if provoked. “Hmm I would elect to answer your questions for now”

“So, you grew up in the wilds?”

Recalling her youth with nostalgia, Morrigan replied “A curious question. Where else would you picture me? 'Twas just Flemeth and I for many years, and for a time just the wilds creatures and I”

“You never left?”

“I eventually got curious, brief forays into civilized wilderness” she admitted.

“And you managed to go unnoticed?” Her expression denoted a gradual comprehension of the puzzle unfolding before her.

“For the most part, yes. Flemeth taught me well; however, I was unfamiliar with so much. So confident and bold was I, yet there was much that Flemeth could have never prepared me for”

She smiled, "Only once was I ever caught," Morrigan recounted the tale of the Chasind man who tried to accuse her of being a witch. However, being a young and beautiful girl, she swiftly turned the tables on him, making it appear as though he was the one casting curses. "Men are always inclined to believe two things about a woman: that she is weak and that she finds him attractive," she remarked with a roll of her eyes. "I portrayed myself as the weak damsel and batted my eyelashes at the captain of the guard," she mused. "Hmm, child’s play. The point being is that I was able to move through human lands fairly easily, for what humans think a witch of the wilds looks like, 'tis not I. Not that I didn’t have trouble, there are things about human society that have always puzzled me. Such as the touching. What is with all the touching for a simple greeting?”

"Touching? Like a handshake? A grasp of the arm?"

“To begin with, yes. What is the point of touching my hand? I find it offensive and intrusive!”

The Warden's face pondered her words, "Well, a lot of things make sense now.” She chuckled and subtly adjusted her position, creating a bit more distance from Morrigan. Usually, Morrigan would relish this, but the newfound space felt empty.

Morrigan sighed, feeling the need to elaborate.  "There were many nuances Flemeth could never tell me of. When to look into another’s eyes, how to eat at a table, how to bargain without offending. I still do not understand it all truthfully, especially the touching.”

“Noted, tone down the touching.” the Warden responded, resigning herself to this adjustment. ‘Twas not what Morrigan had sought when she was trying to express herself; she was never good with words.

"Well," Morrigan paused, carefully selecting her words. "Your touching... isn't inherently intrusive. I will inform you if it becomes an issue." While the touch of others had often perturbed her, Morrigan recollected times when it was Kiera's touch and it had not been most unwelcome, despite her initial instinct to swat her away.

The elf chuckled as she pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. Her hair, typically styled in braids and exuding a regal air, now seemed untamed and free-spirited. Sensing the need to steer the conversation in a different direction to prevent any potential misunderstanding, she opted to change the subject.

“So you were caught once out of the Wilds. What about when you were home? Life as an apostate had to be hard. It was difficult being Dalish; I can only imagine what it was like for you.” she inquired.

Morrigan playfully chuckled in response. “You are very cute to ask so many questions.”

"Well, I'm glad you think so. However, it's you who are cute when you’re evasive” she remarked, fixing her gaze on Morrigan to emphasize the unanswered question.

“Really? Perhaps we should be wrapped in ribbons and adorned with flowers, so cute we two are” Morrigan sighed. "My mother was often pursued by Templar fools like Alistair, which should tell you how successful they were. Flemeth even turned it into a bit of a game. When the Templars came, she would look at me and say that the fun was about to begin again."She mused gleefully.

"I almost feel sorry for the Templars," the Warden smiled. “You really had no trouble with them?”

“I am unsure. I was too young to understand, or perhaps it was bravado on Flemeth's part, or maybe she found it amusing. I will never know. Regardless, this is when the true game began. Often, Flemeth would use me as bait.”

"Flemeth used you as bait?" the Warden exclaimed.

"Twas a game, and I, a young girl. If I did not get to play, I would have been very upset. I was too young to understand the truth behind what was happening. Flemeth would warn them once. 'Twas a warning they inevitably failed to heed, and then the true game began.”  Morrigan explained. “A little girl to scream and run, luring the Templars deeper into the Wilds, right to their doom. I did not understand the danger we faced until I was much older. I had never heard of apostates or Maleficarum”

Keira nonchalantly remarked, "They got what they deserved." Morrigan was taken aback, as not many shared that sentiment.

“Perhaps they did, but I do not begrudge them for doing what they deem necessary. The Chantry sees any mage not leashed to the Circle as Apostates, and Apostates could become evil maleficarum who do blood magic and talk to demons. It may even be true for some. Still, those of us who prefer freedom see no reason to submit.”

The elf gazed down at her hands, idly twirling them. “To submit is to be a slave. To be leashed, locked away? That’s not a life worth living.” she remarked with the air of one who had experienced such captivity firsthand. Morrigan realized that as this woman delved into the layers of the witch's past, she truly knew very little about her counterpart. The elf pondered quietly for a moment before speaking, “So it was just you and your mother, the wild creatures, and the occasional Templar attack."

Morrigan chuckled at the oversimplification of her existence. "In simpler terms, yes."

The elf regarded Morrigan with a mixture of pity and understanding. “So life in the wilds must have been very lonely?”

“At times perhaps, a world full of people and buildings was all very foreign to me. If I wished for companionship, I ran with the wolves and flew with the birds. If I spoke, 'twas to the trees.” Morrigan smiled, acknowledging the loneliness that could accompany a lack of human interaction, yet emphasizing the richness of her life in other aspects.

The elf's smile widened. “That sounds wonderful. I can relate. Spending so much time among the trees and wildlife was something I used to get lost in. The keeper was always sending people to find me.” Kiera lamented.

“'Twas wonderful for a time, but one could only remain a child for so long.” Her mind was pulled to a memory from her youth. “ I recall the first time I crept beyond the edge of the wild. I did so in animal form, watching strange townsfolk from afar”  Morrigan eagerly recounted her experience to the other woman, detailing the encounter with the carriage and the elegant noblewoman within. The exquisite golden mirror she had purloined, the scolding and breaking of said mirror Flemeth had administered. 'Twas intriguing that the other woman understood the reasoning behind Flemeth's actions; she might have viewed the mirror incident as an excessive punishment for a child, yet she agreed that ultimately, it had strengthened Morrigan. This woman was proving to be unexpectedly fascinating; she had not anticipated sharing so much in common with her.

The woman's eyes narrowed as if she were on the verge of connecting all the pieces. Morrigan sensed a deeper motive behind the other woman's persistent questioning. If Morrigan hadn’t enjoyed the elf’s company, she would have shooed her off long ago, yet she didn’t mind letting this woman in.

‘So, you're a shapeshifter? and from what I’ve gathered, your mother is a giant bird, you learned that magic from her. You've said you’ve been a wolf and bird, but what all can you shapeshift into exactly? Do you prefer to be in animal form?” The woman's wheels were ever-turning as the slew of questions flew from her plump lips.

“I have smelled the world through that of a wolf, seen with the eyes of a cat, flown above the world as a raven, and even crawled against cave walls as a giant spider, but make no mistake, I know I am human.”

The elf scrutinized her with narrowed eyes. "Your eyes give you away."

Morrigan replied playfully, "Oh, do enlighten me."

"You were there at Ostagar above the war table and later beneath another at the tower, your beautiful golden eyes unlike any I've ever seen, unmistakably revealing your true nature."

Morrigan had a feeling 'twas where the conversation and those previous were all leading. “It seems I’ve been caught. I did, however, tell you I had been watching for some time, did I not?” Morrigan smiled.

"Indeed, you did." and the elf reciprocated the gesture.

“What about you? You have probed into my history for quite a while now, yet I barely know anything about you. Where did you grow up?”

The elf remained silent for a moment. Morrigan wondered whether the other woman was crafting a falsehood or simply unaccustomed to discussing her past. “I…How do I put this.” She inhales deeply before casting her gaze downwards. “When I was found, it was within the depths of Arlathan forest. The keeper stumbled upon me as a small infant alone in a bog. I was informed that I was surrounded by dancing wisps, which guided the keeper to my location. He had been scouring the area in search of lost relics, striving to unravel the mysteries of our ancestors, when a wisp led him to me.” She then shifts her gaze to Morrigan, her eyes reflecting a profound sadness.

“Well, you are a long way from home, are you not.”  Morrigan joked a chuckle rolling through her throat.

The elf retorted abruptly and unexpectedly, a type of verbal reprimand Morrigan had yet to experience from her before; such sharpness was typically reserved for Alistair or another fool. “It’s not my home!” She paused for a moment, looking away from the witch “Not anymore.” Morrigan must have divulged something to the elf through her facial expressions, as she swiftly reined in her attitude. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, I just… well, I’ve never really talked about this before with anyone. I tend to keep to myself.”

“You are not obligated to continue if you do not wish to.” Morrigan's voice is gentle and empathetic, recognizing the similarities emerging between them as they converse.

“No, I want to. I probed you about your life, didn’t it?” She chuckled softly. “The keeper, he took me in, imparted all his knowledge upon me. When it was revealed that I possessed magical abilities, he was overjoyed; now he had two potential successors, his own daughter and myself.” She pauses for a moment, reminiscing fondly. “His daughter and I-”

Morrigan's curiosity is piqued. “A daughter, you say?”

The elf looked at her, rolled her eyes, and laughed. “Yes, a daughter, and yes, we grew close. I can tell you already want to ask.”

“You presume to know me already, do you?”

“Never. I simply understand body language, and yours, sweetheart, never lies. You were clearly never taught how to hide it.” Morrigan almost takes offense; she realizes she must improve at concealing her intentions.

“I can’t imagine that went well for you both. Competing for the prize against each other.?”

"It wasn’t a problem, really. Our relationship was a secret and with each other? I never cared to be a keeper; it didn’t interest me.” She leaned back, gazing up at the stars.

“What did captivate your interest then?” Morrigan is fully engrossed in unraveling the enigma of this woman.

“Knowledge.” She turned her head to meet Morrigan's gaze, her eyes a vast expanse of emerald groves in the moonlight. “The more I learned, the more I found myself at odds with the teachings of my people.”

Morrigan's eyes widened as she possessed ample knowledge about the Dalish and their teachings, enough to be considered well-versed in the basics if not more. She had dedicated countless moons to learning about the people and their ways, a pursuit she continued to this day.

“I presume this did not sit well with the keeper,” she remarked.

Kiera chuckled softly. “Oh, indeed not.” Pausing thoughtfully, she continued, “He was angry, but I simply could not sit there and believe something merely on blind faith.”

Morrigan chuckled in response. “So, you and the lay sister don’t agree on blindly following faith, you’re not going to run off with her?”

The elf appeared puzzled for a moment. Morrigan, keen as ever, had noticed the subtle flirtation between the woman and Leliana. “Morrigan, that will never happen. While yes, she's beautiful and I admit to being quite the flirt, she is not someone who captures my interest.” Her gaze slowly swept over Morrigan; a silent message was conveyed. A warmth began to stir in Morrigan's chest at the implication.

“And in case you missed it, I believe I did a rather amazing job in setting Amelia up with her.” Her smile was wide, she waved her hands animatedly as she spoke. “She seems to have a thing for Chantry girls – you know, the repressed Circle mages seeking what they cannot have, now within their reach.” The elf’s meddling in the affairs of others was entertaining. “But I digress. No, I refuse to blindly follow something or someone.” She paused for a moment to take a breath. Her tone slowed down to a more serious note. “The more I delved into my people’s history, the more things didn’t add up, the less I trusted the teachings.” She paused, her voice now more serious. “Human history is often written by the victors, and who’s to say that my own people didn’t engage in the same practice? How can I be certain that our gods are truly what they seem because when you read between the lines, the tales reveal a much darker undertone than my clan wished to acknowledge?”

The woman seemed set on this, and if Morrigan was being honest, she understood the elf's ideologies as she too had noticed many discrepancies in her studies. Seeing as the subject was touchy, she decided to steer away from that for now. “You also delved into the annals of human history?”

"That I did, I told you I craved knowledge. I still do. There’s much to learn in this world, and I often find that what we do know is built on lies and deceit.” This enigmatic woman held Morrigan spellbound; she was far more complex than her initial impression as a mere Dalish elf. Morrigan yearned to unravel more of her intricacies.

“Were you branded a heretic?” Morrigan probed further.

"Oh definitely, they kicked me out of the clan.” She confessed with a heavy heart. “I left everything, everyone behind. I had to depart from Arlathan immediately or be treated as an intruder. I had only been allowed to leave because Idrilla, the Keeper's daughter, begged for my life.”

“Is that how you found yourself in Ferelden?”

"In simpler terms, yes” she chuckled softly. “Not many places in the north are safe for elves. I passed as a human for a time, playing in different taverns each night throughout Minrathous, but a magister found me out and enslaved me for a time. I killed him and fled.”

“And from there?” Morrigan eager to learn more and more of the woman's story, leaned in slightly.

“Nevarra, this is where I learned necromancy. Though I was safe from slavery, I was not safe from the assassins sent after me by the magisters. After mastering what magic, I could, I made my way to Ferelden,” she said, wrinkling her nose distastefully as if recalling a foul stench.

Morrigan scanned the area mockingly, trying to detect the imaginary scent. "Has your filthy creature come close?"

Kiera chuckled. "Leave him be, he adores you, ya know."

"He can adore me from a distance," Morrigan scoffed. "May I inquire how you encountered the wardens?"

“I was going to tell you anyway since you’ve been so good,” her voice softened into a seductive murmur, causing Morrigan's skin to prickle. The Warden's admiration sparked a desire within her, a sensation she'd never felt from a mere compliment. Morrigan was thankful the woman went on to tell her story to get her mind away from her distractions. “I had been exploring ruins right near a Dalish camp, where I ran into a young hunter named Tamlen. He had been checking the area after running into a group of humans claiming to have found the ruins, and to his surprise, they were right. We made our way, fighting the undead and the spiders that resided within, and came to an eluvian, a magical mirror if you will, once used by my people to travel long distances, a technology long forgotten to time. Except this one was different; it was wrong. Despite my warnings, reached out to touch it, throwing us both back and rendering me unconscious. I woke up in the Dalish camp days later with a pounding headache, accused of the boy's death."

"So, there you were again at odds with another clan.”

"The irony was not lost on me," the elf chuckled. "I would have preferred to simply be at odds with the clan, a situation I could walk away from, or at least attempt to fight my way out of." When the elf's eyes clouded with sorrow, they shimmered with the most melancholic shades of blue, resembling a moonlit lake with colors merging fluidly. "That's when I encountered Duncan and discovered I was tainted. The clan would only permit my departure if I escorted two of their own, and the Keeper's first and a young hunter, back to the ruins to reveal what I had found. And now, here I am."

"I feel this is a simple summary of the trauma you have faced over the years. ‘Tis understandable, but why inquire about so much of my time in the wilderness if you were already aware of the depth of my experiences? It must have been even more isolating for you, being alone.”

The other woman chuckled once more. “Because I wanted to uncover your story, Morrigan. We may not share identical pasts or experiences, although there are similarities in our journeys, but I desired to hear your tale directly from you. Witnessing your face light up with stories of bygone days was truly beautiful, and I hope to hear more.”

Morrigan's eyes narrowed. “Perhaps, if you’re good.” Both women shared a laugh.

“I make no promises, sweetheart," Kiera said giggling. Morrigan scanned the other woman’s face; she was undeniably captivating. While her beauty was evident, 'twas her entire presence that held a mesmerizing quality. Morrigan's gaze trailed the faded vallaslin on the woman’s face, contemplating why it differed from others she had seen. “I attempted to remove it," she traced her fingers along her own raised mark. "Didn't work out so well, need to do more research.” 'Twas evident from Morrigan's expression that her next question centered around the purpose of the vallaslin, a query the woman promptly addressed. “It just didn’t fit who I was anymore. I didn’t feel Dalish, and so then it just felt like a slave marking”

“For whom was it intended?”

“Mythal, she was the only one who didn’t seem to be hiding something. The other gods always seemed to conceal ulterior motives. I refrained from discussing this often, as others began to question my sanity when I did. Idrilla was the only one who never doubted me and even shared similar sentiments at times.” Silence fell upon the women.

The elf appeared to hold a deep affection for Idrilla, speaking of her with a mixture of fondness and sorrow. Love? Affection? These concepts were foreign to Morrigan. While she was familiar with physical intimacy, anything beyond that repelled her. Kiera clapped her hands and stood up, with Morrigan following suit.“Well, let's get on with it before the ground opens up and swallows us, yes?” The witch broke the silence as the elf went to walk back down the path she had emerged. She turned back to the witch, giving her a small smile.

“Prepare your gear; we are journeying to Redcliffe to meet with the Arl.”

Chapter Text

The Night of the Walking Dead

The road to Redcliffe had been long. Alistair and Morrigan bickered incessantly. Kiera was no help, as she usually sided with Morrigan especially if it entailed making fun of the man. He oddly seemed to enjoy it, though. So, really, why help him fight off the other two women? At least she had grace; ever since bonding with the mabari, Amelia had found comfort and grounding. Leaving the Circle had been anxiety-ridden, joining the Wardens, a civil war? It was a lot to handle for someone who had been cooped up in a tower for most of her life.

A faint humming emanated from her right; there she stood. Leliana was delicate yet resilient, an enigma that seemed both distant and near. Her presence exuded a soothing aura that Amelia yearned for. Every aspect of the rogue captivated the mage, making her feel a sense of belonging. As they neared the village, chaos reigned. Gathering intelligence from the Baan within the Chantry, they discovered that the village was besieged by creatures referred to as the “walking dead.” Without hesitation, Kiera pledged her assistance; it was the righteous thing to do, a principle they both upheld. Despite their contrasting natures, their moral compasses aligned seamlessly. It was natural for Amelia to defer to the elf's judgment. Nevertheless, Kiera's inclination to aid often seemed to irk Morrigan, much to Kiera's dismay. The elf's attraction to Morrigan made sense; her allure was undeniable, but destined for failure. A union between them would be fraught with agony, torment, and desire. Being a Warden with death around every corner left no room for relationships. Yet with Kiera, perhaps the allure of desire was potent enough to justify the turmoil. Amelia chuckled softly, drawing Leliana's attention.

"What's so funny?” Leliana inquired, playfully nudging Amelia's side. The rogue had been looking up at her. She must have been so lost in her thoughts that her body started to react on its own.

"I'm sorry, I was just thinking.” She said softly.

“Well, you were staring at those two bickering at one another, no?” Leliana remarked, nodding towards the apostate who was looming over the elf, sternly rebuking her for wanting to aid the village, dismissing it as a futile endeavor. It was almost amusing; she half expected a physical altercation to break out between them, secretly hoping for some drama. Leliana chuckled beside her, moving closer.

“Look at them, they are something else. So much tension between them, Watch, she's going to hit her” Just as she spoke, Morrigan whacked the other woman with her staff on the side of the calf. “See, what did I tell you?“ Amelia began to laugh, almost believing she had conjured the moment.

“It’s just how they show affection, no? "Leliana reflected.

“Well, that’s not really my idea of affection, but to each their own," she shrugged her shoulders.

“This is good to know,” Leliana remarked with a subtle wink as she gracefully moved toward the rest of the group. Amelia was taken aback. Could it be that Leliana was flirting with her? Was the mage imagining things because of her own selfish desires? There is no space for such things in either of their lives; the bard is simply being kind, she certainly treated the others in a similar manner. The mage endeavored not to dwell on these thoughts but found herself unable to resist.

Everything that could go wrong was. The Arl was sick, possibly even dead, the castle was inaccessible, and the village? The village was in disarray, with seasoned fighters barricaded in a building, a missing child, a blacksmith refusing aid to inexperienced farmers with weapons not conditioned to fight, and the chantry filled with refugees. The village appeared unwilling to help itself. Without uniting the people and fostering cooperation, their demise seemed inevitable. They needed to come together and agree to save themselves. “Someone has raised the dead, and this doesn’t seem like mere necromancy; there must be a demon lurking.” Kiera asserted. “We should split up our efforts and…”

Her words were swiftly interrupted by Alistair. “Split up!? Have you lost your mind? That is how people die. Have you ever read a horror novel? Undead? Group of young people? Ominous foreshadowing?”

“Oh, you’ve read a book? I'm astonished you possess the ability to read,” Morrigan quickly quipped.

“Firstly, this is not a horror novel. Secondly, it’s still daylight, so I believe we are safe. And thirdly, Sten, I don’t think he is young? we just don't fit the criteria” Kiera chuckled. Alistair attempted to speak but found no valid arguments to counter the elf. “We’re pressed for time. Sundown will be upon us quicker than we realize, and then this will be a horror story. There's much to do, especially since you agreed to find the kid, and well, that was your idea, so, you should do that.” Alistair grumbled and departed with Sten to search for the missing boy.

“We will gather supplies for the battle and gather any more information needed.” Leliana seized the mage's arm, leading her away from the other two women.

Kiera had been massaging her forehead in evident vexation. “Great, you two do that.” The other woman seemed preoccupied; the stress was palpable, and the constant squabbling must have taken its toll. Everyone needed a break from each other before the battle.

Amelia and Leliana traversed the town, employing their powers of persuasion to enlist Dwynn's support in the coming battle. After locating the missing boy and returning the sword, they pledged to search for the inebriated blacksmith's daughter. The village, though small, appeared strangely devoid of their comrades throughout the afternoon, leaving them as the sole pair to fulfill the planned tasks. Upon their return to the chantry to relay the good news to the militia, they encountered Alistair instructing the farmers in swordsmanship, with Sten standing by judgmentally.

“Oh! There you are. I’ve been wondering when you’d show up.” the blonde greeted them cheerfully.

“What happened with the kid?” inquired Amelia.

"Well, I started to head out looking for the kid when I realized I didn’t even know where to start looking, so I went back to the chantry to ask his sister where exactly he lived again. The boy was already with her, so I came out here to help.” Morrigan was right at times, pointing out how the man was an idiot, lovable but an idiot, nonetheless.

"Well," the sudden appearance of the elf caught the mage off guard. The other woman, small and possessing a rogue-like aura for a mage, displayed exceptional stealth. Amelia was convinced she must have been a crow in a former life. Her surprise was likely evident, perhaps due to the nearly audible gasp that escaped her, though one could never be certain. “Don’t freak out, it's just us, not the," she gestured with her hands, simulating magic, and uttered her next words like a specter in a tale, "walking dead." The elf chuckled before resuming her solemn demeanor. "Ser Perth is willing to assist but insists on seeking the Maker's blessings first, fearing dire consequences otherwise," she added with a roll of her eyes.

Kiera was an odd character; she often found herself agreeing to help people with seemingly absurd requests solely based on their beliefs. While she may have harbored reservations about the validity of certain matters, unlike Morrigan, she consistently set aside her personal opinions to offer aid. This quality intrigued the mage; with each act of kindness towards those in distress, she felt a deepening connection with Kiera. However, that admiration waned when Kiera suggested to Mother Hannah that she should pray harder for the soldiers. Sometimes you never knew what would come out of the little woman's mouth, and when it came to religion, she, well, she had her opinions.  "Please disregard my companion's remarks, Mother," Amelia interjected, positioning herself protectively in front of the elf, shielding her from view. Despite the elf's attempts to subtly nudge her aside, a discreet exchange of hand-slapping ensued, concealed from the Mother's scrutiny. "Given her Dalish background, some things get lost on her," Amelia explained as she turned her head, boring through the elf with her stern, icy glare, before returning to the Mother with a smile.

“Well, can’t you just tell him the Maker will watch over him? Morale is a powerful thing.”  Alistair suggested, advocating for instilling faith among the soldiers.

"Are you suggesting I propagate the notion that the Maker provides tangible protection? I cannot lie to them like this," the Mother responded with a gentle yet resolute tone.

 "Mother, if their belief brings them solace... faith holds profound influence as well," Amelia earnestly argued. After a brief moment of contemplation, Mother Hannah reluctantly agreed, entrusting Amelia with holy symbols to convey the soldiers' protection. With the preparations now complete, there remained little else to be done except await the onset of nightfall.

The undead descended upon a rolling cloud of viridescent mist. Kiera appeared unbothered by this eerie sight; perhaps with her studies of necromancy, such occurrences were commonplace to her. Or perhaps she possessed a remarkable ability to conceal her emotions. Regardless, she stood poised for battle. Amelia aspired to emulate Kiera's fearlessness, yet it seemed her facade was transparent to those around her. A gentle hand reached out, offering comfort as it rested on her shoulder. "The Maker has not finished with you yet," Leliana's voice was calming and sincere, instilling a sense of belief. Amelia acknowledged her with a nod as the skirmish commenced.

Just as they believed they were gaining ground at the gates, the square was breached, prompting them to abandon the soldiers and rush to the defense of the villagers. “Shit, shit, shit” Kiera repeated breathlessly as she sprinted down the hill, jumping from side to side, propelling herself ahead of the rest of the group. “None of those people can fight. If we don’t get there in time, they are going to fucking die.” The little elf leapt into the fray, casting a tempest storm across the battlefield. Her commanding voice startled the militia into action. "RETREAT, ARCHERS TO THE WALLS!" Before landing, her blades were unsheathed and buried in the chest of an undead foe. Morrigan gazed at the woman in disbelief. It was unclear if she wanted to hide how she felt about the mage, but if anyone had been paying attention, it was obvious she wanted to rip her out of that armor and take her right on the battlefield.

A sword interposed, shielding her from the undead's axe. “Watch yourself, Amell” Alistair admonished as he parried the enemy. “I was just starting to like you” With a swift shield bash, sending another adversary tumbling into a cluster of foes. Morrigan wasted no time in freezing a group in their tracks. Amelia raised her staff, unleashing a torrential downpour of fire upon the encroaching horde, obliterating them all.

"That's my girl!" Kiera's voice resonated across the battlefield. She darted through the melee, effortlessly dispatching enemies with her blades while simultaneously destroying everything with a ball of magic, prompting thoughts of where she acquired such formidable skills and whether she would teach the circle mage. Amelia continued to rain hellfire upon their foes, each enemy daring to approach her met with an arrow through the skull, as the rogue kept a vigilant watch over the mage. They battled through the night, nearing exhaustion. Sten seemed to be the only one with enough stamina to keep slashing as if it were his first swing. The Qunari was a powerhouse; with one sweep of his greatsword, ten of the dead were sent flying through the air.

The fog began to dissipate, revealing a scene of devastation with the undead scattered across the streets. Her body wanted to fall, and she yearned to rest, but there was no time for that, especially with the imminent danger emanating from the castle. The plan was to navigate through the secret passage, infiltrate the castle, and somehow eradicate the mysterious threat at its core. Timely enough, the Arl's wife, Isolde, arrived to shed light on the dire situation within the castle, where the undead originated. While the Arl was barely clinging to life after being poisoned, their son exhibited concerning symptoms of refusal to eat and lethargy. With suspicions pointing towards a malevolent mage as the perpetrator.

The situation was dire, and the elf agreed to help the woman. However, Kiera harbored a profound distrust towards the Arl's wife, displaying a weariness that seemed all-encompassing. Progressing through the dimly lit passage illuminated solely by Alistair's torch and the enchanting flames wielded by the other warden and herself, Morrigan broke the silence with a sharp observation. "You’re thinking so loud, I can almost hear it. Either spill or be quiet” she remarked.

Dryly, Kiera divulged her unsettling revelation, "She is harboring a demon, and that demon resides within her son."

Alistair's grumbled response was laced with belief. "That sounds definitely like something Isolde would do."

Inquisitive, Leliana sought clarification, "And how do you know this?"

“She originally said she had no idea what it was when she was talking to the Baan; then suddenly, she didn't want to piss 'it' off. What exactly is it?” The elf waved her hand in mockery. “Then her son is weird? He won't eat. There's an army of the dead looming about all at the same time? It all screams demon to me, and the kid? Seems like the source. And certainly, you cannot trust a noble.” Kiera expounded her words carrying an air of harsh truth colored by personal experiences of mistreatment as an elf in a society that often favored nobility.

Upon reaching a concealed wall that yielded to their determined push, the passage unveiled the dungeons, teeming with additional undead adversaries. From one of the cells, the terrified cries of a woman pierced the air. “I thought they only came out at night” Alistair whined, earning a scoff from Sten.

“Quit crying and kill them. They can’t come out at all if they are dead.” Sten retorted sharply. His demeanor was not unkind; he simply operated in absolutes. In the realm of the Qunari, there existed no shades of gray – tasks were either accomplished or faced with mortality. Amelia possessed limited knowledge of the Qun and its people, gained solely from a handful of tomes she encountered at the Circle and her brief acquaintance with the Qunari. Towering over her companions, she found herself dwarfed by his stature, a rare occurrence for one accustomed to being the tallest. Not only was he of imposing height, but his physical strength was unparalleled; she had scarcely encountered an individual of such magnitude. Despite his stern countenance, his striking lavender eyes captivated her, prompting her to wonder if his characteristics were typical of all Qunari or if Sten stood as an exception.

With the undead now, well, dead, the group approached the cell. To the mage's astonishment, it was not a woman confined within, but a man. "Jowen!" Amelia stepped forward, disbelief evident in her eyes. "You're alive?" Standing before her was her oldest friend. She had aided him in escaping the tower, and now, here he was, alive and undoubtedly still practicing the forbidden art of blood magic.

“Amelia! It’s really you. How are you here?”

She shifted uneasily, mustering the strength for her words. She was vexed; her dearest friend, the very reason she had become a Grey Warden, was before her. She had facilitated the escape of a blood mage, a decision that had nearly cost her life had Duncan not been present at the Circle.

"Because my only options were to join the Wardens or face death, Jowen. There was no other path after aiding the escape of a blood mage from the Circle." Her tone was icy; although the man appeared remorseful, it did little to appease the mage. She had helped him for love when he confessed to wanting to run away with the chantry sister, not because of his forbidden practices;  she never… she never would have. If she had known the full extent.

"Oh..." He lowered his gaze in silence.

Kiera asked Jowen about the allegations against him; he candidly confessed to them and explained the entire story, how, while evading the pursuit of the Templars, he was apprehended by Loghain, who subsequently tasked him with poisoning the Arl. Not only that, but he was also secretly educating Connor in the art of magic, much to the Arlessa's humiliation. The probability of Kiera's assessment being accurate increased, as did the elf's ire towards the Arlessa. “Her son having magic, humiliating? As if it was something he could control! I hate this ass-backward way of thinking everyone has here in the South. The more you fear something, the less you understand it, and the less you understand, the more dangerous it becomes; it's a cycle, an ugly cycle I'd never want to bring a child into a world like that.”

“It’s not so bad here in the south… “Amelia attempted to interject before being met with the elf's wrath, directed at her as if she were the imaginary Arlessa.

"Your perspective is skewed due to imprisonment and indoctrination you have endured since you were young. If you had the opportunity to learn freely, devoid of constraints and fear, with a deeper understanding…" She sighed and then continued, “Forget it, we have more important things to handle”

She noticed Morrigan watching the elf. She seemed proud that she had let Jowen free and openly stated her view on magic, which coincided with her own, and if Amelia was being truthful to herself, her own views as well. Throughout her formative years, she harbored animosity towards the Circle. As she matured, she grew accustomed to it, regarding it as an inevitable aspect of life. However, now that she has left, encountering new individuals and new ideas, her once naive perspectives no longer seem so childlike.

They navigated their way through the castle, almost running on empty, carving through the undead and demons along their path. Kiera, with her love for looting, thoroughly searched every room, disregarding any barriers in her way. “So, are we just robbing my childhood home blind now?” Alistair teased.

“We’re getting paid, is what we're doing. It's not robbery if we are doing them a service; we shall call it 'services paid?” the elf remarked with a sly grin. Undoubtedly, the woman had a fondness for acquiring treasures, though where she stashed them all remained a mystery. Alistair rolled his eyes at her actions, but deep down, he seemed rather amused by it all. He observed her as one would watch a playful kitten, his eyes filled with adoration. It appeared that Amelia was not the only one who took notice.

“Oh dear, Morrigan does not seem pleased,” Leliana whispered to the mage with a light chuckle. It was evident that Alistair, Kiera, who was often oblivious when consumed by her search for shiny objects, and Sten, who either did not notice or chose to ignore it, were the only ones unaware. Morrigan stood there, her piercing golden eyes fixed on the other warden. If looks could kill, poor Alistair would have perished on the spot. Slowly but surely, she was staking her claim on the other woman, and witnessing this unfold was quite intriguing.

“How long do you think it will take for her to admit her feelings?” Amelia inquired.

Leliana giggled, “Oh dear, Morrigan would never dare to do such a thing. She will simply be possessive from afar.”

Amelia couldn't help but join in the amusement, “Care to make a bet on it?”

Leliana's expression turned intrigued and mischievous, “I do enjoy a good bet.”

They opened the door to the main hall, and there he was, Conner, who had the Baan under blood magic, forcing him to dance. The boy stepped forward, his voice distorted. He was clearly possessed by a demon. "Ooh, I knew it!” The elf couldn’t contain herself; she never let an opportunity pass to make sure everyone knew she was right. She wasn’t having any of the boy's shenanigans, and he immediately sent his guards to attack. “They are under blood magic control. Hit them really hard on the head, do. not. kill. them.” Kiera yelled across the hall as she wrapped herself around one of the knights, punctuating her words as she bashed on his helmet with her pommel. Meanwhile, Amelia unleashed a chain of lightning at the men, shocking them into submission as they collapsed to the ground. “Oh, or do that. That works too," she remarked as she stood up, her hair emitting a faint wisp of smoke from the electric charge. It was truly remarkable how the woman had managed to survive for so long, given her recklessness.

"You're insane, you know that.” Amelia stated to the elf, who simply looked at her and smiled. It wasn’t her usual smile; no, it was far creepier. Amelia meant it as a jest, but perhaps the other woman was unhinged, or they were all simply fatigued. Amelia surveyed her surroundings, and the faces began to blur. She had never been so exhausted; it was as if it was never going to end.

To the astonishment of the Arlessa, Jowan made his entrance into the hall, despite supposedly being confined to the dungeon. Kiera remained resolute in her decision to liberate him, displaying a soft spot for apostates. The group deliberated on Connor's fate, with the Baan advocating for death as a merciful release, given that it was often the sole remedy for dealing with abominations. However, Jowan proposed an alternative: someone could venture into the Fade at the exact spot where he entered and confront the demon in its true form, albeit at the cost of their own life. Blood magic always exacted a steep price.

Amelia interjected, "There is always another way, Jowen. The Circle is just a day's journey away. With enough mages, we can recreate the same conditions. You do not always have to take the easy way out." The blood mage lowered his head in surrender. It was evident to him that she would never trust him again. He agreed to help them bide time to get the mages. He would do what he could to suppress Connor from unleashing more undead on the village. The Baan graciously offered them three rooms and a bath for rest and recovery before their departure to the Circle. The only problem was there were six people, which meant Allistair and Sten had to share a room and a bed because there was no way Morrigan was going to allow anyone to be alone with Kiera but her, and Leliana had already wrapped around Amelia's arm, claiming her as a roommate.

Her cheeks flushed, as she had not been this close to someone in a long time, let alone shared a bed. During her time in the Circle, she had harbored crushes on several initiates. Fraternization had always been prohibited, especially between mages and Chantry sisters. There had been one mage, however, Thora. they had been partnered to study together, then the studying turned into something more. Then, after a while Thora would sneak into her bed at night. They would kiss, fool around, and embrace one another until dawn when Thora would sneak back out before anyone woke. That was until Amelia found her up against a bookshelf with another in the back of the grand library.

Now, lying in bed with a beautiful woman, ironically a former initiate, she felt unsure of how to position herself, what was appropriate, and what was not. "What do you think they are up to?" pondered Leliana.

"Which they are you referring to?" Amelia chuckled. It was crucial to clarify, as each group could be engaged in entirely different activities. Otherwise, she might inadvertently suggest that Alistair and Sten were engaged in passionate kissing. The mere thought brought a small chuckle.

Leliana spoke; her voice low. “What were you thinking about that was silly?” She turned to look at the redhead who was smiling at her. The woman had already picked up that Amelia pretty much lived inside her head.

“It’s nothing, just something stupid," Leliana frowned, reaching out to touch Amelia's arm gently.

“Nothing is stupid. What's on your mind? You're always thinking something.” She withdrew her hand, tucking it under her cheek to get more comfortable, gazing at the mage. Amelia could have stared back into her beautiful blue eyes all day, as she seemed utterly captivating. She explained her thought process to the rogue, who burst into laughter. "Your mind wanders to intriguing places, my dear," she remarked, her face flushed with amusement. Leliana giggled, seeming to have pictured the scene for herself “That would be a sight, no?” The way her accent rolled off her tongue when she laughed through her words was breathtaking.

"Most likely, Sten is lying wide awake while Alistair kicks and snores all night, occasionally startling Sten with a scream," Amelia giggled uncontrollably, as did Leliana, who leaned in closer, hugging Amelia's arm. The contact made Amelia's heart race.

Leliana wiped her eyes, realizing she had been holding onto the mage's arm tightly, and pulled away, apologizing, "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," Amelia replied, perhaps a bit too quickly, not wanting the other woman to move; in fact, she desired her to draw nearer. “I didn't complain, did I? You don’t have to move if you don’t want to.” She mustered all her courage to speak, and she knew she shouldn’t feed into her desire, but something about this woman made her want to keep her close.

Leliana was taken aback but did not shy away from the invitation; instead, she embraced it, pulling herself closer to the mage, resting her head on her shoulder, hugging tighter than before. “You are so warm," her voice almost a purr. She paused for a moment as she traced lazy circles on the mage's arm. “Are you alright?”

"Hm?" Amelia turned to see the redhead looking up at her with innocent eyes.

 "Jowen was your friend, no? It must have been hard to see him again," she ventured.

"It was tough. He was my best friend," she sighed, ready to share her thoughts. "I'm just relieved he's alive. I don't know if that makes me a terrible person because he's a blood mage, but…” She paused for a moment, her voice almost hitching in her throat. "I don't want him dead," she confessed, feeling a sense of relief in being able to confide in someone.

"He was your friend; you knew all facets of him. Being a blood mage is just one aspect. You can still cherish the other parts of him," Leliana reassured her. She was right. His identity as a blood mage was just a fraction of who he was; there were other parts that she would continue to hold dear.

"Thank you," Amelia felt her body growing heavy, her arm beginning to go numb.

"For what?" Leliana yawned.

"For talking with me.” As her arm grew increasingly numb, she shifted underneath the woman, trying to free her arm. “Please, lift," Leliana relinquished her hold and began to move away. Amelia wrapped her arm around Leliana, signaling for her to come closer. "Come back?" The redhead smiled and nestled in the crook of her arm. She felt delicate next to the taller woman. Amelia sensed her relaxing beside her, her breathing growing heavy. Leliana drifted off to sleep as if she had been anticipating this moment all night. What would it hurt to embrace her desires even for a fleeting moment? Soon, it wasn't long before Amelia, too, succumbed to slumber.

Chapter Text

The Templar, The Demon, and the Wardrobe

Kiera sensed a gentle tickle caressing her nose repeatedly before swatting away the offender as she awoke. Inhaling deeply, she was greeted by a nose full of fur, and upon opening her eyes, she discovered a black cat slumbering perilously close to her face, its tail thrashing wildly as if disturbed from its rest. "Morrigan," the elf murmured to the cat's form. Slowly, the cat turned its head in irritation, revealing those unmistakable golden eyes that Kiera would know anywhere. Rising to its feet, the cat stretched, its mouth gaping in a massive yawn as it pressed its tiny paws into the elf's chest, extending its claws and kneading. "Ouch, tiny knives, Morrigan, you have tiny knives," she gently pushed the cat off her as it stretched along the edge of the bed, transforming seamlessly into the enchanting witch.

“Why must you disturb me? I was sleeping so peacefully.” she mused with her bare back to the woman. It was then that it dawned on Kiera that the woman before her was completely naked.  Attempting to conceal her embarrassment, she averted her gaze.

“You were suffocating me,” the elf remarked dryly. “Why were you sleeping on my face anyway? There's an entire bed.”

“Twas the warmest spot” Kiera could have sworn she detected a purr in the woman's tone.

“Well, next time, keep the knives to yourself.” She lay gazing up at the ceiling as she sensed the bed becoming lighter beside her.

The witch spoke. "I make no guarantees,” Morrigan rose, a chuckle escaping her lips. The unspoken promise of a next time; it seemed the woman was gradually breaking through the tough exterior of the witch. Morrigan leisurely started to redress, her garments neatly arranged on a chair. Kiera must have drifted off to sleep as soon as she nestled her freshly cleansed body in the crisp sheets because she had no memory of the prior night or how the woman had disrobed, a sight she wished she hadn't missed. It must have been a mesmerizing spectacle to witness the witch undress, as watching her get dressed was enticing beyond compare.

Morrigan's complexion, an alabaster reminiscent of a porcelain doll, bore the marks of a life lived fully, each scar weaving a tale of its own. The elf felt an irresistible urge to tenderly kiss each mark, tracing her lips over the expanse of the woman's body, though she struggled to suppress the desire that stirred within her. This challenge was amplified by the witch's knowing gaze, meeting Kiera's as she elegantly adorned herself, the fabric of her skirt gliding snugly over her form, accentuating the curve of her backside, allowing the large piece of flesh to bounce. Kiera seductively bit her lip, earning a soft chuckle from the witch before she exited the room, turning to give one last wink to the mage.  a mischievous grin was exchanged between them. However, Kiera couldn't resist a parting quip, “Don’t forget to slay the dragon, that yawn was a little rough.”  Morrigan responded with a simple gesture, flipping the elf off before taking her leave.

It had been a while since Kiera had slept in a proper bed; she felt rejuvenated and certainly didn’t want to get out of bed, but the Blight wasn’t going to stop itself. Reluctantly, She pulled herself out of bed and went through the routine of getting ready, making sure to slay her own dragon. She chuckled to herself at the little inside joke they had created. A faint smile tugged at her lips, a shared jest among companions. As she convened with the group in the grand hall, Sten appeared fatigued, Alistair surprisingly lively, engaging Amelia in animated conversation, and Leliana gazing at Amelia with a hint of admiration. The subtle orchestration of her plan seemed to be unfolding seamlessly. Amell deserved a taste of joy and the finer aspects of life, even if fleetingly. Then, there was Morrigan, a beguiling figure leaning against the wall lost in contemplation. Kiera found herself drawn to her, an inexplicable allure pulling her closer. “Well, we'd better get going," she interjected, "for we cannot simply materialize at the Circle." A soft smile graced the elf's lips as Morrigan rose, joining her nearby, staff in hand, causing a slight flinch from Kiera.

"You have trained her well, Morrigan," Sten remarked proudly.

Kiera raised her gaze to the Qunari, a spark of defiance in her eyes. “I am not a dog? you can't just train me.”

"You slumber alongside a canine in our camp, a trait peculiar to dogs, and obey your master's every command, proving your malleability.  I understand now that you are neither a man nor a woman, but a hound." he asserted matter-of-factly, as though unlocking a profound mystery of life.

Kiera stood momentarily dumbfounded, while Morrigan erupted in genuine laughter. “Come now, pet, much to do.” She declared, seizing the Warden by her coat collar and ushering her out of the castle.

They journeyed towards Lake Calenhad, the sole entrance and exit of the Circle, leaving no room for alternative escape routes from the prison. As they approached, Amelia's apprehension heightened. Leliana astutely sensed her unease and skillfully diverted her attention by delving into conversations about the Circle and fond memories. Amelia, oblivious to the tactics, became engrossed in sharing tales for hours, ranging from the appearance of the library to secret activities the other mages got into in the dark corners, to the real reason they all wear those robes, especially the men. The tales were quite scandalous. Upon arriving at the lake, they discovered that the Circle had been sealed off, with strict entry and exit restrictions, and the ferryman was replaced by a Templar guard.

“We don’t have time for this” Alistair groaned.

"Well, there's only so much we can do. Let us rest for a few hours; we have been traveling for an entire day. "Afterward, I will use my persuasive skills on the Templar to secure passage to the Circle," Kiera suggested with a cunning smile.

"You make it sound simple. How do you plan to persuade him?" Alistair inquired.

"That will depend on the information I gather from the inn and the Templar himself; I am not averse to resorting to blackmail," the elf replied, rubbing her hands together. She was known for her resourcefulness and determination to achieve her goals by any means necessary. There was always a loophole, and she was adept at finding it.

Leliana and Amelia disappeared. Kiera naturally assumed they went to nap together; the two women were absolutely adorable, and she really hoped something came of it. Sten had collapsed in the grass, while Morrigan remained elusive, possibly observing them in animal form. The thought gave Kiera a sense of security, a rare feeling for her when being watched by others.

Kiera sat at the bar of the small inn named "The Spoiled Princess," a name that seemed ironic given the establishment's run-down appearance.

Alistair joined her. “I'll have whatever she's having.” He smiled. The man was tired; he had been through a lot in recent weeks, and it was starting to take a toll on him.

"Are you all right?" she inquired, knowing he needed to talk. Alistair was always eager to converse, and she considered him a friend, a sentiment she had not experienced in a long time. Building relationships was difficult for her. Growing close to Alistair and Amelia had been surprisingly swift, likely due to their shared Warden background, but she cherished the connection, whatever it was.

They sat there drinking until they could no longer sit up straight, discussing Duncan and the Wardens. Alistair was in much better spirits than when he arrived. They both stumbled out of the inn together, with Kiera nearly tripping over Alistair's foot. Quickly, he caught her, pulling her close. From this angle, Kiera could see just how drunk the man was, with tears on his cheeks, a runny nose, and drool at the corner of his mouth. The man needed to rest. Kiera giggled and patted the man's chest. “Get some rest, buddy, we're going to need it.”

“Yeah, you're right” His words were slurred and barely audible. He played with the tip of one of Kiera's braids before leaving. The last thing Kiera remembered was walking around the side of the inn, noticing how the bush looked like a giant pillow and wondering if it felt like one too.

She was rudely awakened by a sharp jab in her ribs. Startled, she swiftly reached out, grasping the object before wrestling for control. Opening her eyes, she recognized Morrigan through the foliage. With a sigh of relief, she released the staff that had been prodding her. When it was suddenly jabbed right back into her. "Ouch, what was that for?" she inquired, wincing slightly.

“Get up! You've had your rest.” The woman's tone was tinged with impatience. Kiera, perplexed by the sudden reprimand, was at a loss as to what had transpired.

“Alright, all right, I'm up. Can you help me?” Kiera's request was made with a touch of gentleness. As she reached out her hand for help.

Morrigan, unimpressed, scoffed, swatting the other woman's hand with her staff, "You found yourself entangled in that bush; therefore, you can free yourself." With a dismissive gesture, she turned and strode away.

Crawling out of the bush, Kiera pulled herself upright, she pulled twigs out of her hair as she muttered to herself, "What crawled into her bedroll and died?"

As expected, she was able to convince the Templars to ferry them across. She didn’t even have to threaten the man. All seemed to be going well until Morrigan seemed to all but forget her existence. Usually, the witch would steal a fleeting glance at her, but she hadn't paid her any mind, perhaps she was stuck in her head or it was possible Kiera had done something to upset the witch, which seemed more likely. She couldn’t spend too much time dwelling on it, there were much more pressing matters, as they were a man down. The Mabari couldn’t come, so Sten stayed behind, plus Kiera was sure if he tried to get in the small boat, he’d be the straw that broke the halla's back.

Throughout the journey, Amelia impatiently tapped her foot. The Templar provided minimal information about the situation they were heading into, acknowledging his own uncertainty but indicating the severity of the circumstances. The Circle tower loomed ahead, defying her expectations of a simple, massive stone structure. Instead, she was greeted by a magnificent tower complex with smaller towers branching off, interconnected by delicate archways that she assumed served as bridges. The intricate carvings on each tower's crest left her in awe, realizing why the mages held such a strong attachment to their only home; it was truly breathtaking.

Upon reaching the entrance of the tower via the elevator, where they were to meet the Knight-Commander, Kiera noticed Amelia's discomfort and Morrigan's stoic expression, betrayed only by her tight grip on her staff. The atmosphere inside the grand entrance hall was foreboding. A wounded Templar lay on the floor, groaning in agony, while the rest appeared battle-worn. The absence of the mages was even more alarming. Speaking with Knight-Commander Greagoir, they were informed of the Circle's dire situation.

Amelia appeared on the verge of nausea. Kiera could only imagine the anguish she felt upon returning to her former home, now overrun by demons, with the likelihood that everyone she once knew was either dead or facing imminent peril. Greagoir disclosed that he had already requested the Right of Annulment, authorizing the purge of the entire tower. He tried to deny the group entry to save those inside. Kiera reminded him of their status as Grey Wardens, emphasizing the necessity of keeping the mages alive, a point he couldn't dispute. It was their asses if they went into the demon-infested tower. If they failed, the tower would be purged anyway. Greagoir had nothing to lose.

They entered the grand hall leading to the apprentice chambers, a threshold rarely crossed by mages as it isolates them from the outside world. With a deliberate pace, Amelia advanced, her gaze fixed on each lifeless mage. Kiera hastened to follow her friend, while the others trailed behind. "I am with you," whispered the elf discreetly, the words meant for her ears alone. The other mage reached out, tenderly squeezing the elf's hand in silent gratitude.

As they proceeded into the next chamber, a sense of relief washed over the other mage; there were survivors. Among them was a woman named Wynne, whom Amelia appeared to recognize, surrounded by a group of children who embraced her eagerly as she comforted them.

"Big sister, we missed you so much.”  “What is happening outside?”  “Are you here to aid us?” Inquired the children. Wynne gently ushered the children away from the still-shocked Amelia and proceeded to explain the situation.

The turmoil had been incited by a blood mage named Uldred, a lone survivor of Ostagar, who sought to seize control of the Circle - it's always a blood mage. Because nobody could simply refrain from blood magic, or perhaps there is some good kind of blood magic?  Kiera reined in her thoughts, realizing she had been distracted, as she knew that Wynne had demanded she be taken with the group, since she knows the tower best. She was drawn to Morrigan's voice. She was protesting the idea of even helping the “pathetic excuse for mages” because “They allow themselves to be corralled like cattle, mindless.” and “ Now their masters have chosen death for them, and I say let them have it.”

Kiera was taken aback by Morrigan's callousness, usually attributing it to her solitary upbringing and survival instincts. However, a nagging doubt crept in – there wasn’t room for weakness in Morrigan's eyes, and this thought made Kiera wonder if Morrigan had begun to perceive her as weak, hence her indifference?.

“This could have easily been you if circumstances were different” Amelia rebuked the witch sharply.

Morrigan launched into a tirade against the Circle, albeit with a flicker of comprehension in her voice midway through, pausing to regard the mage. It was evident to Kiera that beneath her facade of callousness, Morrigan harbored empathy, or perhaps it was the elf's wishful thinking and she really was just a heartless shrew.

“Do as you wish, I care not," she declared, crossing her arms and averting her gaze from the taller woman.

“Your generosity knows no bounds, Morrigan” Amelia retorted dryly.

Sensing the escalating tension, Kiera intervened before a confrontation ensued. Knowing the two women well, she anticipated that neither would back down. "And you are Wynne, correct?" she addressed with a knowing smile.  “Kiera, it's a pleasure to meet you. Let's go save this tower, huh?”

Wynne bestowed a warm smile upon the elf, her age becoming apparent to Kiera, who wondered if the woman could keep pace. Wynne instructed the younger mages to watch over the children. She assumed a maternal role, a comforting sight for Kiera, something she had never truly experienced. As they prepared to depart, she quipped to Wynne, “Try not to throw out your back.” A faint chuckle from Morrigan reached Kiera's ears, prompting Wynne to retort playfully. With the barrier dismantled, they proceeded to a majestic library.

Amelia's expression fell upon witnessing its disheveled state, a stark contrast to its former beauty. In an instant, they were attacked by repulsive, pus-ridden creatures that bore a semblance to humans and emitted a foul stench. They made quick work of the grotesque creatures and continued through the library.

They walked through the library, with piles of burned books around them and bodies laid out across the tables. One mage in particular had been impaled on the chandelier. Kiera stared at the rows and rows of books, with thousands of volumes on bookshelves at least twenty feet high, requiring ladders to reach the highest shelves.  “there’s so much knowledge stored here.” her eyes glistened in wonder. She hadn’t seen a library this big since the necropolis, but there was nothing in comparison to that place.

“Most of the information is censored; they don’t want you to truly learn anything of value," Amelia lamented.

Kiera was baffled. The concept of such censorship was abhorrent. What was the purpose of knowledge if it was restricted? This was a major concern she held with her people's teachings. If individuals were given the opportunity to expand their knowledge, they could genuinely progress, yet the decisions of those who deemed themselves as authorities hindered the advancement of others. With a gesture of exasperation, she gestured towards the library, deriding it as she spun slowly. “So much useless knowledge.” A slight chuckle escaped the fire mage; it was a welcome sight. Kiera sensed her companion's pain and took solace in being able to bring a smile to her face.

They proceeded further into the tower, battling demons and abominations along the way. Amid the chaos, they encountered a peculiar man who remained unscathed. Amelia identified him as Owain, his sole concern being the prohibition of entry into his stockroom as he needed to clean, which only fueled Kiera's desire to explore it, hoping for valuable treasures as she had a penchant for loot. Leaving Owain behind, they advanced to the next chamber, where a man and a woman were engaged in a heated debate, their voices echoing nearby.

They followed the voices and encountered two blood mages, with the woman slitting her wrist and sending a blast of unnatural fire at the group. A spirit barrier was quickly placed around Kiera, though it was not needed as Amelia retaliated with an even bigger blast, knocking back the two mages. Kiera turned her head just in time to see Morrigan releasing the barrier, and Kiera silently thanked the witch but received a cold shoulder in response. “Well, she doesn’t want me dead,” she thought to herself.

Amelia slowly approached the blood mage as the fire died around them, the man still burning slightly. “Please don’t kill me," the woman couldn’t even look up at the warden to beg for her life, it was rather pathetic. Her face was splattered with blood, her strawberry blonde hair ran down the middle of her back, and the ends were also stained in blood.

“Th…Thora, what have you done.” Amelia exclaimed in utter shock and disgust.

The blood mage snapped her head at the voice to look at the woman towering above her, and her mouth fell open. “Amelia.” She sat up to her knees, almost as if in prayer. “I can't believe It’s you, you're alive.”

“What did you do.” Amelia reiterated. It seemed she didn't care to have a reunion with this woman. She wanted answers, and this was a serious side to the fire mage.

“I.. Uldred told us that Loghain would stand with us if we just took over the circle.” She stammered.

Amelia simply stared at her, a deep anger brewing within the mage; her body was now visibly tense. Kiera could feel it from where she was; the magic around the woman became thicker. ”We had to do something. Things had to change. Don't you remember what it was like living here? The Templars watching… always watching” The woman's voice hitched in her throat as if trying to hold back a sob.

“You think I don't remember just how much I hated it here?” She knelt to look the woman in the eye. “I never would have turned to forbidden magic, Thora.”

Thora hung her head. “You got your chance to leave, you got out, Amelia.”  She looked up, making eye contact with the woman. She reached out, trying to caress her face, but Amelia moved her head from the touch, and the woman withdrew her hand in defeat.

“What you’ve done here will make things worse for future mages.”

“Someone always has to make the first step," the blood mage said as Wynne began to chastise her, but Kiera was too stuck on her words to hear. For what it was worth, the blood mage was right; sometimes someone had to do something insane to get results.

“You won't earn any sympathy from me,” Amelia said dryly; she spoke to this woman so coldly. “I could never kill you, Thora, but I will not help you.” The mage stood up.

“Thank you," the blood mage said, following suit. She looked up at Amelia “I will never forget you” She placed her hand on Amelia’s forearm before stepping closer. "And I will always love you.”  She trailed her hand off the other woman as she started to walk away. Amelia turned her head away from the blood mage, making it clear she was done with their reunion. The mage sighed and looked over to Leliana, who had been quiet and out of the way throughout most of the mission, stealthily placing arrows at just the right time.

They all began to file out of the room when Kiera noticed Leliana grasp the mage's hand to draw her into a much-needed embrace; witnessing the intimate bond between the two women brought the Warden happiness, as she had been quietly championing their relationship, knowing that they were perfect for each other. Proceeding through the senior quarters, they encountered a whimpering mage who had barricaded himself in a wardrobe. It was a pathetic sight; the mage had a clear opportunity to flee, yet he chose to retreat back into his closet, likely to weep in anguish further. Some people couldn't be helped; if he wished to cry alone, then so be it.

When they entered the First Enchanter's chambers, it appeared deserted. The absence of a body left room for the possibility that he might still be alive. The two women from the Circle engaged in discussions that revolved around topics Kiera found uninteresting.  She discreetly slipped away, adept at remaining unnoticed. Rarely did she attract attention; the only gaze she detected was a pair of resplendent golden eyes fixed upon her, which she didn’t mind, as Morrigan seemed to subtly encourage her love for pilfering. Carrying a bag with seemingly infinite capacity, it was one of her favorite creations, the only challenge lay in remembering the contents stored within, as rummaging through it often resulted in wild results. After taking stock of her loot, she proceeded to a chest that she effortlessly picked the lock of; within, she uncovered a dark grimoire, its cover seemingly bound in thick leather that gave off an almost flesh-like texture. Adorning the cover was the intricate branding of a leafless tree, which she promptly concealed before seamlessly rejoining the group.

The only remaining path on this floor led upwards into the grand hall, a vast space adorned with statues of Andraste that loomed taller than the shelves of the library. The walls were intricately carved with elaborate floral motifs; Kiera could envision how, in its prime, the room would have exuded a certain beauty. A heavy silence enveloped them, prompting Wynne to remark on its ominous nature. The room was strewn with lifeless bodies, drained of vitality, a sight that Kiera recognized immediately.

“Oh, fenhedis.” She drew her blades and positioned herself in front of the witch. Since meeting the woman, it had become a habit she performed without much thought. She was determined to protect the woman if anything threatened the witch; they would have to go through her first.

“What’s happening?” Alistair quipped as groans reverberated through the chamber, and the inert forms began to stir. “Never mind," he nearly panicked as he unsheathed his sword and board. They effortlessly cleaved through the undead until an arcane horror materialized, indicating that the blood mage overseeing the tower was sparing no effort to safeguard his goal. Kiera launched herself at the creature as it unleashed a torrent of flames from above. With precision, she began cutting through its tough exterior while thrusting an electrified orb into its core, causing the creature to convulse from side to side. Unexpectedly, the creature caught her off guard by hurling a searing fire blast, momentarily blinding her. In a swift motion, it ensnared the elf in its eerie elongated fingers, progressively tightening its grip, and causing her body to audibly crack under the pressure. Initially, a sense of relief washed over her, only to be swiftly replaced by a searing agony before the creature's touch turned icy. Without the ability to move, trapped in a frozen grip, Kiera relinquished her blades, raising her hands and commanding a pillar of lightning to pierce through the monster, shattering it into countless fragments and sending her crashing to the ground.

Morrigan approached the woman with determination, her footsteps resounding against the cold, unforgiving stone. With a forceful grip, she pulled the woman's collar, scrutinizing the mage with a mix of anger and concern. "How have you managed to survive for so long with such recklessness?" Her words dripped with frustration, yet an underlying thread of apprehension was unmistakable.

The elf attempted a placating smile, but Morrigan dismissed her with a wave of her hand, striding away with lingering resentment. Despite her outward display of ire, her actions spoke volumes, revealing a depth of care that Kiera did not miss.

The party ascended to the next level, drawing closer to their objective at the pinnacle of the mage's tower. Kiera meticulously scoured every corner, vanquishing all foes in sight. Upon entering a chamber, they encountered a desire demon captivating a Templar with her alluring charm. The Templar was ensnared by the demon's illusion of a tranquil life as a married couple with children, oblivious to the superficiality of such desires. The discussion between Morrigan and the demon revolved around the deceptive nature of desire and the illusory promises it held. Morrigan perceived the scenario as unfavorable, highlighting the bleak fate that awaited those who sought marriage. It was yet another point of agreement between the two women. Attempting to reason with the demon proved futile, as she was as deluded as the man under her spell, convinced of the bliss they shared.

While she found the situation intriguing, the notion of allowing them to depart tugged at her conscience. Nevertheless, her principles forbade such an act, considering the man's lack of autonomy rendered him a slave. Kiera detested the abhorrent practice of slavery, believing it preferable to die than to live in chains. Following the demise of the demon and the Templar, Kiera meticulously scoured the chamber for treasures, uncovering two exquisite bottles of spirits. She tucked them away quietly. If anything, she certainly would need them later.

The chambers within the tower seemed like an intricate labyrinth leading nowhere. Kiera was uncertain if they were making progress. Upon opening another door, she encountered another abomination, yet this one was unique; it spoke, its voice soft, melancholic, and soothing. The demon spoke of a profound slumber, causing her body to grow heavy. A deep desire for rest overcame her. Despite the demon's allure, she resisted, her head throbbing with a fiery intensity behind her eyes, fueling her anger. As she pushed back, the room seemed to press down upon her, as if gravity itself was working against her. Her hearing began to fade when she caught Alastair's words, "A little nap wouldn’t hurt, right?”

Morrigan's voice, raspy and fatigued, “I will not sleep on a floor sticky with blood.”

Her sight began to fade, and all she could perceive was the demon's taunt, "The world will go on without you.”

Chapter Text

Two Mabari and a Qunari

Sten observed as the creatures he had heard many stories about, known for their ferocious nature, howl in despair as the wardens were escorted to the Circle Tower. The ebony beast settled down in the dirt with an air of resignation, as if awaiting its master's return. In contrast, the brown animal sat calmly, observing its companion. They were two sides of the same coin, yet distinctly different. Approaching the beasts, Sten was immediately struck by a repugnant fishy odor permeating the air. "What is that foul smell?" he exclaimed, wrinkling his nose at the stench emanating from the lake, hoping no one dared to consume anything from it.

"Let us depart," he stated firmly. "Lamenting here is a waste of time." The brown mabari acknowledged his command, receiving a pat on the head, causing her stubby tail to wag with contentment. "Well done, Grace," he praised. It was a fitting name for her. On the other hand, the confused elf had not bestowed a name upon her beast, merely referring to it as "Stinky." The hound perked up at the mention of its moniker. Gesturing for the beast to follow, the stubborn mabari hesitated, seemingly convinced that waiting for its master was the sole worthwhile pursuit of its time. The brown creature turned and kicked dirt at its companion, prompting the other to rise and shake off its filth.

Walking along the shoreline with the hounds, Sten contemplated the various ways they could be utilized in battle, strategizing around these thoughts as he awaited the warden's return. Stinky paused to dig something out of a bush, emerging with a sizable branch that it playfully used to tap Sten's shins, sparking further ideas for combat tactics. "Perhaps equipping them with swords could be advantageous," he mused aloud as Grace elegantly strolled, attentively exploring her surroundings.

The hound persistently targeted Sten's shins with the branch, eliciting a mild annoyance from him. Taking the branch from the animal, he flung it into the field. The hound dashed after it with remarkable speed, retrieving it eagerly and returning it to Sten. "Shall I throw it once more?" he inquired, to which the mabari leaped joyfully, barking in excitement. After several rounds of this game, Sten grew weary. "Your endurance is commendable, but I tire of this. We have tasks to attend to," he announced, met with a whine of protest from the mabari. "No, absolutely not," the hound continued to protest. "Very well, but this shall be the final time, I assure you." With a stronger throw this time, Sten demonstrated how even mundane activities could enhance one's physical prowess.

Grace returned; her paws soiled from her explorations. Proudly dropping a dusty pouch at Sten's feet, he discovered it contained a wealth of gold and silver. "Ah, splendid! We need not hunt for dinner now." Seemingly interpreting the words "hunt" and "dinner," Stinky immediately plunged into the fetid lake water and emerged triumphantly with a massive fish, offering it to Sten. The beast had been malodorous before, but now, combined with the lake's odor, the stench was truly unbearable. Undoubtedly, the hound could use this scent to its advantage against foes on the battlefield.

As the day swiftly faded and the lake's skies darkened, hues of purple and pink danced above the water. Sten admired its beauty, reminiscent of a painting. Making their way to an inn, Sten instructed the hounds to wait outside. The brown beast gracefully settled down, crossing its front paws, while the other began to howl once more, a stark contrast between its fearsome appearance and pitiful demeanor. Towering over the human occupants, Sten entered the inn, drawing silent gazes. A giant among men, he barely squeezed through the door due to his broad, muscular frame. Reflecting on how the humans might react if he possessed horns like his fellow Qunari, he quickly procured some boar meat, water, and the strongest liquor available at the inn, though not to his preference.

Sten scoured the surroundings for a suitable location to set up camp, all the while contemplating the mysterious events unfolding within the tower. It seemed highly probable that the Bas Saarebas confined within had staged a rebellion; otherwise, why would the entire prison be on lockdown? The most viable course of action would be to cleanse the tower, assuming the wardens possessed the insight to make such a decision.

Establishing a makeshift camp on a hill away from the docks beneath a stone overhang that seemed to have once been part of a bridge lost to time, Sten cooked the meat and served it to the hounds. Providing them with bowls of water, they ate quietly as the flames flickered. Stinky gazed intently at Sten, prompting him to ask, "What do you want now?" The hound merely barked, as if attempting to communicate. "I do not understand you," Sten remarked, taking a bite of the boar's leg. The mabari whined in response. "...Are you trying to tell me something about a child in a well?" he inquired, met with a quizzical look from the hound. "No?" Sten shook his head. "Never mind then." The hound resumed gnawing on its meal, its teeth crunching the bone.

Sten sat by the crackling fire, the mabari resting peacefully beside him after their meal. As the night grew darker, he pondered the events of the day and the unique bond he shared with their loyal companions. Grace nuzzled against his leg, seeking comfort in his presence, while Stinky lay sprawled out, emitting occasional snores that echoed through the quiet night. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the rugged landscape, creating a sense of tranquility amidst the unknown dangers that lurked beyond the campsite.

Sten's mind wandered as he immersed himself in the tranquility of the night, the crackling fire providing a comforting backdrop to his thoughts. The hounds, now resting peacefully by his side. Grace's gentle demeanor complemented Stinky's rugged strength, forming a harmonious balance that mirrored their warden's strategic approach to challenges.

Sten took out his sword, examining its blade in the fire's light. Grace lifted her head, her keen eyes fixed on the weapon. Sten noticed her curiosity and handed her the sword's hilt, allowing her to sniff and inspect it. The brown hound seemed to understand the significance of the weapon, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

Sten placed the sword next to his bedroll and retrieved from his bag a rolled canvas and an assortment of paints. Carefully unfurling the canvas, he secured it to his easel, a hidden treasure he always kept close. With a commanding view of the lake, he admired how the moonlight gracefully caressed the water's surface. The sight before him was nothing short of exquisite; an irresistible urge to immortalize it through his art enveloped him.

In the distance, a lone wolf howled, its mournful cry echoing through the night. Sten glanced at the hounds, their ears perked up, listening intently. He knew that their instincts were sharp, a valuable asset in the unpredictable world they navigated. The stars shimmered in the night sky, casting a gentle radiance over the campsite.

Sten settled down for the evening, his companions close by, a sense of unity and trust enveloping them. As the fire dwindled, creating dancing shadows on the ancient stone ledge, Sten continued his artwork while the mabari's slumbered peacefully beside him, their rhythmic breathing serving as a soothing backdrop. The brush glided effortlessly over the canvas, bringing to life a vivid tapestry of colors that gradually unfolded before him.

As the moon cast its ethereal glow over the campsite, Sten's gaze shifted to the distant horizon, where the silhouette of the Circle Tower loomed ominously. The possible events of the day weighed heavily on his mind, stirring a sense of urgency within him. The locked tower hinted at a deeper unrest within the tower, a mystery that demanded unraveling. He knew the wardens would see the task through no matter the outcome.

Chapter Text

Sloths Labyrinth

Kiera awoke, her sight hazy, her body sore and leaden. As she sat up, she cradled her head. "Fenhedis," she murmured, attempting to focus her gaze on the unfamiliar surroundings that enveloped her. Despite her efforts to clear her vision, the cloudiness persisted. Rising to her feet, she found herself in a vast courtyard reminiscent of Ostagar, yet distinctly different; a place unknown to her. The intricately carved stone floor formed mesmerizing geometric patterns, while the towering broken pillars seemed to stretch towards the sky. A grand staircase beckoned her forward.

Approaching the staircase, Kiera discerned three figures gradually coming into view. Upon reaching them, she recognized them as wardens, with Duncan standing at the back. A wave of disbelief washed over her; Duncan had perished at Ostagar alongside the majority of the army. Addressing the man, she realized he was not Duncan; something was amiss. "Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Kiera blurted out before fully processing her thoughts. The man chuckled, his voice bearing no resemblance to the esteemed warden she knew. A sense of unease settled within her as he revealed they were in Weisshaupt, further adding to her confusion. Being in Weisshaupt seemed implausible, her mind felt foggy, hindering her ability to recollect her memories.

The man, resembling Duncan, tried to persuade her that the Blight had been vanquished and the Archdemon slain, but Kiera knew deep down that this couldn't be true. She didn't know much right now, but she was sure of this. If that was the case, then where was everyone, where was…. That woman, golden eyes? Who was she, and why did she plague Kiera’s mind? She couldn’t remember the woman's name, and it filled the elf with dread. Her eyes started to burn, and her head began to ache, but her sole focus was on that woman. As memories flooded her mind, the mage recalled the name - Morrigan. The darkspawn were far from eradicated; this was a deception. Confronting the false Warden for his deceit, Kiera invoked his wrath.

Upon overcoming the Wardens, a portal materialized. The Fade, undoubtedly. It appeared different from her previous experiences. Entering the portal through meditation yielded entirely distinct outcomes than being forced in like this. Kiera realized she needed to navigate her way out of this realm, and it struck her that she was not alone when she succumbed to slumber. Morrigan, she remembered staring into those golden eyes before succumbing to darkness. She had to find her. Trusting her instincts and knowledge of the Fade, Kiera took a deep breath and stepped through the portal.

Immediately, she heard Morrigan's voice rolling through the air. Hastily, she ascended a gentle incline to witness the captivating witch engaged in a heated dispute with Flemeth. Morrigan had adamantly dismissed the notion that the other woman was her mother; she perceived her as nothing more than a spirit of the Fade endeavoring to detain her, akin to Duncan's efforts. Nevertheless, this apparition paled in comparison to the elder witch. Dismissing the spirit with a wave of her hand, Morrigan refused to be deceived, earning a slap. Morrigan laughed “That’s more like it, but 'tis too little too late." Suddenly, Morrigan took notice of the presence of the elf, prompting an immediate demand for the vexatious spirit to be expelled from her sight. The witch didn't have to ask her twice. This was the most the woman had spoken to her all day, and she'd take anything she could get.

“All right, I'm coming," she smiled."

“Good, kill it, and we can be off together.” Together, they swiftly vanquished the false Flemeth. As Morrigan approached the other mage, words poised on her lips, her form began to radiate and fade. "No, no, not again," she lamented. Extending her hand towards the other woman, just as Kiera attempted to grasp her, Morrigan dissipated into thin air. She vanished, leaving Kiera filled with apprehension. Urgency gripped her as she realized she must locate Morrigan promptly. The same portal opened behind her, and she immediately jumped through it without hesitation.

She tumbled through the portal, landing with a thud on the unforgiving ground. “Heyyyyy, there you are. I was just thinking about you.” Alistair exclaimed, his face beaming with joy as he stood beside a woman and children. He excitedly shared the news of reuniting with his long-lost sister and her children, painting a picture of a blissful family life now that Kiera had joined them. It made sense; this is what the man wanted. He'd never had a family. Sure, the Arl raised him like his own, but he gave him up so easily for the Arlessa when he was merely a boy. A real family wouldn’t do that; you don't abandon your own. Kiera understood that well.

The Warden, with his trusting and simplistic nature, readily believed the deception; his innocence was a quality that drew Kiera to him. She found his naive perspective refreshing, often shedding new light on situations. Despite his kindness and compassion, he struggled to see through the facade presented to him. When Kiera tried to warn him, he dismissed her concerns as mere odd behavior on her part.

Frustrated, Kiera implored Alistair to reconsider, to think critically about his current situation. As realization slowly dawned on him, he began to comprehend the truth, much to the dismay of the deceitful spirit manipulating him.“ Something doesn’t feel right. I have to go.” He said, angering the false sister, and she began to attack. Though he felt a pang of sorrow in striking down the illusion of his sister, he was baffled by how he did not see through the spirit's lies. He began to blame himself for being so ignorant. Kiera tried to explain to her friend that the Fade plays tricks on the mind and, being a normal human with no magic, it was not far-fetched that he would be fooled. Just then, Alistair started to panic as he began to fade from view. “Hey, wait, where are you going? Don't leave me!” His eyes pierced through the elf; the man, a powerful warrior, was panicking.

She had to do something because what she was doing simply wasn’t working; she had found two of her companions, only to be met with nothing. She needed Amelia and needed her immediately. She focused on her; it worked when she thought of the witch, and it worked for Alistair, it had to work on the other woman. She needed her to place their heads together, as whenever Kiera was stuck, she always knew the other woman could help. The portal reappeared, and she swiftly entered it. The surroundings came into focus, revealing the fire mage standing before Wynne, who was fading away like their other companions. "Wait, what is happening?" were Wynne's last words before vanishing completely.

"Damn it, not again," the mage muttered in frustration. Kiera hastened to the other woman, who was astonished to see her and relieved that she was coherent. She embraced the elf tightly, causing Kiera's legs to dangle. "I am so glad to see you; they just keep disappearing, and I don't know what to do.”

Kiera struggled to breathe in the woman's grip, realizing how strong she was. She pushed against her, trying to break free. "Unhand me," she pleaded as she was dropped to the ground.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to," Amelia's voice trembled as if she were a child facing punishment.

Kiera quickly wrapped her arms around the taller woman's waist and returned the hug. “Stop being so sorry all the time. "She took in a deep breath and smiled at the mage. “I just couldn’t breathe. It’s been happening to me too. I lost Morrigan and Alistair.”

The fire mage gently embraced her, planting a small kiss on the top of her head. It seems that the harder we try, the more things go awry." Her tone was solemn, reflecting the truth. From the outset, the situation had spiraled out of control. What was meant to be a simple mission to seek the Arl's aid had turned into a chaotic ordeal in the Fade. The women released each other. "We have to find them. I must find Leliana," she whispered.

"We need to locate the demon in charge of this realm. That is our way out. We must concentrate and track it down," Kiera asserted. It was evident that the mind held power in this place, and they could use it to their advantage. If she could locate her companions through this method, there was no reason why she could not identify the mastermind behind this sloth's nightmare.

“What do you need me to do?” Amelia asked, and Kiera explained her plan, and Amelia quickly followed suit. The two women sat on the ground, faced together. Their eyes met. “Ready?” The brunette said, earning a nod from the other woman. They closed their eyes and meditated on the energy governing the realm. Swiftly, their minds navigated through the labyrinth to its center. The portal materialized once more. The women rose and stood before it.

“Let’s find our people.”  the elf declared, resolute in confronting whatever lay ahead. Encountering the sloth demon, they were informed that if they returned quietly, they would be sent back to their starting point with an enhanced and more joyous existence. Kiera promptly declined, unmoved by the demon's attempts to entice her with a life alongside Morrigan, shielded from Templar pursuits. A life in the wilds, searching for knowledge and ancient magic, a true aspiration of hers. She adamantly refused any semblance of falsehood, insisting only the genuine presence of Morrigan would suffice. “I shall forge my own path to happiness, thank you.”

“Can’t you think of someone other than yourself” the demon sought to reprimand her. Turning to Amelia, he inquired, “What of her happiness, hm? You could ascend to become the next First Enchanter overseeing a mage school, a sanctuary where children could learn and thrive, a life of fulfillment for all mages.” Amelia's deepest desire proved unexpected. Contrary to what Kiera had assumed, she longed not to escape the Circle but to reform it into a liberated school for mages, free from Chantry influence. The notion was quite appealing, akin to the system in Tevinter; thus, why not in Ferelden? The nation's ass backwardness pained Kiera as she witnessed the oppression.

"That's not enough. I would be trapped here, while the mages I wish to protect remain imprisoned. That is not a life,” she looked longingly at the elf. “To be enslaved is not a life” With a mutual understanding, they readied themselves for combat against the demon. Drawing their weapons, they exchanged a final nod and a knowing smile before the demon transformed into a towering ogre.

“Well, shit,” Kiera remarked playfully as a blizzard descended upon the demon, followed by a barrage of arrows. Their comrades emerged, prepared to join the fray. The battle was grueling; the demon proved to be a formidable adversary. It took the collective effort of all to defeat the creature. As Kiera maneuvered behind the demon to strike, she was immediately horse-kicked into a tree. Dazed by pain, she felt herself being propped into a seated position. Morrigan stood before her, a flicker of concern in her eyes that shifted to relief when Kiera offered a smile.

“Get up!” Morrigan commanded. At that moment, Alistair soared through the air, delivering the decisive blow to the demon ogre. A burst of flame erupted, unveiling a rage demon in its molten form, spewing fire in all directions.

Alistair scrambled away from the scorching demon, exclaiming, “Run away! Hot! Hot! Hot!” Morrigan scoffed at the Warden and conjured another blizzard to quell the demon's flames, allowing the group to approach. She chided the Warden for his timidity. Each time they believed the demon vanquished; it regenerated into a lesser form.

’’Tis never-ending?” Morrigan pondered aloud. The demon launched a fireball at the witch as if it were tired of hearing her speak. Reacting swiftly, Kiera intercepted the blast with her enchanted blade, a weapon she had unearthed in an Arlathan ruin, imbued with potent magic she had gradually unlocked over the years. Crafted from a mysterious metal believed to have celestial origins, the blade was unlike any other.

Finally, the demon assumed its true form, signaling Kiera's moment to strike. She lunged towards the demon, leaping into the air and plunging her blade into the creature's neck. Amelia appeared in front of her, the powerful fire mage having leapt at the same time, propelling herself off the ground with her staff before coming down on top of the demon with a fiery explosion, searing a glyph into the ground. Together, the two women vanquished the demon. As Kiera withdrew her blade, her gaze met Amelia's ice-blue eyes. The woman was remarkable, stirring something within the elf, an attraction she had not previously acknowledged, whether to the woman herself or her power. Regardless, this burgeoning sentiment needed to be restrained; it could not be allowed to flourish.

“Be more careful," Morrigan's irate voice, cold against her neck, startled the woman, causing every hair on her body to stand on end.

“Fenhedis! Morrigan, I'm going to get you a bell!”  The witch dryly chuckled before trailing her fingers down the Warden’s back. “Let us proceed, shall we? I grow weary of this place.” As swiftly as the contact came, it dissipated. Her focus returned to the other Warden, who was being embraced by Leliana. Her chest ached, and she couldn't quite comprehend why. A smile escaped her as the portal reappeared.

Kiera opened her eyes; her body ached, and she couldn't determine how long she had been asleep on the cold stone floor of the Circle tower. Alistair groaned. “Nothing like a brush with death to, well, make you not like death. "The man rose, stretching his body, every bone cracking and popping. “Well, at least we managed to catch a nap.” he quipped. Amelia shook her head at the man as Leliana clung to her side; whatever transpired in the Fade, it evidently brought the two women closer. On the floor lay the abomination that had trapped them in the Fade, a mage entirely possessed by the Sloth demon, resting upon a heap of bodies. Kiera swiftly searched the demon and the individuals nearby, discovering a scroll.

“The Litany of Andralla,” Wynne pondered. "It is reputed to halt demons and mind-controlling blood magic.”

’Tis useful indeed in a tower full of blood mages and demons” Morrigan remarked with a roll of her eyes.

The group proceeded onward, for their time in the Circle was, as Morrigan had pointed out previously, never-ending. Kiera felt as though they were merely traversing in circles; each chamber they advanced through harbored more demons, more blood mages, and even drakes? Because why wouldn't the Circle mages possess a chamber filled with drakes. The mage was prepared to strike her own head against the stone, yearning for an end to this quest. Eventually, they arrived at a chamber with a Templar ensnared in a barrier. Amelia approached the man promptly. “This trick again? I know what you are. It won't work. I will stay strong” the Templar began to kneel in prayer.

“Cullen? Cullen, you need to snap out of it. Don't you recognize me?”

The Templar started to sway in his prayer, beseeching for the deceptions to cease; he remained steadfast in his belief that he had remained strong while all others succumbed to temptations. He gazed up at Amelia with tears in his eyes, his upper lip torn at the corner.  “They had to delve deep into my thoughts as they are now tempting me with the one thing I’ve always wanted yet could not have, a Templar and a mage it can never be. I am tired of these cruel jokes… these tricks… these…“ the man choked back a sob and intensified his prayers. Amelia was taken aback by his words. It was evident she was unaware of his sentiments. It was almost painful to witness. Kiera couldn't help but feel pity for the man.

"Cullen, I am not a trick. I am...”

The man interrupted her as he rose. He stood slightly taller than Amelia, a rare sight. “If I close my eyes, you will be gone."  He tightly shut his eyes before cautiously peering through. “Why are you still here, but it has always worked before? I close my eyes, and they leave, but you are still here.” The man was confused.

Amelia reassured him of her reality and stepped closer. He could scarcely believe his eyes. They sparkled with wonder as he inquired how she could possibly be alive. She recounted briefly how they survived the tower, and the man reciprocated with his own account of the horrors endured. All he sought was Uldred and the mages' demise. Cullen urged them to exterminate every mage remaining in the tower, as they had not witnessed the horrors he had faced; this ordeal had left him resentful towards all mages, a pathetic and stereotypical response from one who did not comprehend magic. The growing theme seemed to be that one bad blood mage ruins the bunch.

Amelia retorted sharply at the man, “But I too am a mage, Cullen do you wish me dead as well?”

He retorted, “Of course not! You were not there. You were not exposed to the blood magic.!” He persisted once more that everyone must perish, but Amelia was resolute. She appeared bewildered and ashamed by the Templar's words. It appeared that the man she once knew was no longer recognizable; trauma had contorted him into a man consumed by hatred. As they continued to debate, Kiera reached her limit. Finally, she stepped forth, signaling for the rest of the group to follow her when Cullen interjected, "You should fear the maleficar."

The mage chuckled at the man, "I do not fear maleficarum; they should fear me." She ascended to the final floor of the tower to confront Uldred.

The group encountered the remaining mages, and the scene they stumbled upon was truly dreadful. In the center of the room stood a figure unmistakably Uldred. The surviving mages were bound, with one unfortunate soul kneeling before him. It was evident that this man had been subjected to Uldred's cruel torments, as his tear-filled eyes reluctantly accepted Uldred's twisted "gifts" that transformed him into a grotesque monstrosity. Amelia was left in stunned disbelief at the sight of her fellow mages in such a horrifying state. Uldred embodied the epitome of malevolence, resembling the very essence of a blood mage; tall, gaunt, and bald, his visage unnaturally wrinkled with a prominent, crooked nose. “Ah, look what we have here. An intruder. I bid you welcome. Care to join in our… revels?” His voice dripped with malice, grating against Kiera's senses like a blade scraping against fine porcelain.

“Ah, look what we have here, another mage abusing his power.” Kiera taunted the blood mage. Uldred, with a tone bordering on indifference, reprimanded the elf for extinguishing his "servants." Individuals, he argued, “were more suited to servitude under a master than grappling with the challenges of independence.” The urge to slit the man's throat in that moment was strong within her, yet her relentless curiosity suppressed the primal instincts she yearned to comprehend the man's rationale. What impelled someone to incite such chaos? The man persisted in his rant about the satisfaction derived from corrupting the Circle mages, particularly those who “were oh so stubborn” He even boasted of having ensnared the First Enchanter, transforming him into a mindless slave.

Unbeknownst to him, the First Enchanter orchestrated a cunning facade, preserving a fragment of his sanity; evidently, the man possessed remarkable mental fortitude. He divulged to the Warden Uldred's sinister scheme to amass an army and eradicate every Templar. The blood mage chuckled at the First Enchanter's astuteness; he almost seemed impressed until he dismissively addressed the elder mage, “That’s enough out of you, Irving” He turned back to face the Warden, staring into her with his cold eyes. “He'll serve me, as will you.”

The elven woman chuckled; her demeanor tinged with malice. "I am no one's slave."

“You think I will just let you leave this tower when you side with the Templars?” The man's tone dripped with contempt. "You are a thorn in my side, and I must remove you before you fester.”

Her laughter deepened. "Oh, you can certainly try to get rid of me," the man derided her laughter. "End your existence? Squander all that potential? Your innate power, bolstered by the might of a demon. I can enhance that - I can bestow upon you strength and a new existence."

“And lose my good looks so I can be,“ the woman paused, quoting with her fingers ‘powerful’" she laughed again. "Absolutely not, what is all that power if I'm just a big puss-filled abomination? Sounds like a shit deal if I ever heard one”

“I don’t think your opinion matters. Fight if you must, but it will not matter” The blood mage swiftly transformed into a colossal pride demon. If Kiera never encountered another demon, she would not be bothered, as she had her fill. Uldred attempted to subjugate the mages in the chamber through blood magic, yet each endeavor was thwarted by the Litany, provoking a scream-like roar from the demon with every failure. Arrows and spells assailed the demon as Alistair and Kiera relentlessly attacked, with Kiera wielding magic at every opportunity. Ultimately, Uldred fell rather effortlessly; Kiera couldn't help but feel it was too simple, prompting her to cautiously scan her surroundings for an ambush that never materialized.

The First Enchanter appeared weary. He expressed his gratitude to the group for rescuing the tower, or what remained of it, and led them back to the Templars to inform them of their success, fearing the imminent threat of the Right of Annulment. He humbly requested the Wardens' assistance in descending the steps, as he was utterly drained and battered, cursing the person who made the decision to house the Circle within a tower.

Upon reaching Greagior, Cullen had already returned. It became evident that with the demise of the blood mage, all that he had conjured, including the protective barrier, had dissipated, as anticipated. Cullen insisted on the execution of the mages, convinced that no risks should be taken with blood mages. His rigid perspective, fixated on absolutes and devoid of nuance, was characteristic of narrow-mindedness. The Knight-Commander intervened, asserting his authority and reprimanding Cullen. Surprisingly, Greagior, having developed a strong bond with the older mage Irving, chose to support him, a decision that took Kiera by surprise but brought her solace. She knew it would bring relief to Amelia, knowing that the tower had not been completely lost and that many had survived. As the Knight-Commander prepared to search the tower for any remaining survivors, he bade the group farewell. Kiera elucidated to the First Enchanter the grave predicament in Redcliffe and the imminent clash with the darkspawn. It was crucial that they secured the assistance of the mages in both endeavors. The First Enchanter promptly acquiesced, for how could he not, especially in light of the Wardens' valiant rescue of the entire Circle from the threat of the Right of Annulment. He declared their departure at dawn, following a period of much-needed rest.

Chapter Text

The Apostates Grimoire and Leliana's Tale

Morrigan paced across the stone floor. The First Enchanter had consented to aid them in rescuing the child in Redcliffe. She was impressed by the Wardens' accomplishment in securing this assistance, as well as their decision to enlist the mages' help in the impending battle against the darkspawn. Irving allocated individual rooms for each of them for the night. A brief respite was much needed by all, yet Morrigan found sleep elusive. The persistent presence of the elf, whom she couldn't remain angry with, occupied her thoughts. She felt compelled to confront the woman, to question her motives, or even outright accuse her. Though neither had laid claim on the other, the unspoken tension between them was palpable, unless it was all a figment of her imagination.

A knock resounded at the door, almost as if the mere thought of the elf had summoned her to Morrigan's doorstep. The mage had a peculiar way of making her presence known. "Morrigan," the woman's voice was subdued, tinged with nervousness.

“Go away, I do not wish to speak to you right now.” Morrigan's tone was resolute, though inwardly conflicted. 'Tis not what she truly wanted, but was simply a test, a test to see if the woman would retreat or persist. A moment of silence ensued, causing Morrigan to question her own perception of the woman. Then, the sound of the woman sliding down the door reached her ears.

"I'm not leaving. If you do not wish to talk, then so be it, but I shall remain here until you change your mind." Morrigan couldn't help but smile. She should have anticipated this; the elf was not one to give up so quickly, and Morrigan was not one to make things easy. Everything was a trial, and thus far, the mage had been passing, with only minor hiccups along the way.

With a swift motion, Morrigan flung the door open, causing the elf to stumble backward into the room. Clearly inebriated, Morrigan struggled to muster irritation towards the woman, given the taxing day they had all endured. "I hope you brought some to share," Morrigan remarked as Kiera, with a bright smile, presented a sizable bottle, her gilded canines gleaming. Accepting the bottle gracefully, Morrigan took a few swigs, feeling the fiery liquid course through her veins. Settling on the bed, she watched as the elf gazed at her in admiration. "Are you just going to lie there, or will you join me?"

The elf quickly rolled herself to her feet. In battle, the elf was nimble, and she was adorned in armor, but right now, Morrigan had never seen the elf move so quickly. Free of restrictions the woman would make a great assassin; she was quick and quiet until she opened that beautiful rebellious mouth of hers. She made her way to the witch, a goofy smile on her face. She hopped up onto the bed, and her little legs dangled. She quickly tucked them under her and stared at Morrigan with those captivating eyes of hers. “So, are you going to tell me why you're mad at me, or am I going to have to keep going through everything in detail to figure it out on my own?”

Morrigan had almost forgotten her supposed resentment towards the elf. Taking another sip, the potent alcohol began to take effect. She could beat around the bush, but after subjecting the woman to a day of torment, she yearned for the truth. “What is going on between you and the other Warden?" Morrigan said intently, handing the bottle back to the other woman.

Kiera looked confused. “Amelia?” She took a swig from the bottle.

“The fool!” Morrigan said dryly.

The alcohol caught in the woman's throat as she choked, exclaiming, "Alistair?" Hastily wiping her face with a handkerchief, she regarded Morrigan with reddened eyes, a fiery glint from the alcohol-induced mirth. "Morrigan... Have you lost your mind?" she questioned, almost offended.

“Possibly, but I haven’t lost my eyes.” Morrigan retorted, observing the woman's bewildered expression. "I witnessed your interaction with him outside the inn. There is undoubtedly an attraction between you two, or am I mistaken?"

Leaning in, the elf's smile turned sly. “So, you do watch me?”

A flush crept up Morrigan's cheeks. "'Tis beside the point; let us not digress," she redirected firmly.

Sitting up, the other mage met Morrigan's gaze earnestly. “Morrigan, I assure you there is and never will be anything between Alistair and me besides friendship.”  Her smile conveyed sincerity, dispelling Morrigan's doubts. This woman was proving to be more complex than she had initially perceived, prompting a swift change of subject to avoid further introspection.

“I have a thought.” Morrigan segued, her tone now tinged with optimism.

Ever quick-witted, the elf couldn't resist a jest. "Just the one?" Kiera couldn’t help herself when she saw low-hanging fruit.

Mocking the woman, Morrigan retorted, “Such wit! Truly, you and Mother should form a troupe of jesters and tour the countryside” 'Twas odd how alike they were, and it irritated the witch to her core. Rolling her eyes playfully, she delved into the topic of her mother's elusive grimoire, its lost secrets, and potential retrieval from the Circle, noting the elf's insatiable thirst for knowledge, a quality they both shared.

“And what is in it for me.?” the elf quipped.

“My eternal gratitude, and at the very least it shall enable me to help you more. If that is not enough, you can certainly dictate other rewards.” The words rolled off her tongue before she could stop them. The other woman bit her lip in lustful thought; 'twas clear something nefarious was going on behind her eyes before they quickly returned to normal. Retrieving the tome from her bag, she presented it to Morrigan as if plucked from thin air.

“How? I had never spoken of this to you… how fortunate that you found it on your own. You have my thanks; I will begin studying it immediately.”Morrigan marveled at the book's sudden appearance, her admiration for the woman deepening. “I do not intend to squander this moment to learn things Flemeth didn't wish me to know; this shall be interesting” Morrigan smiled. She immediately opened the book and began flipping through the pages. The elf sat quietly for a moment, watching her. Usually, this would irritate the witch, but 'twas rather comforting.

The subtle shift of the bed signaled the woman's impending departure. “One last thing before I go” she began, drawing closer to Morrigan, their eyes meeting at the same level for the first time.

Leaning in, a spark of desire flickered in her voice. "What is this?" She teased, “Tis a rather odd discussion you seem to desire, leaning in so closely” Morrigan felt the woman's breath on her lips, a tantalizing proximity that quickened her pulse.

"Humor me," Kiera implored, her tone heavy with longing.

Morrigan reciprocated the intimacy, their lips mere inches apart. “Oh, it's humor you desire, I didn't realize comedy had anything to do with this.” she quipped, feeling the electric charge between them.

"Fine, I suppose I'll go” the woman teased, inching away. 

Morrigan refused to let the moment slip away. “Nonsense, you will not get away that easily.” With a decisive gesture, she enveloped the redhead in an embrace, their lips meeting in a long-awaited union. They were soft and felt like home. The kiss was tender yet purposeful, a silent acknowledgment of their unspoken desires. As they parted, a shared smile lingered on their lips.

“Oh, I almost forgot” she pulled back, reaching into her pants pocket. She pulled out a small velvet pouch. "I found this, and I thought it would look nice with your others.” She pulled out a beautiful silver chain necklace with various overlapping chains. She had never been given a gift before, even one so small. 'Twas beautiful.

“I.. Thank you. 'Tis beautiful.” The woman smiled, handing it to the witch “Are you not going to put it on me?” The elf’s face lit up, and she had the necklace around Morrigan's neck before she could even finish her sentence. 'Twas the only way Morrigan knew how to express her gratitude by allowing the elf to adorn her with the necklace.

"Well, we must get up early; you should rest. Try not to read all night," Kiera jested, aware of Morrigan's love for late-night studies. Grasping the elf's hand, their rings chiming together, Morrigan rose to her feet. Gazing down at the smaller woman, she was struck by her beauty at that moment. Seizing the opportunity, she captured the woman's lips once more in a lingering kiss.

"Goodnight."

Leliana cleansed herself of the day's battle in the tranquil waters of the Circle's bath. Reflecting on the events that had transpired, she couldn't help but think of poor Amelia. The rogue acknowledged her own past traumas and recognized the profound pain that the mage was currently enduring. It was evident that Amelia needed companionship, and the warden should not be left alone that night. Leliana took a moment to unwind, reclining in the comforting bathwater. As drowsiness overcame her, she suddenly found herself struggling in the icy water. Regaining her composure, she remembered the distressed mage, calling out for Amelia. Glancing at the window, she was relieved to see that darkness still enveloped the outside world. There was still time.

The rogue emerged from the bath with grace, droplets of water cascading down her form as she reached for the towel to dry herself. Clad in fresh attire, she decided to venture towards Amelia's chamber. Journeying through the dimly illuminated corridor, she passed the chambers of her fellow companions. A plush black feline materialized from the shadows, meowing persistently as it halted by a door. Leliana observed as the cat clawed at the door, seeking entry. As she attempted to bypass the feline, it darted in front of her, playfully swatting at her feet, causing her to startle. "By the Maker’s grace!" she exclaimed. The cat sauntered back to the door, leisurely scratching against it before emitting another meow. “Do you desire entry into this room?” The cat fixed her with its piercing golden gaze, its tail twitching in annoyance. Leliana resolved to grant the cat access to the chamber. What harm could it do, truly? It was a preferable alternative to the cat persisting in attacking her feet.

A few doors down were Amelia's chambers. Pausing momentarily, she pondered whether to announce her presence or simply enter. Engulfed in her internal debate, time seemed to slip away. Abruptly, the door swung open before her, revealing the imposing figure of the tall mage. Without her armor, she exuded a striking femininity, her dark chocolate-colored hair flowing elegantly around her shoulders. Her eyes resembled an icy expanse of profound sorrow, and her visage bore traces of recent tears shed. Observing this, Leliana felt a surge of empathy. "Might I have permission to enter?" she inquired with a hopeful tone. The mage wordlessly acquiesced, stepping aside to welcome the bard into her sanctuary. As soon as the door closed with a soft click, Leliana enveloped the mage in a comforting embrace. The mage, in turn, leaned into the hug, drawing Leliana closer. At that moment, the bard sensed the mage's breathing gradually steadying.

 “I'm sorry, you had to see me like this. I know it's not attractive” Amelia expressed herself with a touch of regret. Leliana perceived from the mage's manner that she had endured significant pain. At that moment, Leliana found herself drawn to the mage's display of raw emotion, revealing a glimpse of her true self hidden from the world. Recognizing that it was not the appropriate time to engage in trivial arguments on whether or not the mage was attractive, Leliana chose to remain silent in response to the mage's self-deprecating words.

“Come now, we both need rest.” She pulled away from the taller woman who almost seemed scared to let her go. She trailed her hand from the other woman's back down her arm, interlocking their hands as she pulled the mage to the bed. Leliana climbed in, awaiting the other woman to follow suit. She stood there momentarily.

“You are so beautiful," the words were softly spoken, aimed directly at Leliana's ears, causing her cheeks to flush with warmth. Hearing such sentiments from Amelia stirred a passionate fire within her. It was more than a mere dalliance; it held a depth beyond words. The enchantress gracefully joined her in bed, and Leliana, in turn, drew her close, embracing the woman. Amelia tensed immediately. “There is no need to hold me,” she murmured, her tone tinged with apprehension.

Leliana elegantly ran her slender fingers through her lustrous raven locks. “We all deserve affection, no?” Prepared for a debate, Leliana was surprised when the other woman acquiesced, enfolding her in a comforting embrace, the mage's strong arm encircling her waist snugly. They lingered in silence, Leliana's delicate touch caressing the mage's scalp with gentle strokes. After a while, she attempted to initiate conversation, “I didn’t know you had cats in the circle.”

The other woman gazed curiously at the rogue. ”We don’t have cats in the Circle?" she pondered, finding it peculiar that a cat had appeared in the hallway. Her train of thought was abruptly halted by Amelia's sudden words. "Leliana," Amelia spoke, her voice faltering as she cleared her throat. Rising slightly to meet the rogue's gaze, she continued, "I truly value your presence." A sensation of warmth surged within the bard's chest. Amelia, a formidable and compassionate figure, evoked in Leliana a deep desire to shield her from any harm, yet the weight of knowing she could not fully alleviate the mage's suffering filled her with a deep sadness. Leliana couldn't fathom the agony of witnessing one's home razed to the ground, and friends slaughtered in such a brutal manner.

“If circumstances allow, I shall always be here to offer you, my support.” Amelia reclined into the embrace of the rogue, expressing gratitude for her visit and revealing her initial intention to seek out the other woman before finding her at the doorstep. “It seems we were both thinking of one another. I was worried about you and wanted to check on you. I hope that is alright.” Leliana expressed with optimism.

"It's more than all right. Today… Today was awful” The mage recounted her emotions upon entering the tower, reminiscing on the agony she endured, the pain Amelia felt when Thora pulled her manipulative stunt. Leliana was aware of the fact that the other woman had been a past love interest of the mage, making it a challenging encounter. She could empathize with this situation all too well, knowing she would soon need the warden's assistance in a similar confrontation with her own former love. They delved into their emotions of losing each other in the Fade. It appeared that everything Leliana experienced, Amelia seemed to echo. Leliana had never felt this connected to anyone before. Their words gradually faded into silence.

Leliana smiled as she continued to play with the mage's hair. “Have I ever told you I like the way you wear your hair?"

The Warden laughed. "My hair? "No, I don’t believe you have. It really does whatever it wants if I don’t braid it, but thank you.” She confided in the warden about her belief that her hair was perfectly suited to her as she idly twirled it. Delving into the intricacies of Orlesian hair fashion, she reminisced about a time when feathers were all the rage. She recounted a peculiar anecdote about Lady Elise, who whimsically transformed her hair into a hybrid of a bird's nest and an aviary, complete with live birds nestled within. Realizing she had veered into rambling, she promptly apologized, attributing her candidness to the sense of comfort she felt in the other woman's presence, free from any hint of judgment. The mage smiled up at her in wonder. “Well, I actually like it when you ramble. It keeps me out of my own head.” Amelia chuckled.

“You see, this is what I mean. You're such a pleasure to talk to. I haven't felt this close to anyone in a long time. I really enjoy your company.” She confessed.

The other woman's demeanor shifted. “And I appreciate your company as well, Leliana.” The sound of her name spoken by the mage was akin to a melodious tune to her ears. A soft laugh escaped Amelia as she cast a coy grin towards the bard, captivating Leliana in return. She was resolute in pursuing this connection, wherever it may lead, at the right moment. “We ought to rest. We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow.”  Leliana stated with unwavering resolve. Pressing a gentle kiss upon the mage's forehead, she settled into slumber. The weight of Amelia upon her was a comforting presence, inducing a sense of tranquility and security in the rogue. The soothing effect of the other woman's presence swiftly lulled her into a peaceful slumber.

Chapter Text

The Goldraven

When they finally stepped off the dingy little boat back onto the dock, Alistair finally took in a breath. “The smell just doesn’t get any better, does it?” His nose began to wrinkle, his face contorting in further disgust. “Why is it getting worse?” A black figure leapt through the air, knocking Kiera to the ground. The smell was so thick you could nearly slice it.

“Fenhedis, Stinky. What did you get into?" the woman remarked. Morrigan did her best to hold back a gag but failed; she quickly walked away, mumbling something about how “could she ever expect to be kissed again when she allows her putrid beast to tongue her lips.” Alistair couldn’t help but watch the elf; she was so beautiful, he wouldn’t mind sharing her lips with the dog. His face flushed. He has had a hard time holding back thoughts of the other Warden but the longer he’s known her, the harder it gets, especially seeing her like this. "So cute,” he thought to himself.

They set out with the mages in tow and barely made it halfway back to Redcliffe when they were ambushed. Alistair truly thought the woman needed help. Turned out that the ambush was a simple ruse cooked up by a crow assassin, who had been sent by Loghain himself. He was pretty, like a woman. Alistair hadn’t seen a man so delicate before, so soft-looking. He anticipated the group was going to kill him and was surprised when Kiera wanted to have a conversation. It was rather funny seeing him quickly change his demeanor after the elf offered to torture him for information. Not that she would do something like that, at least Alistair believed she wouldn’t.

 Alistair and, clearly, Morrigan who looked like she wanted to break her staff over the assassin's head, could not believe what came from the crow's mouth, the fact that one could be so bold. Alistair had always been taught to be a gentleman, so when the elf called Kiera a “deadly sex goddess” his mouth fell open. Kiera laughed at the man and accepted his offer to join them on the condition that when she was done with him, she would allow him to walk away and live. Everyone calls him the idiot, but if anything, Kiera was the fool here “What?! You're taking the assassin with us now? Does that really seem like a good idea?” He blurted.

Morrigan shared his weariness to bring the assassin in; she made a good point to tell the group to check their food and drink from now on. Is this what they had to deal with now? Possible poisoning, constantly looking over their shoulders? Alistair's anxiety began to grow.

Right near where they had been ambushed, they stopped at an old bridge called Sulcher's Pass to rest for a moment and heal, where they encountered a merchant who offered them a golem control rod free of charge. They just had to go to this village called Honnleath to find it, which was completely out of their way. Kiera asked no questions, practically snatching it out of the man's hands as her eyes lit with excitement.

They returned to Redcliffe, and in good time. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful day, if you ignored the looming darkspawn threat and the demon child and the ailing Arl. Unfortunately for the mabari, they had to wait in the courtyard as Stinky's stench was so overwhelming that Isolde would not allow them inside. Sten opted to stay behind. He didn't seem to care much for magic, and he really enjoyed the dogs. The village was still standing, apparently much to the wardens' surprise, as Jowen made good on his word. The Circle mages wasted no time setting up and getting all the lyrium ready, the only problem was that only one mage could go. Amelia stepped in before anyone else could speak, which earned a push from Kiera. They were like sisters, always fighting about little things, this time being who would enter the Fade. You would assume neither would want to after their recent Fade experience, but not these two.

Amelia lay on the table in the dining hall. Her head was propped by an elegant throw pillow. The tassels waved as the magic swirled in the air around them. She took a deep breath as the mages stood by, doing swirly arm things. They stood there watching in silence. “Sooooo, is this it?” He asked, assuming there would be more flair, but this was boring. Morrigan rolled her eyes and walked off, muttering. Alistair was so used to the woman that a lot of what she said just disappeared into the air before it ever reached his ears. He took up a post near his friend to keep an eye on her while she was under the mage's spell.

Leliana sat steadfast by the mage as she held her hand; she really was such a good friend. Kiera placed her hand on the rogue's shoulder before giving her a nod, then followed Morrigan out the door. The two of them seemed to be spending a lot of time together, and Alistair couldn’t seem to figure out why, as they really had nothing in common. Morrigan was a crotchety bog witch who lured men to their deaths with her feminine wiles; thankfully, Kiera wasn’t a man, so the chances of Morrigan luring her were slim, unless she used blood magic. Alistair's mind continued to run wild until Kiera stepped back into view. Maker, she was beautiful; her small hands cupped a piping hot cup of tea and set it in front of Leliana. Watching the woman take care of those around her made the Warden fill with fondness for the elf; she could be so motherly at times, always concerned if everyone was alright, doing things for everyone, getting what they needed.

Alistair watched as the mages whirled magic around Amelia; the swirls of blues and purples were pleasant, and the magic echoed through the room with a soft “thum” reverberating in his ears, it was almost tranquil. His eyes began to feel heavy, his body began to slouch into the chair, and his breathing deepened…

He was startled awake by a cup breaking on the ground; his eyes darted around the room. Amelia was awake and had knocked Leliana’s tea on the ground, or maybe the bard threw it, he couldn’t tell. A weight was lifted off of him; he was thankful to see the woman alive, as he had been worried that something bad would happen, for with magic, anything could and probably would go wrong. He stood, stretching his back, and a loud crack echoed through his armor; he laughed at himself as he made his way to the Warden. “Hey, you alright? Did it work? Did y…”

She cut him off as she rubbed her head. “I'm fine, but not right now Al, my brain is on fire” He at first was a little hurt but quickly brushed it off as he walked away from the two women “She called me Al” he giggled to himself. They had become close enough that he had earned a nickname; he had never had many friends and he was glad to call the mage one.

Alistair walked down a long hallway adorned with weapons, shields, and tapestries. He could overhear a servant commenting to another that someone had pilfered the entire vault during the attack. “Kiera” he groaned. It had her name written all over it; the sneaky little elf really did rob his childhood home blind. He was going to find the elf and give her a piece of his mind. “That woman, that little, sneaky… elf thief” Just as he began to pout, there she was. Kiera stood on the balcony that marked the hallway's midpoint; it had the most beautiful view of the courtyard, which probably looked worse for wear at the moment. She leaned on a table, writing smoothly across the parchment, the sun beaming down on her, making her freckles more vibrant. A large raven stood next to her. He approached her slowly, watching her write a message intently. “Whatcha got there?”

 “A message to Bodhan: I need him to pack up the camp as we will be headed out.” She said as she continued to write. She quickly signed her name before rolling the paper, tying it up, and sealing it with wax. She attached the message to the raven's ankle.

“Is that Morrigan” He asked as he stared intently at the bird.

Kiera looked at him as if he were crazy or had grown a third head. “Obviously not," she said, as if it were obvious. The woman turned into a raven, for the Maker's sake; she could be anywhere at any time. “Though that is a good idea” her lips curled into a half-smile. She really was beautiful, and for a moment, he got lost staring at her lips, forgetting what they were talking about.

He came to when he noticed the elf snapping her fingers up in his face. “You’re adorable from down there.” apparently this wasn’t the thing to say to the woman, as she immediately punched him in the chest.

“Have you not heard a word I’ve said? I know you can’t be tired; you slept the entire night” Entire night? But it was still daytime. He couldn’t have slept through the whole night, could he? He definitely could have. Another hit, right in the armor, it stung and rippled through his chest. The woman was small but mighty. “Alistair, you need to pay attention to me," she said, her tone growing more irate.

“I have been” The woman looked as if she were going to smack him, making him flinch immediately. Noticing this, she backed off quickly and sighed.

“I will not repeat myself again. We are leaving for Honnleath. If there is a golem there, as we will need it. Then we are going to get to Denerim and follow the lead I had gotten in Lothering about a man named Genetivi, to get the exact location of the Urn of Sacred Ashes.”

“And why are we going to get this urn?” He asked, now interested in the conversation.

“Oh? But I thought you were paying attention?” She rubbed her face in irritation as she began to speak again. “The Arl is sick, we need to take ourselves” She held out one hand and made a walking motion with the other on top. “Up the mountain to the temple at the tip top and get the ashes of a dead woman to magically cure the Arl, we have no idea exactly where the temple is, and I don’t want to walk in circles knee-deep in snow, lost in the Frostback Mountains, got it? Great.” She rubbed the bird's head and sent it on its way.

“Where did you even get the bird”

“I’ve had them the entire time.”

The man was even more confused. He had never seen the bird before, now he’s hearing there were multiple? “Them? What do you mean them?”

If looks could kill, Kiera’s eyes were like daggers. “Yes, them. They are a mating pair. One with me and one back at camp, Or do I need to explain how that works?”

“I, umm, don't need explanations on, umm… that.” he paused. He could feel his face burning as he averted his gaze. Kiera stood staring at him for a moment in silence, and when she finally spoke, Alistair thought he was going to die.

“Holy shit, Alistair, have you never?” She asked, holding back a laugh.

He was filled with embarrassment. Of course, he had never. He was brought up proper, to respect a woman and to… to love her. “Never? Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?” This was not a conversation he anticipated having right now. He was certain his heart was going to pound out of his chest.”

“Had sex, Alistair” She just came right out and said it, like it was nothing, meant nothing

“Ohhh, so that’s what we're talking about.” He had to flip this around somehow. He couldn’t be the only one in the hot seat. “Well, if you really want to know, you first.”

“Yes, I have.” She stared at him intently, waiting for his answer. For some reason, he expected the other woman to say she had never lain with anyone either. He immediately started running through his mind, who was it, how was it, how many. “I am waiting” her voice snapped him back. Her head was tilted, and now peeking up at him. She was so cute like this; he just wanted to pull her in close and hold her, to kiss her.

“Well, alright, I'll play along” he sighed. “I myself have not had the pleasure.” his tone dropped. He wasn’t proud to be a virgin; he was rather embarrassed, actually. “Not that I haven’t thought about it, of course.” He met her gaze as she began to giggle.

“That’s cute. I had wondered, growing up in the Chantry… all that repression.”

“Cute!? Hmm…well, hearing that from a beautiful woman does make me feel much luckier.” He paused for a moment, staring at her lips. "I'll say that”

Kiera pulled back from him, her body stiffened. “Well, that's where your luck ends," she laughed, her smile so bright and charming he almost didn't notice his soul being crushed. The woman patted his shoulder and walked off as he watched her longingly. A loud caw drew his attention to the sky when something plopped with force on Alistair's chest, splattering him in the face and prompting him to wipe it immediately. He pulled his hand back to look at it and realized he had been pooped on; a bird had literally shat on him. He made eye contact with the raven; its eyes were as bright as the sun. It cawed as if it were laughing as it flew away. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh. Stupid bird.” If the situation couldn’t get any worse.

They met up with the dwarves who had their camp in tow, ready to head to Honnerath to find this golem. Really, there wasn’t anything you could do to stop her; she practically skipped the entire way there, ahead of everyone. Sten and Zevran walked together with the dogs, chatting about Maker knows what, and Leliana and Amelia stayed side by side, Leliana talking her ear off about anything and everything. The mage didn’t seem to mind, though. Bodhan and Sandal allowed Wynne to ride in the wagon, and it was a peaceful journey for once.

Alistair kept up the rear. A raspy voice appeared behind him, almost making him jump from his armor. “You shall stay away from what is mine if you know what is good for you” Morrigan practically appeared out of thin air behind him.

“Makers breath! What is wrong with you!” He said, trying to catch his breath. He stopped to look at the woman, allowing the rest of the party to walk ahead. “What are you talking about? I haven’t messed with any of your things” he said, puzzled.

“Kiera. You continue to step where you are not wanted or needed. You will abandon all notion that you and she will ever be. I have already made my stake.” Her voice was proud and condescending.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone” he retorted in disbelief.

Morrigan heard his words and spoke again. “She has chosen to spend her time with me. You are getting in the way of that. Do you understand?” He stood there in silence. He didn't understand anything. She chose Morrigan? When did this happen, and how had he not noticed? Was the witch playing a game on him? He had so many questions, yet the witch didn't give him a chance to answer. “I will not tell you again” She slowly started to walk away from him, her gaze fixed on his own as she turned into a wolf. She let out a low growl as she bared her teeth at him and took off down the path. She meant what she said, and he had no idea what the witch would do to him if he didn't heed her warning.

They found a nice spot to set up camp near the village. Sten and Zevran opted to stay behind. The mabari's were a little more reluctant about it, but everyone was not needed for this; it was a simple trip to get a golem. Wynne requested that she be allowed to wash Stinky, as his stench filled the entire camp. The elf had no time to answer before Morrigan had chimed in, almost demanding the “old woman” to remove the stench. They gathered their equipment and headed towards the village.

Entering Honneleath was a horror story. Bodies hung from light posts as a warning, and the village was littered with darkspawn that they cleared without issue. Leliana stayed close to Amelia, protecting her fiercely. When the last darkspawn fell, the rogue practically ran to the Circle mage, her hand trailing across the woman's back. She stared at her worriedly.

The merchant didn't lie, there had been a golem in the Villiage and it stood right in the center, its arms spread open as it was ready to catch something and crush it. Kiera approached it with such childlike wonder, her eyes wide and she circled it animatedly checking it over completely “Oh look at you, left to weather the elements, covered in grime and bird droppings.” her voice was melancholic as if this thing were alive and had feelings, then she hugged it. Alistair about came out of his skin, he was certain the golem would come alive and crush the small elf. “Don't you worry, beautiful, we will get you out of here and cleaned up.”

The control rod didn't seem to work, but after listening to the magic nonsense Kiera and Morrigan seemed to go on about back and forth like children making a discovery, there was apparently a way they could get it to work. Kiera held out her hand and closed her eyes, it seemed like she was searching for something. “there” they immediately headed for a small house, and he and the other girls followed behind.

The outside of the house was a pale comparison to the cellar of the place that continued on and on. Darkspawn and dead villagers littered every room and every hall. There were crystals and notes strewn out everywhere. They slaughtered their way through the darkspawn and happened upon the rest of the villagers hidden behind a barrier. After speaking with the man who erected the barrier and informing him, that she was there for the golem. He claimed that the creature killed his father, as he was found with every bone in his body broken, and the golem standing above him just as it is now and where it has been ever since. The man assured her that he’d give her the passphrase to the control rod if she were to help save his daughter. They just had to get past all the father's defenses that somehow a child had gotten through. It didn't seem all that difficult.

Oh, could Alistair have been more wrong. Immediately, there were demons. There are always demons. The further they went, the bigger the place got. Eventually, it expanded into a cave littered with crystals growing out of the walls. If you ignored the demons, you could almost call it beautiful. Kiera was bashing a crystal out of the wall, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, while Morrigan stood by and watched. Alistair saw it, the way Morrigan yearned for the other woman, just as he had. With all the abuse the witch subjected the other woman to, he had no idea how any of this came about. Kiera planted her feet against the wall and pulled the crystal until it came loose, sending her tumbling backwards. The woman was fortunately nimble enough to land back on her feet.

She ran up to the witch with her new shiny object, her green eyes almost bigger than her head, telling the witch something or another, it didn't matter really. Kiera is what mattered, and he couldn’t imagine giving up on the idea that maybe they could be something. He had been certain he felt a spark the night in the inn; he couldn’t be imagining it, the way she looked up at him. He will never forget her face, so beautiful in the moonlight.

Things got weirder when they found the daughter, Amalia, and her “Kitty” which was outright creepy. The cat apparently wanted them gone. When the cat started to talk, Alistair was even more confused. Kiera quickly cleared his mind when she called out the demon, who tried to convince the elf to allow her to possess the girl so she could see the world from the girl's eyes after being trapped for so long. Kiera bargained with Kitty, much to Amelia's horror, offering to allow her to leave so long as she leaves the girl. After Kiera finished some weird fire puzzle, of course, Kitty immediately went back on the agreement. Luckily, Kiera drew a line and put Kitty to rest.

The darkspawn were dead, the girl was saved, and now the elf could get her golem. Alistair hadn’t ever seen the woman so excited as she stood in front of it, holding the rod like a wand. She said the magic words, and the thing came alive. He hadn’t expected it to work, then it spoke… like a person. The Golum was unimpressed by Keira, and Alistair was sure her little child heart was shattering. The rock chastised her for being a mage and continuously referred to her as “it”

The golem ranted “Because Kiera was a mage” she would poke and prod and make a fuss of the golem just as the last one had” and her face sank. Morrigan chimed in, telling the golem that “it should be grateful to Kiera for allowing it to stretch its legs” and she too was met with backlash for being a mage. If the creature had eyes, Alistair was sure they would roll. Then Kiera asked it if it had a name, and it got snippy “Oh, I don't know, I may have forgotten after being called Golem all these years” and asked if the villagers were dead, when it found out more were alive it said that ”it was unfortunate”

It seemed angry at everything and was pettily taking it out on Kiera, the elf seemed to take it in stride as her tone gradually got softer. It asked if Kiera still referring to her as "it" still had the rod, to which Kiera wittily replied, "It does” as she waved the rod around. It felt something was wrong with it asking the Warden to use it, give a command, it said. And Kiera told it to give Alistair a hug. “Woah, I do not want to die by crushing.” His voice in a panic as Kiera laughed. It was astounded that the rod didn't work, insisting that it must be broken, but didn't actually sound happy about it. Kiara inquired further, learning that while it had free will now, it had no idea what that meant and wanted to know what the Warden even wanted with it.

“I mean, I had lots of ideas, killing darkspawn for one," it perked up, agreeing that the darkspawn needed exterminating, but they were not nearly as bad as the true enemy “birds” cursing them as "damnable feathered fiends," which Alistair could somewhat agree with, wherever that bird from earlier went it was the true enemy. It came to a conclusion that they could either go with the Warden or go their own way, however, they had been frozen in time for so long, that they had no idea what anything outside the town was like.

"What do you want to do” Kiera asked. It had no idea what it had ever wanted to do; it could not even remember what life was like before the village.

“I am glad to be mobile, is that not enough?”

Kiera nodded in agreement and smiled. “Are you going to keep calling me 'it?”

“Yes, very likely," it deadpanned.

Kiera couldn’t suppress her chuckle; her childlike wonder began to return to her eyes. “You can come with me if you like”

“Are… you certain you want to take that thing with us? It could be dangerous and large.” Alistair asked apprehensively. If it were up to him, he’d leave it behind and go about their merry way.

"Think of it as a portable battering ram” the elf stated through a smile.

“Well, better it than me,” he said. The woman was right, he could finally take a break from getting knocked down in combat; someone else could have a turn.

“I will follow it about then… for now. I am called Shale, by the way”

Upon leaving the village, Shale spotted a chicken, simply minding its business, and much to most everyone’s horror, immediately stomped it to death. Kiera simply stared at Shale in a silent “what was that” and Shale simply shrugged their shoulders. It was going to be a long walk back to camp, that was for certain.

They finally made camp and everyone had already settled in. After a much-needed cleanse, Alistair felt this was the best time to approach the other woman. “Now that we are finally at camp, I wanted to talk about Redcliffe. I wanted to say thank you." He stepped closer to the elf. “You went out of your way to help, even though it would have been easier not to. There's been so much death and destruction, it felt good to save something, no matter how small. I owe the Arl that much”

Her comforting smile spread across her lips, and he felt at home. “If we can stop the Blight, we will save more.”

“You’re right. Hopefully, by that time, there’s still enough of Ferelden left to save” he laughed, earning a playful eye roll from the woman. He wanted nothing more than to take her lips into his own, but Morrigan's words were still in his ear. He could feel her chilly fingers running down his spine just from the sheer memory of the witch. “I…” he paused for a moment “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what's going on?” Her voice was so sincere.

“You… aaaaand the witch," he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Is there like… I dunno… something brewing between you two?” She turned her head to stare at the witch, who tended to her own fire off in the distance. She always set her things up away from everyone else. You wouldn’t hear Alistair complain; however, he was happy not to have to look at her witchy face all the time.

Without hesitation, “Yes” one word, and his entire world crumbled, all his desires up in flames. Morrigan hadn’t lied; it wasn’t just some trick to toy with the Warden, even though he wished it had.

“Oh… well, she was telling the truth," He chuckled through his pain.

Her head snapped to face his. “What now?”

“Morrigan, she told me to stay away from you because she had you wrapped around her finger, or whatever it was she said."

“That cheeky woman," the elf laughed, rolling her eyes as she looked back to the witch. “I'll be back," she sauntered away toward the other woman. She walked with such determination and grace. He understood what the witch saw in her; she was amazing, and he saw it too.

“Did it hurt your feelings?" Shale's voice crept from over the tent where it had been listening the entire time.

“No! … you don't know anything; you're just a rock. What could you know about feelings?" he retorted. Shale responded by throwing a rock at Alistair, hitting him in the head. “Ouch!” He yelped.

“I know a lot about feelings” Shale mocked and stomped away. Alistair couldn’t win for losing.

A caw drew his attention upward to two ravens sitting cuddled together on a branch. He focused in on the birds, his wheels turning ever so slightly, and he stared into their beady black eyes. “No?” His head snapped back to the witch's tent, his mouth fell open at what he saw: the woman towering menacingly over Kiera before pulling her into a kiss and slowly walking her backward into her tent.

Chapter Text

Room in Ferelden

As she basked in the warmth of the crackling fire, Morrigan found solace in the sanctuary of her own tent. Positioned at a discreet distance, she relished the solitude it offered, a solitude she craved. Despite her constant self-reminders to maintain emotional detachment, her gaze involuntarily drifted towards Kiera's tent, strategically placed within her line of sight. Observing Kiera's post-bath routine, Morrigan was captivated by the elegance with which she braided her hair. The snug embrace of the olive tank top accentuating her curves stirred a primal hunger within Morrigan. From head to toe, Kiera exuded a magnetic allure, with her form-fitting attire, the way her muscles flexed with effortless movements, and the intricate tattoos that adorned her skin, embodying all she had ever yearned for. She longed to savor the presence of the other woman, as her desires could no longer be contained.

Just as she immersed herself in her thoughts, the fool made his appearance. She grew weary of the man encroaching on her space. Had she not already cautioned him? If he persisted, he would face more than mere bird droppings. Though too distant to decipher their conversation, his gestures conveyed a clear message. Morrigan was startled when Kiera's gaze locked onto hers, causing the man's facade to falter. Their eye contact was fleeting, quickly broken. Returning to tending the fire, she observed its flickering dance, the warmth enveloping her like a comforting embrace.

The light footsteps approached her in almost a jog. Morrigan needn’t look to see who stood near her; she knew she had triumphed in the battle against the other Warden. “Did you miss me?” her tone low, she couldn’t help but smirk.

Kiera laughed, “What did you say to Alistair?”

Morrigan glanced at the other woman standing above her, feeling a sense of superiority. She rose to her perceived rightful position above the other woman and reached out, toying with the end of the woman's braid. "Whatever do you mean?” She chuckled as their eyes locked.

"Don't play coy with me, did you really tell him I was wrapped around your finger?” The other woman deadpanned in response.

Morrigan couldn’t contain her amusement. “The fool, 'tis not what I said. I told him to abandon all notion there will ever be a you and he, as you would much rather spend time with I” she stated proudly with a sly smile.

Kiera's demeanor turned more solemn. “Are you jealous?” she asked, amused.

Morrigan was momentarily speechless, realizing her jealousy was evident, a feeling she could not conceal. “I suddenly find myself acting like a possessive wife, I do not enjoy it. The crux of the matter is this.” "Her tone grew more earnest, “I do not share,' you have ensured me. I needn’t worry about the man, yet he lingered. 'Twas time he understood, and now look at him, heartbroken” she chuckled.

Kiera’s radiant smile was truly captivating, the way her dimple delicately etched across her face. With a light chuckle, she gently shook her head and gracefully remarked, “Oh, Alistair. I hadn’t even realized. I should at least apologize.” As she started to move away, Morrigan couldn't bear to let her leave, as the presence of this woman had consumed her thoughts for days on end.

She reached for the elf’s hand, their rings clinking once again. “Wait,” her voice low and alluring. Kiera turned, locking eyes with her, silently questioning. “Tis cold in my tent, all alone”

Kiera, a savant in all realms except matters of the heart, completely overlooked Morrigan's intentions. 'Twas clear how she failed to perceive the fool falling hopelessly in love with her; she couldn’t even discern when someone she was romantically involved with desired to share a bed with her. “And? What do you want me to do about it?” The innocence in her tone was almost enchanting.

Morrigan chuckled as she stepped closer to the little elf, pressing her body into hers. “why, it just so happens that I find you…” Morrigan cupped Kiera’s chin and pulled her into a kiss. She ran her tongue across Kiera's plump lips and immediately invited her in, their tongues danced in unison as Kiera pulled her deeper into the kiss, fueling Morrigan's ever-growing desire. She pulled away breathlessly. Kiera’s eyes begged her to come back in. “Find you quite warm," she bit her lip as she pushed closer into the woman.

Kiera’s body became rigid, a moment of unease crossing her features as she averted her gaze. “Morrigan, I… don’t know about this ..” She admitted, her nervousness palpable. Morrigan observed a rare innocence in Kiera's demeanor. 'Twas not her first time, Morrigan was certain of that, so the apprehension caught her slightly off guard.

She lifted Kiera’s chin, their eyes meeting again. “Tsk, tsk. Come now, my Grey Warden. Must it be so complicated? Is there any reason not to?” She questioned earnestly. The elf drew closer, planting a tender kiss on her lips.

“I could think of many," she chuckled. “But I suddenly don't seem to care.” The woman's tone dropped.

Morrigan pulled her back in, kissing her deeply, their tongues began to fight for dominance as she slowly walked Kiera backward into her tent, pulling at each other's clothes. Morrigan unbuttoned Kiera’s pants and pulled the woman's shirt free so she could slip her icy hands up the elf’s abdomen; her skin prickled with goosebumps as a quiet whimper escaped in between kisses. Her fingers found the Warden's nipple as it immediately grew hard under her touch. Her hand was removed as Kiera pulled her shirt off, leaving the elf exposed.

She stooped down gracefully, delicately unfastening Morrigan's boots before slipping them off with finesse. Morrigan was uncertain whether the elf intended to exude seduction, but she couldn't deny the alluring effect it had. Rising to her feet, the woman swiftly discarded her shoes, eliciting a light-hearted chuckle from the witch. "Oh, suddenly in a rush now? Just moments ago, you were hesitant," she teased as she removed her top and skirt.

The elf nibbled on her lip, her trousers just low enough for Morrigan to catch a glimpse of the 'v' at her hip. Her longing continued to intensify. The petite elf closed the distance between them, maneuvering Morrigan backward onto a chest. "Morrigan," she breathed with desire as she locked eyes with the witch. "I've wanted you from the moment I saw you." Morrigan required no further encouragement; she drew the elf closer for a kiss, encircling her legs around the elf as she perched on the chest.

Kiera’s hands grasped Morrigan's backside firmly, her sharp black nails pressing into the supple flesh, drawing her closer. Tracing a path up Morrigan's thigh with a delicate touch, her fingertips glided effortlessly through the slick moisture that had long been present before their return to camp. Arching her hips, Morrigan silently implored the woman to enter her, a wave of relief washing over her as she finally felt the Warden within. A soft moan escaped her lips as she entwined her fingers in the other woman's locks. Finding their synchrony swiftly, Morrigan matched each of the woman's intricate movements with a fluid roll of her hips.

Her body surged with pleasure each time Kiera passed her thumb across her clit, eliciting a moan from the woman with each touch. The relentless teasing ignited a fierce passion within the witch. She glided her hand up the woman's torso, trailing her violet nails along the skin before firmly grasping her throat. Looking down at her, Kiera’s eyes shimmered with primal desire, intensifying the witch's longing. The elf leaned in, prompting Morrigan to tighten her grip momentarily before relenting. As Kiera's fangs sank into Morrigan's neck, a wave of ecstasy coursed through her. Moaning softly into the other woman's ear as she licked the flesh, Kiera's body tensed, and a shiver ran down her spine.

How could Morrigan have overlooked the delicate sensitivity of elves' ears? It presented a strategic advantage for her. Running her nails gently along the elf’s back, tracing over each raised scar while she licked the side of her ear, the elf's movements came to a near halt as she let out a moan. Unbeknownst to Morrigan, the woman's earlobes were stretched, usually concealed by the unbraided sections of her hair that framed her face. There was much about the woman that Morrigan had yet to discover. Nibbling on the woman's ear, she placed her lips against it and spoke in a seductive tone. “Take off your pants, Kiera. I want to taste you.”

She gently placed her hand on the woman's chest, tracing her fingers along the intricate tattoo that adorned the expanse between her breasts and down towards her stomach. It depicted a shattered sword amidst a tapestry of scars resembling stab wounds, leaving Morrigan intrigued by the untold narrative behind it. Her focus was abruptly seized by the sudden void she felt as Kiera withdrew. Though it was a request from Morrigan, she soon found herself plagued by regret.  She watched the other woman slowly place the two fingers that had just left the witch between her lips, slowly sucking her fingers into her mouth, moaning as she savored her essence. Morrigan's mouth watered at the sight.

She playfully pushed the warden away and rose to her feet. When she kissed the other woman, the taste of herself on her lips ignited the witch's passion. Slowly, she traced kisses along the warden's neck, nipping at the skin as she progressed. Kiera’s hands caressed the witch's body with fervor. Morrigan continued her descent, placing soft kisses on the elf's chest and taking her delicate pink nipple into her mouth, the jewelry gently clinking against her teeth. A soft moan escaped the elf's lips. Moving further down, Kiera's breath quickened, and her muscles tensed. Slipping her fingers beneath the elf's waistline, she began to lower her pants while showering kisses along the way. Running her tongue along Kiera’s most intimate parts, a desperate moan escaped the elf. With a final kiss, Morrigan removed the woman's pants, causing Kiera to playfully kick them away, eliciting a chuckle from Morrigan.

Kiera embraced the witch in a passionate kiss as Morrigan gracefully guided them onto the soft bedroll. Pausing for a moment, she gazed down at the elf beneath her, captivated by the sight of her rosy, swollen lips adorned by the marks of their shared affection. “Are you going to stare at me or are you going to kiss me” Kiera's playful words lingered in the air.

Morrigan chuckled softly as she delicately grasped the other woman by the throat, leaning in to murmur in the elf’s ear. “Oh, my dear Warden, I intend to do much more than simply kiss you.” A gentle “mmhmm” was all that escaped Kiera’s lips as they were now engaged by the witch’s. She eagerly resumed her exploration down the woman's form, planting kisses and leaving light marks on her path to the ultimate goal. She gazed up at the elf from amidst her parted legs, her emerald eyes shining with an intense longing, practically begging for contact. Her legs widened further, and Morrigan caught her yearning scent; it ignited a frenzy within her. She offered a warm smile to the elf as she dipped her head. A soft gasp escaped the other woman as Morrigan slowly dragged her tongue through the other woman's slick folds; her taste made Morrigan's mouth water, she needed more. She buried her face in the woman's core and sucked her clit into her mouth. Kiera couldn’t hold back her moan-filled cry.

She released the elf with a soft 'pop' before delving her tongue into the other woman, initiating a rhythmic grind of her hips. Morrigan enveloped the elf's robust thighs with her arms, gently grazing her nails. Gradually withdrawing her tongue, she skillfully traced back up to the woman's clitoris, delicately enclosing it with her lips and skillfully swirling her tongue around it. The utterance of the witch's name by Kiera elicited a soft moan from Morrigan. Kiera's fingers entwined in Morrigan's hair, unraveling it from its typical updo. Each movement of the witch's tongue prompted Kiera's hips to rock, her breathing to intensify, and her moans to grow more urgent. Withdrawing her hand from the woman's thigh, Morrigan began to tantalize her entrance with two fingers before gradually inserting them. As she maintained her actions, Morrigan locked eyes with the woman.

She had thought the woman was beautiful before, yet nothing could compare to the exquisite sight before her now. The fearless woman unraveling under the enchanting touch of the witch. Kiera’s hips moved with increased intensity, harmonizing with Morrigan's caresses. In a matter of moments, her body arched in pleasure, and her legs quivered with ecstasy. Morrigan remained fixated on the woman, desiring to witness her climax. As Kiera's legs tightly embraced Morrigan's head during her peak of pleasure, Morrigan's aspirations were momentarily halted. Morrigan continued to try to taste the other woman. Kiera's firm thighs restricted the witch's access. Eventually, Morrigan pulled herself from the gripping hold.

The elf lay there in Morrigan's bedroll, perfectly on display for her and her alone. The elf stared, her mouth agape. Morrigan mirrored the other woman and placed her own fingers in her mouth, sucking every drop of Kiera off them. The elf’s eyes widened in need. “Come here” she beckoned. Morrigan crawled up to the elf and was immediately pulled into a passionate kiss; she could feel the other woman tasting herself on her lips. She pulled away breathlessly. “Morrigan, sit on my face”

“I beg your pardon," the witch laughed, but Kiera did not return the sentiment.

“You heard me,” she asserted, her tone devoid of any uncertainty, rather brimming with authority. Morrigan could feel herself becoming more aroused by the woman's words. “Sit, on my face," she uttered firmly, though a mischievous glint in her eye hinted at a hidden playfulness.

“Yes ser, I will follow orders swiftly and to the letter.” With a playful salute, she sensually crawled up to the smaller woman, gliding her body across the one beneath her. She straddled the elf’s face, hovering above her, just enough out of reach that when the elf tried to stretch her neck to taste the witch, she found she could not reach. A light chuckle left the brunette as the elf’s face pouted. Morrigan's chest began to swell with emotion. She gazed down at the other woman, taking in all her features; she was so beautiful. Entwining her fingers in the elf's hair, she slowly descended, meeting the woman's waiting lips.

Her tongue, warm and slick, Morrigan couldn’t help but moan as her eyes rolled to the whites at first contact. The woman wrapped her arms around Morrigan's milky thighs, pulling her closer. Her eyes closed, and her tongue skillfully went to work; Morrigan had never experienced such euphoria. Despite her past encounters with women, this small elf possessed talents that surprised the witch. Morrigan began to rock her hips in the throes of pleasure, consumed by the moment, as nothing else mattered to her. She guided the Warden's head deeper into her essence, eliciting a moan from the woman that reverberated through Morrigan's being.

Her hips continued to roll as she felt her climax approaching. "Look at me," she demanded of Kiera in a low, seductive tone. She needed to look into Kiera's eyes to witness the desire for the witch reflected in them. The Warden complied eagerly, her cat-like eyes half-shut, the intertwining colors of aquamarine meeting gold. The intensity with which the elf gazed up at Morrigan ignited a primal fire within her, causing her to tremble as she pushed her hips more forcefully into the woman's mouth, all while moaning Kiera’s name. Provoking another moan from the elf, Morrigan could no longer restrain herself as she surrendered to the sensations, riding out each wave on top of the other woman's exquisite face. Her gaze never faltered from her lover's..

 She lifted from the other woman, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Kiera's countenance glistened with Morrigan's essence, a triumphant smile adorning her features, well-deserved indeed. Slowly tracing her way down the woman's form, Morrigan paused to bestow a passionate kiss before lying next to Kiera, resting her head upon the woman's shoulder. Watching the rise and fall of Kiera's chest, as if struggling to regain composure, Morrigan realized the elf might have momentarily lost her breath under Morrigan's dominance. Despite this, Kiera emerged unscathed, displaying no hint of regret or discomfort from the lack of air.

Kiera’s hand tilted Morrigan's head, pulling her into a passionate kiss, the witch's hand made its way back into the woman's hair. Kiera pushed into the kiss, deepening it. Morrigan pulled the woman's hair, yanking her out of the kiss. The warden's eyes were still full of desire; the stamina this woman had was beyond that of another. The woman pressed into Morrigan's shoulder, pushing her onto her back as she climbed on top of her. She looked so perfect ‘tis exactly where she belonged. She flashed her cocky grin before kissing the witch's neck. Morrigan wrapped her arms around the woman, giving in to the sensation. “Kiera, I already…” She winced in pain as the elf bit into her neck, letting out a primal chuckle.

She placed a kiss where she had left her mark and trailed her mouth down Morrigan's body. Her hands were back in the elf’s hair, her ginger locks flowing beautifully through each finger. The warden wasted no time before reaching her goal; she wrapped her arms around Morrigan's thighs and pulled her in closer, effortlessly dragging the witch down the bedroll. The woman was stronger than she looked. Morrigan chuckled, "You're a voracious little thing, aren’t you?” The elf smiled up at her with those mesmerizing eyes, slowly licking her way up to Morrigan's clitoris before sucking it into her mouth and humming “mmhmm,” sending shivers down the witch's spine. Their nightly activities continued through the night, taking brief respites to lie and doze with one another and drink much-needed water. Finally, they lay spent together.

She trailed her fingers across the woman's chest and abdomen, tracing the array of puncture scars laid upon her. “I was stabbed… repeatedly.” Kiera chuckled as she ran her fingers through Morrigan's hair, lightly massaging her scalp. The witch could have laid there forever and quite possibly chosen this sensation over sex.

“What did you do to anger the other person?” Morrigan asked. It wasn’t far-fetched to assume the elf had said something to earn this kind of treatment.

“You wound me.” The other woman giggled. “Do not piss off an Orlesian bard. It’s a big reason I keep a good distance from Leliana they smile and strike without warning. It can be terrifying”

Morrigan laughed “Yet you set your friend up with the woman?”

“Amelia is different, she’s kind and compassionate and certainly not going to break the girl's heart," she took a deep breath and chuckled. "Break an assassin's heart, and they will stab you in yours and every other organ you have.”

“Yet you still live?” Morrigan didn't imagine any kind of assassin that would leave this many wounds and not accomplish their mark. “They must not be a very good one," she laughed.

Kiera’s face lit up as if having a fond, happy memory. “Oh, quite the opposite. I have no doubt she missed on purpose. She didn't wish me dead, just… in agony." She chuckled.

“How did you break her heart exactly?” Morrigan was curious.

“We had a brief fling during my time in Nevarra. She was planning to kill me; the bounty the Magisters have on me is pretty high however I wooed her with my charms” Morrigan rolled her eyes at the Warden. The elf went on to explain that eventually the assassin needed to go back to Orlais, and Kiera wanted to head into Ferelden. The assassin had been offended by this, and they split up. Upon reaching the Waking Sea, trying to find passage to Ferelden, Kiera met a pirate woman in a tavern over a few bottles, and she had agreed to take the elf, and after a few more drinks, they had ended up in a tryst in one of the rented rooms.

While sleeping off their alcohol-induced passions, the assassin who had tracked her down woke her from her sleep. She told her she had come there because she had changed her mind and would follow Kiera to Ferelden. 'Twas only the rational solution, to ruthlessly stab Kiera upon discovering her entwined with another woman in bed. leaving her grievously wounded, she was tended to by the pirate who had provided care and honored their pact by accompanying her throughout the journey.

“Twas deserved,” Morrigan said through a smile as Kiera’s face dropped. “I’d do far worse if I found you in bed with another," she planted a kiss on the woman's collarbone. She sat up to search for her clothes. Kiera chuckled as Morrigan felt the bedroll shift; she could feel the elf’s long locks tickling her back before a chaste kiss was placed on her skin.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that; I only have eyes for you” Feelings that were almost overwhelming built within, anxiety filled the witch's chest, and she recoiled from the other woman's touch. 'Tis not allowed to feed into those kinds of thoughts. She rose and started for the chest, slipping back into her outfit. Morrigan looked back to the other woman, who had already gotten dressed and was now sliding on her boots. Morrigan couldn’t help but stare at her as she held the leather tight, leaning back and lifting her leg as she tried stuffing her small foot into the boot; it snapped on with a pop. Morrigan couldn’t help but laugh at the little elf.

She rose gracefully as if she had just experienced the most restful slumber of her existence. "I see the stories they tell of Grey Wardens' endurance are not exaggerated,” Morrigan remarked.

Kiera regarded her with a mischievous smile. “Oh? There are stories?”

Morrigan emitted a soft chuckle. "Indeed, there are… the unanswered question, of course, is whether the endurance exists because of the taint or because the Grey Wardens are by nature so very… healthy.” Kiera chuckled softly and approached the witch. “I enjoy the thought that it's a little of both. Natural prowess driven by a darker side.” Her words flowed smoothly as she delicately trailed her finger up the warden's chest and tilted her chin upward.

“So, what now” Kiera’s words sought to seek clarification of things Morrigan had yet to even think about.

“That is entirely up to you, simply know that I have no designs on your independence. I wish only to do what I desire, and if that coincides with what you desire… then so be it” She dropped her hand from the woman's face, and her tone lowered ever so slightly. “And should you decide not to continue our… misadventure, then so be it. Very simple, is it not?”

Kiera stood with her back to the entrance of the tent, bathed in the ethereal glow of the moonlight that delicately outlined her silhouette. “And what of love? Does it have a place in this tale?” Her voice, a melodic whisper, carried a hint of amusement.

“Oh, now you ruin the mood by speaking profanities," the witch quipped, a playful gleam in her eyes. Love was a forbidden notion; an indulgence they couldn't afford amidst the impending future Morrigan foresaw. The present was all that held significance. “Come now, be off before the others begin to stare," she jestingly urged, ushering the elf out with a gentle nudge. The elf's laughter lingered in the night air as she retreated to her own tent. Dawn approached swiftly, signaling the need for respite before the journey to Denerim awaited the Warden.

Chapter Text

Her Leliana

Morrigan and Kiera grew ever closer, and watching the coin be dropped into Leliana's hand when Amelia lost the bet was gratifying. Neither woman would ever confess their feelings; they were too prideful. However, sex? Leliana knew they would fall into the throes of passion and suppress their feelings. Amelia, who had read one too many romances in the Circle, was steadfast that the two mages would lie together, confessing their love. So when both women watched from their campfire, Kiera practically being dragged into Morrigan's tent and then promptly kicked out hours later, Amelia had to pay up.

Leliana cherished nights like this when it was just the two of them awake, standing guard while the rest of the camp slumbered, some more peacefully than others, or Shale not at all. Amelia tended to the fire, her frosty eyes nearly luminous in the flickering light. “Can I talk to you about something” Leliana broke the silence.

Amelia raised her head gracefully; her countenance exuded warmth and acceptance as if Leliana could confide her deepest secrets without fear of judgment, regardless of their gravity. I lied to you, you know. About why I left Orlais.” The other woman's interest was piqued. Leliana unraveled the tale of how she was framed by her mentor and supposed "friend" Marjolaine. Driven by love for Marjolaine, she carried out a mission to eliminate a man and pilfer important documents, only to discover they contained treasonous content upon inspection. Desperate to shield Marjolaine from repercussions, Leliana found herself betrayed by the very person she trusted, forcing her to seek refuge in Ferelden, aware that Marjolaine would never allow her to escape unscathed. It was within the sanctity of the Chantry that Leliana's spirit found solace, thanks to the grace of the Maker.

Amelia exhibited remarkable empathy, validating Leliana's trust in her judgment. "I'm sorry you went through that” she expressed, gently clasping the rogue's hand.  “Thank you for trusting me with this.” A warm smile graced her face as she tenderly squeezed Leliana's hand.

Leliana summoned the courage to inch closer to the other woman, leaning her head gently on her companion's shoulder. A sense of relief washed over her, as if a burden had been lifted. Amelia's presence exuded a comforting warmth, whether from her size or her mastery of fire magic was uncertain, but it enveloped Leliana, offering a sense of security. Gradually, a wave of exhaustion swept over her, her body growing heavy with weariness. As her eyelids grew heavy, she struggled to keep them open. It was the protective embrace of the mage's strong arm around her that finally allowed her to surrender to sleep. Every aspect of Amelia assured Leliana that she was under protection, and with that assurance, she drifted off into a peaceful slumber, more easily than she had in years.

The journey to Denerim proved swifter than anticipated, despite an encounter with what seemed to be bandits. Leliana, far from naive despite others' attempts to portray her as such, discerned that these men were agents of Marjolaine. Determined to extract every ounce of information from them, the bard skillfully coaxed their secrets without even brandishing her blade. Fortunately, the rogue's interrogation unveiled a path that led directly to Denerim, as if fate itself had guided her steps.

The Wardens typically journeyed together, accompanied by their two faithful war hounds. However, Alistair opted to remain behind on this occasion. It seemed he wished to ensure that Zevran did not engage in any deceitful activities in their absence. Morrigan always shadowed Keira, and Leliana was eager to seize the opportunity to delve deeper into the mysteries of this ancient temple.

Amelia gazed in awe at Denerim, a place she had never experienced before, vibrant and full of life. The city was a maze of houses, buildings, and alleys, each contributing to the bustling atmosphere. Smoke billowed from the blacksmith's shop, adding to the industrial charm of the surroundings. The market teemed with activity, as a minstrel serenaded the crowd with a lively melody, hoping for a generous donation amidst the hustle and bustle.

The grand castle loomed majestically over the city, a symbol of power and authority. Meanwhile, children and dogs frolicked joyfully along the dusty streets, adding a sense of playfulness to the otherwise serious setting. Denerim was not just a city; it was the heart of Ferelden, a place where strength and beauty coexisted within its sturdy walls, much like the country and its people.

Ferelden was a stark contrast to the opulence of Orlais, with its rugged charm and promise of adventure. Denerim encapsulated all that Ferelden stood for - resilience, beauty, she was Ferelden's heart.

Kiera, however, appeared far from impressed. Her nose wrinkled as she remarked, "This is your capital?" Glancing around, she added, “It's quaint," in a contemplative tone. While the elf engaged in conversation, Stinky dashed off and returned with a small child, seemingly desiring to keep it. Kiera informed the dog that if the child were to stay, it would need to confront darkspawn. Unhappy with this proposition, Stinky chose to return the child to its original location. Meanwhile, Amelia chuckled and affectionately patted Grace on the head. Amelia's mabari, in contrast to the lovable Stinky, was quiet, stealthy, and obedient.

They mingled through the market, and at one point, Kiera vanished into the crowd after conversing with a shady man. Amelia paused by the chantry board, taking note of those in need. Her compassionate nature was one of the first characteristics that caught Leliana's attention. Lost in her shopping spree, Leliana seemed to have forgotten the purpose of their visit to the city, as she realized that the sun had shifted to the opposite end of the sky. Disheveled and with lips stained from kisses, Kiera and Morrigan easily located them in the market. Leliana couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"Are you ready?” Amelia looked to Leliana.

For a moment, she forgot about her past, about Marjolaine, about it all; simply being with the Warden today cleared everything away. Yet, the time had come to finally confront her past after years of avoidance. She had harbored hopes that her mentor would simply let her be, but alas, nothing regarding Marjolaine was ever straightforward. The map led them to a run-down house nestled in a secluded alleyway, its entrance faintly illuminated by a solitary flame. The vigilant wardens stationed the mabari outside as a sentry, while Leliana deftly picked the lock, granting them entry. Inside, two imposing Qunari guards immediately took notice of their presence. With swift precision, Morrigan ensnared both guards in a paralyzing hex, allowing Kiera to swiftly dispatch one by slitting its throat, while

Leliana skillfully drove her dagger into the other's forehead.  Amelia looked at the rogue astonished. It was a side Leliana had yet to fully show, but here Leliana needed to be fully prepared. She couldn’t hide anything, not with Marjolaine around the corner.

Coming face to face with her ex-lover, Leliana's heart ached not for a love lost, but for how Leliana could have had so much love for someone who could have had her so easily captured and tortured. She tried to make pleasantries, typical of the master manipulator. Amelia cut her off immediately. “Why did you send assassins after Leliana?” She said sternly. The bard master did everything she could to manipulate the Wardens, but to Leliana's surprise, they did not believe her, and not only that, they made sure Marjolaine knew it.

“Did you think I did not know where you were? Did you think I would not watch my Leliana?” Astonishment enveloped Leliana as the fellow bard revealed her years of discreet observation, insinuating that Leliana's time in Lothering was a strategic maneuver to eventually confront Marjolaine. Her mind, plagued by paranoia, refused to release its grip on "her Leliana." Marjolaine's pursuit of the bard knew no bounds, spanning continents with unwavering determination, leaving Leliana imprisoned by the haunting presence of her former lover.

“Not everything about you.” Kiera scoffed

“Oh, is that what you think? If I were you, I would believe nothing she says. Not a one” She stepped towards Amelia, and Leliana gripped her dagger as the bard master's eyes kept track of every movement. Her voice dropped lower in an attempt to be seductive, a tone Leliana knew all too well. "She will use you. You look at her and you see a simple girl— a… friend, trusting and warm. It’s an act," she laughed

Marjolaine gazed at Leliana with a sense of certainty. “Oh, but you are me. You cannot escape it. No one will understand you the way I do, because we are one and the same.” Drawing closer, she continued, “Do you know why you were a master manipulator, Leliana? It is because you enjoyed the game; you reveled in the power it gave you.” Tenderly caressing Leliana's face, a gesture that left Leliana feeling nauseous, Marjolaine concluded, ”You cannot change or deny this.”

Amelia spoke, her voice firm. “I trust Leliana, no matter what you say.” Amelia was having none of it, and hearing the mage stand there beside her and tell Marjolaine to her face that she trusted Leliana filled the rogue with hope.

Leliana smacked the other woman's hand off her face. “Thank you.” She looked to the mage before boring her eyes into Marjolaine. “You will not threaten me or my friends again, Marjolaine. I want you out of my life, forever.”

“You know she will hound you as long as she lives.” Kiera's statement resonated, acknowledging that Leliana's former lover would persist in haunting her. If Leliana wished to thrive, progress, and to truly experience freedom, Marjolaine had to die.

“You've caused too much pain for too many, Marjolaine. It ends here.” Leliana spoke as she tightened her grip on her blades.

Marjolaine laughed as if a child had attempted to defy their parent for the first time. ”And you think you can kill me, like that? I made you, Leliana. I can destroy you just as easily” Marjolaine threw a dagger at Leliana's face just before she finished her sentence. Leliana expected this, quickly knocking it out of the way, sending it flying into the adjacent wall, hitting the wood with such force that it wobbled. For everything Marjolaine thought she made Leliana into, she forgot the rogue was still her own person with her own life and ideas, so when their battle turned into a mirror of an old life of training with one another, blades continued to be knocked one by one until only one was left in Leliana's hand.

Marjolaine had not anticipated Leliana's cunning move when Leliana deflected high her hand was ensnared by the other woman. Marjolaine was convinced of her victory. Leliana relinquished her grasp on the dagger, allowing it to fall into her awaiting hand, which then swiftly pierced upward through Marjolaine's jaw and into her brain, sending her lifeless body crashing to the ground. She was now dead, finally dead. Leliana was left in a state of emotional turmoil. While she had longed for this moment, Marjolaine had once held a significant place in her heart. Leliana had not experienced such conflicting emotions in quite some time.

The fight with the bard master took all of Leliana's attention; she hadn’t even realized her companions were engaged in a heated battle with more Qunari mercenaries. Kiera had taken down the biggest one and was attempting to pull her blades from its chest when she was hit in the rear by Morrigan's staff. Amelia rushed to her; the mage's face was so reassuring to see, but Leliana just wanted everyone to go away, and she didn't understand why. “Leliana, are you alright?” the mage's voice was so sincere.

“I am fine, I just need to be alone with my thoughts if that is all right. I will talk when I'm ready” Amelia stood tall and smiled; her smile was beyond perfect. She nodded her head to the bard and simply held the door for her to exit this house and never look upon it again.

They made their way back to camp, and after a much-needed rest, they packed up and set out back towards Redcliffe to prepare yet another camp. Bodhan's mule certainly had to be thankful to Shale as it was now the one pulling the cart full of everyone’s things. Alistair was the only one who wanted to go on the mission with them. The mages left the mabaris behind, much to their protests, but neither Warden felt comfortable dragging the animals up the mountain, and the camp was much safer. They left the camp behind and headed up the path into the Frostback Mountains.

The village situated just beyond the hallowed temple was starkly different from what Leliana had anticipated. This revered father was an unfamiliar figure, given that all Chantry clerics were traditionally female. A sense of unease crept over her, raising red flags in her mind. The guard's apparent ignorance regarding Genetivi and their frosty demeanor towards the group heightened Morrigan's skepticism. “They are hiding something. 'Tis obvious, is it not?” she remarked.

Kiera stopped to speak with a child who seemed out of place in the deserted village, who informed them that everyone was inside the Chantry, yet he refused to go. Then, he proceeded to show the mage the severed finger he kept for good luck, which he had found over the mountain pass. Something was wrong with the child, Leliana thought to herself. They made their way through the village, Leliana's muscles tightened and her senses were on edge, the lack of people was concerning.  “It’s too quiet, I don't like this” Leliana said. Amelia touched the small of her back, knowing the Warden was close, which brought her a sense of relief.

They stopped in the shop. Kiera promptly searched the man for answers about Brother Genetivi, but he knew nothing. It seemed plausible that the man had not reached Haven, yet amidst the foreboding atmosphere of the village, Leliana couldn't shake the suspicion that they harbored more secrets than they were willing to divulge; they must seek out this esteemed father. As they drew nearer to the chantry, the melodic chants grew louder, offering the bard a glimmer of optimism. Alas, that optimism was swiftly extinguished upon stepping foot into the sacred sanctuary.

The guards slowly pressed behind them as the wardens inquired about Genetivi. Leliana readied her daggers as the fight began, the father was felled by Kiera's blade, who then immediately reanimated the man effortlessly, as if it was second nature. Leliana had heard she was a necromancer but had yet to see the woman use the magic. “You're saying you could have done that the entire time?” Alistair said, confused

“Yes? I have told you I studied necromancy many times.” She retorted, now confused.

“Then why are you just now using it? We could have used that kind of magic at Redcliffe,” he said, slightly irritated.

“Well, this asshole deserves to be sent off into battle doing my bidding, but the innocent villagers of Redcliffe did not. It would have been morally wrong to raise an army of the dead right in front of their loved ones”

“Oh…” Alistair was momentarily speechless. Leliana was astonished to hear the woman mention the prospect of "mobilizing an army" - was she truly capable of such a formidable task? If indeed she possessed such capability, Leliana was grateful to have the elf as an ally. Kiera astutely observed a concealed wall, and upon revealing it, they discovered Brother Genetivi lying on the floor. Leliana was speechless when the elf bluntly informed the man of finding his assistant deceased and concealed in a container. A more delicate approach in delivering such news would have been appreciated.

The Warden attempted to persuade Genetivi to return home for his own safety, but the man adamantly refused, a decision Leliana supported. This quest was his life's passion. To deprive him of witnessing the discovery of the ashes would be crushing his dream. Leliana offered to personally protect the man, a proposition that appeared to appease the elf. Kiera insisted they check to see if it was safe to leave with the man. She was certain the entire village would turn on her as soon as she stepped out the door. The elf's prediction proved accurate. The cult members turned hostile towards the party, leaving them no choice but to engage in combat and defeat them all.

Brother Genetivi appeared rather disheveled, yet Leliana was resolute in aiding him. They stood at the foot of the mountain path, where the harsh and bitter wind blew relentlessly. Everyone except Morrigan was appropriately dressed for the weather, contrasting with the seemingly single set of ragged attire she possessed. Kiera nonchalantly discarded her bag, stooping to rummage through its contents, the clinking of various items echoing. The extent of the bag's capacity remained a mystery to the rogue. "Aha!" she exclaimed upon extracting a splendid black overcoat with a luxurious fur hood. Beaming with pride, she presented it to the witch.

Morrigan hesitated to accept the coat, averse to handouts as usual. Kiera, however, was determined to counter her defiance. Their playful banter elicited a giggle from Leliana. With maternal insistence, Kiera outfitted the witch in the coat, adamantly expressing her concern for Morrigan's well-being in the biting cold. She emphasized her point by slipping a pair of sleek black fur gloves onto the woman's hands. The Warden's affection for the other mage was unmistakable, evident in her constant attentiveness, even when unreciprocated.

The temple's courtyard exuded an ethereal beauty even beneath the layers of snow, and the temple itself? It stood as a testament to magnificence. Leliana yearned to have witnessed it in its former glory; a marvel beyond compare. The temple was infested with cultists, whom she dispatched effortlessly given their lack of combat training. With each cultist vanquished, Kiera would reanimate them, gradually amassing a small cohort of undead. When they stumbled upon the library, Kiera urged Leliana to collect as many volumes as she desired, offering her bag with a gleeful smile.  “Just, uh… make sure you write down what you put in there, or you might not see it again for a while, things do get lost.” The mage chuckled. She truly embodied the essence of a charming, eccentric elf.

They made their way through each corridor, fighting the cultists or rather Kiera had made the cultists fight one another. One would have thought they would have given up trying by now; it was almost embarrassing. They found themselves in a room littered with chests, and of course, Kiera immediately opened one, only to be met with an ash wraith. This rang true for each chest the woman opened. “Did you really have to open them all?” Amelia said, almost breathless.

Kiera laughed. “Of course,” smiling at Amelia, who could only chuckle and roll her eyes and head down the corridor that led to a series of caverns. This temple was beyond anything Leliana had expected, and even less expected were the dragons they encountered. Upon finding the nest, Kiera's demeanor shifted to caution. “There’s a queen somewhere, and if this is her domain, she will protect it fiercely. We need to tread carefully.”

“How do you know so much about dragons” Amelia inquired.

Kiera’s countenance brightened as though the other warden had asked her the magic question. “I love them! In my youth, I often envisioned mounting one.” Her expansive emerald eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “Could you fathom riding one into the heat of battle?” The grin that spread across her face indicated to the rogue that the other woman had meticulously envisioned such scenarios. Their passage through the caverns infested with dracolings brought them to another man claiming to be a revered father. He professed that if he were to be felled, Andraste herself would exact retribution. He staunchly believed that the deity had returned in person. It all reeked of heresy, and it demanded every ounce of Leliana's self-restraint to keep silent. The comforting touch found its way back to Leliana's back, offering a modicum of solace. Kiera couldn’t contain her laughter. “Oh? I wish to see this arisen Andraste”

The most surprising thing to happen was Morrigan asking Kiera to be reasonable with the cultists and hear them out. The look that the witch earned from the confusedly offended warden was priceless; if Leliana could have it painted and hung on a wall, she would. Leliana agreed she did not want to have to keep fighting through dozens, if not more, cultists, but making a deal of sorts with these heretics, was it really worth the compromise? Kiera agreed to Morrigan's request, the bard was certain the elf would do just about anything the witch asked of her. The cultist wanted the ashes destroyed; this cannot happen under any circumstances. “So… you just want me to toss them out the window?” Kiera laughed.

"I speak not of destruction… the Beloved needs to reclaim the ashes, to make them her own again. All it would take is a drop of her blood.” He said, he would have them defile the sacred ashes. The man went on to explain of the guardian who protects the ashes, who draws power from them, and how because of him, he nor any other disciple could get near the ashes. All of this was heresy, and she could not believe any of them were even entertaining this.

Leliana could no longer hold her tongue “What is all this talk of blood and power? And he thinks Andraste is reborn? It is preposterous! Oh, I do not like this.” Amelia stepped closer to the rogue, her body almost pressed against hers. Leliana reached back, grasping the mage's hand. Keira was apprehensive for the rest of the conversation, yet ultimately agreed to defile the ashes. Leliana wanted to scream, and she simply squeezed the warden's hand tighter, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the woman. The cultist permitted their passage through to the remainder of the temple.  The various thuds could be heard in the distance, and Leliana could only assume the elf had released her hold on the undead. The woman could have easily slain these men but chose to appease the witch instead.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Leliana snapped. “You cannot be seriously going through with this.” Her face was hot; she was far beyond angry. How could someone be so blinded by lust that they would keep someone happy by destroying a priceless religious artifact? The holy Andraste ashes were utterly irreplaceable.

Kiera simply smiled. “Do you really think that low of me, Leliana” Her eyes stared sincerely into the rogue's. “I can tell those idiots whatever they want to hear, doesn’t mean I have to abide by their ridiculous rules and requests” Leliana felt a rush of relief from the elf’s words. It's not that she thought low of the woman, but she thought low of Morrigan, and she did fear that Kiera could and would make a decision based upon the witch that would inevitably hurt the rest of the group. She was thankful, however, that Amelia was by her side to guide her. If anything, Leliana was certain the Circle mage would not allow the elf to cause any harm.

They emerged onto the elongated bridge that led to the pinnacle of the temple where the sacred ashes were enshrined. A majestic dragon descended gracefully just above their heads, the powerful breeze she generated nearly causing them to stumble. “Holy shit, she’s so beautiful” Kiera exclaimed with fervor. She pivoted, offering the group a wry smile, “Andraste really outdid herself choosing this form to reincarnate into," she chuckled as she sauntered backward giving her companions a playful wink.

“It’s simply preposterous," Leliana scoffed, “These heretics need stopped."

The cult leader appeared before them, waiting at the archway leading to the guardian's chamber. The group watched the man confront the dragon, who surprisingly refrained from devouring him whole, which would likely have been sufficient to entice anyone to join his cult. He successfully negotiated with the dragon, whom he professed to be Andraste, and she gracefully soared off to a nearby hill to recline and rejuvenate, thereby clearing the path to the main temple entirely.

Entering the chamber, it was exquisite and virtually untouched. The guardian stood at the summit of the stairs, protecting a splendid pair of wooden double doors intricately carved with flowers and vines. The guardian elucidated they must face a gauntlet before promptly reading all of them to filth, well, everyone except Morrigan who shooed the spirit away, and it respected her wishes. If Leliana had been aware of this option, she would not have endured the ordeal of being labeled a liar and having her beliefs questioned. Kiera stood aside, claiming that this was something for Amelia to accomplish, as she had no faith in the “Maker or any false religion” The little elf almost spat her words. It was probably for the best, as Leliana was unsure whether the elf would be able to keep her mouth quiet if the time came.

The initial trial consisted of a series of enigmatic riddles, which Amelia effortlessly maneuvered through, almost trivializing the challenge. The mage had a particular fondness for puzzles. Upon the opening of the door to the subsequent trial, Jowen stood there. Amelia nonchalantly dismissed it as merely another trial, recognizing that it wasn’t truly her old friend, but a mere illusion. The following trial, however, presented a more formidable task. They were compelled to combat spectral manifestations of themselves, a task more challenging than they had foreseen. Leliana found herself unable to overcome the darkness reflected in her own eyes, or the distorted visage staring back at her. The same held true for Amelia, whose face bore an expression of pure hatred. Kieras had possibly been the most terrifying; the little elf looked positively insane.

Figuring out the bridge puzzle had been exhilarating; Leliana had hoped there would be another like it. The seamless collaboration with Amelia to unravel it, juxtaposed with the ceaseless bickering between Morrigan and Alistair, Kiera's banter playing both sides, it was such fun for the bard. However, the ultimate trial that awaited them was one that caught Leliana off guard - a trial by fire. This was an ordeal that Amelia had to face alone. As they stepped into the room, the heavy door closed behind them with a resounding thud. Positioned majestically atop a grand staircase, the ashes lay peacefully on an altar. A colossal fire roared menacingly across the chamber, presenting the only passage to the sacred altar through its scorching flames. Another altar, preceding the blaze, bore an inscription that Amelia dutifully recited aloud: “Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight.” Turning to Kiera, the mage inquired, “What does that mean?"

Kiera immediately began laughing. “Oh, sweetheart, it wants you to get naked.”

“What!” Amelia's head snapped towards the elf, her face flushing crimson as her gaze shifted slowly to Leliana before swiftly returning to Kiera.

Morrigan caught this subtle exchange and let out a chuckle as she struck Alistair with her staff. "Turn around, you fool. This is not meant for your eyes,” he screeched at the contact, promptly obeying the witch's directive. Despite Morrigan's outward grumpiness and indifference, there was a compassionate core beneath all her prickly layers. She knew Amelia was uncomfortable, and she always seemed to treat the mage with dignity, unlike everyone else in the party, especially Kiera if it were the elf, Morrigan probably would have yanked the clothes off the poor woman and kicked her through the fire. The thought brought a small giggle to her throat, and Amelia looked back at her. Her face was beyond nervous. Leliana approached her, kissing her on the cheek.

“It’s going to be alright.” Leliana said sweetly.

They all stood with their backs to the mage. Leliana, however, couldn’t help herself from glancing back towards the other woman. She stood there, her figure exuding femininity and grace. Her legs were long and delicate, and her lustrous braid, so dark it verged on indigo, cascaded down her back, creating a striking contrast against her fair complexion. Amelia turned and was met with Leliana's gaze, her cheeks flushing instantly. Overwhelmed by embarrassment, Leliana averted her eyes, chastising herself for intruding on the woman's privacy. The sheer beauty before her had captivated Leliana's thoughts, her mind having wandered to envisioning her unclothed for some time, and this brief glimpse surpassed all expectations.

Amelia strode gracefully through the flames, and the guardian's words resonated, affirming Amelia's worthiness just as Andraste had been. Leliana knew Amelia was truly special; her heart was kind and pure. As she turned to meet the beautiful woman, her figure was once again enveloped in her Warden's armor. The sight was truly extraordinary. Hastening to the mage's side, both approached the sacred urn, a sight that beckoned Leliana's undivided attention. I never dreamed I would ever lay my eyes on the Urn of Sacred ashes…I… I have no words to express—“  Amelia carefully opened the urn, revealing the revered ashes of her most holy figure, Andraste. Leliana stood in reverential silence, overwhelmed by the profound moment. “ I didn't think anyone could succeed in finding Andraste final resting place… but here... Here she is.”

Amelia put a pinch of the ashes in a small pouch and tightly sealing it. “Come on, beautiful, let's get back.” Leliana snapped out of her star-struck daze and was now focused on the mage before her. The woman who had just called her beautiful was staring at her with those illuminating blue eyes. She couldn’t help but blush at the woman’s words. Hearing it come from Amelia's lips was like a bard's song to weary travelers, something of comfort.

The cultists weren’t happy that the ashes had not been defiled, and their plan now lie thwarted they attempted to attack; however, Kiera launched a dagger into the leader's eye, and his body dropped to the ground, after which the rest were easy to pick off. “Should have just done that earlier," the elf shrugged as she looked to Morrigan. They made it back to Brother Genetivi fairly quickly, and he vied to share the urn with the world. It was a wondrous idea; however, Morrigan and Kiera believed otherwise. As people who don't even believe in the Maker, their opinions really didn't matter that much.

With the temple fading into the distance, they embarked on their journey back to camp. Rest was needed for their return to Redcliffe. The moon cast its radiant glow upon their arrival, illuminating the camp with its ethereal light. Amelia, upon reuniting with Grace, embraced her companion warmly, tenderly caressing her rounded belly. The scene was undeniably heartwarming. The night was beautiful, the campfire crackled in the distance as Kiera played a soft melody on her violin next to Alistair. After saying her apologies to Grace, Amelia immediately made her way to her tent. Leliana couldn’t let this moment pass by if she wasn’t quick; the Warden would be fast asleep. Maker knows that woman falls asleep before she even hits her pillow. . "Amelia," Leliana called out to the entrance of the tent.

"It's open," came a soft chuckle from within.

“I just wanted to check in on you” Leliana said nervously.

The mage smiled warmly “I think I should be the one checking on you, Leliana” She stepped closer to the rogue. “You haven’t been as talkative as usual," her voice was soft and inviting.

She toyed idly with her fingers, a hint of nervousness evident in her actions. “It’s nothing; I'm fine. I'm, just thinking," she murmured softly. Amelia immediately pulled the redhead into a gentle embrace. Amelia provided a sense of safety and comfort that enveloped Leliana. The kindness she exuded made Leliana realize she was beginning to develop feelings for her. However, the scars left by Marjolaine made her hesitant to fully open up to anyone. What if Amelia's kindness was merely a facade? What if Leliana's capacity for love had been irreparably damaged by her past experiences, turning her into a mere reflection of Marjolaine's manipulative and murderous tendencies? As these doubts plagued her mind, Leliana felt herself being drawn into a spiral of uncertainty.

Amelia always seemed to notice everything. “What's on your mind?” She pulled back from the rogue, staring at her with her icy stare. There was a lot on the bard's mind. She couldn’t get Marjolaine's words out of her head.

She couldn’t restrain the quivering of her lip as she gazed up at the mage. “I can’t get what happened out of my head. I’d been in Lothering for years and she still thought I was plotting against her.” Leliana paused, reflecting deeply. “She didn't trust me. Maybe she never did. She loved me when she could use me and control me, and when she could no longer, she wanted me dead.” Leliana sighed, her head bowing in contemplation. “It hurts to realize I never really knew her” With a gentle yet firm pull, she distanced herself from the other woman.

“Sometimes people surprise you. Is there anything I can do?” Amelias voice was so sweet, so comforting.

Leliana smiled and met Amelia's gaze. ”You are already helping so much by listening to me.” She took a breath and continued “I knew she was ruthless, but I didn't know how far she could go. She is self-serving and cruel. She uses people and then discards them, but that's how she survives in the life she leads.” The more she spoke, the more she heard the bard master's words “W-what if she's right?" What if we're the same? I... I should just have stayed in the Chantry.” She felt a panic in her chest.

“But you said the Maker wanted you to leave,” Amelia said quizzically.

Leliana couldn’t help but snap her words at the Warden. “I could have been wrong about the Maker, right!” She bowed her head in embarrassment. She remembered what the guardian said, and she wasn’t a fool; she knew people laughed at her, didn't believe her. Amelia was probably the same. “.. I know you all doubt me sometimes. Maybe.. everyone is right," she stammered over her words. “Maybe.. maybe I just tell myself He's there to console myself, to know someone is watching out for me, to know I'm not alone!” She couldn’t hold back her tears.

Amelia pulled her back into her chest and allowed the rogue to cry. “You're not alone, Leliana.”

“But I was...I was alone and desperate when I fled to Ferelden. I went to the only place I knew would take me," she said, sniffling into the woman's chest, and the arms around her gripped tighter. “I forgot my life as a bard while I was in the cloister. I felt safe. I didn't have to watch my back all the time” Her breathing steadied. “That’s what made Marjolaine the person she is, don't you see? It ruined her; it will ruin me too” She pulled away from the mage to look upon her face. She looked pained, her beautiful face spoke stories of sorrow for Leliana. “It’s already happened. When I killed her, I… I enjoyed it, Amelia. Seeing her dead gave me satisfaction.”

Amelia's brow furrowed; she looked so serious, and the words that fell from her mouth told the bard that she had been spending too much time with Kiera because the elf was rubbing off on her. “ She hurt you, Leliana. Given the chance, she would hurt you again and again, if not worse. She deserved it.”

“But that is no reason to rejoice over her death. That is what she would do. I don't want that.” She sighed and looked at her feet. “What were we doing… what we’ve done… Hunted men down, killed them - part of me loves it. It invigorates me and this scares me. I… I feel myself slipping.”

Amelia lifted her chin, the moonlight danced on her eyes. “Marjolaine chose who she became. So can you.”

Leliana hadn’t thought this, not once had it crossed her mind. She was so set on what Marjolaine had said that only her voice echoed through her mind, yet now here she was, her light in this darkness, her Warden. Amelia's voice carried a tone that made the rogue hopeful. “How can you be so sure?” Leliana asked, her voice almost weak.

She gently cradled the rogue's face, running her thumbs across the flushed skin, and bestowed upon her a sincere smile. “Evil doesn’t worry about not being good.”

And with one sentence, everything the bard master said was wiped clean. Amelia's voice was what was now singing a tune in the redhead's mind. “That… that is true. I can always trust you to show me things from a different perspective.”

The woman pulled her hands away and smiled. “I'm glad I could help.”

Leliana pulled the taller woman back into the embrace, laying her head on her chest. The mage's heartbeat quickened. “ You do more than help. Thank you for always listening to me.” Amelia's arms wrapped around her, and she laid her head atop Leliana's. Being here, she was safe; nothing could touch her. Feeling the other woman begin to pull away, Leliana broke the silence. “I truly enjoy nights at camp with you, standing guard, talking to pass the time in those small hours… well, I talk, and you listen.” She let out a faint giggle. “Sometimes I succumb and fall asleep, and wake to find you still watchful, and now I know you're watching out for me.”

Her heart fluttered; she was so glad she wasn’t looking at the mage right now, she was certain her face was bright red. “W-what I'm trying to say is…is that I trust you. I'm comfortable around you. I know you’ll be there when I need you. You're one of our leaders our… and my friend and… sometimes I think that m-maybe we could be more than that…” she couldn’t help herself from rambling, and now she had said it out loud. She went from crying to confessing her feelings; what was wrong with her? “Maker… look at me, stumbling over my words like an ill-educated peasant girl. Some bard I am…”

She felt defeated when she felt the rumble in the taller woman's chest. The sound of a chuckle almost broke the bard's heart. She was laughing at her confession. She could stab the woman in the thigh right now because how could she be so stupid? “You're so cute when you’re embarrassed.” Amelia’s words echoed through her ears, cutting off her mind.

She pushed back to look at the mage in her face. She looked happy. “I'm not embarrassed! I'm just… flustered because… of the heat.”

Amelia couldn’t hold back her laughter. “Leliana.” Her voice became more serious “Are we not already more than friends?” Confusion flickered in Amelia's gaze as she looked at Leliana.

Leliana now mirrored the confusion. When did it happen? When was the moment Amelia thought they had crossed the line past friendship into a deeper territory. “Really? N-no one told me. You… you felt the same way. and you didn't do me the courtesy of informing me?” Leliana furrowed her brow. She had been so worried, and the entire time she felt the same too? “Y-you made me say all those things! Why couldn’t you have said them first?”

“I… Leliana.” The mage covered her face with one hand and chuckled. “I’ve slept in a bed with you, I’ve been close to you, I’ve held you." She paused, her tone more serious. “These are not things I do with anyone else. Maker, I don't even like touching people, let alone holding them.” She brought her arctic gaze back to Leliana. “I was just doing what felt right; I didn't think about talking about it. I'm glad you did, though; it's nice to actually talk about it.“ She let out a small giggle. “So, I like you, and you like me. That’s settled-" Her words were cut off by Leliana's lips; she couldn't contain herself any longer. She heard all she needed to hear; the other woman wanted her just as much as she wanted her. She had wanted nothing more than to take the other woman's lips into her own for so long, and now here she was, making a fool of herself further.

Leliana chuckled in embarrassment as she pulled away, averting her gaze from the taller woman. “Yes… I am fond of you, and I care about you… and let's go about our business before the others suspect anything.” She started to leave the tent when Amelia grabbed her wrist.

“Leliana,” Amelia's voice murmured softly. The rogue turned back towards her, struck by her beauty. Her lips were slightly parted and glistening in the moonlight as if still holding the breath of her name. Drawing her close, everything seemed to slow down around them. Once again enveloped in the taller woman's embrace, Leliana could feel her heartbeat echoing in her ears. Amelia gently lifted her chin, their gazes merging into pools of cerulean. As they leaned in, their eyes closed, and their lips met. Leliana was stunned at first, but when Amelia went to retreat, Leliana pulled her back in.

Her lips were tender and full. Leliana clung to the other woman's shirt as if she feared she would vanish if she released her grip. Amelia's fingers glided through her locks, intensifying their kiss. As they parted, the mage's arctic eyes slowly fluttered open. Leliana found herself falling deeply for the mage, her emotional barriers crumbling as Amelia tenderly pressed her lips against Leliana's forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow,” she whispered with a smile.

Leliana stood on her tiptoes, savoring a final kiss with the woman before gracefully exiting the tent. A sigh escaped her lips as she reflected on the unexpected encounter. The thoughts of the other woman lingered in her mind, making the prospect of sleep seem almost unattainable.

Chapter Text

Brecilian Werewolf

They journeyed back to Redcliffe and promptly delivered the ashes to the Baan where, much to Kiera’s astonishment, the mystical remnants indeed proved efficacious. This prompted her to ponder the nature of those ashes and the enchantments they held. While she entertained the idea of conducting tests on them for knowledge, however, Kiera wasn’t one to desecrate what was deemed a sacred relic.

It wasn't long before the Arl regained consciousness and revealed that their friend Alistair was actually the rightful heir to the throne due to his father, King Maric, fathering a child with a servant, resulting in a legitimate claim to the crown. To prevent Loghain from inciting a destructive civil war, a Landsmeet needed to be convened, requiring allies through their existing treaties. With the mages secured, attention turned to the dwarves and elves for support. Since time was of the essence to return to Denerim, the elves were the initial priority, as they were conveniently en route; it would be a quick in and out of the forest, Kiera lied to herself. These were the Dalish; nothing was ever quick and easy with her people.

As soon as they disappeared from Redcliffe's view, Kiera propelled Alistair into a nearby thicket with a burst of magic before swiftly leaping on top of him, catching everyone off guard. "What in the world! Kiera!" gasped Amelia.

“Why did you keep your birthright a secret” Kiera inquired, disregarding the onlookers as she gazed down at the apprehensive Alistair.

“Youuuu never asked?” he responded with a sly grin.

“Fenhedis, that's a cheap excuse, Alistair," her expression darkened, feeling betrayed by his silence on a matter that could have eased many of their burdens.

Alistair sighed in resignation. “All right, if you want the full explanation, I'll give it to you.” Kiera sat up attentively on her knees, causing Alistair to grunt as he remained pinned beneath her. "The thing is, I'm not used to not telling anyone who didn't already know. It was a secret. Even Duncan was the only Grey Warden who knew” he confessed, turning his gaze away from the elf.  “And then after the battle when I should have told you… I don’t know. It seemed like it was too late by then. How do you just tell someone that?” Now meeting Kiera's unwavering stare, he appeared vulnerable and small in that moment.

Kiera flicked his forehead, eliciting a wince from him. "How about starting with, 'By the way, I am the heir to the throne'?"

“Well, I guess a small part of me liked not telling you,” He admitted, rubbing the red mark on his forehead.

“What? You… enjoyed not telling me?” Kiera was perplexed by Alistair's convoluted reasoning. His thought process always seemed erratic and puzzling.

He elaborated on his struggles as the illegitimate prince, expressing his desire to simply be known as Alistair. The burden of a predefined life and the daunting prospect of ruling a realm petrified him, as decision-making was not his forte, not even within their group. Kiera empathized with him more than others could. While she was not destined for a throne, she understood the weight of expectations thrust upon her as an outsider within her clan, a role she never desired. She couldn't harbor any resentment towards him for his secrecy. She rose, standing upon his chest before hopping off, earning another “oof” from the Warden. She then extended her hand to help him up, “I get it, it's hard being set down a path you never chose simply because of circumstances out of your control” She reassured him.

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry for not telling you” His voice soft and sincere.

Kiera smiled at the Warden. "It's alright, I accept your apology.” Approaching him with a darkening aura, Alistair instinctively retreated, intimidated by the elf. "And should you ever deceive me again, in any manner, you will understand one thousand years of death” She flashed a mischievous smile and sauntered away, leaving him to ponder his actions.

"W-what does that mean?" Alistair called out after her, but Kiera continued walking, ignoring his inquiries and leaving him to contemplate the consequences of breaching her trust.

They arrived at the Brecilian Forest, and it greeted them with its breathtaking beauty. Kiera felt a sense of nostalgia being surrounded by the towering trees and the vibrant wildlife. The forest air carried a refreshing, unique fragrance from the trees, creating a familiar haven for the elf. Morrigan's voice, barely above a whisper, reached Kiera's ears,“Tis beautiful, is it not?" Walking slightly ahead of the group, Kiera and Morrigan shared a mutual appreciation for the untamed wilderness that lay before them. This shared love for nature had formed a bond between them, despite others' fear of Morrigan, a sentiment Kiera found unjustified. To her, Morrigan exuded a sense of belonging, akin to the raw and unpredictable essence of the vast forest, where every twist and turn revealed something new, something like home.

The clan demonstrated remarkable respect, far exceeding what her previous clan would have shown towards a group of outsiders approaching with a colossal living boulder guided by one of their own. The guard was visibly surprised when Kiera disclosed her identity as a Grey Warden, as the guard had not anticipated a Dalish elf to be among their ranks. Escorting Kiera and the other Wardens to the Keeper, the guard left the remaining group at the camp's entrance. Morrigan's displeasure at Kiera's departure did not go unnoticed, hinting at an unspoken connection between them.

The Keeper, Zathrian, presented himself to the Wardens, demonstrating a keen awareness of the Blight. Despite his inclination to depart due to personal tribulations that could impede the clan's ability to honor their pledge to the Wardens, he chose to stay. Leading the group to a makeshift infirmary within the camp, they were met with a scene of anguish and desperation. The infirmary was teeming with wounded Dalish, engaged in a harrowing battle for survival against what the Keeper suspected to be a malevolent werewolf corruption. However, he conjectured that these creatures might now be transformed into lycanthropic beings. Expressing bewilderment at the ferocious assaults on the clan, the Keeper characterized the assailants as both ruthless beasts and cunning adversaries in the same breath. He elucidated that the remedy for this affliction lay in the hands of a creature known as Witherfang. The only glimmer of hope to potentially lift the curse rested on locating this enigmatic being.

For all the professed ignorance of the Keeper, his knowledge was undeniable. It appeared to be a characteristic of Keepers – skilled in concealing the complete truth from others. Kiera had delved into numerous texts on lycanthropy, yet had never witnessed it firsthand. She pondered whether the authors of these tales had any real-life encounters with the phenomenon they wrote about. It seemed that much of her reading was mere accounts of men recounting stories they had only heard of, not experienced themselves, which really needed to be rectified. Maybe one day she could pass all of her notes off to someone who had the time to write about them.

The keeper allowed their group to set up their camp along the outskirts of the Dalish camp. Close enough that they could be watched and have access to the camp. Kiera was approached by a young hunter named Cammen who needed help becoming a full-fledged hunter so he could ask for Gheyna's hand in marriage. She thought it was ridiculous. Leliana on the other hand, practically begged her to help, as they should not look the other way when it came to matters of the heart. The rogue had grown softer since getting closer to Amelia, and the Warden had started to question if her decision to nurture that relationship was slowly biting her in the ass. It was simple and easy to convince the woman to run into Cammen's arms, and Morrigan was baffled as she stared at Kiera, her eyes half-lidded, claiming that the spectacle of love was making her want to retch.

Morrigan walked alongside the Warden as they navigated through the Dalish camp. There was a time in Kiera's life when she preferred solitude, but now, whenever she felt the absence of the witch, she felt a sense of incompleteness. Lanaya, the Keeper's first, approached Kiera. Lanaya was a striking woman with golden skin, flowing platinum hair, and eyes as green as emeralds. If Kiera had encountered this woman in the past, she would have been inclined to get to know her better. Lanaya seemed to share many similarities with the Warden - both were outsiders brought into the clan and appointed as firsts. Lanaya had numerous questions for the Warden about her journey to joining the clan and her experiences in the outside world. “Perhaps… since you have traveled in the outside world yourself, might I ask you a question or two?” Lanaya inquired.

“You just asked me a question right there,” Kiera remarked with a lighthearted chuckle.

Lanaya let out a soft giggle as she gently nudged Kiera’s arm, her touch lingering just enough to be noticed. “What an odd thing to say! I mean about the outside world, of course.”

Kiera candidly addressed all of Lanaya’s inquiries. You could practically hear Morrigan's eyes roll as she departed midway through the elves' discussion. After bidding farewell to the other woman, Kiera promptly trailed after the witch, finding her at a secluded spot just beyond the camp, overlooking the river. The breeze carried a refreshing chill, and the atmosphere was imbued with the essence of autumn. The witch stood there, her arms folded, visibly perturbed. “Hey… what troubles your thoughts?” Kiera inquired softly.

Morrigan turned sharply towards the other woman. “You are quite audacious, openly engaging in flirtation with that woman while I stand beside you. 'Tis indeed bold.”

“What?” Kiera was confused. She certainly had not flirted with the other woman. In fact, it was the other way around if she wanted to make that clear. “Morrigan… I did no such thing”

“You stood there and allowed her to caress your arm, casting seductive glances at you, and yet you did not once consider…” Morrigan's words were interrupted by Kiera's lips. She was truly captivating when angered, and the Warden found herself unable to resist. Morrigan enveloped the shorter woman's neck with her arms, drawing her into the kiss.

Slowly, Kiera withdrew, expressing her regret, "I'm sorry, it wasn’t my intention to make you upset.” She murmured before drawing Morrigan in for another tender kiss. Her remorse was genuine, as she had no intention of upsetting the witch. Given Morrigan's assertion that she did not wish to impede Kiera's independence, Kiera presumed that Morrigan desired nothing more than the current state of affairs. However, Morrigan's enigmatic nature often led her to speak in veiled meanings, leaving room for interpretation depending on her mood and the alignment of the planets. As she pulled back once more, locking eyes with Morrigan's entrancing golden gaze, Kiera found herself captivated by their depth and beauty, wishing to preserve this moment as an indelible memory in her mind.

“I must request a favor,” Morrigan voiced. “I have been studying Mother's Grimoire; I have found some most unexpected things” her countenance somber.

“What did you find?”

“I had hoped for a collection of spells, a map of the power she commands, but this is not it” her tone tinged with melancholy.

“You sound disturbed”  Kiera almost chuckled.

“Disturbed? Yes, perhaps that is the right word. One thing in particular within her writings disturbs me.”  She retrieved the book from her pack, flipping through the pages.  “Here, in great detail, Flemeth explains the means by which she has survived for centuries.”

“Well, that could be useful?”

Morrigan let out a slight chuckle,“ No, not unless one wishes to become an ancient abomination, no. Flemeth has raised many daughters over her lifetime. There are stories of these many witches of the Wilds throughout Chasind legend, yet I have never seen a one and always wondered why not.” She paused, sighing.  “And now I know. They are all Flemeth. When her body becomes old and wizened, she raises a daughter, and when the time is right, she takes her daughter's body for her own.”

“And this is her plan for you.”

“According to her writing, certain hosts are better than others; the more the host is prepared, the better the transition will be..” Her lip trembled as the resolute witch allowed a glimpse of vulnerability to surface.“I am… sorry this has had me on edge since learning of it. This simply has taken me by surprise. I thought I would have had some inkling, some notion…”

Kiera reached out to comfort Morrigan, “Are you certain?”

“Indeed. That is primarily what this tome details: The various daughters that Flemeth has… acquired. Their preparation and training. I recognize all of it. I… am to be the next host. This is my purpose.” She shut the tome decisively, returning it to her pack.

“What do you wish to do” Kiera inquired.

Morrigan stood, gazing down at Kiera, her eyes betraying fear.  “There is only one possible response to this. Flemeth needs to die. I will not sit about like an empty sack waiting to be filled. Flemeth must be slain, and I need your help to do it.”

“Very well.” Kiera was willing to do whatever the witch needed of her, and if that meant killing her mother to keep Morrigan alive, then so be it.

“Then what needs to be done is for you to go back to Flemeth's hut in the Kocari wilds… without me. If I am present when she is slain, I cannot be certain that she will not be able to possess my body right then. So I must remain at the camp.” She extended her hand, clasping Kiera’s firmly “ Confront her and slay her quickly. I doubt she will truly be dead even then, but it will take her years to find a new host and recover her power… if that is even possible.” She released the elf’s hand “The thing that I most want is her true Grimoire. With it, I can defend against her power in the future. Everything else in her hut is yours.”

“As you desire. I will deal with this Witherfang and then take a small detour to see your mother” Kiera said with a smile on her face.

“I am grateful. The sooner this can be done, the sooner it will set my mind at ease.”

"I better get something good out of this. I don't just go around killing people's mothers for a living” Kiera laughed, winking at the woman playfully.

Morrigan hit the elf on the arm “If you keep flirting with other women in front of me, you won't be getting anything from me for a long while”

Wynne and Zevran remained at the camp while the rest of the group delved further into the enchanting Brecelian forest, which appeared even more magnificent than the area surrounding the camp. Gentle streams cascaded into picturesque waterfalls, and the moss-covered ground undulated amidst the trees.

"Is this place truly haunted? The storyteller mentioned that this place was haunted and that the spirits even possessed the trees." Alistair inquired; his voice tinged with fear.

“Of course not!” Amelia replied confidently, "Trees cannot be possessed."

"Well, actually," Kiera interjected with a chuckle before glancing back at the two wardens, "Sylvans are indeed real beings. I'm surprised we haven't encountered more of them. They are abundant in Arlathan, blending seamlessly with their surroundings. Upon closer inspection, they almost resemble figures with limbs, as their trunks tend to fork, making them almost look like they have tiny feet.

“Great…” Alistair sighed wearily. The trees surrounding them emitted ominous sounds as they were ambushed by a pack of wolves. “We best be on our guard," he cautioned as he withdrew his sword from the final wolf's neck. Pressing onward into the forest, they crossed a rudimentary bridge and encountered a faction of werewolves led by one known as Swift Runner. He conveyed a message to Zathrian. He warned Zathrian that should he dare to set foot in the forest, he would meet his demise. Expressing the belief that the Dalish people deserved to endure the same curse they had suffered. There was an undeniable presence there, something beyond Zathrian's account; the Keeper was concealing a secret.

Werewolves, in all of Kiera’s research, had never been documented to possess the ability to communicate. Therefore, being in the presence of a creature that exhibited intelligence comparable to or exceeding that of a child was truly captivating. The creature displayed no inclination towards combat, a sentiment Kiera shared; her desire was for enlightenment, a thirst for knowledge. Determined, she made a silent vow to locate this mysterious being known as Witherfang and engage in conversation.

As they approached a cluster of trees, Kiera directed Alistair's attention, gently nudging him as she pointed. “Look” she whispered. “Tiny feet” she giggled

Alistair’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Would you look at that, it's almost cute”

“They aren’t cute when they are trying to clobber you.” She laughed as she turned to Amelia. “We’re gonna need fire” Amelia grinned as she deftly flicked her wrist, igniting everyone’s blades. They made their way through the slew of sylvans before they were met with the largest of the group. It was a large white tree that groaned as it stood. When it began to speak, Kiera immediately held out her arm to her companions as she stepped forward to speak with the Grand Oak the creature was quite interesting as it spoke in rhymes.

The oak recounted the epic tale of a momentous conflict between the elves and humans that summoned the spirits into the forest. It explained that the werewolves resided deep within the heart of the forest, shielded by its mystical protection. The oak pleaded with the warden to aid in recovering its stolen acorn from the thief, promising assistance in navigating the path to the forest's core. The pursuit of the acorn led them to encounter a deranged hermit in the eastern woods. Upon arriving at the man's desolate camp, which initially seemed abandoned, he materialized in a haze of smoke, flailing wildly at unseen foes.

The man was clearly insane with his silly game of questions. Kiera’s usual attitude didn’t seem to work here. Morrigan was wary of the man, imploring Kiera to be cautious. The man was crazy and a mage. It was difficult for Kiera to resist pressing the man, but she chose to give in to her companions' concerns. She easily got the crazy hermit to trade the acorn for a book on elven history. The man was certain that whoever “they" were after him, and he was uncertain if Kiera was a part of that “they” She continued to indulge the man in his game long past when she should have, but she couldn’t help it. Yes, he was crazy, but he was also somewhat entertaining.

“Have you ever been in love?” What kind of question was this? This man was completely random. Love? Sure, she had been in love, but at this moment when the hermit asked his question, her mind went to one place: Morrigan. Once, it would have gone to Idrilla. She was once the one person Kiera ever truly loved, a void that was never filled. Yet the Keeper's daughter didn't cross her mind; it was now full of the witch. Kiera felt uneasy, as she no longer wanted to play the game and instead wanted to slap the man for making her think deeper about things that had yet to cross her mind. “Yes” she left it at that, and the man was bored of her answer, shooing her about.

They returned to the ancient oak. Kiera made a deliberate effort to avoid even glancing towards the witch as they made their way back. Upon returning the acorn to the majestic oak, it bestowed upon them a mystical branch that granted passage into the depths of the forest. The oak's promise held true as Kiera dispelled the fog at the heart of the forest, revealing an ancient elven ruin that bore the unmistakable signature of her people's architectural prowess. Swiftrunner, the werewolf encountered previously, cautiously approached them, bewildered by the warden's formidable strength. Despite Kiera's pleas to converse, the werewolves attacked her, prompting her to draw her blade against Swiftrunner until she was interrupted by a radiant white wolf, unmistakably Witherfang. The Lycans guarding the ruin retreated upon the arrival of Witherfang, citing the need to protect 'The lady,' leaving the entrance unguarded yet potentially treacherous. Entrusting Sten and the mabari to stand watch at the door, Kiera ventured forth into the ruin.

The ancient ruin was enveloped by massive roots, with a section of the roof collapsed, allowing sunlight to stream into the heart of the main chamber. As Kiera ventured further into the dilapidated structure, a piercing scream pierced the air. Amelia, despite her imposing stature, appeared childlike when confronted by a horde of gigantic spiders, rendering her immobile in their path. Leliana unleashed a barrage of fiery arrows at the arachnids while Shale pulverized them into pieces. “Fenhedis… Amelia. I’ve seen you stab darkspawn through their skulls with the pointy end of your staff without blinking, and you’re scared of some spiders?” Kiera chuckled as a blush crept onto Amelia's face.

“We all harbor fears, do we not? At times, our fears catch us off guard, no?” Leliana remarked as she attentively examined the Warden, offering a reassuring smile before tenderly kissing the Warden's hand. The depth of care Leliana showered upon the Warden was a rare sight, a display of unwavering affection that was unmistakably love. To the elf, it was evident that the rogue held a deep fondness for her friend. In the weeks following the encounter with Marjolaine, their bond had only strengthened, their relationship completely open, unlike Kiera's worst-kept secret that was her and Morrigan's relationship.

The group ventured further into the ancient ruins as a deep growling sound filled the air, distinct from that of a mere wolf. Kiera, who harbored a love for dragons since her youth, immediately recognized the ominous noise. Though young, the creature lurking within was unmistakably a dragon, a formidable being capable of ending lives with ease. The discovery of a female dragon stirred mixed emotions within Kiera when they had to slay their way through the hatchlings. Yet her heart quickened with excitement at the sight of the dragon's modest treasure trove. Her eyes gleamed with delight as she carefully gathered the glittering gold and shimmering gems, filling her bag with the dragon's precious hoard.

The deeper they delved, the more peculiar the surroundings became. The place was infested with spirits and the undead. Whatever had transpired in this location had left an indelible mark that blurred the boundary between the Fade and the mortal realms. This was not unfamiliar to the elf; she had encountered such phenomena in Arlathan and Nevarra in the past. Tragedies of great emotional magnitude often acted as a beacon for spirits to converge. Kiera had always possessed a deep connection with these spirits, regarding them as companions more often than not, and sometimes finding solace in the presence of wisps over that of people. Therefore, when Kiera encountered the spirit ensnared within the gem – once an elven mage adorned in resplendent silver armor, a name lost to the annals of time – she willingly embraced the memories of the forgotten warrior. As they ventured further into the cavernous depths, they were intercepted by the gatekeeper who extended an invitation to converse with "the lady," a request that Kiera had silently yearned for from the outset.

It was indeed quite suspicious that at that particular moment, the lycan creatures expressed their desire to engage in a conversation. The party, understandably cautious, received this sudden change in behavior with a mix of wariness and curiosity. The lycans, recognizing the party's strength and prowess, attempted to reassure them that this meeting was not intended as an ambush. They emphasized that further conflict would only lead to more losses on both sides, a point that resonated with the party members.

It was suspicious that they suddenly wanted to speak now. The Lycans attempted to assure the party that it wasn’t an ambush, as they had already proven themselves formidable, and angering the group further would just mean more dead on their end. Kiera seemed to believe these beasts and agreed to be taken to see this “lady." Shale was not happy about this “It wishes to speak to these creatures? What is the point? We’ve slaughtered our way this far, what's a bit further?” Shale was right, Kiera thought; however, killing everything just because they could would not allow them to learn everything they could from this place, from this “lady”

“It is never a weakness to seek out alternatives, Shale.”

“Fine, arguing that logic with it will just give me a headache.”

They were led to the central chamber, where a radiant light illuminated the core. The space was teeming with lycans as an exquisite woman with flowing ebony hair that draped down her silhouette glided through the pack of lycans, silencing their howls in her wake. She exuded an aura of ethereal beauty, embodying the essence of a true spirit. Kiera had never encountered a spirit of such captivating allure. Given the chance, she would have cherished the opportunity to bask in the presence of the spirit, absorbing her wisdom in every way she could. Yet, the prospect of indulging in such a life was no longer viable; time was a luxury she could not afford.

The lady explained to the assembly that Zathrian was the architect of the curse. The human clan had slain Zathrian's son and violated his daughter, who tragically took her own life upon discovering her pregnancy. Consumed by fury, he condemned the humans to manifest their inner beasts, both in spirit and in form. Zathrian beckoned forth a spirit into a wolf, birthing Witherfang, whom he dispatched to assault the clan, transforming them into lycans. They and their descendants lived as beasts until the perpetrators were no more, just those punished for crimes committed centuries ago by men long forgotten.

This is the moment when Swiftrunner encountered the lady, and she, in turn, bestowed upon the creature a semblance of humanity. Together, they now strive to lift the curse that has plagued them. Over the years, they beseeched Zathrian as his clan passed through, imploring for an audience, yet they were met with indifference. Eventually, they realized that the only way to break the curse was to afflict the clan as well. The sole solution to end the curse and rescue the elves lay in persuading Zathrian to venture to the ruins. Kiera consented to this plan; she harbored numerous inquiries for the Keeper, and she was not one who enjoyed being lied to.

As if the Keeper knew Kiera would come searching for him, the man patiently waited for her in the main chamber of the ruins. He sat on a fallen pillar. “Ah, and you're here already, " he said.

“Somehow I figured I'd find you here,” Kiera said dryly. She was done with the Keeper's games.

“I don't like this one. Can we not simply crush its head?” Shale spoke up, taking a step towards the Keeper.

Morrigan couldn’t help but chuckle at the man. “He wishes to see if we did his work for him. Is that not why you are here now, Sorcerer.”

The Keeper snapped at the woman as he stepped down from the pillar and started towards Morrigan. “Do not call me that, witch. I am the Keeper of this clan, and I have done what I must. Did you acquire the heart?”

Kiera stepped between the witch and the Keeper, her upper lip twitching in hostility. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Kiera and the Keeper engaged in a heated exchange, with her reprimanding his deceit and reliance on blood magic to prolong his life solely for the sake of seeking vengeance. After much argument, she managed to appeal to any remaining hint of goodness within him, persuading him to meet with the Lady. The werewolves bristled at the sight of the man, poised to attack if given the chance. The Lady pacified them with her eloquence, but Zathrian, unyielding in his beliefs, viewed the lycans as nothing more than savage creatures. Discussions about breaking the curse proved futile; the deep-seated animosity between them made it evident that changing his resolve, which was intertwined with the curse, was impossible. Opting for conflict, Zathrian chose to confront them, and Kiera aligned herself with the lycans. The Keeper swiftly discovered that Kiera was a force to be reckoned with.

“No, no more. I… I cannot… cannot defeat you…” He said breathlessly, trying to pull himself up off the stone ground of the ruin.

“Finish it! Kill him now!!” Swiftrunner demanded, his mouth frothing with hatred.

“Oh, somebody please kill somebody,” Shale whined.

“No, Swiftrunner. We will not kill him. If there is no room in our hearts for mercy, how may we expect there to be room in his.” The lady spoke softly as she caressed his back, quelling his anger.

“I cannot do as you ask, spirit. I am too old… to know mercy. All I see are the faces of my children, my people. I… I cannot do it.” The keeper said, the emotion in his voice full of despair.

Kiera was far from fed up with the Keeper; she understood the man, and she would have done the same, if not worse, to those who harmed the ones she loved and cared for. She resonated with the man's pain far more than anyone would ever know. However, centuries had passed and those guilty were long dead, and allowing your hatred and grudges to befall your entire clan wasn’t feasible for her. “Would you really let your entire clan die? For this?”

The Keeper gazed at the elf, his eyes brimming with sorrow. He was not inherently unkind, but a man shattered by loss. With a heavy heart, he murmured, “Perhaps I have… lived too long. This hatred in me is like an ancient, gnarled root… it has consumed my soul.” Turning to the spirit, he inquired, "What of you, spirit? You are bound to the curse just as I am. Do you not fear your end?”

“You are my maker, Zathrian. You gave me form and consciousness where none existed. I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life” The spirit approached the Keeper, her gentle touch caressing his weathered face. “Yet of all things I desire nothing more than an end. I beg you, maker… put an end to me. We beg you… show mercy.”

Chapter Text

The Act: Morrigan Rose

Kiera was exhausted when they stepped out of the forest; the journey back to camp was about all she had left in her. Two treaties down and one left to go; however, they were a long way off from Orzamar. There was still so much to do, and time just kept moving forward. Weeks had turned into months, with every advance there was a new threat, as the darkspawn threat loomed larger in Ferelden. Anxious about seeking her friend's assistance, knowing it would require some backtracking, Kiera drank from her hidden stash and made her way to Amelia's tent; it was better to get it out of the way now rather than later. "Amelia, are you awake?" Kiera's voice called into the tent, prompting a sudden commotion and giggles from within.

Amelia emerged, her cheeks flushed and her lips vibrant. "H-hey, what's going on?" she stuttered.

“Oh, um, I can come back” Kiera chuckled nervously. “I just wanted to ask a favor.”

With a hesitant smile, Kiera clasped her hands behind her neck. "Well..." she chuckled, pausing for a moment. “I need your help to kill Flemeth”

"What!" Amelia exclaimed in disbelief. “Why are we killing your girlfriend's mother, Kiera?”

"My what?" Kiera responded, bewildered.

"That's your focus?" Amelia sighed, rubbing her temple. "Why are we killing Flemeth?”

“Because if we don't, she's going to kill Morrigan,” Kiera explained, gazing up at Amelia with a pleading look in her eyes.

“I hate when you look at me like that; I can’t tell you no.” Amelia rolled her eyes. Just then, Leliana appeared from the tent, eyeing Kiera skeptically. “Fine, I'll help you, but you will owe a debt to me.” She stated.

It was a good bargain; what could Amelia ever want that Kiera would not be willing to provide? It seemed like an easy win to the elf. Leliana's eyes rolled as she tugged the taller woman back into the tent, telling her it was time to go to sleep, which they all needed. She thanked the mage and left her to her bard and her bed.

Kiera was making her way to her tent when she spotted Morrigan sitting by her fire, perusing the Grimoire; she pondered when the witch ever slept. It was as though she had sensed her thoughts because her golden eyes lifted from the book, connecting with Kiera’s gaze. A soft, alluring smile escaped her lips, and Kiera could not resist stopping to visit her before retiring for the night. “Hello, beautiful,” Kiera murmured as she leaned in to kiss the enchantress.

“Ahh, such a romantic I see.” Morrigans cheeks blushed faintly. Morrigan deepened the kiss, her tongue slipping into the elf’s mouth. Her hand glided up the Warden's backside, grasping firmly, eliciting a soft chuckle from the elf. “Get in the tent” Morrigan stated, almost commanding. This had become a ritual between them since the beginning. They couldn't resist each other; every opportunity they seized. In the back alleys of Denerim, at camp, on the road, anywhere, anytime, they were like two animals in heat.

Kiera engaged in another kiss as Amelia’s words echoed in her mind, “Girlfriend," was that what Morrigan was? They hadn’t talked about it, and Kiera had wanted to, but the other woman was so prickly that it proved challenging. Perhaps it was the alcohol or the fatigue, but it appeared her mouth articulated the thoughts her mind harbored. "Can we talk about us?” She softly asked as she withdrew from the tender lips of the other woman.

Morrigan immediately tensed; Kiera realized her error in speaking too soon, but it was too late. At times, her words seemed to have a will of their own, leaving her to face the repercussions. “Discuss away," Morrigan's lip curling with disdain.

“We’ve never talked about our nights together,” Kiera uttered anxiously. She simply sought clarity on their relationship, trying to decipher what it meant to the other woman. To Kiera, the witch was gradually becoming her everything, despite her attempts to resist. She could have easily walked away, yet she found herself drawn to Morrigan, the one constant that brought her solace amidst the turmoil of her daily life. The witch was a breath of fresh air in a world filled with suffering.

“What is there to speak of,” Morrigan chuckled as she traced her finger along Kiera’s cheek.“Do you wish me to tell you how wonderful you are?”

Kiera chuckled softly. “You could if you wanted to.”

“I prefer action over words. Why don't you show it to me, hmm?” She suggested, closing the distance between their lips.

“You are one saucy minx, you know that,” Kiera said as she pulled away from the woman's lips. They were almost like a siren's call, pulling her in and making her forget why she was even speaking in the first place. Morrigan certainly was good at that.

“Aye, that is me indeed” she chuckled before sitting back, her tone turning slightly irritable. “What is it, then, that you wish to know so badly.” Her eyes stared into the Warden's like daggers.

“I just want to know how we feel about each other.” Kiera’s words softly left her tongue, immediately filling her with regret. She couldn’t believe she had just come out and said it.

Morrigan now flustered, was caught off guard by the question. “How we…? That is… That is a rather tiresome topic," her gaze averted from the elf. “Enough. I do not… I have no patience for this sort of blather. If you wish to know something specific, I would prefer you ask it. Otherwise, leave me be.”

“I just want to know where this is going,” Kiera remarked.

Morrigan turned her attention back to the elf. "An odd question, is it not? What do you foresee? Marriage? Children? Shall we settle in the countryside, you paint the shed while I bake the bread.” She derided.

Kiera couldn’t suppress a chuckle at the absurd notion. “Well, I do like bread.” she quipped.

Morrigan chuckled at the elf. “Are you truly serious?”

“Do you truly think I want those things?” Kiera had never contemplated settling down or raising children; her aspirations painted a life brimming with adventure. Furthermore, as she understood from Alistair, being a Grey Warden rendered having children impossible due to the Taint, and secondly, they were both women. Unless they were to steal a child, the prospect seemed implausible. Nonetheless, Kiera found amusement in the concept.

“Do you have something else in mind? You are the one who asked the question as if there was somewhere for us to go.” The woman displayed a remarkable ability to deflect inquiries and redirect them back at Kiera.

"I don't know, what do you want, Morrigan.” Kiera inquired sincerely.

The witch averted her gaze, seemingly caught off guard by the question. She paused, carefully choosing her words. Despite her efforts to conceal her emotions, Kiera could discern the discomfort the witch was experiencing. “Enough. I grow tired of this topic. Let us speak of it another time.” She declared, her countenance momentarily soft and almost childlike.

Kiera smiled as she leaned in, pressing her lips against the witch's. Morrigan drew Kiera closer, positioning the elf on top of her. Kiera felt diminutive when she assumed the dominant position over the witch. Their kiss was primal, overflowing with unspoken emotions. Kiera was not naive; she understood that the other woman cared for her, she just wished she knew where she stood and where their relationship was going. However, such ponderings could wait for another day; at this moment, she would revel in the shared pleasures, in the silent understanding they both embraced.

“Then take me to the tent, or do you want me on display for all to see?”  Kiera could see the thoughts swirling within Morrigan's mind. Undoubtedly, she yearned to showcase her to the public eye. Morrigan had bent the Warden over a barrel in Denerim during the bustling market hours, narrowly evading detection on numerous occasions. Nevertheless, the witch remained composed as she stood holding onto the redhead. Kiera had underestimated her strength; she entwined her limbs around the other woman, clasping tightly as they ascended. Morrigan supported Kiera effortlessly, cradling her as if she were weightless. Morrigan’s talons pressed into Kiera’s backside as she initiated another fervent kiss while leading them into the sanctuary of the tent.

Kiera awoke to Stinky kissing her face. She sat up in her tent, her head reeling from the night. Morrigan had had her fill of the elf and practically cast her out of the tent with a laugh, while she nestled her naked body into her cozy bedroll. Before the elf was rudely tossed out, she told Morrigan she would set out to Flemeth's hut in the morning. If Kiera was being completely honest, she fell even harder for that woman when she sat there outside the woman's tent, stealing that final glimpse of the witch, her covers barely covering her, simply teasing the elf. It was evident that the witch was well aware of the effect she had on Kiera, and the knowledge only fueled the elf's desire. She knew the treatment was because of their conversation; however, it could not have gone too badly since the woman still chose to bed her afterward.

She gathered a small party: Amelia, Leliana, Zevran, and Shale. Amelia was her partner, no matter the mission; she would always choose the other mage. She was almost like another half of her. Kiera’s weaknesses were the other woman's strengths; they fed off of each other. Leaving her behind wasn’t ever in Kiera's plans. Leliana went wherever Amelia went, and having not one but two assassins to well, go to an assassination was ideal, and Shale for backup. Kiera had developed a deep fondness for her golem companion; she found Shale to possess a captivating personality that offered her new insights each day, sometimes the things she learned were horrible and murderous, but things nonetheless.

It wasn’t that far of a journey, the Dalish had given Kiera a map that led right to the Wilds, and with the information she had from Morrigan, finding the hut was simple. Cresting the hill, they could see the thatched roof of the tall hut in the distance. Kiera pictured Morrigan growing up in this little bog. She pondered what motivated Flemeth to raise a child in complete solitude within the heart of a swamp. While grooming her as the new vessel, one would assume Flemeth might desire assistance. In Kiera’s clan, child-rearing was a communal effort; each member had valuable knowledge to impart to the young da'len.

Kiera dispatched Leliana and Zevran to observe from afar and intervene when necessary. Being the inquisitive individual that she was, Kiera desired a comprehensive understanding of the situation; she was intrigued by Flemeth's ancient wisdom and, under different circumstances, would have welcomed the opportunity to acquaint herself with the elder woman to fathom her intentions. Shale and Amelia remained with the rogues as Kiera advanced towards the hut.

Flemeth was outside, tending to her garden, exuding an aura of tranquility. The elder witch sensed Kiera's approach even before she turned to acknowledge her. Without pausing from her gardening, she spoke to the elf, “Lovely, Morrigan has at last found someone willing to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn’t you say?” The realization that the witch was aware of their presence triggered a wave of paranoia in Kiera. She should have anticipated that the witch would keep a vigilant eye on her only daughter. Despite her perceptiveness, Kiera had overlooked the notion of a protective mother, or rather a witch safeguarding her progeny's future. 

As she turned to face the elf, Flemeth's appearance in the daylight simply appeared as an elderly woman. Yet, Morrigan's likeness was unmistakable in the features of the elder witch. While Morrigan harbored doubts about Flemeth's maternal connection, Kiera had no such reservations, for the resemblance between the two was striking, offering a glimpse into the future of the younger witch. With her hauntingly golden eyes, high cheekbones, and familiar lips and nose. Imagining the former beauty of the elderly woman and witnessing Morrigan's allure, Kiera now understood the tales surrounding the alluring Witch of the Wilds. This mother and daughter duo epitomized two facets of the same entity. “What has Morrigan told you, hmm? What plan has she hatched this time?”

“She told me how you extend your life,”  Kiera stated, eliciting a chuckle from the elder.

“Ah, so she knows. Let us skip straight to the ending, shall we? Do you slay the old wretch as Morrigan bids, or does the tale take a different turn?” The witch cackled.

“I stand with Morrigan, always,” Kiera affirmed without hesitation.

The witch's laughter grew more raucous, almost taunting Kiera. “ There is power in choice, as there is in lies. I shall give you one of each.” The witch grinned. “Morrigan wishes my Grimoire? Take it as a trophy. Tell her I am slain”

Kiera was visibly offended by the witch's words. “I would never lie to Morrigan,” she retorted, her lip betraying a hint of irritation.

Flemeth chuckled.“You think Morrigan wouldn’t or hasn’t lied to you? We believe what we want to believe; it's all we ever do.”

Kiera grew weary of the witch's relentless focus on Morrigan. The notion had crossed her mind that the woman with whom she had shared countless intimate moments had been concealing truths from her, but the elf had anticipated it. After all, Kiera harbored her own concealed truths chained behind doors. “I’ve had enough of this”

“Shame, what will it be then?” the woman inquired, her disappointment palpable.

“You die,” Kiera declared boldly.

“It’s a dance poor Flemeth knows well. Let us see if she remembers the steps.” The woman began to emanate magical energy as she gracefully walked away from the hut. Kiera observed her closely, poised to give the signal to her comrades. “Come. She will learn what she takes. I’d have it no other way.” Flemeth's form started to radiate even brighter, transforming into a colossal avian creature that gradually expanded; its majestic wings unfurled, revealing the unmistakable outline of a dragon.

“Oh, shit!” She exclaimed as she leapt onto a boulder, casting a green flame into the sky to alert her party. She sensed the reverberating footsteps of Shale approaching the battleground.

“You failed to mention that we would be fighting a dragon,” Zevran yelled as he advanced. Flemeth hurled a fiery blast towards the man, swiftly evaded by his agile maneuver.

Summoning a torrent of lightning, Kiera retorted, “I didn't know she was a fucking dragon!”

Amelia swiftly joined the elf, her mage's cloak billowing in the wind with an almost graceful air.  “I suppose this is what she meant by 'giant bird?” A cascade of arrows rained down upon the dragon, eliciting a piercing shriek. Amelia followed suit with fiery meteors, bombarding the dragon relentlessly.

Zevran did his best, throwing knives and shooting arrows. The man was better suited to up-close and personal combat rather than ranged, and with a dragon, range seemed to be the healthier option for the assassin. Fortunately, this was precisely why Kiera enlisted the assistance of Shale. Shale confronted the dragon head-on, demanding the oversized pigeon be crushed, and crush Shale did. The golem relentlessly pounded Flemeth, impervious to the dragon's fiery assaults. Amidst the chaos, Shale derisively taunted the witch. Meanwhile, Kiera wielded lightning with finesse, electrifying the dragon and causing it to convulse in agony. Despite the dragon's relentless onslaught of flames and thrashing tail, Kiera recognized that a decisive blow to the skull would swiftly end its life. Just as Flemeth knocked Shale backward with her tail, throwing them both off balance, Kiera seized the opportunity to strike. Drawing her blades, she sprinted towards Shale, "Throw me!"  She yelled excitedly.

Shale eagerly grabbed the elf and threw her effortlessly right toward the dragon's open mouth Flemeth let out a flame as the elf approached. Amelia yelled something Kiera could not hear as Shale laughed deeply. Kiera slammed into the dragon's neck, her blade sinking deeply and giving her leverage. Vigorously, Flemeth attempted to shake her off as Kiera bore her other blade down into the back of the dragon's neck. Flemeth began to buck around before she finally threw Kiera into the sky. Time felt as though it had slowed around her, Kiera’s eyes targeted the dragon's head as she aimed her body to fall. She and her blades struck the dragon with deadly force, delivering the final blow as it screamed in pain. Flemeth fell to the ground, her eyes lifeless.

Amelia approached the elf, checking her for wounds. Kiera had actually been completely unharmed besides a few scratches from this fight.  “I thought you had burned yourself alive for a damned girl.” Amelia's words were angry yet relieved.

Kiera saw the hurt in the other Warden's eyes; she had truly thought Kiera was going to die. She felt guilty for making the other woman worry. “I'm fine, Amelia. I'm not some little frail thing.” She laughed and playfully hit the other woman's arm.

Amelia reciprocated with a smile. “Yeah, still you need to be careful. What if she ate you?”

“Well, then I guess you would get to lead everyone, and I'd get to rest.” Kiera laughed.

Amelia did not share her amusement; instead, a look of horror clouded her features.“I’d rather not lead anyone.” She hit the elf back, but it was a little harder than Kiera expected, leaving her arm sore. Leliana approached the mage, wrapping her arms around the taller woman's neck and enveloping her in a tender embrace, whispering words into the woman's ear that elicited a blush on the mage's cheeks. Kiera entered the cottage and carefully searched through its contents until she came across the grimoire. She swiftly gathered all useful items; Flemeth's stash was filled with a plethora of herbs essential for the party's needs.

Upon their return to camp, Kiera approached Morrigan who eagerly rose upon spotting the warden. The witch appeared visibly relieved, though Kiera couldn't discern whether it was due to her survival or the prospect of obtaining the Grimoire. Morrigan swiftly advanced towards Kiera, navigating around her ever-burning fire, and drew her close. "You have returned from the wilds...alive," she remarked, her embrace tightening before she withdrew to gaze down at Kiera. “What news have you?”

“Flemeth is dead,” Kiera stated matter-of-factly.

“Dead…? You actually managed it? I barely dared hope 'twas even possible.” Morrigan exclaimed, her face brightening.

“You forgot to mention your mother was a dragon,” Kiera added, a hint of irritation in her tone.

Morrigan released Kiera and took a step back, meeting her gaze. “Yes I did forget to mention this tiny detail”

Kiera chuckled. “Yeah, 'forgot' huh?" Flemeth's cryptic words hadn't escaped her notice. Morrigan excelled at concealing the complete truth, hinting at the possibility of other hidden secrets. Kiera was intrigued by what lay beneath the witch's facade; there was a depth to Morrigan that she was intent on unraveling. She thirsted for the enigma that was this woman before her. “I see why you don't like to share the family shapeshifting secrets. Can you also turn into a dragon?”

“Possibly” Morrigan smiled coyly. “And the real Grimoire? Did you find it?”

Just like before, Kiera procured a grimoire for the beautiful witch, who knew that giving her books and jewelry would be the thing that made her happy. The witch appeared entranced as she cradled the book, delicately caressing it as though it were a fragile artifact on the verge of disintegration. “And so here it is. Fantastic.” She nestled the book against her chest and closed the distance between them, gazing deeply into Kiera's eyes. “And … thank you. For helping me. No one has ever… thank you.”

“That was hard, huh?” Kiera chuckled, prompting the witch to playfully thwack her on the head with the grimoire. "Ow," Kiera winced as she massaged her head. Morrigan turned to walk away, but Kiera interjected with a laugh. “What? That’s it?”

Morrigan pivoted back to the elf, grinning. “Of course not. But there is a time and place for all sorts of gratitude.” With a wink, she leaned down and tenderly kissed the elf. Morrigan then retraced her steps towards her camp, making her way to her tent. Kiera smiled and headed towards her own, knowing that the woman would be engrossed in reading for the remainder of the night, leaving no room for distractions or interruptions.

As she passed by Wynne's tent, the woman stopped her to speak with her. “You're quite taken with each other, aren’t you?”

Kiera was left speechless for a moment. “You know about Morrigan and me?”

“Well, she's hardly discreet. The way she looks at you, it's as though she's completely forgotten there’s anything of you above the waist.”

Kiera couldn't help but laugh at the older mage. “That’s part of her charm.”

“I’ve noticed your blossoming relationship, and I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going?” Wynne let out a soft sigh. “She is a cunning woman, a maleficar. She will use you for her own ends.”

Kiera hated how people of the Circle and even Ferelden in general saw non-Circle mages. Especially Morrigan, they all seemed to casually overlook Kiera yet were so harsh on the witch simply over the circumstance of birth. Morrigan wasn’t a maleficar, Morrigan was a kind and compassionate woman if people would actually take the time to get to know who she was. Kiera was certain they would feel differently towards her. Unfortunately for the witch, she was cold and cruel on the outside, but everything else she hid within. It seemed compassion was only reserved for certain ones in Morrigan's life. “You don't know her, Wynne,” Kiera stated.

“I am telling you what I see, and what my instincts tell me, and if the feelings you share are genuine, this affair may not be the best thing for either of you.” She reached out to touch Kiera’s shoulder. “You are a Grey Warden. You have responsibilities which supersede your personal desires.”

"I can manage my responsibilities and my relationships,” Kiera asserted, her tone tinged with annoyance. Being appointed as a Grey Warden was never her choice, and given the chance, she would have preferred to be far away from here, free from the corruption. She had envisioned a future filled with adventures, knowledge, and exploration of hidden truths, rather than being entangled in the grim reality of a Blight;  a life of pain, suffering, war, and early death.

“Love is selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else.” Wynne stated with conviction. “A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish. You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else, and then what would you do?”

Kiera wasn’t about to give up everything; she had to leave room for selfishness, for desire if not, she was certain she would completely lose herself to anger and insanity. What did this woman know about any of this, anyway? She had been a Circle mage her entire life; she wasn’t forced to be a Grey Warden, and Kiera was fairly certain she wouldn’t be faced with a choice like that. “you make things sound more dire than they are.”

The older mage let out a sigh. “Nothing is certain, not in these times. You cannot take anything for granted. I want you to be aware of this.”

“I don't take anything for granted, and I'm not going to give up what she and I have.”

Wynne leaves the woman with a sad smile and a nod. “I have given my advice. Do with it what you will.”

Kiera had never wanted the woman's advice and felt she was prying where she didn't belong. She threw her tent flap open in anger and tossed her bag onto her cot before sitting down in a huff. She couldn’t stop thinking of the witch. People did not approve of their relationship, and Kiera did not care. Morrigan was important to her. She cared about her, who was anyone to judge that? The elf kicked off her boots and curled up in her bed, the tent flap opened slightly. A thud echoed on the floor followed by a resounding snore from behind the elf. Stinky, as always, claimed his spot on the tent floor, on a makeshift bedroll Kiera had fashioned for him since he adamantly refused to stay outside. A smile graced her lips as she drifted into slumber.

Chapter Text

Isabela’s Game

The battle against Flemeth was grueling, leaving Amelia's body utterly exhausted. However, Kiera required her assistance, and Amelia couldn't refuse her friend. Kiera had swiftly become her closest companion, sharing a bond forged by their shared experiences in this unwanted life. Amelia understood Kiera's desire to aid the witch, as she had recently done the same for Leliana and would readily do so again if needed. There was little she wouldn't do for Kiera.

After carefully placing her pack and staff inside her tent, Amelia settled into her chair tucked away within the canvas walls. She massaged her throbbing head, feeling the weight of her light armor pressing down on her. The thought of removing it seemed like a daunting task, almost wishing it could magically disappear. For a moment she pondered sleeping in it, when a hand glided across her upper back, reaching up to knead the tense muscles at the base of her neck. A contented sigh escaped Amelia's lips, briefly imagining she had summoned a spirit of compassion to alleviate her discomfort “You are so tense.” That Orleasian accent drove the mage wild.

Amelia was unaware of the bard's stealthy entrance into her tent; her ability to move undetected was almost eerie. “It’s been a long few weeks.” she chuckled softly. The sudden movements caused her body to ache, eliciting a wince from her. The hand that had been soothing her muscles now gently cupped her cheek. Looking up, Amelia met Leliana's gaze, filled with tenderness.

Leaning in, Leliana captured the Warden's lips in a soft, caring kiss. Pulling back, she knelt before the mage and began to unfasten the intricate buckles of her Grey Warden armor. Amelia had never experienced such care and attention before; she had no recollection of a mother to provide such nurturing. Growing up in the Circle, self-sufficiency was essential; while all necessities were provided, emotional support was scarce unless one found a true partner. Yet, Amelia had only encountered that once before, and it lacked the love and compassion she now felt. Thora had used Amelia just like she had many other mages, Amelia eventually came to realize, simply for pleasure and pleasure alone. The woman had claimed to love her, yet never once showed it through her actions.

Leliana gazed up at her with a delicate smile, gracefully removing the other woman's armor and boots. A wave of heat washed over Amelia as she caught a glimpse down the bard's blouse, noticing a few buttons left undone, revealing Leliana's ample bosom. The mage couldn't help but wish the redhead had forgone wearing a bra. Leliana stood tall, lifting the long coat over the mage's head and placing it alongside the rest of the gear. Drawing Amelia into another kiss, this time more fervent, Leliana's lips exuded warmth and moisture, tempting Amelia to savor them indefinitely. Stepping back, the rogue moved behind the mage once more. Gently brushing Amelia's disheveled ebony braid over her shoulder, Leliana began to knead her muscles. Amelia's eyes fluttered in bliss; never before had she experienced such exquisite pleasure. “Leliana, you don't have to,” Amelia whispered. The gentle massage transformed into a firmer grip, eliciting a slight wince from the mage.

“Let me take care of you. We are together, no? "Leliana loosened her hold, delicately easing the knots from the mage's back and shoulders. “I deeply care for you, Amelia. Your pain does not go unnoticed; I cannot simply stand by.” She planted a kiss on the shoulder she was soothing and continued her meticulous work. Leliana diligently unraveled every knot she encountered, leaving Amelia feeling rejuvenated. “Go freshen up, then join me in bed,” the rogue instructed as she settled into Amelia’s bedroll. A blush crept onto the mage's face. While they had shared a bed before, the current situation felt different; there was an unspoken anticipation. Was Leliana hinting at something more with the mage? Was Amelia prepared for such a possibility? It had been so long; that Amelia even doubted her readiness. Leliana's laughter began to fill the room. “Quit worrying so much”

Amelia rose swiftly, seizing her wash bag and a towel before hurrying away. Amidst the lingering echoes of Leliana's giggles from the tent, she made her way towards the spring. Grace, the loyal mabari, trailed closely behind Amelia, ready to accompany her on her journey. The mage quickly ran through her routine, putting her camp clothes on as she quietly scurried back towards the tent. As she attempted to dry her hair on the way, “If it is trying to sneak, it is doing a terrible job as it is much too loud," Shale's chuckle vibrated Amelia's ears.

Amelia shrieked as the voice came from the darkness. Slowly, Shale emerged, its eyes glowing as it laughed at the terror it caused the mage. “Maker, Shale, you're bigger than me, and you're doing a great job at it.”

“I had many years of practice, blending into my surroundings, becoming part of the world.” It made sense. Though large, the golem did manage to find ways to simply blend in. It’s not the first time Shale had scared someone out of their skin by suddenly appearing as if by magic.

“So, it seems. I will have to try it.” Amelia chuckled as she made her way towards her tent. Stepping inside, she removed the towel from her head, allowing her long hair to cascade wildly down her back and sides. Casting a glance towards the bed, she swiftly braided her distinctive lock of hair. Leliana lay there, in a serene slumber on her side, her lips slightly parted as her chest rose and fell rhythmically with each breath. Amelia found herself captivated by the bard's beauty, feeling herself falling deeply for her. The thin blanket barely covered Leliana's thighs. Setting down her belongings, Amelia extinguished the candle, enveloping the tent in darkness, with only the faint moonlight casting a soft glow on their figures. She crawled next to the bard and gently pulled the blanket over them both.

Leliana's eyes fluttered open, a faint smile gracing her lips as she gazed up at the mage. Raising her head, she silently beckoned the other woman to draw closer. Amelia slid her arm beneath Leliana, who nuzzled into the mage's chest, wrapping her arm around Amelia's body and drawing her closer. “J’aime être avec toi,” Leliana murmured sleepily in the mage's embrace. Although Amelia did not understand the bard's native tongue, she found herself enchanted by the sound. Planting a tender kiss on Leliana's forehead, the bard tilted her head upwards, puckering her lips. With a chuckle, Amelia leaned in, bridging the gap between them. Leliana's hand reached up, caressing the mage's cheek as the kiss deepened. Breaking away, the redhead rested their foreheads together. Leliana's eyelids drooped, her drowsiness cute to Amelia. “Tu as volé mon coeur,” the bard whispered. With a gentle kiss on Leliana's nose, Amelia felt the bard's body relax into sleep.

“You are so perfect,” Amelia whispered into Leliana's fragrant hair. The warmth of her body, the soothing scent, the barely audible breathing – everything was perfect for Amelia to drift into slumber with the enchanting rogue in her arms. If given the choice, she would choose this moment over anything else.

They awoke the following morning still entwined with one another, swiftly they clothed themselves and commenced aiding the rest of the group in dismantling the camp to journey to Denerim. Kiera, as was her custom, was the last to rouse, and had it not been for Amelia inadvertently collapsing the tent on her, she might still be slumbering. They were on the verge of exiting the forest when Amelia caught sight of an exquisite flower. Pausing, she delicately caressed its velvety petals. "Andraste's grace is what they refer to it as," Morrigan uttered softly as she carried on past the mage. Amelia glanced back at the flower, then back at the party. Leliana was engaged in animated conversation with Wynne as they strolled along. Amelia was certain the bard would appreciate the flower. Swiftly, she plucked it and placed it into a stasis. As she stood up, the diminutive elf who had been lagging behind the group bumped into her.

“Oof,” Kiera chuckled.

“Hey, do you think I could store this in your bag?” It was fortuitous that the elf collided with her; the flower would remain unharmed in the enchanted bag, and she wouldn’t have to fret about damaging it, while also keeping it concealed from the observant rogue.

"A flower? Really," the elf teased.

"It's for Leliana," Amelia confessed, her cheeks flushing.

The elf sighed and opened her bag. "Anything for you, my dear. She will surely cherish it," she remarked, delicately placing the flower inside the bag, where it vanished into the unknown. Amelia pondered where the items disappeared to; it seemed plausible that they entered the Fade.

"Where does it all go?" she questioned.

The elf perked up, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. "It was an inadvertent discovery," she began, adjusting her backpack. "I was experimenting with Fade energy, attempting to find a way to physically access the Fade." She chuckled. "I know, reckless. Eventually, I managed to open a small rift in the Fade." The elf fell silent.

"And then what happened?" probed Amelia.

"The tear began to expand, so I contained it," she held up the bag. "It was the closest object at hand, and miraculously, it worked." She laughed softly, letting the bag rest against her side.

"But how did you seal the Fade?" Amelia inquired, her confusion deepening.

"I cannot say, it felt almost instinctual as if I had done it before. Suddenly, I felt a surge of power," the elf reflected on her memories.

“Have you ever seen what's on the other side?” Amelia pressed.

"Once, I stuck my head in. Everything felt weird like my head was no longer a part of my body. It was beautiful, though, it was a room full of everything I had ever put in there.” Kiera reminisced with a fond smile.

They returned to Denerim and established a camp on the outskirts, discreetly concealed to avoid any disturbances, or so they believed. A gentleman with a carriage approached their camp; identifying himself as Levi Dryden, he informed the Wardens that locating them had proven to be quite a challenge, as he had been searching for them for an extended period. Levi sought their assistance in reaching a long-forgotten Warden stronghold to restore his family's honor, delve into the history of his great-great-grandmother Sophia Dryden, and in the process, help the Wardens reclaim the fortress as per Duncan's pledge. Alistair emphasized the importance of fulfilling this commitment, a sentiment shared by Kiera and Amelia, who readily agreed to make a detour on their journey to Orzammar.

They all ventured into the city; each had tasks to accomplish, making it more practical to divide their efforts. They agreed to reconvene at the tavern after nightfall. Kiera and Morrigan vanished almost in a puff of smoke, with the others following suit. Leliana stayed by Amelia's side as she accompanied Alistair to meet his sister; offering him the moral support he needed was a role she willingly embraced as his friend. The encounter with his supposed "sister" Goldanna turned out to be disappointing; the woman was cantankerous and solely interested in the man's wealth. Alistair was left heartbroken once more. Each time he reached for his desires, they slipped through his fingers.

Navigating the bustling streets of Denerim, with Leliana pausing intermittently to peruse various shops, they approached the alchemy emporium, an unexpected occurrence disrupted their journey - when an egg descended, landing squarely on Alistair's head. Startled, he called out to the nonexistent Morrigan in anger, only to be met with laughter from Leliana. An elusive child's laughter echoed from above, as Amelia caught a fleeting glimpse of a fair-haired elven child darting across the rooftop.

"I highly doubt it was Morrigan," the mage chuckled.

They navigated their way through the city as dusk descended upon them. Encountering Kiera and Morrigan engaged in a discussion with Zevran outside a beautiful run-down building bearing the sign "The Pearl," “When you said to meet at the tavern, I didn't think you meant the brothel” Zevran said seductively.  Alistair and Amelia turned their attention to the petite elf as Morrigan stood stoically beside her, unimpressed.

“I didn't, I meant the tavern. This is just a coincidence; most of us are here. I do, however, have to go on and see what is going on with that band of mercenaries. Care to join me?” Kiera inquired with a mischievous grin.

"Yes, let us explore the mysteries of The Pearl," Leliana responded cheerfully.

"You will undoubtedly find it most… pleasing," Zevran chuckled, nudging the door open with a wink for the group to enter.

Stepping into the brothel, they were greeted by the proprietress, Sanga, who offered Kiera the services of the "finest men and women her silver can buy." Politely declining, Kiera approached the men congregated near the bar, the same men causing disturbances that needed to be dealt with. As Kiera engaged the men, a striking woman with caramel skin and brown hair, partially concealed by a blue bandana, was embroiled in an argument with another group of men behind the party. Sensing the escalating tension in the room, Amelia began to feel confined as hostility permeated the atmosphere. The situation quickly deteriorated as the men near Kiera initiated a physical altercation, sparking a chain reaction that led to a full-blown brawl. Fists flew as Morrigan and Amelia opted to observe from a safe distance. Amid the chaos, the beautiful rogue at the rear of the brothel flipped elegantly over the men, coming to Leliana's aid and swiftly kicking a man who was approaching her from behind.

Amelia cast a protective ward around her rogue, ensuring Leliana’s safety amidst the melee, Morrigan, offering no such protection to Kiera, merely chuckled as her lover was struck in the face, nearly spinning it around by the force of the blow. As the brunette and Kiera found themselves back-to-back, a spark of recognition ignited in their eyes. With a nod and a wicked smile from Kiera, the rogue drew her blades, which Kiera then imbued with electric energy. The rogue skillfully incapacitated the men with the hilt of her daggers while Kiera unleashed chains of lightning, subduing their adversaries. The men took off out of the brothel, some even crying. Morrigan laughed at their despair.

Morrigan's joy quickly turned to anger as she watched the rogue throw herself onto Kiera “I wondered when I would see you again, sweet thing," she traced her thumb across the elf’s lips. They certainly knew each other alright. The rogue leaned in to kiss the woman, and Kiera quickly turned her head as the rogue's lips met her cheek; she pulled away with a giggle.

Suddenly, Morrigan loomed ominously behind the elf, almost materializing out of thin air. She struck the woman on top of her head with her staff. " “Tis why women stab you," she exclaimed, I swear by Flemeth's beard if her stink of salt and tar rubs off on you, I will never touch you again.” Kiera tensed up, while the rogue chuckled, retreating from the elf.

She looked to Morrigan, “I am sorry, beautiful, I had no idea she had already been claimed. I have enemies enough, and I would like to avoid making more. I do not wish to offend; how about we start over?” She said with a smile. “I am Isabela how about I treat you all to a round of drinks and a game of Wicked Grace?"

Zevran promptly agreed, engaging in pleasantries with Isabella like an old friend as well. It appeared that Isabela seemed to know everyone. The group reached a consensus and settled around a spacious circular table. Amelia found herself seated between Isabela and Leliana, while Morrigan positioned Kiera at the opposite end, far away from the rogue who seemed to take lustful glances at the elf. They indulged in drinks and a game of Wicked Grace. Isabela and Kiera seemed evenly matched throughout, engaging in playful banter as Kiera accused the former of cheating, eliciting hearty laughter from the rogue. "Oh, my dear, I’d like to see you to prove it," Isabela retorted. She recounted the tale of her first encounter with Kiera, prompting the elf to take a giant swig from her cup and began rubbing her temples. Isabela fondly narrated the story of Kiera’s scorned assassin lover, months spent at sea together nursing the mage back to health, almost taking on a romantic hue if one disregarded the piratical exploits, they took part in. Morrigan's disdain was palpable, her discomfort evident from the mere thought of Kiera being involved with anyone other than herself. Isabela's voice trailed off as she drew a card, exclaiming, “Ha! The Angel of Death card! The game is over. We must show our hands.” Isabela glanced perplexedly at her cards spread before her, then down at the tabletop. “I… have nothing. I must not have been paying attention, I…” she admitted. Kiera's laughter caught her off guard, prompting Isabela to rise abruptly from her seat and lean over the table to inspect Kiera's cards. “Wait a minute, those are my cards… did you steal them from me? Without me noticing?”

She looked up toward the elf, who sat back looking smug as ever, her arms folding behind her head. “I'd like to see you prove it.” She winked, and Isabela's mouth fell open.

“I don't know how you did it… not once, but twice? I'll admit it, Kiera. I'm impressed.” Isabela said as she flopped back into her chair. Isabela looked longingly at the elf; this must have been how Kiera won the pirate over in the first place, what started their affair. Sounds like a work of fiction that Amelia would have read about in the Circle library, except in this romance, they don't sail off into the sunset; the hero gets a death sentence. The real world wasn’t like a story; happy endings were usually bittersweet.

They continued to drink and talk into the night. Leliana even managed to get Morrigan to have a few drinks, allowing the prickly woman to relax slightly. Eventually, Zevran convinced them to play a game of truth or dare. The elf was mischievous. He looked to Morrigan. ”Truth or dare”

“I have no desire to play your childish game.” She rolled her eyes

”Fine, if you decline, then you must drink each time you do," he winked, taking a sip.

“Truth,” she said through her teeth.

"Have you ever experienced the pleasures of a man?” He leaned in, waiting intently for her answer as if he had been pondering it for a good while.

Morrigan scoffed, almost offended. “Of course not!” She looked back towards him “Have you ever been with a man?”

Zevran smiled and winked at the witch. "But oh, that is not how the game is played. You are supposed to make me choose," he smiled. "However I shall indulge your curiosity, of course.”He winked as he took a sip from his drink, sitting in his chair, glancing towards Alistair, who was now blushing uncontrollably. His head looked towards Isabela “Truth or dare?”

She smiled mischievously. “Dare”

“I dare you to kiss the Madame”

“Done” Isabela stood and swiftly made her way to the woman who ran the brothel. She was a beautiful woman, and the long flowing pink dress she wore was just as beautiful. If you saw this woman on the street, you would never assume the kind of work she was in. It wasn’t long before Isabela had put the charms on the other woman; she held her hand out silently, asking for the woman's hand, and received it. She bent down, kissing her hand, bidding her farewell before she returned to the table.

“That’s not what I meant,” Zevran said.

“You weren’t specific, now were you.” Isabela winked at the man.

Isabela turned to look at Alistair. “Truth or dare?”

“t… truth” He stammered.

“Would you like me to pay the fee for you to spend the night with one of the workers?” Isabela laughed.

Alistair nearly shot out of his seat in embarrassment. The man had been on edge and uncomfortable since they had set foot in the place; he kept his eyes on the floor, especially when the half-naked women would make their rounds offering refills. “I… No!” He said as he took a drink, almost chugging the rest of his glass. “Leliana truth or dare.” He spoke.

The bard chuckled softly. “Dare” Leliana exuded a captivating beauty, particularly her playful side, a stark contrast from the typical lay sister.

Alistair stroked his chin thoughtfully, casting a mischievous glance at Morrigan. ““I dare you to sit on Morrigan's lap” he suggested with a grin.

“What!” protested the witch in disbelief.

Leliana chuckled merrily as she glanced at Amelia, “Very well,” she rose gracefully and approached the witch, draping herself sideways across Morrigan's lap. The witch sat frozen for a moment, while Alistair erupted into laughter. Even Kiera couldn't suppress a chuckle. Morrigan sighed resignedly, accepting her fate.

“You really are beautiful," Isabela's voice barely above a whisper amidst Morrigan and Alistair's bickering.

Amelia turned towards the woman. “Um, thank you?” She chuckled softly.

“Why don't you and I sneak away while they are preoccupied,” Isabela's tone now dripping with seduction, set Amelia's body ablaze.

“While you are a very beautiful woman and I appreciate the offer, I however am spoken for.” She glanced wistfully at Leliana, who was tenderly playing with Morrigan's hair.

“I see.” Isabela chuckled. “It never hurts to try.” She swirled her drink before taking another sip.

Morrigan wrapped her arms around Leliana as they both began to bicker with Alistair. Amelia had missed whatever went on as Alistair was now sticking his tongue out at the two women, and Kiera and Zevran were laughing themselves to tears. Leliana looked down at Morrigan, still playing with her hair. “You are very beautiful Morrigan.” The bard said softly. The table got quiet.

Morrigan flicked her wrist and smiled “Tell me something I don't know”

Leliana pulled on the witch’s loose shirt. "But you always dress in such rags.” Morrigan's head snapped to the rogue. “It suits you, I suppose. A little tear here, a little rip there, to show some skin. I understand," she winked at the woman.

“You understand I lived in a forest, yes?” Morrigan chastised.

Leliana now in her own world, was not even listening to the mage as she continued to play with the fabric. “Maybe we could get you a nice dress one day, silk. No velvet.” Her face lit up at the thought. “With gold embroidery. It should be cut low in the front, of course, we don't want to hide your features.” She ran her finger on the exposed skin on Morrigan's chest.

“Stop looking at my breasts like that. 'Tis most disturbing.”

“You don't think so? And if it's cut low in the front, we must put your hair up to show off that lovely neck.” Her finger now trailing up the witch’s neck. Kiera licked her bottom lip before taking it into her teeth as she listened to Leliana's words. She seemed to agree with the bard.

Morrigan however, could not believe what she was hearing. “You are insane. I would sooner let Alistair dress me.” She rolled her eyes.

It’ll be fun, I promise. We'll get some shoes too! Ah, shoes! We could go shoe shopping together!” She said, hugging the woman who was desperately trying to get out of the bard's grip. Alistair couldn’t contain his laughter. It seemed he had accomplished his goal with his dare, because Amelia had never seen the man so happy as he was now, watching Morrigan squirm in discomfort.

Amelia looked towards Isabela, placing her hand on the other woman's. "It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope we cross paths again” She gave her a sincere smile and stood and headed to her bard. She had to get Leliana out of there before Morrigan threw her off. She stood towering over the two women, and Leliana looked up towards her. She was clearly drunk, her face was flushed, and her mouth hung open in awe.

“Mon cœur,” she uttered as she gracefully slid off Morrigan, enveloping Amelia in a warm embrace, pressing her lips against hers. The taste of liquor and fruit lingered on her lips, a delightful combination. Amelia yearned for more, the remnants of alcohol from the night sending a gentle buzz through her. The earth beneath them began to tremble, causing the cups on the table to clatter. The vibrations intensified, and Amelia noticed Shale approaching with Sten and Wynne.

“I told you they were at the brothel,” Sten said matter-of-factly.

“When you said 'tavern,' I assumed you meant the actual Tavern.” Wynne's face wrinkled in disgust. “Touch nothing! I don't think they clean the surfaces of this place very often”

“Well, sometimes things happen” Kiera mused as she glanced down at the cards on the table, running her fingers across them. She looked up towards Wynne, giving her a drunken smile.

The older mage sighed as she looked at the drunken elf before her. “Well, we are heading back to the Tavern. We have rented a few rooms since we couldn’t find you. Hopefully, you can get yourself there unless you plan on sleeping here," she said as she looked around the room, wrinkling her nose further before turning to leave. Kiera could barely keep her eyes open. Her head fell to Morrigan's chest, her mouth practically drooling.

Morrigan's head snapped to the elf, truly noticing the state she was in. She rose quickly, rolling her eyes at the other woman as she gathered her things to leave. “Hey, wait for me,” Kiera said, practically fumbling out of her chair as she scrambled to follow the witch as she fell to the floor. Isabela and Zevran let out a bellied laughter as they watched the Warden.

Morrigan turned, looking back to the elf lying there drunk on the floor. “There is no fool like a drunken fool, 'tis what mother told me, and it seems it's still true.” She sighed as she looked to Sten, sighing, and then back to the Warden before she followed Wynne out the door. Sten simply grunted as he grabbed the warden by the straps of her armor and hung her from the crystals on Shale's chest and followed the mages out the door.

“And I am expected to carry it.?” Shale scoffed. Kiera tilted her head backward, looking up towards the golem, and just giggled. She looked like a small child, her feet dangling as she hung helplessly off the golem.

“You're so pretty,” Kiera said as she played with the glowing runes on Shale's face.

“I know,” Shale said proudly. As it turned to follow the rest of the group, Kiera let out a subtle “woah” and giggled as her body swayed from side to side with the sudden movement.

The group still sitting at the table laughed themselves to tears. “I am never letting her live this down,” Alistair said as tears streamed down his cheeks.

A soft kiss was placed along Amelia’s jawline, pulling her away from the world around her and onto the beautiful, blushing bard before her. “I think we should follow their lead. I hear there is a bed waiting for us, no?” Leliana said, her voice low and seductive. Amelia's heart felt like it was about to beat through her chest.

They stumbled back toward the tavern in the market district, leaving Alistair and Zevran behind with Isabela.  Kiera dangled playfully from Shale throughout the journey, her laughter ringing out like that of a carefree child. Upon their arrival, Wynne promptly made her way indoors after distributing keys to Morrigan and Amelia, her appearance reflecting the toll of her time spent exploring the city. With a nonchalant gesture, Shale dropped Kiera on the ground with a thud before departing the city alongside Sten, both eager to return to the camp. Morrigan simply stepped over and slightly on the little elf into the tavern “Oops” she giggled as the door shut behind her. Amelia couldn’t leave the woman there. She picked Kiera up as she giggled, following Morrigan into the tavern. She watched where the witch went and then followed behind her, tossing Kiera onto the bed. “What do you expect me to do with this?” Morrigan scoffed.

Amelia laughed as she looked at the now passed-out elf splayed onto the bed Morrigan now sat on as she slowly removed her jewelry. “You wanted her, and now she's yours.” Amelia laughed. Bowing to the witch, she and Leliana took their leave, the rogue having sat back quietly giggling. Morrigan rolled her eyes. Amelia assumed she hit the elf as she heard a loud “ouch”, and a giggle come from Kiera. It was obvious the witch cared for her friend even if she refused to show it, the harder she tried to conceal it the more obvious it became to the mage.

Amelia unlocked the door to the rented room, and it was nice, a fire crackled in the fireplace, and the room had already been warmed and ready for them. Quickly she shed her armor as Leliana disappeared into the bath, when she returned, she was in nothing but her small clothes Amelia was taken aback. The bard was beyond beautiful. Her body was adorned with freckles, her slender arms wrapped around the taller mage's neck as she pulled Amelia in for a kiss, she could still taste the liquor on the other woman.

Leliana ran her tongue across the mage's lip, a silent ask for them to part. Amelia graciously accepted as their tongues danced together as Leliana pushed the taller woman gently onto the bed, causing Amelia to stumble slightly. The more she moved, the more she realized how drunk she was. Once she hit the bed, however, the room began to spin. She tried grounding herself by planting her feet on the ground. Leliana her body wobbling, made her way to the mage, giggling as she crawled on top of her. She leaned in, kissing Amelia, her red hair tickling the sides of her face. She trailed her kisses from the warden's mouth down her neck, and Amelia’s hands found their way into the rogue's hair, pulling it gently, earning gentle moans that came from the bard.

Amelia wanted this woman more than anything right now; however, they were both so drunk that Amelia was unsure she could even perform to the standard she believed Leliana deserved. She certainly didn't want to lie there like a dead fish as she lay with this beautiful woman doing all the work. Her head thrashed in thought, and the room began to spin further. “Leliana” She whispered.

The woman traced her kisses back to Amelia's lips. "Hmm?" She inquired, her lips brushing against Amelia's before withdrawing to gaze into her eyes. Leliana was truly exquisite. Her lips were adorned in crimson, her cheeks flushed with color. The woman's intoxication was evident in her glazed eyes, a clear indication of her inebriation. "Qu’est-ce que c’est?" She slurred playfully, a giggle escaping her lips.

"You're so beautiful, but I have no idea what you said.” Amelia giggled, the words leaving her without a thought. Leliana's face reddened even more. Amelia cupped the woman's cheeks, pulling her in for a kiss, the kiss lingered for a moment, and Amelia’s heart ached. “We can’t.” She said softly. Leliana pulled away, sitting up on the mage's lap, almost offended as she tried to cover her body with her slender arms. Amelia immediately sat up, pulling the woman's arms around her. “It’s not that I don't want to, please don't think that.” She bit her lip as she stared into the rogue's baby blues. “I want you more than anything.” She leaned in, kissing the other woman.

“Then what's wrong,” Leliana said softly, her voice betraying her as she leaned her forehead on the mages.

“We’re both drunk.” Amelia giggled. “I want us to remember our first time together.” She ran her thumb across Leliana's lips as they locked eyes. “I also don't know how well I'd be in bed this drunk. I can barely sit up, sweetheart," she chuckled.

Leliana chuckled softly in harmony with the Warden. “I understand,” she whispered before pressing her lips against the woman's once more, enveloping her in a tight embrace as they both tumbled onto the bed. With a light-hearted laugh, Leliana disentangled herself, gracefully sliding off the mage and slipping under the covers. She extended an inviting gesture, “Come, mon cœur” she murmured, patting the space beside her with a gentle smile as she nestled into the soft pillow. As Amelia extinguished the candle by the bedside, the hearth cast a faint glow across the room, she removed her shirt and settled in beside the bard, drawing her close. Though she may not have had the pleasure of making love to the woman tonight, she was going to at least feel her skin on hers.

When their bodies intertwined, a comforting warmth enveloped them. Leliana rested her head on Amelia's exposed chest, planting a tender kiss on her skin while delicately tracing her fingers along her flesh. The sensation was exquisite, bringing a profound sense of tranquility to the mage that she had never experienced before. As she felt her body surrendering to relaxation, she gently kissed the bard's forehead and whispered, "Leliana." A soft murmur of acknowledgment escaped the bard as she turned to meet the mage's gaze. “You… You mean everything to me.”  Amelia confessed softly. Leliana locked eyes with the mage, leaning in to capture her lips in a tender kiss before nestling her head against Amelia's chest. Drawing as close as physically possible, Amelia's arms encircled her with a protective embrace, almost as if afraid she might vanish in the night.

Chapter Text

Wardens of War

Kiera's head throbbed as they navigated towards the designated rendezvous point where they met with Dryden. The events of the previous night were a haze in Kiera's mind. Recollections of Isabela, the game, and pissing off Morrigan lingered faintly, yet the details of returning to the tavern and the night's events remained a haze. Evidently, the night had not ended on a sour note, as Morrigan's mood had significantly improved. She appeared surprisingly cheerful. Upon awakening, Kiera found herself and the witch unclothed, intertwined in a close embrace. The inability to recall the events troubled Kiera deeply, especially considering her genuine enjoyment of every intimate encounter with the mysterious witch.

They led a small party up the towering mountain. This expedition was anticipated to be a straightforward mission: gather the necessary information and depart swiftly. However, upon reaching the fortress, it became evident that the task at hand was far from simple. The exterior was infested with the undead, and the veil surrounding the fortress was exceptionally fragile, even more so than that of the Circle. As they ventured inside, they were confronted by the lingering apparitions of ancient Wardens, reenacting long-forgotten scenes. Among them was the image of the human monarch who defied the Wardens, forcing their struggle for survival. Ethereal wisps gracefully twirled around Kiera as she navigated through the fortress; these wisps had always been inexplicably drawn to her, a phenomenon she had never fully understood. However, over time, she had forged strong bonds with many spirits, recognizing their potential for assistance if treated with due respect.

“This place is creepy,” Alistair spoke quietly.

He was right; the place was indeed creepy. Kiera hadn’t encountered such a site saturated with memories in years, not since the Necropolis. Whatever had transpired in this place must have been truly dreadful. They forged ahead and witnessed the unfolding of past events before them - the Warden rebellion, the Wardens engaging in fierce disagreements. Sophia Dryden delving into the forbidden realm of blood magic. Levi Dryden, her descendant, was horrified at the sight; he had held higher expectations for his lineage, yet witnessing her descent into blood magic shattered the man.

The fortress pulsed with ancient enchantments, magic that continued to surge as if under the command of a powerful being. Demons and undead lurked in every chamber. A grand eluvian towered over the dining hall, hinting at a recent ritual that had taken place before it. Morrigan paused momentarily, her hand gliding along the outer rim of the eluvian with a sense of recognition, as though the witch held a deep understanding of its nature. She moved away from the eluvian with casual grace, her finger delicately tracing patterns on the glass surface. The room overflowed with untamed magic; the veil between realms seemed thinner within those walls than anywhere else in the fortress.

They came face to face with Sophia Dryden, the woman was still alive, though it was questionable whether she could truly be considered alive. She may as well have just been a head on a sword, as all she was a weapon to be used by the demon that possessed her. Kiera entertained the demon for a moment; the idea of allowing it to leave proved interesting until the demon announced it would “feed” off of people during its travels. Kiera had enough of the demon and cut it down; Sophia Dryden's head flew clean off in one swoop, bouncing off the desk and to the floor, rolling to Levi’s feet. Kiera shrugged and looked over the woman's body for anything of value, much to Levi’s horror.

They emerged onto the rampart that connected the twin towers of the fortress. The wind howled, a blizzard assaulting Kiera's face. An arrow whizzed by, embedding itself in the door. Emerging from the darkness and snow, more undead beings appeared. As the group moved forward, Kiera noticed a multitude of traps littering the ground. Swiftly, she disabled them while arrows and icy projectiles whizzed past in all directions. Just as an undead foe approached her, she disarmed the final trap, and as its blade descended toward her, she readied herself for defense, only to witness the creature frozen solid. Glancing back, Kiera saw Morrigan glaring at her intensely. Even in her anger, Morrigan remained the epitome of beauty in Kiera's eyes. The frozen undead struggled to strike Kiera with its sword, but its body remained rigid. Amused, Kiera chuckled before shattering the frozen undead, reducing it to a heap of frozen flesh. Morrigan stepped toward her, grabbing the woman's face and forcing her to look at her. “Hey, beautiful,” Kiera said with a sly smile.

Morrigan was not amused; she was seething with anger. “Must you always rush in without thinking? Is dying what you wish for, hmm?”  She released her grip on Kiera's face assertively before striding off. A heavy silence lingered as the witch marched past them. Kiera lowered her head and trailed behind, her gaze fixed intently on Morrigan's rear as she sauntered away. As they pushed open the door to the tower, they were greeted by a man named Avernus, who discussed the eradication of the taint while harnessing its power for personal gain, exploiting it to one's advantage. The proposition seemed enticing; however, Avernus achieved his success through the controversial practice of blood magic.

He explained how he had been the original Warden mage of the fortress since the era of Sophia; he held direct authority over the mages. He spoke of her fondly. He recounted to the Warden how he and the commander had summoned demons to aid in their rebellion and how he delved into the realm of blood magic. He sacrificed the Wardens for what purpose? To preserve a few lives? To thwart the invading king? "You're to blame for this. Some things you just don't do.” Kiera said dryly. Despite how she felt towards the man, she understood his research; she also understood that allying with him temporarily to mend the veil and banish the demons would prove significantly more effective than pursuing the task solo.

Avernus guided them back to the chamber housing the eluvian. The aged warden commenced dismantling the intricate summoning circles he had erected eons ago. An array of demons began pouring forth from the circles, their malevolence was ruthless as they fiercely defended their gateway to the mortal realm. As the final circle sealed shut, a demon attempted to breach it, only to be cleaved in twain. Its lifeless form thudded to the ground, leaving Kiera breathless and splattered with blood. The mending of the Veil was accomplished, and its strength restored. All that was left was dealing with Avernus, much to everyone’s surprise, Kiera allowed the man to live and requested that he continue his research, however, ethically.

As the group prepared to depart, Kiera halted Avernus, inquiring about his cryptic statement “What did you mean by 'stop the taint and make it more powerful” Avernus handed Kiera a vial filled with crimson fluid, elucidating that it contained a formidable essence. This essence possessed the capability to fully tap into the corruption, yet it also bore the risk of hastening the inevitable calling. A precarious choice awaited: drink the elixir and gain power at the cost of vitality, embrace her calling, or delve into the forbidden realm of magic to counteract the effects. Subsequently, he shared his notes on prolonging his existence through blood magic, staving off the impending calling for centuries. “Don't do anything stupid,” she warned him before departing.

Morrigan stood leaning against the wall, her foot casually raised. “Are you going to drink it?” Of course, Morrigan had been listening.

“I… I don't know. I have to think about it.” She said softly. She certainly did want to drink it; the idea of more power was alluring, but what of the effects? Would it truly make the fall into madness quicker? Would her calling be just around the corner? Would she lose more time that she already didn't have? She looked to Morrigan the idea of losing the woman tore Kiera up on the inside; the idea that one day she would have to walk away from the woman broke her slightly.  Clutching Avernus' journal, the notion of delving into blood magic appeared increasingly justifiable. She suppressed her inner turmoil, eager to depart from this place.

They descended the mountain and swiftly returned to the road. Their destination now was Orzammar, the final treaty awaiting them, and all Kiera could contemplate was her own mortality. The world surrounding the elf fell into silence as she advanced, her thoughts racing in her mind. She was jolted back to reality by a firm tap on her backside from Morrigan's staff. Startled out of her reverie, Kiera turned to meet the woman's concerned gaze. Surveying her surroundings, she realized that the entire landscape had transformed; she had drifted off for an unknown duration. Hours, perhaps. "What’s on your mind?" Morrigan inquired gently.

“It’s nothing”

“’Tis not ‘nothing’ but so be it,” Morrigan said as she went to walk away from the woman.

Kiera reached out, grabbing the taller woman's hand. “I… can I talk to you about it later?” She asked. “When it's just us?” She followed up, her voice soft, almost a whisper.

Morrigan’s face softened with empathy, a rare occurrence that soothed the elf's mounting anxieties. "Very well," she acquiesced, preparing to depart. Yet, Kiera clung firmly to her hand, unwilling to let go. Turning back to the mage, Morrigans' eyes flickered like flames in the sunlight, captivating Kiera's senses. The desire to kiss her overwhelmed Kiera, prompting her to gently tug at Morrigans' hand. In response, the witch's lips curved into a smile as she leaned down and captured Kiera's lips with her own.

“Oh, super, excuse me while I begin projectile vomiting,” Alistair said as he marched past the women.

Morrigan broke the kiss to speak “What was that, Alistair? We were not listening” she chuckled before drawing Kiera back into their embrace.

They encountered a severely injured man. Kiera and Alistair immediately recognized him as one of King Cailan's esteemed honor guards. He recounted his harrowing escape from Bann Loren’s confinement, where he had been incarcerated for abandoning the battle and aligning with the Wardens. It was evident that Loghain could not afford to have this individual roaming freely, given the sensitive information he possessed. The man detailed how, upon the king's demise, he had been entrusted with a crucial task: to deliver the armory key to the Wardens. Within the armory were not only the king's regalia and vital intelligence but also an array of resources essential for the impending conflict - a perilous scenario if these were to fall into the wrong hands.

It was ironic that the man would encounter the Wardens on his deathbed, yet the predicament lay in the fact that the crucial key and the armory were back at Ostagar. Thus, Kiera was now confronted with a dilemma: retrieve the loot or proceed to Orzammar and risk someone else getting there first. Their entire pursuit of the treaties had been characterized by a series of retracing steps, revisiting locations already traversed, consuming more and more of their precious time. She watched the changing of the seasons unfold before her; it was already the onset of winter, a stark contrast to the early summer days when they initially arrived at Ostagar.

“We need to go,” Alistair said softly.

“You can count me out,” Amelia said. It was surprising to hear the taller mage decide to sit a mission out, but it was time the woman got some rest.

In Kiera’s mind, it was decided: they would take a brief respite and establish camp in the vicinity of Lake Calenhad once more, while a select few ventured back to Ostagar. Kiera was determined not to abandon any valuable loot or intelligence. Although reluctant to part ways with Amelia, she honored the woman's wishes. To their surprise, Wynne expressed a desire to accompany them. Kiera cautioned her about the long journey, only to be rebuked for implying any notion of her old age. Both Shale and Morrigan agreed to join the expedition. They set up camp precisely as planned. The ground was frigid and unyielding, with the icy winds intensifying. Winter and its snows were rapidly approaching. Kiera had anticipated being in Orzammar by now; she had hoped to seek refuge in a warmer climate for the winter. Despite the absence of snow, the biting cold was already upon them. Most sought solace in pairs, except for Sten, who seemed impervious to the elements. Wynne positioned her tent closest to the fire, and Grace stealthily slipped inside. Alistair and Zevran were conspicuously absent, leading Kiera to deduce that the two men were likely secluded together in one of their tents, their bond having deepened since the night at the Pearl.

Kiera descended towards Morrigan's tent, gliding in gracefully. The witch lay in her bedroll, her attire cast aside and the blanket slipping off her naked form, deeply engrossed in the grimoire; she paid no heed to the Warden's presence.

"Morrigan?" Kiera uttered softly.

Morrigan lifted her gaze from the book, peering over it slightly, her gilded eyes ensnared Kiera instantly. Even in repose, the woman exuded an irresistible charm. "Yes, my Warden," her words caressed her lips.

“Care for company?” Kiera inquired with a sly smile.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Leave your clothes at the door," she teased, a smile playing on her lips.

Kiera wasted no time shedding her clothes as Morrigan discreetly watched her from behind the grimoire. She nestled beside the witch, enveloping their forms in an intimate embrace. Kiera lay against the other woman as she delved into the contents of the ancient tome. Glancing at the page Morrigan was engrossed in, Kiera caught sight of passages concerning blood magic and soul transference. The content piqued her interest; she pondered whether Morrigan would permit her a glimpse once she had concluded her perusal, perhaps they could collaborate on studying it. It had been an eternity since Kiera had the luxury of indulging in learning, with the whole of running for her life, fleeing one country to another, and becoming a Grey Warden fighting darkspawn. There wasn’t much room in the elf’s life for her passions.

Kiera’s life unfolded in ways she had never envisioned, nor desired. Often, she found herself gazing into the mirror, unable to recognize the person staring back at her. The trials she endured, from Tevinter to the present, had chipped away at her very essence, leaving her to question the existence of the vibrant girl she once was. Did her former passions still linger within her? Fenhedis, the woman used to even write until her life was turned upside down. It seemed that nowadays, her focus was solely on vanquishing darkspawn and seeking intimacy in the arms of the witch. These pursuits served as temporary distractions from the looming shadow of the taint.

"You're doing it again,” Morrigan said as she poked the elf on the forehead. Kiera looked up at the witch and smiled. “Are you going to keep brooding? Or speak? If not, you’ll have to be depressed more quietly.” Morrigan said.

Kiera chuckled softly, unsure of where to even begin. Expressing her emotions was not a skill she excelled in; she often found it easier to bury them deep within or drown them in alcohol. "I have been thinking," she started, gazing at the peak of the tent as she shifted in her bedroll.

Morrigan, with a hint of amusement in her voice, interjected, “Oh? You don't say.”

“About the taint… and how now my entire life is finite. I thought there was time.”

"Sometimes I think that maybe this is my karma, that I deserve this for all the things I’ve done,” Kiera confessed with a heavy sigh.

Morrigan let out a light laugh. “Kiera, what are you going on about?”

“I haven’t always made the best choices, Morrigan,” Kiera admitted, her voice tinged with regret.

"You're being pitiful. You're not an evil person, and there is no cosmic force punishing you. Such a notion is preposterous," Morrigan asserted firmly.

"I am aware of that, but... this is not where I envisioned my journey to lead. I had hoped to be traversing the untamed wilderness, exploring ancient ruins, expanding my knowledge, and documenting stories. Instead, I find myself reduced to a mere instrument with an ominous countdown ticking away in my mind, heralding my inevitable demise at its leisure. I feel utterly powerless," Kiera confided, her voice breaking slightly.

Morrigan fell silent for a moment, then spoke with conviction. "You are more than a mere tool, Kiera. We have witnessed a mage who defied his calling; it is not beyond the realm of possibility. Through the right application of magic, who's to say there isn't a remedy or a method to halt the advancement of the corruption." Morrigan gently held Kiera's face, locking gazes with her. "Are you prepared to abandon the pursuit of knowledge? It seems you have resigned yourself to death rather than exploring the potential possibilities.”

She was right. Kiera had fallen into the idea that this was it, that things were pointless. It just seemed that if there was a cure, Avernus certainly would have found it by now, right? He had been around for centuries researching. Kiera didn't have centuries, and if she did, she didn't want to spend the entirety searching for a cure, Leaving everyone behind? Even Morrigan? She pulled the witch into a kiss, and the other woman smiled into her lips. “You’re right,” Kiera said, barely pulling away from the witch.

“I know” she chuckled softly as she drew the woman closer, gently placing the book aside. Deepening the kiss, Kiera found herself utterly captivated by this enchanting woman; each moment they shared was pure ecstasy, and that night was no exception. Drained of energy, she lay in Morrigan's bedroll, succumbing to the embrace of sleep as the witch dreamt beside her. Despite her efforts to resist the beckoning embrace of slumber, Kiera's fatigued body yielded. Awakening to a nightmarish reality, her dreams, always lucid, were now tainted by an unsettling presence. A distant dragon's cry pierced the air, resonating with an abnormal, almost agonizing quality. The moon had transformed into the watchful eye of the Archdemon, watching her every movement as if present in spirit, truly seeing her.

Kiera wandered through a desolate wasteland, with corpses strewn across the ground. Distant hills gradually revealed themselves to be mounds of lifeless bodies. A baby's cries pierced the eerie silence, causing Kiera's ears to twitch anxiously as she scanned her surroundings. "Hush, Da'len," a masculine voice resonated through the darkness. The dragon's gaze intensified, searing its twitching vision into the elven woman as she frantically scanned the area as her anxiety grew. "Da'len, all will be well," the man's tone gradually grew more somber. A silhouette emerged from the shadows, cradling the wailing infant, as the voice gradually faded into the darkness.

“Keeper…” Kiera said, her chest tightening.

The dragon's eye grew larger behind the man, illuminating him as he slowly came into view. The child’s cries were filled with the pain of abandonment. “We know what you are, da'len.” The voice faded into her own as the figure stepped fully into the light. Kiera stood there, staring at herself, holding the screaming child. The dragon's eye snapped shut, plunging the world around her into darkness. Silence fell over the land when suddenly a flame erupted before her, almost engulfing her as well. She stumbled backward as the other Kiera screamed, reaching through the flame, her body burnt and broiled, grabbing her arm and yanking her back towards the flame and her screaming face.

The dragon's eye loomed larger behind the man, casting light upon him as he gradually emerged. The child's wails resonated with the anguish of abandonment. "We know what you are, da'len," the voice echoed, blending with her own as the figure fully emerged into the illumination. Kiera stood motionless, gazing at her own reflection, cradling the shrieking child. Abruptly, the dragon's eye closed, shrouding the surroundings in darkness. A profound stillness enveloped the land until a sudden burst of flames erupted before her, nearly engulfing her in its fiery embrace. She staggered backward as the alternate Kiera, ablaze and charred, extended her hand through the flames, seizing her arm and forcefully pulling her towards the inferno and her agonizing fate.

Kiera jolted upright, her chest heaving and drenched in sweat. Morrigan sat beside her, gently holding Kiera's face in her hands and murmuring words that barely reached Kiera's ears. Pushing Morrigan's hands away, Kiera hurriedly dressed and fled the tent barefoot. Without pausing, she sprinted into the safety of the woods, seeking refuge. Finding solace in a tree, she perched herself high above, observing the world below.

Everything was serene, nothing lay in ruin, and everything appeared undisturbed. She released a breath and reclined against the trunk. Pausing for a moment, she shut her eyes, concentrating on her rhythmic breathing. Abruptly, a sensation of being watched washed over her. Kiera's eyes fluttered open to behold the fluffy ebony feline with piercing golden eyes, its tail twitching restlessly. A smile graced Kiera's lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out” she murmured softly. The cat extended gracefully, stretching before it sauntered towards her, perching its delicate front paws on the woman's chest and lightly embedding its claws into her. “Ouch, tiny knives”  Kiera winced, delicately prying the tiny paws away as she held the feline outward from her.

Morrigan was so cute like this, her tail agitatedly twitching in vexation as she firmly gripped the woman’s fingers with her claws. Her ears were folded back in a silent demand to be released. Kiera chuckled, almost sensing the witch's voice in her head. She released her hold, and Morrigan placed her paws on Kiera’s stomach before gracefully climbing up her chest, settling in her arms and nuzzling her face. Kiera laughed as she caressed the cat, eliciting a purr in response. Morrigan snuggled against Kiera’s neck, and they stayed in that position until Kiera's heartbeat calmed down and she started to feel the cold air against her exposed skin. As she noticed her breath forming mist in the air, and her fingers beginning to stiffen, she realized the witch must be feeling the chill as well. She gently kissed the cat on the head, "Let's return before we lose feeling in our toes.” Morrigan stretched as she gracefully leaped off the Warden and skillfully descended the tree trunk, using her claws to guide her way down. Kiera followed suit, descending swiftly; her childhood spent climbing trees made it almost instinctual for the elf. She landed softly on the ground and made her way towards the tent. Morrigan walked ahead of her with poise until they reached the tent entrance, where the woman transformed back to her original self, now completely nude.

She gazed up at the woman, and in her captivating golden eyes, where Kiera expected sympathy, there was none, only an unspoken inquiry awaiting a response. Rising on her tiptoes, Kiera tenderly kissed the taller woman. "I’m fine," Kiera murmured softly as the witch enveloped the shorter woman in her embrace.

The path to Ostagar was frigid and harsh.  Kiera wasn’t certain who complained more, Alistair or Morrigan. It was ironic because the one person who looked worse for wear did not complain at all unless Alistair was calling her "old.” Wynne maintained a steady pace even though she seemed in need of a break. They stood in front of the stronghold blanketed in snow. “Something about returning here makes me feel old, Wynne” Alistair remarked.

“And what exactly are you implying, Alistair?’ Wynne snapped, her head turning to the man

"What?… what? N… nothing! No, I just… thought…”.  

“You just thought I might be an expert at feeling old and could share some sage advice?” She quipped.

“I... I just mean that I was a different person then. I believed him, you know. That it would be a glorious battle, that we would win…” Alistair said softly.

 Wynne looked as if she wanted to whack the man in the head. She took a deep breath and spoke,  "With lip like that, son, you'll be lucky if you live to be half my age.”

The key had been right where the man said he had buried it, and so had the armory locker. It was full of swords and armor. Things they certainly would need for the upcoming battle. She marked the location on her map. What was most interesting were the documents held inside, documents explaining the agreement Ferelden made with Orlais to help fight the Blight. Documents of a marriage proposal to unite the countries. Documents that now mattered little since Loghain orchestrated his daughter's emergence as the emblem of Ferelden, the mourning betrothed of the king. The people had rallied behind her and her father, prompting Kiera to assume that a coup had long been in Loghain's machinations. Now, he stood on the precipice of seizing the throne. The intricacies of the politics of man eluded Kiera; the notion of power struggles for supremacy appeared confounding. In her view, a leader ought to embody empathy and devotion towards their people, rather than seek dominion driven by an insatiable thirst for authority and prestige.

They silently retraced their path, battling darkspawn as they went. The area was heavily infested with the creatures. Shale stuck close to Wynne, seemingly aware of her weakening state. Kiera could sense it too. Wynne's spirit would flicker, struggling to persevere. As they reached the battleground, Wynne let out a gasp; the mounds of corpses were piled high. The more Kiera looked around, the more she recognized her dream; it was as if she had been there before. Her mouth watered with nausea.

Upon the battlefield, a genlock emissary adorned in the regal armor of the king stood out amidst the chaos. The diminutive mage appeared comically out of place in the oversized, gilded armor, struggling to maintain its balance. Alistair, filled with righteous fury, charged towards the darkspawn, vehemently protesting the desecration of the king's armor. With a powerful shield bash, he knocked the creature to the ground, where it floundered helplessly within the confines of the ill-fitting armor. Seizing the opportunity, Kiera approached and deftly kicked the helmet off the creature. Uttering a piercing cry, the genlock emissary met its end as Alistair expertly plunged a gleaming golden sword through its gaping maw, pinning it to the ground with a finality that echoed across the battlefield.

“Where did you get that?” Kiera asked, looking towards the sword.

“It was Cailain's, it belonged to … our father.” He said as he yanked the sword from the darkspawn, its teeth shattering as the blade withdrew through its mouth.

They plundered whatever they could salvage from the battlefield and commenced their journey back. Suddenly, Wynne collapsed, succumbing to unconsciousness. Kiera sensed the woman's spirit falter once more, enduring a prolonged moment of emptiness. Rushing to the mage's side, she knelt down to support her as she regained consciousness. “Uhhh… I … fell…”  Wynne murmured weakly.

Kiera looked to her; she could feel her brow wrinkle in confused horror. “No, really? You're very observant.” She said, chuckling.

 Wynne was white as a ghost. ”For a moment, I thought I was… I thought it was all over.”

“Thought what was over?” Kiera looked down at the elder mage.

“Everything” she said as she started to sit forward. Kiera and Alistair helped the woman to her feet. “I… I will explain everything when we are back at camp. Now is not the time.” The woman said.

They set out back toward the camp. Kiera was surprised that Shale had almost eagerly agreed to carry Wynne the entire way back. Much to her protests, she eventually gave in as Kiera would not listen. The woman needed rest; she had almost died from overexertion. Kiera wasn’t about to have her walk the entire way back to the camp, which is why they made a short stop, resting in Flemeth's hut.

There was only one bed in Morrigan's childhood home, where they settled Wynne. The woman swiftly succumbed to slumber as Morrigan kindled the hearth. Kiera discreetly ventured out to find them sustenance; she hesitated to entrust Alistair with the task, doubting his hunting prowess. Silently traversing the wilderness, she adeptly felled a rabbit with an arrow straight through its eye. Reverently, she kissed her bow, whispering, “I still got it,' with a soft chuckle as she retrieved the rabbit. Returning to the hut, Kiera presented five lifeless rabbits before the seasoned Warden. Alistair let out a sharp cry as the rabbits thudded onto the table. "Get to work," Kiera jestingly remarked as she slapped the man on the back.

Kiera and Alistair, well mostly Kiera skinned and cleaned the rabbits. Morrigan began to boil a cauldron on the fire, dumping the meat and various vegetables and spices she had procured. When Alistair decided to open his mouth, “When you do things like that, it really brings out the witchy stereotype people are so afraid of.” Morrigan cackled comically as she shot a sphere of ice at the man. “You see what I mean? She will turn us into toads next; this was her plan all along.” He laughed as he held his shield up to protect himself from the slew of ice balls that came his way.

Kiera approached the witch from behind, delicately trailing her icy fingers along the exposed skin of Morrigan's back. "Hey, beautiful," she whispered softly. The sorceress halted her tumultuous assault on the other Warden, turning to face Kiera, who then drew her into a tender kiss. Alistair, in the background, couldn't help but express his disapproval with a series of gagging sounds. Morrigan, however, responded with a lighthearted giggle before returning to her culinary tasks, in a much better mood than before.

Kiera went in to check on Wynne, bringing her a bowl of Morrigan's stew, and just like a mirror to the past, Wynne sat up in the bed, the same way Kiera once had. “Are you alright?” She spoke softly as the elf sat in the chair next to her.

“I think I owe you an explanation for what happened earlier,” Wynne said as her head hung low.

“Oh, you mean when you collapsed in battle?” Kiera chuckled.

“You should know that… something happened to me at the tower, before you came along.” She looked towards the warden. “Remember my apprentice Petra? She encountered a demon in the tower. It would have killed her had I not intervened.” She let out a weary sigh. “I saved her life that day, but I did not survive that encounter with the demon.”

Kiera looked at the woman, confused. Certainly, her spirit was off, but she wasn’t dead. Kiera was a necromancer, and she certainly knew when something was dead. No, this was something more. “Uh, this case of death is taking a while to kick in, then?” Kiera laughed.

Wynne offered a faint smile. “Let me explain fully.” She adjusted her position on the bed and recounted to Kiera the harrowing encounter with the malevolent entity that had targeted her apprentice. She described how she exerted every fiber of her being to thwart its sinister intentions, how the woman's life force ebbed away, and how she ultimately succumbed to the weight of death's embrace. Drifting into the abyss, the woman perceived a comforting presence enveloping her, murmuring soothing words that beckoned her back to the realm of the living. Gradually, she began to discern the rekindling warmth within her, accompanied by the sharp ache of the unforgiving stone floor against her body.

Kiera smiled. She knew spirits, and one had taken to the dear mage. It was rare in the south; spirits hid there and rarely made themselves known. It was something the mage had missed of the north. She missed the magic, the spirits, the life. “I knew your spirit felt off”

Wynne looked to the elf, puzzled “You knew?”

“I could sense your essence wavering, and I was uncertain, but now it's unmistakable; you've forged a connection with a spirit.” Kiera gently clasped the woman's hand “It’s truly an amazing phenomenon. Many spirits are benevolent and compassionate, a rarity in these parts. Yet, you were fortunate enough to encounter it.”

"I'm supposed to be dead. The spirit is the only thing keeping me in this world, and this is not the way of things.” The mage shook her head and pulled her hand from the elf. “Perhaps the spirit did not expect this, but it is weakening, gradually. I am living on borrowed time.”

“Wynne, the spirit chose you because of your actions and who you are as a person. It resonated with your feelings, with your sense of self-sacrifice. The spirit has faith in you, regardless of time.” Kiera stated.

“I suppose you may be right. I can feel it when the spirit weakens, so I should have a warning. But we shouldn’t dwell on this; we still have some time.” Wynne smiled toward the Warden, cupping her face almost maternally.

Kiera left the mage to rest and retreated into the main living area. The light was dim, emanating solely from the hearth. Morrigan was seated on a homemade couch, a rather remarkable piece considering they were in the middle of the swamp. Draped in a blanket, she was engrossed in perusing her Grimoire. Alistair had vanished outside for a moment of solitude; it was just the two of them now. Such moments between them were rare. When the witch softly beckoned, "Join me," Kiera needed no further invitation. With almost graceful haste, she traversed the back of the couch and settled beside the enigmatic woman. The moon's rays filtered through the small window above the fire, casting a luminous glow on Morrigan's countenance. Ethereal and nearly unattainable, she resembled the moon herself. “I wish to ask a question of you.” she addressed the elf as she closed the tome.

“Go ahead,” Kiera said softly.

“I wish to know your opinion of love”

This had come out of nowhere, the elf’s heart felt like it was going to burst through her throat. This wasn't a question she expected to be faced with. “My… my opinion? This is coming out of nowhere.” She chuckled.

Morrigan dismissed the notion as she gently placed the tome aside, focusing her undivided attention on the warden. “I would hardly call it nowhere,” she remarked with a hint of amusement. Pausing for a moment, her gaze lingered on Kiera. “You and I have been intimate, for one.” Her eyes shifted slightly. "We have been… close… for some time now. You are… impressive… in many ways, and you even protected me from Flemeth without a real hope of reward.” Morrigan absentmindedly toyed with her fingers as she stared at her hands. “I feel anxious when I look upon you. I dislike this sense of dependency. 'Tis a weakness I abhor. If this is ‘love,' I wish to ascertain that you do not feel the same”

“Are you saying you love me?” Kiera’s mouth fell open slightly.

You could see the panic rise in Morrigan's face as she threw her hands up in defense. “I… thats not what I'm saying. You need to pay attention.” She sighed.

“And if I do love you?” Kiera murmured, her voice barely audible. She almost regretted uttering those words, yet her lips had a tendency to betray her.

Morrigan locked eyes with the elf. "Then we are both fools, and we need to do something immediately” she lamented, pushing herself to articulate her thoughts. “I have allowed myself to become too close. This is a weakness, for us both.” With a heavy heart, she averted her gaze towards the flickering flames, the moon casting a gentle glow on every exquisite contour of the witch's anguished visage.

“Morrigan,” Kiera said, drawing the woman's golden gaze back onto her.

“Kiera.” She said wearily.

“Love is not a weakness.” Kiera had only loved a few times in her life, and when she did, it was powerful yet also hurtful; however, it was never a weakness. And what she felt for the witch, for her to ever dare call it a weakness, would be an outright lie. At times, Kiera’s feelings for the witch were what seemed to even keep her going anymore.

Irritation filled Morrigan's words “You are not listening to me. Do not be such a fool.”  Her mood shifted rapidly, from irritation to tenderness; it appeared that the witch was in a perpetual battle with herself .”This is for your own good. I would not… I am not like other women. I am not worth your distraction.” Her voice almost faltered before quickly recovering “And you are not worth mine.”

Kiera was taken aback. “Morrigan, I like you because you aren’t like other women” she touched the woman's face, who stiffened at the touch. “You are worth my distraction.”

“I…” Morrigan yanked the woman's hand away. “You are impossible!” Her grip loosened as she stared into Kiera’s eyes, and she let out a soft sigh. “Have it your way. But I will tell you truly now: you will regret it in the end.”

“I'll take my chances, however, there being a time where I regret you isn’t a possibility.” She leaned in as the witch sat frozen “The odds of me coming out of this alive are slim; you have been the best part of the journey, Morrigan. "With an intense passion, she closed the distance between them, their lips igniting like a blazing inferno as Kiera pressed fervently against Morrigan’s lips, delicately nipping at them. The witch’s mouth yielded, welcoming Kiera’s advance; their tongues engaged in a battle of dominance. Kiera’s hand glided up Morrigan’s supple form and beneath her flowing garment, gently caressing her breast. Her fingers gently pinched the witch's nipple, eliciting a needy moan from the woman.

Morrigan pushed the woman off of her breathlessly. “Excuse me! I… I think not.” She grabbed her book, and opened it again, her face flushed as she tried to read. Kiera couldn’t help but laugh.

“My mistake, I thought you’d be interested.” Kiera smiled.

Morrigan snapped her head toward the woman. “Your mistake indeed. You’ll have to forgive me if I don't leap at your command like a trained war hound!”

“Morrigan, I would never expect that of you. Is something wrong?” Kiera’s face fell as she leaned back into the arm of the couch.

Morrigan practically snorted at the elf’s words. “Because something must be amiss with me in order to refuse your charms?”

Kiera looked at the witch with sincerity in her voice. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry.”

Morrigan's face grew soft. “It…I simply do not wish to discuss it. Leave me be.” She turned back to her grimoire. Kiera smiled at the witch and got comfortable, stretching her legs out towards Morrigan, testing the waters. The witch took her blanket, covering them both as she reclined on her end of the couch, intertwining her legs with the elf, engrossed in her reading. She exuded elegance effortlessly, her eyes skimming the pages with finesse, her lips moistened with concentration. Oblivious to Kiera's gaze, she was lost in her literary pursuit. Kiera did love this woman more than she had loved anyone, even herself. She was prepared for any anguish that may come, she embraced it wholeheartedly, accustomed to its sting.

Chapter Text

The Bard and The Warden

It had been almost a fortnight since half of the party departed for Ostagar. The hours grew later, and anticipation filled Amelia as she awaited their return. However, the expected moment never arrived, causing a sense of unease to settle within her. Both mabari companions rested at her feet as she attempted to partake in her evening meal; she generously shared most of it with the eager dogs, who awaited each morsel with drooling anticipation. “You are not quite as callow as I thought. That is quite unexpected.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Her head shot up, looking to Sten, who stood ominously above the warden.

“Callow? It is a word in your tongue. It means ‘without feathers,' a new-hatched bird.” Sten said matter-of-factly. The Qunari only dealt in literals, which was, at times, a headache.

Amelia chuckled. “I know what the word means.”

“Then why ask?” His voice was deep and full of confusion.

Amelia rubbed her temple. “I meant, why would you think I was callow?”

“You probably give most people that impression. You’ll get over it. Eventually.” He said humorously.

While the man had grown on Amelia, and she would at this point almost dare say he had become a friend, she couldn’t help at times wonder why Kiera let him out of that cage. “Remind me why you came to Ferelden again.?”

He explained how the leader of his people, the Arishok, sent him out of curiosity to be the eyes and ears of the Antaam army. He was to come to Ferelden and return with word of the Blight.

“Well, you've seen the blight. Why haven’t you left? You can’t enjoy it here.” She chuckled.

“I cannot leave," he said solemnly.

“Why?” She wondered.

He described how he and his companions had found the darkspawn the Arishok had been so curious about. They were besieged from all angles, even from beneath the ground, leaving him drained to the point of unconsciousness after a night of relentless combat. Upon regaining consciousness, he realized his sword, crafted exclusively for his hands, was missing despite his thorough search. The family who discovered him confirmed its absence, prompting him to eliminate them out of fear tragically. For to return home, devoid of his blade, would mean certain death at the hands of the Qunari. Amelia inquired about the sword's last known whereabouts. To Amelia’s surprise, it was at Lake Calenhad, their current location. She offered to assist in its retrieval, to which Sten, though skeptical, “Perhaps those words are empty, but thank you all the same.” he said softly.

Amelia tossed her dinner down for the dogs, standing up to meet the gaze of the Qunari. Sten, towering over the tall mage, received a gentle tap on his arm from her, signaling him to depart from the camp. "Shall we make our way to the lake?" The lake was not a considerable distance from their camp, and they swiftly arrived. The mabaris promptly detected a man rummaging through the debris near the ancient bridge. Stinky approached the man stealthily from the rear, emitting a low growl, while Grace encircled him from the front. The man, seized by panic, rose to his feet. Amelia and Sten advanced towards the diminutive man, their imposing figures casting a somber silhouette over him, obscuring the moonlight behind them.

“Back off, I was here first.” He said, trying to sound tough yet failing miserably.

“You find a sword around here?” Amelia said sternly

“W…Why, are you looking to buy one?” he stammered.

“Only if it's a Qunari blade.”

The blade had already been picked up, and the scavenger knew absolutely nothing. He had bought second-hand information from a man named Feryn, who he had met passing through and was now headed to Orzammar. Amelia thanked the man and walked away. “How convenient," she mused. ”Some things line up perfectly.”

“It seems they do,” Sten said as the dogs barked happily alongside them, playfully jumping together.

They snuck back into camp as stealthily as two behemoths could. Leliana sat beside the fire, strumming her lute as she bantered with Zevran. Amelia had never experienced jealousy towards the woman until this instant. The manner in which the resplendent blonde elf, with his cascading locks, effortlessly drew laughter from the bard unsettled Amelia. However, when he delicately brushed a stray tress from her countenance, Amelia felt an urge to stride towards the campfire. As she neared, Leliana's visage illuminated with delight, dispelling all unease the mage had harbored. “Amelia, there you are. We were just talking about you.” Zevran remarked with a grin. ”I shall take my leave. You two should have some alone time," With that, he rose, almost bowing to the Warden before departing.

“That was odd. What were you two talking about?” Amelia chuckled as she watched the elf sway away to his tent.

Leliana stood up, enveloping Amelia in a warm hug, “Nothing,” she giggled. “Where have you been?” she inquired.

“Sten and I had a brief excursion to search for a sword,” she smiled.

“A sword?” Leliana looked at her with a puzzled expression.

“Yes, a sword,” she chuckled at Leliana, finding her incredulous look amusing.

“You seem to be taking after Kiera, now engaging in treasure hunts,” Leliana giggled, leaning in to kiss Amelia on the cheek.

Amelia laughed, holding Leliana's face in her hands, a sense of contentment washing over her. “I am quite different from her. I was merely helping Sten,” she explained.

“Of course,” Leliana said softly, planting a gentle kiss on the inside of Amelia's hand. “Amelia, I…” She withdrew slightly to meet Amelia's gaze.  “It has been some time since I left Lothering. When I stepped out of the cloister, I had no idea where my path would lead. I walked where the Maker led me, and He has rewarded me for my faith. I found you.” She spoke softly, her vulnerability evident as she gazed at Amelia.

“I am glad that our paths have crossed as well,” Amelia expressed her gratitude towards the bard. The depth of emotions Leliana stirred within her was unparalleled, making her doubt she could navigate the impending war without her.

“You don't know how it makes me feel to hear you say that.” Leliana blushed, averting her gaze. "But now it is getting late; I think I might turn in early.” she glanced at Amelia with a coy smile. “I can't stop thinking about how soft and warm my bedroll is.” 

“Do you want some company?” Amelia said, lifting the rogue's chin to meet her gaze.

"You're welcome to join me, of course.” She bites her lip. “The Maker says we must share our blessings.”

“Well, I'm not going to say no to sharing blessings,” as if Amelia would ever deny her. Her eyes were as blue as the ocean. Amelia loved watching the light pass through as the colors changed. Leliana honestly had the most beautiful eyes the mage had ever seen. Amelia leaned in, kissing Leliana softly.

Leliana grabbed the woman by the collar as she smiled. "Good, now come with me before I lose my patience.” She kissed the mage with hunger before pulling away quickly, practically dragging Amelia toward the tent. Leliana was pulling on the buckles of Amelia’s armor before they could even get in the tent. The woman was eager to get the mage out of her clothes, and the mage held the same sentiment. However, Leliana's armor was far easier to remove. Amelia had watched the woman do it for a while now, and with a few deft movements, the armor fell to the ground. “How…?” Leliana looked down, then back up at the mage.

Amelia began proudly unbuckling her armor, swiftly discarding it to the ground. Leliana attempted to speak, but the mage did not afford her the opportunity. She promptly closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a passionate embrace. Leliana drew the mage closer, their bodies pressing firmly against each other. Amelia delicately traced her tongue along the bard's lower lip, which parted as an invitation for the mage to explore further. Their lips intertwined, and Leliana gently sucked the mage's tongue into her mouth, skillfully engaging in a seductive dance. The kiss grew fervent, almost primal, and both women parted, breathless. "J’ai besoin de toi," Leliana murmured, her voice laced with desire as she guided Amelia onto the bedroll. Leliana removed the mage's undershirt before discarding her own, then tenderly kissed the mage before reclining on the bedroll, her entire being on display for the mage.

The rogue was a masterpiece. Her body was adorned with freckles and scars, her breath quickened, and she began to flush red with anticipation. The woman couldn’t hide her emotions, not with skin that flushed so quickly. Leliana covered her face with her hand in an attempt to hide her blush as she peeked over the back of her hand. Her nipples, a soft pink, grew hard as Amelia’s eyes scanned the rogue's body. Amelia reveled in this; visibly seeing her partner's desire, no matter how hard they tried to conceal it, drove her mad. “You are so beautiful,” Amelia said as she leaned over the other woman. She bent down, kissing her softly. Her long braid tickled the bard's shoulder, pulling a giggle out of her.

Leliana wrapped her arms around the mage, kissing her deeper, her tongue making its way back into Amelia’s mouth, gracefully dancing with one another. Amelia bit the bard's bottom lip, earning a playful moan. She kissed her way down her face and neck, biting and sucking on each inch of flesh, lingering on the woman's neck. Leliana's nails dug into her back, and Amelia bit harder, eliciting a desperate whine from the woman. Amelia chuckled softly, "You are so perfect, Leliana.” She kissed her way slowly across the woman's collarbone, causing her to stifle a moan by biting the back of her hand. Slowly, she made her way down across the woman's chest as she ran her fingers over Leliana's beautifully rose-colored nipples. She sucked one into her mouth, rolling her tongue in circles around the tip, and she pinched the other between her fingers.

Leliana rolled her hips into the woman, practically begging the mage to inch herself lower. Amelia had all night; she wasn’t eager to jump right in. She had waited for this for so long and wanted to savor every moment. Leliana ran her fingers through the woman's long black hair, gently pulling it from its usual braid, sending it cascading over them both. Leliana gathered the woman's hair into her fist and pulled her head up to look at her in the eyes.

Leliana was so beautiful; her eyes were now pale grey, her lips were wet, stained from their kiss, and her face almost begged for release. “Amelia…” She said, rolling her hips, and the mage's fingers squeezed the sensitive flesh harder, pulling a small cry from the bard. Leliana sighed, laying her head back into the pillow, her mouth hung open in a silent plea.

“What’s the matter?” Amelia inquired with a mischievous grin as she delicately traced a finger down Leliana's abdomen. The bard suppressed a whimper, biting her lip in response. Amelia chuckled softly before resuming her exploration of the woman's body with kisses. She took Leliana's nipple into her mouth, giving it a final suck before playfully nipping at it, leaving it behind with a gentle kiss. Continuing her sensual journey downwards, Amelia's lips caressed each scar that adorned the rogue's stomach, appreciating their beauty. One particular scar, starting from Leliana's rib cage and flowing down her body towards her hip, captivated Amelia's attention. She kissed along its path and gently nipped at the woman's hip. Arriving at Leliana's undergarments, she placed a tender kiss at the woman's core, eliciting a desperate whine in response and causing Leliana to tug at her hair, pulling her head back involuntarily. All of Amelia's teasing has left Leliana drenched with desire. Amelia's lips, now glistening, were licked in a moment of relish, tasting the bard as they locked eyes. "What's wrong, Leliana?” Amelia said coyly, her lover's name lingering on her tongue.

“Amelia… please… I need you…” Leliana's voice was soft; all pride was cast aside as the begging words left her lips.

Amelia sank her teeth into the soft flesh of Leliana's thigh, leaving her teeth marks behind and prompting the rogue to release the grip on her hair. “Good girl," she said as she slid her fingers up the center of Leliana's wet underwear, reaching the waist, and she began pulling them off. She slowly slid them down her soft legs before tossing them towards Leliana's other clothes. The woman lay there, covering herself just enough with her own body. Leliana bit her lip as she looked down at Amelia’s body, her face wrinkling as she noticed the mage was still covered. She sat up and started pulling the Warden's underwear down. Amelia got the message and eagerly yanked it off the rest of the way.

She lay across the bard, using her legs to spread the other woman's. Leliana pulled her into a kiss, rolling her hips and searching for contact. “Please,” she said, her voice pleading. Amelia could no longer deny the woman, no matter how much she wanted to. She ran her hand down the woman's body, her fingers gliding right through the other woman's slickness, exploring every inch of her center. Her fingers quickly found her clit, and she swirled her fingers in lazy circles around it. Leliana let out the softest moan at the first contact. Slowly, she slid her fingers until she arrived at the woman's entrance, teasing her softly, swirling her fingers. Leliana's hips rolled again, pulling Amelia inside her with the movement. Immediately, the mage curled her fingers inside the rogue, and she bit down into Amelia’s shoulder as her fingers gripped into the skin on the mage's back.

Slowly, Amelia slid in and out of the bard, almost pulling herself completely out each time. The needy whines that came from the bard drove the mage over the edge. “You're so beautiful," she whispered into Leliana's ear as she gently licked it. The rogue turned her head to meet the woman's lips, and she rolled her hips into the smooth rhythm they found. Leliana's nails dug into the mage's back, and the sting was intoxicating. She leaned in, kissing Leliana, who hungrily met her lips. Breathlessly, Leliana pulled away, kissing her way across the brunette's cheek, stopping at the other woman's ear. Her breaths grew closer and more desperate as she held onto the mage, her hips rolling vigorously. Amelia knew she was getting close. Amelia withdrew herself from the rogue, who looked as if she were going to throw a fit. ‘Hey!” She whined, and Amelia smiled mischievously at the woman as she leaned up, pulling the woman by the hips closer toward her.

Amelia threw one leg over Leliana and lifted the other as she leaned down onto the other woman. When their centers made contact, Leliana rolled her hips as Amelia followed the rhythm. Leliana dug her fingers into Amelia’s backside, pulling her forward with each roll. Her moans quickened, and the mage could tell she was close. The idea of watching the other woman reach her peak almost sent her into her own orgasm. She did her best to contain it as she wanted to ensure Leliana felt nothing but pleasure before she did. Her breath started to quicken, and Leliana locked eyes with her. “Je t’aime,” she said as her breath quickened. Leliana's body began to shake, and her mouth hung open in ecstasy. The sight of the bard sent Amelia over the edge, and her orgasm followed Leliana's. They rode their peak out together as Amelia took Leliana's lips into her own. The other woman pulled her down on top of her as they lay with one another, trying to catch their breaths.

Maker's breath, did she wish she knew Orleasian. She loved how the words sounded that escaped the rogue's lips, slipping effortlessly in and out of her native tongue. Yet, a sense of exclusion lingered within her. As she disentangled herself from the bard's embrace, she drew the woman closer, whispering softly, “What does that mean?” still trying to catch her breath.

Leliana looked embarrassed as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “ it is a secret.” She winked, placing a kiss on Amelia’s lips.

“Oh, a secret, huh?” She laughed.

“Yes, you will have to figure it out on your own," the bard smiled, her arms tightening around the mage as she began kissing up and down the mage's neck.

“You do know I like a challenge, right?” She smiled as she placed a kiss on top of the woman's head.

Leliana licked her way up Amelia’s neck, pulling a moan from her. "I am counting on this," she giggled, placing a trail of kisses back down where she had just run her tongue.

Amelia rolled her eyes at the sensation; the rogue was so perfect, so soft, she knew exactly what to do to make the mage shiver. Amelia gently grabbed the woman by her chin, forcing their eyes to meet. Leliana's lips were swollen and red, sitting gently parted. Amelia ran her thumb across the woman's bottom lip, and Leliana sucked it into her mouth seductively. The rogue slowly pulled her mouth away from Amelia, and she smiled so sweetly up at the woman, almost innocently. Amelia pulled her back into a kiss, the bard smiling intently the entire time. The Warden's hand slid down the expanse of Leliana's body as she parted her legs, finding her way back to Leliana's core. Eagerly, the bard opened for the other woman, and she slid two fingers inside gently. “You're so wet,” she whispered into the other woman's lips.

"That's your doing,” Leliana giggled as she wrapped her leg around the Warden, pulling herself closer as she began to roll her hips into Amelia's fingers. She cupped the mage's breast as she gently pinched her nipple, pulling a wince from the woman. Every bit of pain Leliana inflicted felt like ecstasy to the Warden. Amelia kissed the other woman with fervor as she pinned the redhead down into the bedroll. Getting to her knees, she lowered herself, kissing and nipping her way down the woman's body, her fingers still curling inside the rogue. Leliana's moans were delicate and cute, their eyes meeting as Amelia’s mouth hung just above Leliana's dripping core. The mage could smell her desire, feeling a primal need build inside her chest. “Please," Leliana's whine was just above a whisper as she begged. That’s all the mage needed to hear, for when Leliana begged, it drove the Warden wild. She wanted to give the woman whatever she asked for, so long she pleaded for it.

Amelia smiled as she slowly ran her tongue across the woman's slit; she was soaking, her hips bucked, searching for a sensation the mage was insistently teasing her with. She ran her tongue across the bard once more, barely grazing the delicate flesh, pulling a desperate moan from Leliana. “Amelia, s’il te plaît, please.” Her grey eyes locked with Amelia’s as her legs fell farther apart; she was giving herself to the mage completely and unapologetically; she was begging for her, needed her. Amelia relished in this; she chuckled as she plunged her face fully into Leliana's core, coating her face in her essence. She could feel the wetness on her nose and her chin as she ran her tongue over every inch of the woman; she slid her tongue inside the redhead, pulling a delicate moan. Leliana did her best to stay quiet; she seemed worried someone would hear. Amelia honestly didn't care who heard them; she wanted to listen to the other woman and was desperate for it.

She sucked her clit into her mouth, earning a deeper moan that came from the redhead as she cupped her mouth, trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure. Amelia curled her fingers inside the woman, almost forgetting they were even there, and started slowly pulling them out before thrusting them back in. With each thrust, the harder Leliana tried to hide her moans. Amelia began to swirl her tongue around the woman's clit, and she sucked it intently. Leliana's legs began to tremble. Amelia used her free arm to hold the woman in place when she tried to shut her legs around Amelia’s head. Stronger than the bard, Amelia effortlessly held the woman's legs apart, and she continued to taste the woman through her orgasm. “Amelia,” Leliana whined, and she tried to push the woman's head away. The warden completely ignored the woman as she continued exploring her with her tongue. “Amelia…Im… Je vais," she said, her voice turning to a moan as her words trailed off her tongue. Her legs began to tremble once more as Amelia sucked the woman back into her mouth, moaning proudly at her hard work coming to fruition. Leliana's hands ran through Amelia’s raven locks as she grabbed fistfuls of hair; her moan was like a cry of relief. Amelia pulled away as she felt the woman come down from her peak; her chin was left dripping, and she smiled ear to ear. “Come,” Leliana beckoned breathlessly.

Amelia wasted no time returning to the redhead. She was greeted with the sweetest kiss from the bard before running her tongue down her lips, off her chin, and then back up, savoring her essence from Amelia. “Makers breath, Leliana. You are so hot.” She murmured in a mesmerized tone.

Leliana giggled as she pulled the mage in close. It was Amelia’s turn to be held; she wasn’t used to it, being bigger than almost everyone around her. It was only natural that she took on the role of the big spoon. However, being here in Leliana's arms while the woman hummed as she played with Amelia's hair was something the mage had never experienced. Her chest swirled with emotions, and she listened to the sweet vibrations from the bard's chest, her delicate fingers tracing through her hair. Amelia knew then that she was in love. Emotion welled in her throat as she held back her tears; she would not dare ruin this moment with her insistent need to cry. She had done so well hiding it for so long, but when Amelia truly felt her emotions overwhelming her. Usually, tears followed. She wrapped her arms tighter around the bard and focused on the sensations; they were calm and relaxing. Slowly and unintentionally, the bard lulled Amelia to sleep.

Amelia opened her eyes; she had not moved and could still feel the woman rubbing her skin. The birds chirped in the distance; the mage had slept through the night soundly without a nightmare. It was the first time in a long while. She stretched her body as she looked up to the smiling rogue. “Hello," Leliana's voice was soft and inviting.

“Did you even sleep?” Amelia asked sleepily, kissing the bard on the cheek.

“I’ve been up for some time, but yes, I slept.” Leliana kissed the Warden on the nose. “I’ve been watching you sleep; did you know your eyelids flutter when you dream? And you have such pretty eyelashes.” Leliana mused.

“Um… m-my eyelashes?” Amelia chuckled.

“Mmhm, they’re like little butterflies. I want to catch them and keep them in a jar.” She ran her thumb across the woman's face.

“That’s not scary at all,” Amelia laughed as she kissed the rogue.

"I'm so happy, blissful. I haven’t slept so well since I was forced to leave Orlais.” Leliana cupped the woman's face. “Knowing you will be the first thing I see when I wake gives me no small amount of comfort.” She tried her hand on Amelia’s bicep. “I feel safe in your arms, safe, loved, and accepted. This is where I belong.” She leaned in and kissed the mage. “Thank you.”

“Leliana, you don't need to thank me. Being with you feels natural.” She stared into Leliana's eyes, watching the woman's face flush with shades of pink.

“I… suppose I should get up. We have a long day ahead of us.” She said as she shifted to get up, sliding her arm out from under Amelia’s and sitting up in the bedroll.

Amelia ran her fingers up the soft, pale skin on Leliana's back, tracing through the dusting of freckles that decorated her skin. “What's the hurry?”

Leliana looked back to the Warden, playfully hitting her hand away. “Come on, darkspawn, await with bated breath for you to put them out of their misery.” She said almost stoically.

Amelia grabbed the other woman's wrist. “And ignore the beautiful woman next to me in bed? I think not…”

“What are you?” Leliana looked at the woman, confused for a moment. “Oh!” Her eyelids fell, and she flashed a sultry smile. “I see…mmm. I suppose the darkspawn will have to wait a bit longer.” Leliana pushed Amelia back into the bedroll as she crawled on her. Leliana was mesmerizing as she gazed down at Amelia, her blue eyes exploring the mage. She tenderly pressed her lips against the brunette's neck before delicately tracing a path of kisses along the contours of her body. Leliana was an eager lover, and by the way she commanded the mage through multiple orgasms, Amelia was sure she had long planned her actions. Amelia lay in the bedroll as Leliana sat beside her, looking smug as ever. Amelia felt as though she could barely get up. The rogue may have been small, but she sure was rough, and Amelia reveled in every blissful moment.

The two women dressed in their camp clothes and departed the tent. The aroma of sizzling meat immediately captivated their senses; Leliana practically danced with delight toward the campfire to see what was cooking. The sun struck Amelia like a radiant burst, blinding her, her body throbbing with each stride. Alistair stood adjacent to the fire while Zevran skillfully prepared what appeared to be eggs. Amelia experienced a surge of relief upon seeing her companions return, altering her course to make her way directly to Kiera’s abode, where the little elf sat within, her head cradled in her hands. She appeared utterly exhausted.

“You okay?” Amelia asked softly.

Kiera gazed up at the mage, her pale sage eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Yeah… I'm just tired,” she murmured. Despite her attempt to brush it off as mere exhaustion, Amelia saw through her facade. Kiera had swiftly become her dearest companion, someone she held in deep affection for. No matter how hard the other woman tried to conceal her emotions, Amelia always sensed the pained depths hidden beneath the shimmering surface of her sea-green gaze.

“What happened?” Amelia said softly as she tucked a stray hair behind Kiera's ear. She recounted every detail, describing the ravaged state of Ostagar overrun by darkspawn, the unending battles, the discovery of the armory, and the grim sight of the King's body crucified, stripped bare, and suspended above the battlefield. Despite the chilling cold that had preserved much of the monarch's remains, the task of retrieving him and preparing a funeral pyre, as Alistair had suggested, was a gruesome ordeal. The body disintegrated almost upon touch.

“If it wasn’t something that meant something to him, I would have left him there or at least reanimated him to make my life easier.” She sighed. She continued explaining Wynnes' “condition,” which Kiera called a “beautiful thing.” Amelia wasn’t so sure about that; a possession was a possession; Wynne was now the spirit and no longer herself, a maleficar, or at least that's what the Circle had taught her. “They taught you those things to oppress you.” She looked at Amelia. “Magic and spirits are much more complicated than the plain black and white terms the Circle instilled in you.”

Maybe Kiera was right; she usually was. Amelia would never admit that; however, she didn't need the little elf getting an even bigger ego than she already had. Magic was more complicated than it seemed, and it was clear Kiera had other perspectives, and the least Amelia could do was hear her out about them from time to time. While still voicing her own. “I still think we should be weary.”

“That’s fine. You’ll see what I mean eventually. Magic is far more colorful than you have yet to understand.” Kiera smiled at her. “I'm going to nap for a bit.” She said, flopping into her bedroll.

“Oh, before I go, I promised Sten we would find his sword when we reach Orzammar.”

Kiera lifted her head, peeking with one eye. “I'm proud of you for making decisions.” She chuckled. “Now, if you could make more, that would actually be great.” she laughed as she plopped her head back into the pillow.

She stepped through the flap and back into the camp, where the brisk breeze caressed her skin while the sun's warmth enveloped her. In these tranquil moments, the mage treasured the fleeting sense of peace, always aware of the looming threat of darkspawn that could shatter it all, even claiming her. Glancing over at Leliana, who was sharing a laugh with Alistair and the other rogue, Amelia's heart swelled; she loved that woman and would do anything to keep her safe.

Chapter Text

The Descent into the Deep Roads

They finally reached the camp, and Alistair was ravenously hungry, thankfully they bought eggs and sausage from the inn at the docks, and he practically raced up the road back to the camp. “It seems excited to stuff its face hole absolutely disgusting.” Shale scoffed. Alistair was ready to eat; he hadn’t had a proper meal in days, and he needed a small reward for having to deal with Morrigan and Kiera practically arguing the entire way. Morrigan seemed far colder than usual towards the woman.

Everyone dispersed to rest after their long walk, the moon low in the sky, and dawn was soon approaching. He arrived at his tent, dropping his armor. It was like a giant weight off of him. He always felt so light after the bulky armor was gone. He stepped out of his tent and made his way to the dimming fire. He tossed in more wood, stirring it to ignite once more. “Ah, I see you have returned. Relatively unscathed.” Zevran's voice greeted him from behind.

“My bruises have bruises,” Alistair chuckled as the man sat down beside him. He was a beautiful man, his amber eyes flickering in the firelight. Ever since the night at the brothel, things had changed. Alistair had never imagined his first time with a man, though he was certain he had had crushes on men before, he had always been taught that women were what was normal, so he had always pushed those feelings to the back of his mind whenever he had a crush on another Chantry boy or Templar.

Alistair began to prepare the meat as he heard a sound, something like a cry, coming from the darkness, putting him on high alert. "Fear not," Zevran chuckled, "our bard seems to have captivated the attention of the lady Warden," he added with a wink.

“Oh?...Oh!” Alistair snapped his head back to the other man, his face proud and plastered with a mischievous smile. “I take it you had something to do with that.” He chuckled.

“I may or may not have encouraged Leliana to take what she… desired.” He smiled softly as he gently caressed the Warden's thigh.

Alistair ignored the cries of pleasure that echoed through the camp as he began to cook the sausages. A fluffy black cat approached the fire, staring at him. “What a pretty kitty you are.” He said, reaching out to pet the cat as he made kissy faces towards it. The cat swiped its paw, claws extended at Alistair's nose as he instinctively pulled back. Subsequently, the cat swiftly aimed for his feet, playfully batting at them with its dainty claws; he lifted his feet and let out a yelp “Maker, you're an evil kitty.” The cat fluffed its tail, its ears flattened against its head. Emitting a primal growl, it locked eyes with Alistair with its piercing golden gaze.

 "Maybe the cat has a reason to hate you.” Zevran chuckled as he spoke.

“I would never hurt an animal nor give it a reason to hate me; the cat is clearly possessed by a demon,” he said with a serious tone.

The cat walked away, flicking its tail in irritation as it disappeared into the darkness near the tents.

Alistair finished cooking as the first rays of the sun graced the horizon. He carefully distributed portions to both Zevran and himself, and the two companions indulged in their meal as the sun ascended higher in the sky. Alistair's attention was captivated by the melodious humming emanating from Leliana who was gracefully approaching the men with her senses attuned to the aroma surrounding them. Seating herself on the log beside Zevran, she integrated herself into their company. "Well?" Zevran inquired playfully.

"A true lady refrains from divulging intimate details," she remarked with a hint of mystery while serving herself a bowl of food.

“And yet, my dear, your silence speaks volumes.” Zevran quipped, taking a bite of his sausage with a mischievous wink directed at the bard. Alistair cherished these moments with people he considered friends. It was a rare pleasure to share a meal before the harsh reality of their journey resumed. A fleeting moment where they could momentarily forget the looming specter of death. He savored each morsel slowly, relishing the simple joy of the present.

The expedition to Orzammar was marked by an icy chill; the air transformed into piercing needles as they ascended the mountain. Upon catching sight of the magnificent dwarven statues heralding their approach to the capital, they beheld Orzammar in all its splendor. Stone carvings adorned a path leading to the colossal metal doors that guarded the entrance to the mountainside, perched atop a majestic stone staircase. The city was in a state of lockdown, its king having met his demise, leaving a dispute over the line of succession that threatened to erupt into civil war. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. Fortunately, their status as Grey Wardens granted them permission to enter. Kiera and Morrigan set out with Stinky in search of shelter or a suitable campsite, while Amelia ventured into the bustling market below the grand staircase accompanied by Sten, with Leliana and Grace trailing close behind.

“Do you want to sneak away and have some fun again?” Zevran's voice was now in his ear, his body pricked at the words.

 Alistair faltered in his speech; his countenance flushed with embarrassment. He and the elf had lingered at the Pearl that evening. He had no inclination to share a bed with anyone, let alone the assassin. Once the other wardens departed, the three of them continued imbibing and conversing about their lives until Isabela absconded with the waitress, leaving them alone in an uncomfortable silence after making suggestive comments throughout the night regarding the sexual tension between them. They meandered through the streets together, laughing like adolescents and recounting how irate Morrigan had been by the end of the night. It wasn’t that he detested the witch; he certainly didn't hold her in high regard, but he had actually developed a certain fondness for her, akin to an older sister he felt compelled to provoke.  Alistair tripped over something in the road, perhaps on his own feet. That detail escaped him, for when he collided with the rogue, who deftly caught him, he was met with the man's beautiful face. The moon cast a veil of shadow over his features, accentuating each contour. Their lips hovered mere inches apart. Zevran made a jest, but Alistair was deaf to it, as the next thing he knew, he was leaning in, capturing the smaller man's lips with his own. The kiss grew fervent and laden with desire. The elf would have taken it further if Alistair hadn't withdrawn. The men were never given a key by the elder mage, and they found themselves locked out of their quarters. Zevran deftly picked the lock and ushered the Warden inside.

Alistair had never been with anyone before, ever, and now it was all he could think about around the other man, so when he was propositioned, he couldn’t contain his desire; it was nearly painful to say no. He was a respectful man; those things shouldn’t be happening out in the open; he wasn’t Morrigan. He wasn’t going to toss his gear aside for all to see while he took his lover every which way he desired. A chuckle came from the assassin as his fingers slowly ran through Alistair's golden locks. “Ah, I see.” He came around to face the Warden as he smiled. “You are nervous. Understandable. I shall wait until we are alone again.” Zevran winked as he sauntered into the market, leaving Alistair to watch as the rogue disappeared into the small crowd quickly and easily.

Never in his years did he think he would have lost his virginity to a man; he wouldn’t say he wasn’t ever curious, but he had always pictured his life with a woman, and now he was just confused by the charming assassin. Alistair found himself yearning for the man, finding him beautiful. Perhaps it was because Zevran was an elf, as the Warden had always been attracted to elves, or maybe it was the man's feminine features. Regardless, Alistair wanted more of the man, yet he felt he needed to suppress those desires and forget about it all. He sighed and wandered off to the market. He could at least clear his mind with some shopping.

It wasn’t long before Kiera was standing next to him, gleaming, informing him she had found a nice spot inside to set up the entire camp and even had permission. “Where’s your shadow?” He inquired, as it was odd not to see the witch with the Warden, the two women being nearly inseparable.

“Behind you,” Kiera said sternly.

Alistair shrieked as he turned to face nothing, and the elf burst out laughing. “Arsehole,” He muttered under his breath.

Kiera guided the group into Orzammar, and Alistair found himself captivated by the statues of the Paragons, the towering walls, and the vast cavern where their city was nestled. Just as he began to appreciate the magnificence, it was abruptly taken away as Kiera led them to a desolate spot just outside the Diamond Quarter. When she mentioned finding a 'nice spot,' he had anticipated something more pleasing. Instead, what lay before them was rather ominous. Alistair was taken aback by the eerie atmosphere surrounding them. The ominous cave entrance, which served as a gateway for darkspawn right outside the protective walls, instilled a sense of foreboding that would surely haunt him through the night.

Morrigan had already established her perch by the fire, engrossed in her reading. The remaining members of the party swiftly assembled the camp. The expansive area they occupied appeared to have once been a structure of some kind; with its protective walls, there were limited opportunities for adversaries to stage an ambush. Leliana and Zevran promptly set up traps at each entrance. It wasn’t long before the group had swiftly transformed the dilapidated surroundings into a cozy refuge. They had taken down and set up the camp so many times that it was almost instilled in their muscles.

The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow as Leliana strummed her lute and hummed a melody. Zevran meticulously honed the edges of his blades while Sten loomed in the background. Despite engaging in a game of fetch with the dogs, his imposing presence gave the impression that he was vigilantly guarding the group.

Alistair lay back on his bedroll as he began to doze off next to the fire. He hadn’t slept for long when he was awoken by the elf, her hand clasped over his mouth, silencing any words that sought to escape. The pressure of her touch urged him to maintain silence as she gestured for him to stay quiet. The entire encampment lay shrouded in slumber, with the exception of Kiera and Amelia, who loomed above him in their battle attire.  “Come on, we have shit to do,” Kiera announced, rising to her feet. A reluctant Alistair begrudgingly stood, his muscles protesting as he stretched his weary frame.

The sound of his spine cracking echoed in the stillness of the night as he hastily donned his armor and followed the two women and their loyal hounds out of the camp. “What are we doing, and why are we doing it in secret?”  he muttered, seeking clarity.

“She’s scared of Morrigan,” Amelia chuckled.

“I am not… well, maybe a little, actually, but we're not doing anything in secret. It's just early; I didn't want you to wake the entire camp for no reason.” Kiera said, almost annoyed.

"Sure, you, of all people, want to do something early,” Alistair said, his eyes rolling.

“I just…” Kiera paused, looking around at the vast ceilings of the cavern. “I want to get the treaties as quickly as possible.” She said as she hurried through the large doors and into the streets of the Diamond Quarter.  There, they encountered the complexities of the dwarves' struggle for the throne between Harrowmont and Bhelen, the king's chosen successor and the prince. Orzammar was in disarray, just like Ferelden. Nothing was ever simple, and it seemed the entire universe was against them right now. Each side tactically begged the Wardens to show their support in who would succeed, but how could they when they knew nothing of these men, aside from what the criers hollered about.

Thus, their mission began to find out about these men. Everything they learned was confusing, and Alistair understood nothing. As far as he knew, they still knew absolutely nothing about either man, and here they were being tasked by both parties. Vartag, a man representing Bhelen, requested Kiera take documents he had to the respective parties, showing that Harrowmont was cheating both sides by offering them both the same land. Harrowmont's party requested the Wardens show their loyalty by entering the Proving in Harromont's honor. None of this told Alistair what these men wanted or what they believed in; how could the Wardens pick a side? It was ridiculous.

Kiera took the incriminating papers she received from Bhelen's personal guard, Vartag, directly to the Shaperate. She knew exactly how such matters typically unfolded: blackmail and slander, as people often resorted to underhanded tactics in their pursuit of the throne, a pattern observed throughout history, and the same held true in this case. The papers were a forgery, intended to portray Harrowmont as a cheat. Kiera returned to Vartag and demanded answers; he explained that he had the papers forged to secure his prince's succession. Kiera tossed the papers to the ground in front of Vartag and refused to participate in his dirty work.

 Gathering information on the candidates was challenging. All they could find out from what Alistair understood was that soon they would hold a 'Proving' where they would fight to gain favor from the ancestors. Winners of the Proving usually earned the majority of the votes, as strength in Orzammar proved one's worthiness. Kiera leaned back against a wall in a huff. Alistair could see she was getting fed up with the dwarves. “It seems after this Proving, they will have a king," he said, a thoughtful note in his tone.

"Yes, a good old trial by combat to see who’s going to rule. Seems logical.” The elf rolled her eyes. The Proving was scheduled to be held soon, and it seemed they would have to choose a side to ensure they received the dwarves' assistance.

“We’re really getting involved in their politics?” Amelia sighed as she rested her head against her staff.

“We have to… look at these people. Most of them are idiots, and the options for royalty are appalling. You have one man who wants to keep Orzammar stuck in its ways, and then you have a ruthless progressive.”

“And you know this how?” Alistair said, and both women snapped their heads to the man. He felt so small as he anticipated their immediate scolding.

“Have you not been paying attention to anything we’ve done all morning?” Amelia said as she bumped her forehead repeatedly against her staff.

“Alistair, we’ve literally spent hours talking to people, listening to the people shout the men’s beliefs through the streets, and we’ve been to the Shaperate. We know a great deal” Kiera’s voice was beyond annoyed. Alistair would admit he stopped paying attention the moment Vartag started talking about letters. He never cared for politics; it reminded him of his studies when he was younger. He didn't care about any of it; he cared about eating, hitting things, and… now… other things. His mind began to wander back to the assassin the Crow had been taking up much of his mind as of late, not really leaving room for paying attention.

“I guess not…” He said softly. “But that's why you two are in charge. Riiight?” He said with a smile, earning an eye roll from both women as Kiera pushed off the wall and walked past him.

 Amelia whacked him with her staff as she followed, earning an ‘oof’ out of him. “I see why Morrigan loves doing that.” She chimed as she rubbed her staff lovingly.

Making their way through the Diamond Quarter, they were approached by a noblewoman, Lady Dace, who begged the Wardens to help find her father in the Deep Roads. Kiera agreed, as they were Wardens and it would pass the time until the Proving. But first, the elf decided they needed a drink. It took a while for Alistair to notice, but the woman never let her flask run dry. Which is where they met the "gross little Dwarf." Oghren claimed they didn't need a king to stop the Blight, they needed a Paragon, his lost-in-the deep roads wife. Well, more like abandoned him for the Deep Roads wife. Alistair could completely see why the Paragon left the man behind. However, the dwarf's words seem to have enthralled Kiera after he said, “Ancient technology” The quirky elf ate it right up. She seemed to make a mental note of the Paragon Branka and Oghren, the drunk husband. This, unfortunately, would not be the last he saw of this gross dwarf. She gathered her liquor and set the group on the path to the Deep Roads to search for Lord Dace.

They opted to walk around the edge of the camp quietly to avoid disturbing anyone, per Kiera’s insistent request. It was clear the little elf was hiding from the witch as she practically crawled to the entrance of the Deep Roads. Slightly peering up, hoping not to be seen, the elf looked almost creature-like. Alistair couldn’t help but laugh at the woman as they slid into the dim cave. “You are definitely sneaking now.”

“Am not” Kiera rose to her feet, standing proudly.

"Why are you avoiding Morrigan.” He spoke.

Kiera looked almost shocked at his bold question. They were friends now, and he certainly knew the other woman, and he wouldn’t just let his friend sit by in her own thoughts when he knew someone was troubling her. “I just want to check out the Deep Roads first before anyone else comes with us.”

“And if she knew you were coming in here, you certainly wouldn’t be going without her.” Amelia chuckled as she looked down at the elf.

“Indeed,” Kiera chuckled and absently rubbed the nape of her neck, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “We lack firsthand experience of this place; our knowledge is purely hearsay. I am keen to ascertain its nature prior to descending with the group.” A tranquil hush enveloped them as they traversed the path leading to the Auducan Thaig in search of Lord Dace. Every inch of the tunnel was meticulously carved with intricate dwarven symbols and adorned with statues; the hall was bathed in a soft, ethereal glow emanating from the flowing lava. It exuded a remarkable beauty, and he could discern the allure of the subterranean lifestyle embraced by the dwarves.

Before Alistar realized they were swarmed by darkspawn, taking on a group so large was more grueling than without the rest of their group. What he would have given right now to have Shale smashing them to bits as Morrigan froze them all with a blizzard. He couldn’t even believe himself when his thoughts betrayed him. He? Wish for the presence of the witch? Pigs certainly were flying somewhere. It was going to take some tactical planning to get through the dozens of darkspawn.

The Wardens swiftly sought cover behind a massive boulder. Alistair paused to catch his breath momentarily while Amelia unleashed a barrage of meteors upon the darkspawn, holding them at bay. The mage's prowess was undeniable; it was clear why they instilled fear. A solitary individual possessing the ability to summon fiery projectiles would understandably provoke apprehension. However, Amelia transcended the norms of other mages he had encountered. Her command over fire seemed almost supernatural at times, with a seemingly boundless reserve of mana. Furthermore, her proficiency in healing magic rivaled that of Wynne, and she had been doing it for at least a hundred years. Yet, as skilled as she was in mending wounds, she also possessed a darker side. The manner in which Amelia wielded her healing magic was unconventional, more akin to an anti-healing force that could rend one's flesh asunder.

Alistair locked gazes with Kiera as they simultaneously charged towards the darkspawn. With precise shield-bashing and slashing maneuvers, he skillfully navigated through the enemy ranks while the elf elegantly carved her way through, unleashing a torrent of magic upon their foes. The orb she wielded exuded a menacing aura, swirling around her with deadly grace, piercing through darkspawn bodies that crumpled in their wake. Their flawless coordination came to a sudden halt when a genlock hurled an axe into Kiera's back, causing her to cry out in agony. Fueled by a fierce determination, her eyes ablaze with wrath, she swiftly zeroed in on the axe-wielding assailant. In a swift and almost ethereal movement, she glided through the darkspawn towards the genlock, her body almost dissipating as she traversed. Alistair swore he saw the woman phase through the creature, but everything happened so quickly; all he knew was the darkspawn was now lifeless on the ground, and its heart was left sliding down Kiera’s sword. The elf locked eyes with him, and for a moment, she didn't look like herself, almost evil; her sinister countenance sent shivers down Alistair's spine.

His attention was drawn to a giant explosion, a deafening roar that echoed through the air. “Woah…” Amelia chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in her voice amidst the chaos. “Whoops,” she added casually, shrugging her shoulders as another explosion lit up the battlefield. How was the Warden supposed to know there were explosives nearby? It was a chaotic scene, not that Alistair would complain. Watching darkspawn and various limbs fly through the air and splatter onto the walls was actually pretty entertaining, and it cleared out the bulk, allowing the Wardens to cut down the rest. Kiera fought with the axe in her back through the rest of the battle. Alistair was actually surprised the woman hadn’t used it as a weapon. She dropped her blades to the ground, and her knees followed as she held her shoulder in agony. He may have forgotten the elf was actually injured, with the facade she had put on through the battle.

“Let me see,” Amelia said with a panic in her voice. Alistair quickly approached the girls and saw the wound. The axe was disgusting, rusted, and coated with maker knows what, and it was buried deep into the mage's back.

"What's it look like?” Kiera said through gritted teeth.

“Not good.” Amelia's voice was low. Alistair didn't know anything about medicine, but he sure knew that it wasn’t good. “I'm gonna pull it out now; I suggest you drink that swill you’ve been carrying around and give me the rest.”

Kiera sighed as she pulled out her flask and tilted her head back to chug it. She reached into her bag, pulled out a fresh bottle, and handed it to the healer. “Here”

“You had that on you, and you chose to drink whatever they are making in that tavern?” Alistair said in disbelief.

"Let me live a little.” the words slurred off her tongue.

“Are you ready?” Amelia said. With a smile on her face, she gripped the handle firmly. Alistair was certain the woman was actually enjoying this. Amelia, usually so soft and sweet, had a little dark side. It was quite cute.

Kiera swallowed again from her flask, the liquor dribbling down her chin. “As rea-“ Her voice trailed off into a scream as Amelia swiftly removed the axe and started pouring the liquid into the woman's wound. Using her magic, she healed it enough to stop the bleeding and began to bandage the other woman.

“Uh, are you not going to heal it further?” Alistair inquired, confused.

“Can’t. It will trap whatever was on that axe in her body, and it will fester. We need to wash it before I can seal the wound fully.” She rounded the woman, looking down at her “We need to head back”

Kiera scoffed and laughed Amelia off. “We need to find Lord Dace” She gritted her teeth as she rose to her feet. Amelia placed her hand over the wound, and it began to glow blue; a sigh of relief washed over the woman.

“That should help with the pain.” Amelia's voice was soft and sweet.

“What is the point of continuing when you're injured like this?” They needed every warden they could get to stop the blight, and here she was, risking her life for some girl she had just met. Old habits, he thought to himself.

“It’s the principle; we told her we would help.” She winced. “Don't question my logic.” She took off down the path to the Thaig. They were almost there, turning back when they were so close wouldn’t have been something he wouldn't have wanted to do either. But it was Kiera who was injured, not him, and even if she didn't feel the same, he still cared for the elf and didn't want to see her hurt or worse. They followed the elf through another winding cavern, where they encountered deep stalkers. They were easily killed with the mage's lightning and the Mabari's. Stinky proceeded to drag a deepstalker with him as they continued their journey, stopping to snack on it ever so often.

Thaig. In the distance, the clash of swords and the resounding battle cries reverberated through the air, signaling a nearby conflict. The Wardens swiftly traversed the bridge and descended the staircase, only to encounter a band of dwarves locked in combat with darkspawn. Without hesitation, they joined the skirmish, swiftly dispatching each blighted foe with remarkable efficiency. The man, who identified himself as Lord Dace, visibly saw the tension ease from Kiera's countenance. She recounted to him how his daughter, concerned for his safety, had implored them to locate her father. Lord Dace chuckled with pride before expressing his profound gratitude to the Wardens for their timely aid, acknowledging that they might have met their demise if not for the intervention of the Wardens. Extending his hand in a gesture of gratitude, he then offered to lead the Wardens out of the treacherous Deep Roads. Kiera immediately accepted his offer; she was clearly eager to return to the camp. The woman appeared to be in excruciating pain. Lord Dace gave a soft smile “Then let us reach Orzammar before more beasts find our scent.”

When they stepped back through the stone entrance to the surface, Kiera let out a gasp of air as if she had been holding it in. She and Amelia disappeared, most likely to tend to the wound. The dogs plopped down exhausted, and Alistair was prepared to do the same; he cast aside his armor and disappeared into his tent. He was surprised to see the assassin asleep inside; he was exhausted, and he didn't have time to ask questions or care. He fell into the bedroll and threw an arm around the elf; as soon as his eyes shut, he was dead to the world.

Chapter Text

Grey Wardens and Other Unwanted Thoughts.

It had been two days since the Warden’s ran off, leaving them all behind. 'Twas rare that the three of them wandered together alone, and even rarer that the little elf left Morrigan behind of all people. Not that Morrigan even had a chance to protest their departure. The witch had already been plotting how she would get the elf back for this abandonment, especially in such a disgusting place as the Deep Roads.

She tossed some elfroot into her cauldron as she continued to stir. Her face might have revealed her innermost thoughts as Wynne spoke up. “They are going to be fine, you need not worry so much, Morrigan”

The brunette snapped her head up “I am certainly not worried, old woman!” A deep offense crept out with her words. How dare this woman think she can put her worries on display for the world to see, especially in the presence of that insufferable redhead.

“Who are you trying to fool?” A giggle emanated out of Leliana's mouth as she attempted to gracefully cover her lips with her hand. “It’s written all over your face, love”

Morrigan wasn’t worried; she was upset because how dare she be left behind. What could Alastair do to protect the elf? Aside from being a meat shield, and if Morrigan was completely honest, the thought brought her joy. How that man made it this far was completely lost on the witch; the only explanation is sheer luck. Much to her relief, she had taken the other mage with her. Amelia was a master of healing magic, so if anything were to happen…

The cauldron before her began to bubble over the rim. “Let me take over making the poultice, child. You need to take a rest and stop worrying so much.” Wynne stepped in, taking over for her. There was no point in protesting; she hadn’t slept, it was clear arguing with these women wouldn’t get her anywhere, and she truly did not have the energy she had been awake since she realized Kiera had left.

“Why can’t you just be honest with yourself?" The question was direct yet soft, though it pierced right through the brunette’s heart like an enchanted arrow.

“Whatever do you mean?” Morrigan eyed the lay sister, her golden stare bore daggers fit for the crows.

“You spend so much time trying to not only convince yourself but everyone around you that you have no feelings, that somehow you are beyond such trivial things like love, yet it's obvious you care for her. Your eyes sing mournful laments when she is no longer near; I see how you watch her.” Leliana's words hit her again; the woman had no business asking her such questions. Love had been brought up frequently of late, and the word made Morrigan want to run as far from here as possible. There was no room for love, not with the path ahead of them, not with what she had to do.

Morrigan laughed “You clearly live in a world of fantasy; you should start a novel on your delusions.” Her words were bitter on her tongue as if her soul knew the lie; she continued to try and believe. Wynne simply tended to the brew, not getting involved in the usual squabbling between the two women. The old woman knew when not to pry into things if only the lay sister had the same knowledge. Morrigan scoffed as she blew the tent flap open with a small gust of wind. As she exited, the rogue got the last word in, for the other woman knew when to strike her final blows. “If you think Amelia and I haven’t noticed the ever-returning black cat that sneaks into the neighboring tent, then it would be you who is delusional” Embarrassment flushed through the witch. If the tent's flap could have slammed shut, it would have, given how aggressively she threw the fabric backward. What she did with the Warden was none of her business, and that insufferable woman should focus on her own Warden instead of what Morrigan did in the moonlight.

'Twas a relationship of convenience, two women who found one another attractive amidst the chaos of war. 'Tis expected to give in to carnal desires. Morrigan would never deny the attraction she felt towards the other woman; she would tell the world, but this notion of love? It made her sick to even think about it. They knew what they had agreed to, and love wasn’t on the table. It never could be, not with what they faced ahead of them. Morrigan made her way to the tent where her bedroll lay splayed out, calling her name. She gave in to that desire and decided to take a short nap. If she couldn’t focus on making a simple poultice, then she was no good to herself or anyone around her, and that wouldn’t do. She lay in her bedroll, the warmth of the fire from outside the tent dancing across her face. The warmth was just enough to create a relaxing moment. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to keep them open a little longer when she noticed a long, red hair on her pillow. She held the hair up, reminiscing about the last night the Warden had been in her tent. The soft moans she had elicited from her little elf, undoing the powerful mage and turning her into a pleading mess of desire, drove the witch wild. She nuzzled into the pillow, inhaling the scent, trying to find any trace of the other woman as she drifted off to sleep.

A disgusting wet tongue awoke the brunette as the putrid black mabari the Warden insisted on calling ‘Stinky’ all while painting him white like the undead, was rather fitting for the necromancer. No matter how much the witch tried to get away from the foul beast, it would not leave her alone. The obsession the dog had with the witch was almost as obsessive as Leliana was with Amelia. The only difference was Morrigan awoke to dead rats as gifts, and the other woman got flowers.

Suddenly, a realization dawned on her. "Make way, you odious creature," Morrigan exclaimed as she struggled to exit the tent and avoid the mabari's path. The night was still, with most of the camp enveloped in slumber.  'Twas still night, and most of the camp was asleep. Alistair sat next to the fire, removing his bloodied armor. Two shadows flickered inside Leliana's tent as the other mabari slept outside, patiently waiting for its master to emerge in the morning.  If only the noxious one shared the same composure.

Morrigan stomped up to the tent, flinging the flap open as she began her rant. Morrigan words trailed off as she took in the sight of the woman before her. The woman was naked, freshly washed, covered only by a silky black robe with intricate golden designs that revealed just enough to catch the witch off guard. She looked up, locking her sea-glass green eyes with Morrigan's, her long red hair cascading down her back in waves. Her body was bruised, her face cut, with a deep gash through her bottom lip that would likely scar. Her left eye was blackened with bruising. She couldn’t stop her body from reacting before she knew it; she knelt down in front of the elf, her hand gently cupping either side of her face. In this state, the warrior mage appeared delicate, like a flower on the verge of wilting. Her olive skin was dotted with freckles, and she was breathtaking even with her battered face.

Kiera's hands wrapped delicate fingers across Morrigan’s wrists, her thumb running the long, pointed black nails across the skin in an attempt to comfort her. Usually, she would pull away from an intimate interaction, but the witch allowed herself to give in; she was not going to just walk away right now, not when she needed to be there. “I am fine. It’s only a flesh wound. I was hoping to be more healed before I came to see you.”

The woman's thoughtfulness only served to infuriate Morrigan. “Were you trying to hide this from me?” Her emotions began to cloud; she disliked being lied to or having anything hidden from her. She acknowledged herself to be a hypocrite in this, but her little Warden had engaged in numerous activities behind her back recently.

The elf appeared almost childlike, as if bracing for a scolding. She took her plump bottom lip between her teeth, chewing on it thoughtfully. Their eyes met, and for a moment, they shared a silent, intimate exchange. Something about the vast expanse of the swampy forest that was this other woman's eyes made her feel at home. 'Twas hard staying mad at her when she could stare right into her soul. A small chuckle came from her throat. “Hide it? I would never hide anything from you, Morrigan. I'm not stupid.” She released her hold on the brunette's wrists and leaned back, wincing in pain as she ran her fingers through her hair. The movement allowed more of the woman's body to be seen. Morrigan couldn’t stop herself from looking. She was only human, after all. “I just knew I was in for it when I got back, and I wanted to be able to take a punch.” There it was, that smile. That roguish, sly smile Morrigan couldn’t get enough of. Her sharp golden canines protruding through her li1ps, it was intoxicating. Just as quickly as the woman tried to be cute in an attempt to take Morrigan's mind elsewhere, which she will admit was working for a time when Kiera's wince of pain brought them both back to reality.

“Where is it?" she demanded.

“What ever do you mean?" Kiera’s smile grew larger. How insufferable this woman could be? The amount of pain she was in, and still, she wanted to test the patience of the very annoyed witch.

“Shall I simply start hitting you with a stick until your wounds start bleeding? Or shall you tell me where they are?” The Warden's eyebrow raised in feigned surprise. 'Twas a game they couldn’t stop playing, it seemed. The redhead sighed and gave in. She gestured for Morrigan to scoot backward, and Morrigan complied without hesitation. The elf knelt with her back facing the witch. She placed her elbows on the chair she had been sitting in and let her robe drop down to the small of her back. Morrigan couldn’t believe her eyes. She had never fully seen the other woman's back before. The elf's back was covered in scars, some intentional and some forced. A deep wound, likely from a small axe, had been added just above her shoulder blade. Morrigan placed her hand near the wound. She could feel the angry heat and immediately let out a mist of ice magic to soothe the wound. “Kiera… what happened?” Morrigan spoke in a low, sincere tone.

Kiera relaxed under Morrigan's touch. “Genlock, the little bastard threw an axe right into my back. I didn’t even know it was there until the fight was over.” She giggled through another wince of pain.

“Why didn’t Amelia heal this wound?”

“Happened right before we got back. I thought it would be better to clean up first before treating the wound. Didn’t want to raise the risk of infection by healing a dirty wound”

"And why is it still open?”

“I was letting it air out, was going to go see Amelia after it was dry”

“Hm, I’ll allow it.” Morrigan smiled as she lathered the wound with an elfroot poultice. Since joining the Wardens’ party, she has been studying healing magic, trying to prepare herself for the inevitable moment when Kiera would be injured from some reckless stunt she attempted.  She numbed the area with her ice magic, earning a soothing hum from the elf, and she began to repair the damage. The wound, though still angry, was now closed. Morrigan traced her finger next to the wound, imagining how the scar would look, then placed a kiss in the middle of Kiera's back. Kiera's skin filled with goosebumps, and Morrigan smiled into the skin she had just kissed. Kiera sighed with relief and leaned backward into the witch. Morrigan wrapped her arms around the smaller woman and gently pulled her close, positioning the elf between her legs. She held her there for a moment, resting her head on the redhead's shoulder, delicately brushing her lips across the soft flesh. Morrigan had been with her share of women, yet this was different; she craved the other woman and needed her touch. She found herself feeling soft when she was around her, and here and now she was disgusted with herself. The damn lay sister's words reverberated through her mind, and she wanted to scream. Quickly, she pushed herself away from the other woman, disbelieving her own actions. “If you leave me behind again without so much as a word, you will live the rest of your days as a toad, and I shall allow this world to be consumed by the blight.”

The other woman now turned around to face the witch. She had a smile of contentment etched on her face. Morrigan found it difficult to show anger toward her but still put on the facade. “Ir abelas, ara Evune” Kiera’s voice was soft and sincere. She rarely spoke elven, but when she did, the witch could hardly keep up her mask. There was something sincere in the way this woman spoke to her in her native language. Morrigan had been one to detest pet names, yet when the elf rolled the words off her tongue, she couldn’t help but melt. 'Twas the side of the mage that was saved for moments like this. Alone, tucked away from the world, just the two of them.

Morrigan wanted to run, her chest burned, yet everything in her screamed at her to stay. For how could she walk away from this sight, beholden? The robe draped around every soft curve of the elf's body, falling perfectly to reveal just enough of the elf's form. Her freckled skin, adorned with scars and tattoos, a sight usually hidden under layers of armor, is right here like a gift only for the witch. Morrigan had seen the woman naked countless times. They were certainly not shy in the bedroom or, rather, wherever they were when the need arose. Yet this? This was different. Morrigan wanted more than a simple sample of flesh, and for the witch, this was a problem. She dared not allow herself to feel any sort of attachment, yet this was now far more than a simple attachment. She craved more, but more was not something they had the privilege of. Morrigan started to leave when cold hands cupped her face, pulling her into a kiss. The longing it held was nearly overwhelming. All thoughts of leaving flew out of her mind as she melted into the soft lips. She hungered for the other woman more than she realized, deepening the kiss and eliciting soft gasps from her lover. She could still taste the liquor on the other woman, ‘tis why the woman was so comfortable to breach boundaries, making the witch feel things she did not wish to.

She pulled away just enough to lock eyes with the other woman. Kiera’s lips, kiss-stained a beautiful pink, a moment of silence filled the space between them, a silent wanting that they both desired. Words need not be exchanged; their bodies spoke volumes. She slowly leaned back in, her tongue grazing the other woman's bottom lip in a request for access. Like a well-choreographed dance, their tongues spun effortlessly together; every part of their bodies knew exactly what the other needed. It had been weeks since they last lay together. Morrigan had been turning down the other woman and ignoring her own desires. Even sex was becoming complicated, the feelings were too much, yet she couldn’t hold herself back, she needed Kiera wanted to feel her against her skin. Morrigan gently crawled on top of the other woman, never taking herself off Kiera’s lips. Her knee came between the elf’s legs, parting them enough for her to slide in completely, locking their bodies together. The woman's robe fell open even further, revealing her large breasts; the metal jewelry in her nipples shone in the light. 'Twas a wonder that an elf was built so thickly; even the woman's thighs were large compared to an elf's.  She pulled back, earning a huff from the woman beneath her. She needed a second to take her in, to savor this moment. Looking at the woman beneath her, one of Morrigan's favorite sights to behold. One would never have believed what she was truly capable of. She looked innocent, something plucked out of the Fade and given to the witch as an object of her desires. Arms wrapped around her neck as she was pulled back into a passionate kiss, their tongues fighting for dominance as their teeth nipped at each other's lips. Quite possibly this woman was simply a desire demon that had come back from the Deep Roads, as Morrigan was surely ready to leave, yet now she was swept up under the elf’s thrall. It was then Morrigan realized she had never even been in control of this situation; that sly woman knew exactly what she was doing, and Morrigan had fallen right into her coy act. Not that she was upset; quite the opposite, she reveled in how well she could turn the tables. Unfortunately for the witch, this didn’t bode well for their impending future. She had to find a way to pull back, lest she hurt the elf. Morrigan would incinerate any who tried to harm her Warden, yet she knew she would be the one to do the most damage in the end; an irony she was all too aware of. Her mind tried to fight her body as she felt Kiera’s mouth taste its way down her neck. Her shirt had been removed at some point, and she hadn’t even noticed. The way this woman desired her drove her mad, for every part of her that wanted to run, her other side implored her to stay, a constant war she battled within herself, unknown to anyone around her. 'Twas truly her hardest challenge, which she continued to fail miserably.

She slid her hands up the elf’s abdomen before pulling the robe open completely. 'Twas ethereal, her beauty was almost otherworldly when put on display like this. So exposed, she always tended to shy away from being laid bare, turning towards innocence, all the while masking deviant thoughts and actions. Morrigan’s hand continued up the other woman's chest as she pushed herself more atop the smaller woman, her bare thigh making contact with her dripping desire. She traced her finger across the redhead's plump lips when the elf took the finger into her mouth, slowly guiding it in with gentle suction. Morrigan almost lost control. Certainly, this woman would be the end of her if she didn’t get away soon. A hasty exit would be helpful in this situation, and Morrigan all but resigned herself to it until a soft moan came from the Warden's throat. Lost in her mind again, she hadn’t realized she had been grinding her thigh into the other woman, who impulsively began to roll her hips into the friction. She no longer cared; she had always been selfish, and at least for tonight, she would indulge herself once more. She grabbed Kiera firmly by the throat. “’Tis a sight you are, too bad you don’t deserve me to continue further.” Morrigan fiendishly grinned down at the elf, and a small whimper escaped Kiera’s lips.

“As if you deserve me to allow you to continue?“ Her coy smile spread across her face, that smile that just drew Morrigan’s heart in even more. Her grip tightened around the elf’s throat, and her smile grew wider. “Oh, are you angry at me? I couldn’t tell” Her words rumbled sultrily.

Morrigan pinned her harder, receiving a painful wince from the other woman; Morrigan had completely forgotten about the axe wound that was barely held together. Caught up in her own swell of desire, she lost sight of her lover's injury. She loosened her grip in a move to get up when those strong legs pulled her back in. “Morrigan, I'm fine," her name was sweet on her tongue. What she would give to hear her name in that accent for the rest of time.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” How true this was in so many ways; she hoped it seeped into the vast memory this woman held, that no matter what, she never wanted Kiera to hurt in any way.

“I’d really love to see you try” And just like that, she was snapped back into the moment. 'Twas a challenge, and Morrigan was eager to indulge in the moment. She leaned down slowly, gliding her tongue across the edge of the elf’s ear. Kiera’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, her hips rolled when Morrigan gently bit into the soft cartilage. Morrigan hovered her lips right next to her ear, slowly breathing against the skin before moaning gently into her ear, driving the elf mad with need.

If she knew anything, it was how to turn this powerhouse of an arcane warrior into a pool of wanton need. 'Twas a beautiful song, the desperate moans that escaped the elf. She kissed her way down the woman's neck, reaching the collarbone before working her way back up to her ear, another moan vibrating through the elf’s ear. Her body was now covered in goosebumps, and her breathing had sped up, her body flushed in a pink heat. Morrigan drank in all of her, the effect she had on this woman, watching her look so flushed, her mouth parted and glistening, her nipples hard and simply perfect. She could live in this moment until death took her. She slowly trailed her hand down the elf’s abdomen. "What exactly did you want to see me do again now, Kiera?” The elf’s breath sped as she squirmed beneath the witch.

She bit her bottom lip before speaking. “To hurt me, Morrigan” The words were needy and hit her with a fiery sting. She knew in her heart that the Warden meant it; she wanted Morrigan regardless of the pain, 'twas unexpected. However, the witch could not break her composure, lest she ruin the moment.

"I'll do more than hurt you," her teeth sank into Kiera’s exposed neck. She ran her tongue across the indentations, soothing the mark, earning a guttural moan in response, setting the witch ablaze.

“Please, Morrigan.” Her green eyes stared up at her; she couldn’t ever say no to this woman. Who was she to deny her a carnal desire? She slid two fingers inside the elf, earning a thankful moan. "Oh, oh Fuck, Morrigan," she buried her face in the witch's neck, kissing and biting a trail across the exposed flesh. ”I missed you,” she said into the witch's ear. It had been a while, and Kiera was practically dripping down Morrigan's hand already. Her walls pulled the witch in deeper, pulsating and begging for release. Morrigan reveled in what she had done to the little elf, denying her for so long had left her in a powerless pool of need. Slowly, she pumped herself in and out of the smaller woman, feeling how tight she was around her fingers. It had her wondering just exactly what this would feel like if she were a man. The thought ran wild through her head; she would give many things to feel this woman around her. Her mouth began to water as she needed to taste her lover. For she, too, missed the smaller woman, though she would never speak the words.

She kissed her way down the redhead's body, maintaining eye contact with those beautiful eyes. She slowly withdrew her hand as she reached her goal, slipping her fingers, coated in her lover's essence, into her mouth. Never breaking eye contact, she smiled, "You're being such a good girl for me, Kiera.” You could see the heave of the elf’s chest at the praise, the way her eyes rolled back; she was coming undone, and Morrigan relished in it. She lowered her head slowly as she gazed at the woman's beautiful rose-colored center. It was the most beautiful pink the witch had ever seen, glistening in the elf's desire and fueling Morrigan's need to taste it. She smiled as her tongue made contact with Kiera’s slick folds. Nothing had ever tasted so good to the witch; she could do this all day if the elf was willing. She traced her tongue slowly around Kiera’s entrance, earning soft whimpers from the elf, who bit into her own hand, trying to stifle any noise.

She dipped her tongue into the other woman before sliding it upwards to her clitoris. Kiera's back arched with anticipation as her free hand made its way into Morrigan’s brown locks. Morrigan began to eagerly suck and lap at the bud, the grip in her hair growing ever tighter. She sucked harder, pulling the other woman's clitoris between her teeth and gently biting, letting Kiera know she was truly at her mercy. Her head was yanked backward; a small pop came when her mouth detached from its prize. Her neck was craned to the side, and the pain from her scalp ran down the back of her neck. She couldn’t help but smile with anticipation. A small moan escaped her lips, she loved this. Their eyes met once again; the elf was flustered. How absolutely perfect she looked under Morrigan; her chest rose and fell in quick beats, and her mouth hung agape. “Be good.” Her voice was stern yet pleading with desperation. Morrigan had never wanted anything more. She allowed the power shift; 'twas a constant dance between the women, a pendulum, ever swaying in either direction.

A seductive laugh resonated from her throat. "Mmm, make me.” Just as quickly as she quipped, her head was shoved back between the other woman's legs. Her face was now coated in Kiera’s wetness; she moaned into the pressure. Her tongue went back to working in circles as the elf's hips started to roll. Morrigan wrapped her arms around the elf's thighs, pulling her closer. Kiera’s fingers held tight to dark tresses as she tried to hold back her moans with the other, lest the entire camp hear the pleasures drawn from the Warden. Morrigan wanted to yank that hand from Kiera’s mouth so all could hear the beautiful sounds coming from the other woman. She wanted the world to know that she knew exactly how to touch the elf. She wanted them to know who Kiera had come for. Holding herself back, she settled for the low murmurs of her name that sent shivers down her core. Kiera’s back arched, and her legs began to shake as they clamped shut around the witch's head. The elf’s essence started dripping down Morrigan’s chin as she pulled back, taking a deep breath. She stared up at the woman, her chest heaving and flushed red. Her breath caught in her throat; she had seen her many times in this state, yet 'twas different. For as much as she denied it, she knew right here, right now. She knew she was doomed. Her heart belonged to this woman, and it made her sick. She had never felt this way about anyone else. It filled her with anxiety, with the anticipation of pain. She gazed at the woman, taking in every detail and etching the image into her memory, lest she ever find herself separated from this woman.

Kiera's loving green eyes met Morrigan's, and the witch's heart pulled tighter. The hand that was in her hair slid down her face, pulling gently and motioning her to come to her. Morrigan happily obliged and was pulled into a deep kiss. She could feel the other woman tasting herself on her lips. Kiera’s tongue slid down the witch's chin, then slipped back into her mouth. The kiss was sloppy and everything Morrigan needed. She pulled back, staring at the elf for a moment. She knew she should leave, yet her body ached for her to stay. She pulled the blanket over them, and the other woman spoke. “Uh, what about you?” Morrigan scoffed at the idea. She had no intention of sleeping with the Warden in the first place. She just happened to be a delicacy served on a silver platter, ripe for the taking. She had no issue giving pleasure and receiving nothing, yet the little elf seemed quite offended by this.

“You will be doing no such thing. You need to rest, unless you wish to tear your wound open," the redhead sighed. She knew not to argue with the witch, and clearly she was too exhausted to protest as she simply took in a deep breath before kissing the witch on her shoulder. Wrapping her arms around her, then resting her cheek atop the kiss. Her fingers drew lazy circles on Morrigan's arm “Morrigan…” Kiera's voice, soft yet in the silence of the tent, almost echoed.

“Yes?” Morrigan looked down at the elf.

"I'm sorry, I just…” She worried at her bottom lip as she gazed up at the witch with those sea-glass eyes. “I didn’t want something to happen to you, I had to see what was-”

“Kiera,” Morrigan cut the woman's rant off. “I understand.” She leaned in, kissing the elf. “I have one request, however?”

“Anything for you.” Kiera chuckled at the words on Morrigan's lips as they pulled back from the kiss. Morrigan knew Kiera truly meant it, the elf would do anything for her, and that made the witch feel guilty.

“Don’t hide things like this from me, please tell me where you're going.” She brushed a stray lock of hair behind the Warden's ear.

“I promise. I’ll tell you where I go.” She sealed her promise with a kiss.

“That reminds me,” Morrigan said softly as she shifted away from the elf and pulled a necklace off of her. It was a simple rope that held a simple rosewood ring carved with various animals and people. “I have something for you.”

“What do you mean?” Kiera looked at her, puzzled. The woman was always gifting her, especially jewelry. Morrigan had countless necklaces given to her by the Warden, not that she would complain; she loved everything the woman had given her. Kiera truly knew Morrigan’s tastes, and she enjoyed having options.

“I mean that I have a gift for you?” She said with a chuckle, holding the ring delicately in her hand. “’Tis a ring.” The woman looked puzzled, “Now, before you get any foolish notions, let me explain.” She held out the ring with an open hand, and she spoke again. “Flemeth once gave me this ring because it allowed her to find me no matter where I went, in case I was ever captured by hunters.” She spun the ring between her thumb and index finger, gazing at the symbol of protection she had carried with her throughout her life. “I disabled its power as soon as we left the wilds.” Her eyes met the elf’s, conveying her intentions. “Recently, however, I thought to change it. Now, I will be able to find whoever wears it instead.”

Kiera's eyes squinted in confusion, seeking clarity. “So, you would always know where I am?”

“’Tis not to track you, you understand. I believe you are too… Important to risk. If you were to get captured or… However, it would be far easier to find you with this.” She presented the ring to Kiera, and the elf took it reluctantly.

Kiera held it with both hands, examining every inch of the jewelry. “Does it do anything else?”

“Flemeth used to say that ‘twas a link between us, one that I presumed both ways.” The elf's eyes found her golden gaze and listened intently. “I never tested it, but I doubt she would have lied over such a thing. So, it would mean that I am linked to you as much as you to I.”

Morrigan could see the wheels turning behind the woman's eyes; she was certain she had just opened an unshuttable box within the woman. The witch knew her lover would test the ring in every way possible. She stared at Morrigan suspiciously, squinting one eye as she looked through the ring at the witch. “So, I could find you, if need be?”

Something in the elf's tone made Morrigan nervous. “I… do not know… As I said, I never tested it… Perhaps.”

She closed her hand around the ring as she cocked her head at the woman, raising an eyebrow. “So, you're giving this to me purely out of practicality?”

Morrigan's nerves grew. After Kiera's trip to the Deep Roads without her, she couldn’t eat, she couldn’t sleep, she needed to know the other woman was okay, and with the ring, it was a certain way for her to know. She needed to know her Warden was always safe, even when they parted. “I… have no desire to see us part company so soon. Not unless we wish to, that is.” She looked away from the Warden.  “Do not read more into it than is there. You have supplied me with jewelry and equipment; certainly, this is not so very different, is it?”

Kiera kissed Morrigan on the cheek and chuckled. “Glad to see you care.”

Morrigan’s head snapped back at the elf. She would almost be mad if she hadn't been met with Kiera's entrapping gaze. “Now you are mocking me. Do you wish the ring or not? I am tempted to simply keep it.” She playfully went to snatch the ring from the elf, who quickly moved her hand away.

"You'll have to pry it off of my cold dead hand.” She slid the ring on her left hand, and Morrigan's heart skipped a beat; of all the places the woman could have put it, she chose there. “Thank you for the gift.” She gazed at the witch with earnest sincerity.

“You… are welcome. Perhaps it will be useful someday.” Kiera leaned up and kissed the witch. Morrigan pulled her in closer, she began to caress her back when she ran her fingers over the wound, eliciting a whimper from the elf. “I’m sorry, I had forgotten…”

Kiera chuckled as she wrapped her arms around Morrigan’s neck, pulling her in for another kiss. Morrigan shifted under the elf, putting her arm under her and pulling her close, staying clear of the wound. Kiera laid her head onto the witch's chest, and her fingers resumed the lazy circles. It seemed Kiera couldn’t get enough of touching Morrigan just as much as Morrigan Kiera. She could feel the woman drifting off to sleep. Morrigan felt at home here with the Warden. This was something she had never truly felt unless she was alone. The deep breaths from the other woman relaxed the brunette, and she, too, found herself falling into sleep. She knew she should leave, yet tonight, she decided just this once, she would stay with the elf and not in the form of a cat. She had been without her elf for too long and would consider it making up lost time.

Chapter Text

Deep Roads of Succession

Amelia awoke naked beneath the bard, their limbs entwined intimately. It was a challenge to resist the allure of Leliana now that she had a taste; Amelia hadn’t realized how hungry she had been. Her body was sore as she carefully maneuvered out from under the redhead. As Leliana slumbered, she shifted away, allowing Amelia to rise. Planting a tender kiss on the bard's fair, freckled shoulder, she evoked a drowsy chuckle from her companion. Amelia dressed herself, feeling the need to check on Kiera since she never came to get her wound healed. She assumed she had found other things to do, likely causing herself further harm. Amelia sighed as she exited the tent. Being underground was peculiar; there was no day, no night, just the same brown rocks and the illuminating glow from the endless lava. She missed the warm sun casting its rays upon her in the morning.

She approached Kiera’s tent and entered slowly, greeted by an unusual sight. Morrigan and Kiera were peacefully asleep in the bedroll together, Morrigan embracing the elf from behind, her face nestled in Kiera's long red hair. It was a display of affection she had never witnessed before, almost akin to a declaration of love, and Leliana would certainly owe her some gold for this revelation. As Amelia turned to leave, Morrigan stirred in the bedroll, involuntarily planting a kiss on Kiera's back. Amelia froze, hoping the witch hadn't detected her presence. “I can see you, Amelia,” Morrigan's words nearly startled the mage out of her skin. Morrigan lazily opened one eye, fixing it on the mage. “What is it?”

“How is she?” Amelia answered quickly, trying to pretend that everything that was happening right now was completely normal and that she had seen it a million times before.

“Resting, 'tis still inflamed.” She gingerly brushed aside the warden’s hair, revealing a bandage that she peered beneath.

Amelia crouched down to investigate. It was still red, but it looked ‘okay'. She reached into her pocket, pulling out an ink bottle and a needle. She dipped the needle in the ink and gently traced around the redness of the wound. “Just watch it. If the redness spreads out of the circle, then we will worry.” She looked to the witch, whose face relaxed in relief. “Did you do this?” She asked softly, to not rouse the elf.

“I did,” Morrigan whispered as she covered the wound.

“You did well; it looks nice; you're actually a natural.” It was surprising how well Morrigan healed; she wondered why the woman had never tried it before. Well, before Kiera, she really didn't have a reason to. She had her mother, and clearly, she wasn’t worried about her own well-being to learn it for herself. These small things the witch did truly showed Amelia she loved her friend. Whatever they were, Amelia reveled silently that she was right about them. They loved each other, even if Morrigan refused to show anyone outside of her safety net; she, however, would keep Morrigan's little secret for Kiera’s sake.

“I… thank you.” She said in almost disbelief as if nobody had ever complimented her on the magic she was taking the time to learn. It was possible that Flemeth was harsh with her training, and now that Amelia was thinking about it, she was certain that was the case. She surmised that the young mage must have endured numerous reprimands and disciplinary actions during her upbringing, contributing to the tough facade she projected. Yet beneath this veneer lay a gentle, affectionate soul.

“If you ever want to learn more, I'll teach you whatever you want," she winked. "Even the good stuff” She gestured with her fingers in a cutting motion and grinned at the witch, who arched her eyebrows in contemplation.

“I shall indeed take you up on that offer,” Morrigan responded with a smile.

“Go back to bed; I was never here, never saw you. "Amelia winked once more, eliciting a chuckle from the witch as she bid the Warden farewell. Morrigan nestled against Kiera’s back, closing her eyes as Amelia departed from the tent.

With Kiera out of commission, it was up to her to lead. She had to tell the elf not to joke about scenarios like this because now look at them exactly where Amelia did not want them to be. At least the elf was alive, and it wasn’t one of Kiera’s many other "what ifs" in charge of the story. She headed towards Alistair's tent and threw the flap open. What she saw would forever be burned into her memory: Alistair's bright, naked ass cheeks and his unmentionables peeking between his legs, and Zevran with one leg draped over the Warden. She quickly left, as she didn't have the capacity to deal with that right now. It seemed everyone at the camp had some sort of partner. Her head snapped to Wynne's tent and then to where Sten stood. Much to her relief, Sten was where he was supposed to be. She wasn’t sure she could handle another trauma right now. Amelia cast the morning aside as a loss; they would deal with Orzammar's problems later. She was going back to bed.

She re-entered her tent, her head throbbing in disbelief, endeavoring to erase the haunting images etched into her memory. As the radiant rogue in her bedroll washed away all remnants of turmoil, the woman slumbering peacefully appeared as a vision of grace. Her short hair cascaded delicately off the pillow, her hand rested gently by her head, her lips slightly parted, and her chest rose and fell rhythmically. Amelia marveled at her fortune, unable to tear her gaze away from the entrancing bard before her. She chuckled to herself, recalling how she had once considered Leliana creepy for this. Now, just look at the Warden. Leliana's alabaster complexion seemed to emit a soft glow against the dark backdrop of the bedroll. Slowly, Leliana's eyes fluttered open, revealing pools of grey that gazed lovingly at the Warden. A smile of pure joy graced Leliana's freckled visage as she whispered, "Mon Cœur," her voice resonating with deep affection.

“Leliana.” She said softly.

“Hmm?” She hummed as she kissed Amelia again, a smile catching on her lips.

“What did you say?”

Leliana's eyes fluttered open with a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Oh, do join me back in bed," she whispered enticingly. Amelia didn't hesitate; she nestled into the bedroll with the bard. Leliana's head found its usual spot in the crook of Amelia’s arm. Her hand trailed up the Warden's shirt and up to her chest. Leliana constantly had to touch the woman when they slept together. She belonged to the other woman fully and completely.

It wasn’t long before the two Grey Wardens, Leliana and Zevran, set off into the Diamond Quarter to find out any more information they could. It wasn’t long before they were approached by Vartag yet again, who informed them the prince had requested to see them after hearing of their venture into the Deep Roads. Prince Bhelen greeted the group, personally thanking them for safely returning Lord Dace and commending the Wardens for their formidability, which he admired in an ally.  The information she had heard about the prince contradicted his appearance, and his attitude suggested the rumors of his ruthlessness might be true. However, this did not deter her from what she was there to do: gather intel.  Having spent considerable time with Kiera and Leliana, she understood that this initial phase was crucial for their success. Therefore, engaging in political maneuvers to enlist the dwarves in the fight against the Blight became her strategy. She resolved to test the prince's resolve.

“All I care about is stopping the blight. Does this still make me an ally?”

“Then we have a common goal. We may not like each other, but the blight is our first priority.” His face grew stern. “We need absolute unity in this fight against the fulcrum of true evil.”

“Then you’ll honor your agreement with the Wardens?”

"Absolutely and sworn on the mail of my ancestors… as soon as Orzamar is united under my rule. Unfortunately, as the debate rages, I have no power to send the troops you need.” Bhelen went on to explain how the city was in shambles, and with the divide of power, criminal activity was on the rise, led by the Carta leader Jarvia.

“And let me guess, you want our help?”

“I’d never ask for such a thing, but if you do eliminate Jarvia and her thugs, you will have my gratitude. And my promise is that as king, I will send as many troops as you need to fight the darkspawn. Unfortunately, I have little information on Jarvia; her base of power is in Dust Town, the lowest part of the city, and my men have few sources there. Maybe the castles will talk more freely with a stranger.’

“We will look into it; that's all I can promise,” Amelia said.

“That’s all I can ask, but I can be of no help until this problem is solved, and every moment we wait, more darkspawn swarm into human lands.”

She agreed with the man in this; however, she wanted to know one thing from the man before she left. “What are your beliefs? What is your plan as king? What was so bad that your father would choose someone other than you?”

The dwarf fell silent for a moment. “I want to see a change in our people; I want to bring trade to Orzammar, give the casteless more standing, and my father would have us stay in traditional ways, which will keep us behind, which will be the downfall of the dwarves. We need to grow and evolve, and I will ensure my people thrive by any means necessary”

His response satisfied Amelia's inquiry, and the prince bid her farewell as he was preoccupied. They journeyed to Dust Town, a stark contrast to the rest of the city. The pathways were made of soil, the structures were dilapidated and corroded, and the streets were littered with paupers and individuals so incapacitated that they remained where they collapsed. Amidst the impoverished, there stood a woman who appeared immaculate, as if she was out of place. Amelia gained insight into the caste system from this woman, evoking a sense of empathy from the mage towards those born into unfavorable circumstances. She understood the plight of being born a mage, forcibly separated from her family, and confined in a tower against her will. The woman told the group that she had met a man, fallen in love, and subsequently conceived a child. However, upon the birth of a son instead of a daughter, the man disappeared. He had merely used the woman to gain entry into the miners' caste. In dwarven tradition, one's caste is determined by the same-sex parent, and since the mother was a miner, the daughter would also be a miner. Yet, the absent father was without caste, rendering the infant casteless, forcing the mother to either abandon the child to perish and return to her family or raise the baby as a beggar. If these were the customs that Harrowmont sought to uphold, then she would certainly never align with such practices. If reforms such as these were what Bhelen endeavored to implement, then he appeared to be the most favorable choice for these people.

Finding where Jarvia had been was simple; all Amelia needed to do was toss money at the beggars, and their mouths flapped. With Kiera’s insistent need to loot and haggle, they had more money than they knew what to do with, and it certainly didn't hurt to help those in need. However, getting to Jarvia was the hard part, the Carta's base was deep under Dust Town, and the winding caverns and dead ends were riddled with Carta members. Fighting their way through the criminals, Jarvia fell with ease. “Well, I guess sometimes violence is the answer,” Leliana quipped as they stood over the lifeless Carta leader.

Now, they were back in front of the prince, being asked for another request to help him ascend the throne after being praised for their slaying of the Carta. “What do you know of the Paragon Branka?” Bhelen inquired. Amelia knew little, just what they had heard. They had met the woman's husband, Oghren. Branka was a skilled smith and inventor, having risen to Paragon status when she invented smokeless coal. Branka is a living Paragon and possibly the most powerful and influential person in Orzammar. However, Branka and her entire house had been missing in the Deep Roads for two years. "Anyone with her support could take the throne unchallenged.”

It seemed the group was destined to continuously carry out the commands of others to advance their own objective. If this was the path they needed to take to stop the blight, then so be it. Amelia yearned for Kiera's presence to take charge of all decisions. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on her, determining the fate of a city, and aligning with the prince based on her personal ethics and judgment. Agreeing to assist him further by returning to the Deep Roads immediately after Kiera's injury was a significant commitment. The expedition to Caridin's Cross would venture miles beneath the surface. There would be no refuge, no escape. Just them and whatever creatures lurked within the intricate network of caverns. Initially, Amelia had anticipated a straightforward resolution. The dwarves would hold their Proving, and that would be the end of it. Yet now, it had evolved into a complex chess match, with the Wardens as the pawns.

Once back at camp, Amelia immediately found the little elf’s tent to find her sitting up and eating. Amelia had been relieved; she didn't know if she could keep doing this without the other woman. “Thank the maker”

“I don't think the Maker did anything,” Kiera chuckled, taking a bite of some sort of meat.

She flopped down next to the other warden, “You know what I meant, Kiera” The other woman simply shrugged as she continued to eat. The little elf really could eat a whole lot more than anyone realized, sometimes rivaling Alistair, and that man could eat a bronto if he was left to his own devices. She held her head, nervous to tell her friend her decisions. “So…” she inhaled sharply before looking back toward her friend.

Kiera looked back toward the brunette, her mouth full of food “Hwat?”

Amelia couldn’t help but laugh at the elf; she really was a character, someone who never really grew up. This was the person they all looked toward to lead them, and for a second, Amelia questioned her own judgment. “I’ve decided to help the prince and have agreed to go back into the Deep Roads to find Branka.” She said matter-of-factly.

Kiera swallowed and smiled. “Perfect, he would have been my choice as well. Harrowmont just seemed backwards, treating a whole group of people like scum by circumstance of birth. This place needs change. Now, the Deep Roads, that’s a choice. I guess we're going back in.” Kiera said reluctantly.

“Amelia, it's fine,” Kiera interjected as she extended her hand, gently resting it on the woman's thigh. “You have to make decisions. I can’t do everything; it's actually exhausting being in charge all the time. Staying back while you ran around doing it all was exactly what I needed. I feel so much better now that my fever broke.” The elf offered a half-smile to Amelia, who felt a sense of relief wash over her.

Knowing Kiera was on board with her decisions washed away her worries; however, hearing how the other warden felt about her role pained the mage. She began to feel maybe she needed to be doing more to take some of that weight off the elf’s shoulders. “I'm in this with you, Kiera. Whatever you need, I'm here. If you need me to step in more, I can do so. It shouldn’t all be on you, and I'm sorry it has been.”

Kiera laid her head on Amelia's shoulder and chuckled. “It’s okay. Having one person make the decisions is really ideal for keeping people in agreement. I really appreciate all you do now.”

“Hey,” Amelia said, nudging the elf. “Do you happen to have, um… any books on Orleasian language in that bag of yours?”

Kiera began to giggle mischievously. “My dear Amelia, why ever would you want to learn Orleasian?”

She playfully hit the other Warden. “Do you have any or not?”

Kiera sat up and leaned for her bag, stuffing her arm in and rummaging around. The various sounds of clinking metal could be heard echoing out of the bag. “Now, do you want basics? A dictionary? I have a lot, actually, once I found myself in a similar position as you.” Kiera's smile carried a wistful undertone as she delicately traced her ribs.

“I want anything that's going to teach me the entire language.”

Smiling softly, Kiera pulled out a couple of books and handed them to the mage. “Here, this should help."

There was a small commotion outside the tent. Both mabari had been growling, and they could hear Alistair speaking with what sounded like a drunken man. Both women jumped up and started out of the tent. There stood Oghren with his bright red beard, almost rivaling Kiera’s own color. “You, warden," he spoke as he started toward Amelia. “I am Oghren I don't know if you remember. People seem to forget me these days, or ignore me. I forget Which,” he said softly.

“I remember. It's only been a few days since we met.” Amelia chuckled.

“Perfect, then you know why I'm here. If we pool our knowledge together, we stand a chance of finding Branka. Otherwise, good sodding luck.”

He was right, he may be the only person who stood a chance of knowing how to get to Branka. “Alright, you have a deal, you can come with us.”

“You should know she was searching for the Anvil of the Void. The secret to building golems, which was lost centuries ago.” He turned his head to stare at Shale, who had yet again been looming behind the tents, watching the interaction intently. “The smith Caridin built it, and with it, Orzammar had a hundred years of peace, while it was protected by the Golems forged on the Anvil.” He turned his head, looking back to Amelia. “As far as anyone knows, the Anvil was built in the old Ortan Thaig. Branka planned to start looking there, if she were to ever find it. All she knew was that it was past Caridin's Cross, and no one has seen that thaig for five hundred years.”

“Well, good thing Bhelen gave me a map to Caridin's Cross,” Amelia said.

“If Bhelen managed to find it, that's only because he has dozens of warriors, he can send to search night and day. If we're going, let's get moving. Branka’s not going to sodding find herself.”

“We will set out in the morning. We need to rest, eat, and gather our equipment. It's not going to be an easy journey.”

Amelia readied herself to eat. She longed for a bath, but in Orzammar, unless one resided in the Diamond Quarter, access to water for such luxuries was scarce. With no nearby springs and the drinking water unfit for bathing, she yearned for the regular baths she once enjoyed in the Circle. After returning to her tent to prepare for the morning, she settled on her bedroll, perusing books with great focus. Leliana entered, prompting her to close the book and inquire, "How are you faring?"

"I'm fine, tired, but fine.” She pulled the blanket back, inviting the redhead into her bedroll, and the bard wasted no time getting in, practically lying on top of the Warden. Amelia kissed the woman on her forehead and pulled her in tight. “It’s going to be a long journey, and it's going to be rough, Leliana. Nothing about the Deep Roads is safe. You should stay at the ca-“

She was immediately cut off “I think not, Amelia, you are not going back in there alone without me. I saw what happened with Kiera. We need to stick together. If we were all with you, I highly doubt that would have happened.” Liliana scoffed her words at the woman.

She didn't even know why she bothered to tell the woman to stay behind. She knew she'd never agree to it, but after being in the Deep Roads, she certainly didn't want Leliana down there. What if something were to happen to her? She would never forgive herself. She wrapped her arms tighter around the rogue, pulling her closer. “you're right. I just don't want something to happen to you.”

"I'm your heart, huh?” Amelia said softly as she kissed the tip of Leliana's nose, her face flushed red in embarrassment.

“I… yes, you are. I see you've been studying. Not that I even noticed you having the time to do so.” Leliana looked puzzled at the woman. “The book you were just reading?” She asked.

“Yes, actually. Should you choose to converse with me in a language native to you, I believe it is only fitting that I dedicate the effort to acquire proficiency in it for you because, Leliana, you are my heart as well.” She leaned in, kissing the rogue, pulling her lips into her own, savoring the delicate flesh. When she pulled away, the other woman stared at her in awe.

 She was so beyond grateful for finding this woman. "No, thank you, Leliana," the journey ahead was going to be arduous, demanding, and perilous. Amelia needed to savor this moment while she could, as such instances on the road were scarce. She embraced the bard, delicately running her fingers through her hair, eliciting soft sighs from the woman as she gently lulled her to sleep. It was the most effective method to help Leliana fall asleep, and it worked almost instantaneously. After kissing her on the forehead once more, Amelia's mind was filled with anticipation for what lay ahead. A sense of unease gnawed at her telling the Warden things were not going to go so well.

Chapter Text

What Memories May Come

Kiera awoke to the aroma of food being prepared, her head throbbing and her back stinging. The wound was nearly healed, yet the pain persisted, reminiscent of the sensation she experienced during the joining ritual. She sat up, rubbing her head. She and Oghren had drunk so much she vaguely remembered getting back to the tent. She went to stand, only to find her body was suddenly too heavy, and she crashed back to the ground. Amelia's head suddenly appeared in the tent's opening. "You good?” She said with a hint of concern in her tone.

“Yeah, just drank too much.” She said, not trying to convince the other woman but herself. She had never felt like this after drinking; if need be, she could sober herself at will if she ever awoke still drunk. This was different, something else entirely. She pulled herself up into her chair and began to gather her armor.

“You sure Kiera?”  Amelia's voice was gentle and comforting.

Kiera paused, taking a deep breath before speaking once more. "Indeed, I find myself in need of sustenance beyond mere spirits," she remarked with a hint of amusement, flashing a cunning smile at the brunette. The other Warden seemed content with her response, reciprocating the smile before exiting the tent. As Kiera dressed herself slowly, she couldn't shake the feeling of heaviness that enveloped her attire, making it seem almost burdensome. Every aspect of her being evoked memories of the Joining ceremony; she couldn't help but entertain the notion that she might have been tainted with additional Darkspawn essence or perhaps a variant thereof. The searing pain in her back mirrored the anguish in her throat, prompting thoughts of Avernus' research and the mysterious potion. If this escalating affliction was a consequence of further corruption, it was conceivable that it was hastening the progression of the existing contamination within her. Despite contemplating the idea of consuming the potion, she dismissed it once more, wary of its unknown effects on her fragile state.

Kiera paused, taking in a deep breath before addressing the brunette once more. “Yeah, I just need to eat and drink something other than liquor," she remarked with a hint of amusement, flashing a cunning smile. The other Warden seemed content with her response, reciprocating the smile before exiting the tent. Kiera's demeanor shifted as she proceeded to dress herself, the fabric of her attire feeling unusually weighty and cumbersome. Every sensation she experienced seemed reminiscent of the Joining ceremony; she couldn't help but entertain the notion that she had been tainted further with Darkspawn blood or a different strain altogether. The searing pain in her back mirrored the burning sensation in her throat, prompting her to consider the possibility of an accelerated corruption within her, akin to what Avernus' research had hinted at. Despite the temptation to consume the potion as a potential remedy, she dismissed the idea once more, wary of the unknown repercussions it might entail.

Standing at the entrance to the Deep Roads was unsettling. Kiera detested being underground and venturing further in sent shivers down her spine. The sensation of being confined was abhorrent to the elf. She always schemed an exit strategy, yet within the Deep Roads, scant options presented themselves. The labyrinthine tunnels seemed to stretch into eternity, blurring the distinction between day and night. Rest came intermittently, and Kiera could only gauge the passage of time by the number of sleeps she had experienced – so far, fourteen. Every muscle in her body throbbed with fatigue. Her existence seemed reduced to a cycle of drinking, fighting, and sleeping. The ache in her back extended up to her neck and shoulders, the discomfort seeping down to her ribs.

A group of Darkspawn came crawling out of the tunnels; a Hurlock grabbed Kiera from behind and it turned with its lipless face screaming in hers, the drool splattering her in the face. A piece of metal shot out of its mouth and back out again. As the Hurlock dropped, she was met with Amelia, who had just stabbed the Darkspawn with the spear end of her staff. For having been in the Circle her entire life, she had been remarkably creative when it came to combat. She wasn’t one to sit back at a distance; she had no issues standing right next to Kiera in the center of battle, it was something that drew her to the other woman, they were so much alike.

Oghren's axe smashed the skull of a Darkspawn, finally felling the last enemy. “Caridin's cross. I can’t believe Bhelen actually tracked this place down. This used to be one of the biggest crossroads in the old empire. You could get anywhere from here, including Ortan Thaig.

“And that's where you think Branka is?” Amelia spoke.

“Caridin was an Ortan before he founded his own house, and even then, he spent most of his time in their thaig. Branka figured it was the best guess for where the Anvil was located.”

"Do you know anything else about the Anvil?”

“No one but Caridin ever really knew more than that it had some kind of stone-blessed power. Every golem, whoever ranged across the empire, was hammered on the steel of that Anvil, but no one ever knew exactly how they were made. But Branka was sure she could find out.”

Shale had been listening intently, completely silent but taking in every word. It was clear they were interested in how they themselves were created. Kiera was utterly exhausted, and Amelia took notice, imploring the group to take a quick rest, which Oghren gladly agreed to, as there would not be much time for resting past this point. The intersection they reached was grand; the pathway stretched out expansively, dividing into four directions adorned with intricately carved stone and statues. The dwarves truly excelled in showcasing their craftsmanship. As everyone settled down to prepare food and relax, Kiera discreetly slipped away with Stinky, finding solace leaning against a rock. She proceeded to remove her upper armor, unveiling the dark streaks radiating from her fresh scar. Stinky affectionately licked her hand as she gently stroked him. Retrieving a bottle from her bag, she consumed its contents before hurling it at the adjacent wall, causing it to shatter into fragments. She then retrieved the notes once more, perusing through them. "Accelerated corruption: when re-exposed subjects began to exhibit signs of alteration long before they normally would." It became apparent that the potion was the sole remedy to halt the progression.

“And you did not think to speak up about this," Morrigan's voice came from behind. She sounded more disappointed than anything, which cut Kiera deeper than it would if she were simply angry.

“I didn't realize it was this bad.”

“Kiera, it's very bad. I'm getting Amelia.”

Before Kiera could even protest, Morrigan was gone; she must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew Amelia was scolding her while looking over her back and apparently had been for a while. “Why would you let it get this bad, Kiera we could have stayed in Orzammar until you were better”

“That’s exactly why I didn't say anything. We need to get this done.”

“So basically, you want to die in the Deep Roads sooner rather than later?” Amelia scolded.

“I don't really want to die at all, but the Blight isn’t going to stop itself!” Kiera sighed.

"And you aren’t going to be the one to stop it single-handedly, Kiera, the last Blight lasted how long? And you're expecting to stop this one in under a year? Some miraculous feat, a thing never before achieved? With how it usually goes, we will be long dead before the Blight is over with.” Amelia said as she began working on Kiera’s back. She could barely feel what was going on; whatever it was, it didn't sound pleasant. “Maker's breath, Kiera, the infection is spreading fast”

“It’s accelerating the corruption; I can feel it.” She winced in pain. “It feels just like the Joining, but the burning is in my back.”

‘You could be right; this infection is like nothing I’ve seen. The pus is black, and it looks like death.” Amelia said softly. “Kiera, it's not good. You need to turn back. Wynne and Sten are still in camp; she can heal you better than I can. There's not much I can do down here.”

“Absolutely not, I'm already this far.”

“Kiera…”

“I'll be fine.” She demanded.

“Talk some sense into her,” Amelia said, sighing as she stood. Kiera hadn’t even realized Morrigan had come back with the other Warden. She stood quietly the entire time, surprisingly not making any rude comments. The silence was not normal for the witch, and it left Kiera feeling uneasy.

“She said no. What do you expect me to do.” Morrigan said dryly. Amelia said nothing to the witch, just eyed her up and down. It was clear there was a lot she wanted to say, yet she kept her mouth shut and walked away, wiping her hands with a rag. Morrigan stood there, her arms crossed, looking disappointed; Kiera had never felt so small. “So, 'tis your decision? To stay in the Deep Roads and risk death?”

“Yes, I can’t turn back now.”

Morrigan sighed as she picked up the journal sitting next to Kiera and flipped through it. “Still haven’t made a choice?”

“I fear the choice has made itself.” Kiera held her head low. Morrigan looked at her in a silent demand to know what Kiera meant. “I can feel the corruption in my blood. I don't know how to explain it, but whatever was on that axe or whatever is down here, it's made it worse. He talks about it in his notes.” She took the journal from the other woman. “Here,” she said, pointing to the passage she had continued to read over and over again.

Morrigan read it intently, her eyes scanning each word. “I see. Well, you know what you have to do.”

“Oh, do I?” Kiera chuckled. Morrigan's face, unwavering, stared Kiera down. The woman was serious and obviously in no mood for Kiera’s humor. Things had shifted in their relationship since that night in Flemeth's hut. Morrigan was softer, yet meaner, refused to sleep with Kiera except right after the axe wound, and always found a way to be right near her when they were awake. Sleeping still was a no-go unless Kiera was injured or Morrigan was a cat, which Kiera wouldn’t complain about Morrigan’s purring put her to sleep, and it was soothing. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Not die yet,” Morrigan said dryly. “You're going to do whatever you wish. However, I wish for you to keep living. Can you at least do that?”

“I'll see what I can do.” Kiera smiled as she leaned in to kiss the witch.

"I'm serious, Kiera. It’s not your time.” She closed the gap, meeting the Warden halfway. Morrigan's lips were soft like the inside of a rose, and Kiera didn't know if she was delusional or if she was just hyper-aware of how soft they really were.

She pulled away, staring into Morrigan's sunlit eyes. “I'll think about it; we don't know the full effects.”

“You didn't know the full effects of the Joining, and still, you underwent that.”

“I was going to die, Morrigan.” Morrigan stared at her intently. “I'm not," she smiled back at the woman, attempting to reassure her. Morrigan shook her head and left the Warden sitting there alone.

It was another nine sleeps before they encroached upon the thaig. They fought their way through the Labyrinth to the final stretch to Ortan Thaig. Kiera had noticed Oghren ogling Morrigan the entire way; the longer they traveled together, the worse it got. It was so bad that Morrigan had taken it upon herself to nearly climb atop the elf to get away from the man. Usually, Kiera would have beaten someone by now for approaching her woman; however, his advances were pushing the witch onto her, and really, she could thank the little man.

Each day, Kiera felt worse and worse, and Morrigan stayed as close as possible to the Warden, never leaving her side, even when they rested. None dared make a comment on it, thankfully, though it was obvious to all that Kiera wasn’t doing well. No matter how many poultices or potions she took that Amelia had given her, nothing was working; she was simply getting sicker and sicker. Whatever darkspawn poison that surged through her was corrupting her further. She could hear them now; the voices Alistair had told her about. She knew the potion was her only option, yet the idea of taking it scared her more than dying. It was ironic when Morrigan pointed out that it was just like the Joining. Sure, it was similar, yet the Joining was much easier. This? This was different; it was an experiment, and the outcome was unknown. Plus, what it took to gain this potion? To halt the corruption? It was morally wrong. Kill so many to what? Save one, and was Kiera really worth saving?

"What's on your mind?” Morrigan's voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“A lot, actually," she sighed as she shifted in the bedroll to face the other woman.

“Well, go on then, I didn't ask just for you to be quiet.” Morrigan nearly whispered. They didn't have tents for this journey, just their bedrolls. They needed to be light and quick; there wasn’t time for a proper camp, so privacy wasn’t really an option.

She leaned her head in, kissing the other woman on the cheek as she got closer to her ear; she didn't need the camp in her innermost thoughts. “I know I need to take the potion. I need to halt the corruption; nothing else is working, Morrigan.” She pulled back slightly to meet her gaze. "I'm starting to hear it, the calling, or I think that's what the voices are. It doesn’t make sense; it's so distorted.”

Morrigan's gaze filled with worry “Kiera…”

“It’s just, so much went into making the potion… so much blood magic, so many deaths… just for me to be the one to use it. It doesn’t seem right.”

Morrigan's face went from worried to anger. “Tis why you haven’t taken it!?” Morrigan's fist balled up, and Kiera flinched, awaiting the contact that never came. The witch sighed, running her fingers across the warden's cheek as she bore her gaze into her. “You are worth more than a thousand lifetimes. Call me cruel, I care not. To me, you are far more valuable than entire armies.”

Kiera’s heart felt as though it would stop. Morrigan wasn’t one to share her feelings, yet right now, she was pulling back a layer and allowing walls to crack. “I… I will think about it.”

“You better think quickly," she scoffed as she leaned in, kissing the Warden. "Because the moment you can’t make your own decisions, I'll be making them for you, and with how weak you're getting, it seems this may be sooner rather than later.” Kiera knew the woman was serious, and she had half a mind to get up and drink the potion right now; however, she was too exhausted, and the witch was too soft to move away from. She could wait a little longer; what harm could it do? It's not that Kiera truly even believed she should be the one to take the potion; truly, she didn’t believe she deserved it. Something like this should be saved for someone worth a damn, someone like Amelia.

The caverns leading into the thaig were infested with colossal arachnids and darkspawn. Kiera struggled to maintain her stance, her strength waning with each swing of her blade. Overwhelmed, she stumbled backward onto the ground, only to be shielded by Shale, who crushed the creatures underfoot. Alistair aided Kiera to her feet, her senses fading and the world around her growing distant. Her mana was almost depleted, leaving her unable to conjure any spells. Shale remained steadfast by the Warden's side, protecting her fiercely, while Morrigan rushed to her aid. Panic etched on her face as Kiera collapsed onto the unforgiving stone floor. As her vision blurred and her heart raced, the looming specter of death seemed all too real. Morrigan's distressed visage loomed above, her urgent words falling on deaf ears as Kiera slipped into a state of serene numbness. Despite the horror etched on her features, the witch's beauty remained unparalleled in Kiera's eyes. If this was indeed her final moment, Kiera regretted not having more time to bask in the presence of the enigmatic woman. A searing sensation gripped her eyes, her spirit feeling as though it was being torn asunder, consumed by the impending abyss of oblivion.

Kiera's eyes fluttered open as she was slowly awakened by soft hands caressing her face. “Kiera” The voice was low and muffled. Kiera could only tell it was a woman's voice. “Kiera.” A thumb ran across the elf's lips, and instinctively, she kissed it.

Sleepily, she let out a small chuckle. “Morrigan,” She grumbled.

"Who is Morrigan?" The voice was unmistakable, and Kiera would recognize it anywhere. She sat up abruptly, her gaze fixed on the woman who had been resting beside her. Radiant and familiar, a visage she hadn't laid eyes upon in years. Surveying her surroundings, she found herself encompassed by the walls of her former home, the majestic trees of Arlathan visible through the expansive opening of the treehouse leading to a balcony. The sunlight cascaded down upon the woman through a grand skylight, illuminating her features. Her vivid emerald eyes gazed affectionately at Kiera while her tresses of golden locks danced in the gentle breeze. Her hair, almost ethereal in its whiteness, was so fair that it created a halo-like effect around her head. Kiera stood there, dumbfounded. The sight before her was truly beyond belief, and she found herself utterly speechless as the woman before her erupted into laughter. “Kiera, what is the matter?”

“Idrilla…” Kiera said softly as she reached out, caressing the other woman's face; it was real. Kiera, almost having to choke back a sob, spoke again. “You’re real?”

The other elf giggled. "Of course, I'm real, ma vhenan," she leaned in, kissing Kiera. Lips she hadn't felt in so long, lips that felt almost foreign and wrong. Kiera couldn’t be here; she was supposed to be… She was supposed to be in the Deep Roads. Kiera had almost forgotten about being caught up in the moment. She pushed the other woman away and rubbed her head, trying to make sense of the situation. As she looked around, everything seemed strangely familiar to her. They were sitting in the treehouse they had lived in; on the bed they had shared for many years. It felt like a dream, yet it was completely real. She looked at her outfit, something she hadn't seen in a long time, and her Grey Warden armor was gone. Wearing her old orange underclothes, she wondered if it had all been a dream. It couldn’t have been, her eyes continued to scan everything. It wasn’t the Fade, she was sure of that, she had seen the Fade plenty.

“What happened?” She asked, looking toward the other woman.

“You must have hit your head a lot harder than I thought.” As the other woman examined Kiera's head. Kiera winced in pain, now fully aware of the knot on her head. The pain in her head reminded her of the pain in her shoulder. Reaching back, she felt, but there was no longer any pain. The festering wound she had been feeling was now gone. "You fell out of the tree, you idiot.” Idrilla pushed her playfully. Kiera remembered; she had been here before, this day, this moment, except she hadn't been awake for this. She hadn't remembered anything until the next day. Something was wrong, and she was confused, and her brain was on fire.

Was it all just a dream? really? Was she actually back home, here with Idrilla? The one person who made her feel like she had a place in the world. “Oh… yeah.” She looked back to the other elf. She took in all her features; she was so beautiful. Kiera's heart began to ache, she hadn't thought about this woman in so long, having locked her away in the back of her mind, resigning the other woman to a simple metaphorical death within her mind, as she was certain to never see her again. The stipulation of her leaving Arlathan was to never return to the forest, never to visit the ruins, and to never lay eyes on her love ever again, as Idrilla was meant to stay and rise to the position of Keeper when the time came. She could never expect the woman to leave her clan for Kiera she would never want that for the woman. If her blood were ever again sensed in the forest, the Keeper would know, and she would be marked an enemy of the clan.

“Kiera… are you okay? You look like you're going to cry.” Idrilla inquired softly, drawing her close. Kiera melted into the embrace, immersing herself in the presence of the blonde elf. The aroma of her hair was all-consuming, reminiscent of blooming flowers mingled with a distant campfire. This scent triggered a surge of emotions within Kiera, prompting her to cling tightly to her memories.

“I… this is going to sound crazy.” she laughed into the other woman's neck as she pulled away, sniffling.

“Well, you are crazy, sooo… go on” Idrilla grabbed Kiera's hand, kissing the tips of her fingers as she smiled sweetly at her.

"Oh, shut up.” Kiera smiled as she yanked her hand from the woman. Idrilla propped her elbow on her knee and laid her chin in the palm of her hand as she looked at Kiera quizzically. “I just had the most intense dream, or nightmare? Hallucination? Maybe this is the hallucination. I don’t know, but what I do know is that just moments ago, I was fighting for my life in the Deep Roads, and now here I am with you, and I haven't seen you in years," she explained as she waved her hands around wildly.

Idrilla's eyes squinted as she stared at Kiera, getting a good look at her and leaning forward to gaze intently into her eyes. “Well, I assure you that you’ve only been unconscious for an hour or so.”

Kiera exhaled deeply. “Idrilla… It was so real… and this? This is so real” A heaviness settled in her head, causing her surroundings to blur. Suddenly, she found herself embraced by the other woman, drawing her close until Kiera was lying in her arms. The elf had always been affectionate; Kiera longed for this particular tenderness. Her connection with Morrigan was of a different nature; intense and instinctual, filled with fervor and intensity. This, on the other hand, was gentle, compassionate, brimming with love and admiration. It pained her to admit, but Kiera was uncertain which she yearned for more. How could she be in the embrace of her former lover and still have thoughts of the witch? Placing both women on an equal pedestal.

“Come here,” Idrilla said, kissing her on the forehead. "Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to just lie here with me?”

The old her would have chosen to sit in silence, but Kiera had so much to say to this woman, so much she had regretted, and so much she had missed out on. “I… I want to talk about it.”

“oh?” Her head snapped to Kiera, and she smiled. "This is new, I like this." She leaned in and kissed the redhead on the nose.

"There's a lot I've wanted to say to you.”

“Kiera, you act like you haven't seen me in forever when I am constantly by your side.” She kissed the other woman, and Kiera pulled her in, deepening the kiss, surprising Idrilla, who pulled away with a blush running across her face.

“Humor me then?” Kiera rolled her eyes and smiled. Idrilla returned the smile as she shrugged her shoulders, agreeing to the ridiculous request with a playful roll of her eyes. “I never thought I would see you again, and now that I am, it's surreal. The way I see it, you're either real or a hallucination, and really, I don’t care. I missed you so much, Idrilla. You were… my everything.” Kiera's lip quivered as she stared at the other woman, whose face grew more serious.

“Was your everything? so, your dream really felt that real?”

“I don’t think it was a dream; I think this is the dream. "Honestly, you might not even be real and are most likely a fever dream, as I'm pretty sure the last thing I remember was dying on the stone in the Deep Roads.” Kiera laughed as Idrilla began to look horrified. “Maybe that’s why I'm here, though.” She reached out and ran her thumb across the woman's chin. “It would make sense. My mind would make me hallucinate you, my biggest regret, one last time before it all ended.”

Idrilla looked as if she were going to cry. “Kiera, I know you love your stories. You're certainly going to write a great novel one day, but that’s not funny.”

"No, it's not. But this is my reality.”

"Okay, Lethalin, I’ll bite. What happened in this reality of yours? Why am I a regret?”

"It's not you that I regret. I've always cherished my time with you, but I had to lock you away. Those feelings I couldn’t carry them. For years, I stuffed them in a box, pretending they never existed. And seeing you again, it's like a flood of emotions,” Kiera sniffled, holding back tears. She looked at the other woman's plump lips and leaned in, taking them into her own. "Ir abelas, ma vhenan,” she whispered the words on the other woman's lips as she pulled back.

“Ar lath ma,” Idrilla said softly as she stared into Kiera's eyes. “Why did you have to do that? What happened?”

“I was forced out of the forest, branded an enemy of the clan. However, I was only allowed to leave as long as my blood was never to return. "You're doing, actually,” Kiera chuckled. “You really didn’t want to see me die”

“Of course, I would never want to see that.” She slapped Kiera on the leg. The pain felt so good to the woman because she knew that it could very well be the last time she felt anything at all. She had to take in everything she could. “What was my doing?”

“Convincing your father to let me leave and not hunt me down,” Kiera chuckled as she looked away.

“What did you do, Kiera…?” She said, her voice low.

“Voiced my honest opinions, things you told me never to do.” She rubbed the back of her neck, smiling at the woman.

“Of course you did.” She sighed. “Your imagination is vivid. What else happened?”

Kiera went on to explain everything to the woman, and she meant everything. The details she had never told anyone, the chains she kept on doors long sealed shut, all pried open and laid bare to the woman before her. Things Kiera had never said out loud, she had never felt so relieved when she finally finished her story. "And now here I am, having my last bit of happiness before the inevitable dirt nap.” She sat back, smiling and thinking about the witch. She wished Morrigan was there too, but she would have to be content with spending the last eight or so months with her. She stared up out of the skylight as dusk began to set in; her time must be getting near.

Idrilla sat there, staring at the elf; you could see her face shift to believing the elf. “Kiera.” Her face was full of pain.

Kiera looked back at the elf. “Hm?”

A tear ran down the woman's cheek. "It is not supposed to be like that, we are meant to run the clan together, bring change, uncover the secrets of the ancestors.”

Kiera smiled at the childlike vision, something she had thrown away before she even left Tevinter when her life was completely changed forever. “You will. I’ll never see it, but I know you will do something great. You know how to bring everyone together.”

Tears cascaded down the other woman's cheeks as she closed the distance between them, pressing her lips against Kiera's fervently. It was a kiss that Kiera yearned for, a sensation that had eluded her for far too long. The feeling of being truly desired by the other woman was a rarity, almost a forgotten memory. Her slender fingers intertwined with the woman's silvery locks, drawing Idrilla nearer. Kiera, a woman of simplicity, found solace in these fleeting moments, embracing the uncomplicated joy they brought before fading into the abyss. Idrilla rested her hand gently on Kiera's chest as they parted, their emerald gazes locked in a final, poignant exchange. “Why are you like this?”  Idrilla inquired with a soft smile.

Idrilla began slowly unbuttoning Kiera's top, revealing her. “I do.” She leaned down, kissing the redhead on the lips. “I always have.” trailing her kisses across the woman's cheek to her ear, “I always will." Kiera's heart broke with the words from the vision that was her former lover. She wrapped her arms around the other elf, pulling her closer and returning kisses to the woman's face. Kiera couldn’t hold back anymore. If this was her end, her light at the end of the tunnel, then she was going to take it all in, even if it wasn’t real. It was real enough for the Warden. The two women spent hours in the throes of passion until they both lay spent, breathless, and glistening with sweat.

Kiera felt exhausted like she was finally losing her hold on this world. She turned to the blonde, who had already been staring at her. “Idrilla”

“Yes?” The Keeper's daughter reached out, touching Kiera's bottom lip with her thumb.

“I love you, and I just want you to be happy…”

"Kiera, I am happy…”

Kiera's body felt heavier, and her head began to spin. Panic began to rise in her chest as she knew this was the end, feeling her spirit fading from this world. Idrilla must have sensed Kiera's distress just as she always had and enveloped the elf in her arms, kissing her forehead. “I'm so tired, Drilla…”

"The blonde began running her fingers through Kiera's hair “rest, emma lath”

Kiera leaned in, pressing her lips against the other woman's one final time as she felt her eyes close involuntarily and her body stiffen. Her spirit seemed to plummet abruptly, instilling panic within Kiera, yet her physical form remained unresponsive. The world spun around her until, in an instant, it was over.