A/N: Quite a few scenes of the good old S.E.X. in this chapter. All the characters really wanted to make out before the final fight with Corypheus.
Chapter 124
Road to Skyhold
Morrigan's raven form fought against the gusting winds tormenting the mountain passes surrounding Skyhold, the dark witch not wasting any time to cautiously circle around the secluded campsite of her sister, with great urgency landing in the clearing and immediately shifting into her human shape, triggering Maythre's runes of warding, all done with the intention to let her sister know immediately about her arrival. Maythre appeared less than a minute later, looking a little disheveled and tired, months of camping in the wilderness and away from civilization starting to wear down on the former queen, used to her luxuries. Cauthrien was nowhere to be seen, but Morrigan could detect slight shuffling inside the tent. From how the former general of Maythre's armies did not bother to emerge from the tent and loom protectively over her former mistress, Morrigan assumed that Cauthrien probably had stopped viewing her as an immediate threat.
"You have returned," Maythre exclaimed, actually looking deeply relieved. "Did you see the temple?" Morrigan nodded with a somewhat smug smile at that. "What have you discovered, sister?"
"A great deal… and yet at the same time, nothing that could immediately help us, I'm afraid," Morrigan replied. "The temple was swarming with ancient elven guardians who had somehow survived from the age of Arlathan, sentinels sworn to protect Mythal's legacy. Their leader, Abelas, mentioned something very interesting before the Inquisitor slit his throat. Abelas said that Mythal was never imprisoned in the Beyond together with the rest of the Creators. He said that Fen'Harel's Great Betrayal was a direct result of Mythal's assassination by one of the Creators."
"Unexpected," Maythre said in a calm voice. "Then again, it provides an explanation for a problem I had been facing. If Mythal had been imprisoned with the others, then none of this could have happened, including my resurrection. In fact, neither of us would even be alive, since Mythal would not be around to conceive us. I imagine that after her assassination, Mythal's essence somehow found a way to crawl back into the world of living."
"That was my thought as well," Morrigan nodded. "So yes, I am becoming more and more convinced that the divine spark of Mythal lives on in Flemeth, and that is how she has been able to achieve these feats which are beyond mere mortals."
"So we just need to kill an ancient elven goddess," Maythre shrugged. "It's not like we have much of a choice. She stands in our way to true freedom."
"I would have to agree," Morrigan said. "There was something in the temple that Corypheus was after. Something called the Vir'abelasan, or the Well of Sorrows."
"Sounds important," Maythre guessed. "Did you learn the nature of this Well of Sorrows?"
"Oh yes," Morrigan smiled thinly. "It was a literal magical well. It contained the collected knowledge of all the priests of Mythal across the ages. Drinking from the well would have allowed the one consuming its waters to obtain all this unique knowledge."
"Then it could contain the knowledge of where to find Mythal and how to defeat her!" Maythre's eyes lit up with a hungry spark as she faced her sister. "Please tell me that you used the well and obtained this knowledge."
"Such was my intent until I learned of the price I would have to pay for using the well," Morrigan sighed, shaking her head ruefully. "You see, sister… not only did the well contain the collected knowledge of the priests, it also contained their combined will. In short, drinking from the well would have bound me into Mythal's service for all eternity."
"Blast it!" Maythre exclaimed in frustration, raising her hands at the sky, ready to curse the entire world, but then willing herself to calm down as she started to pace back and forth. "Of course this would be an impossible price to pay for either of us. Flemeth could simply compel us to allow the possession, and that would rather defeat the purpose of our efforts."
"Exactly," Morrigan nodded. "If I had fallen under Mythal's geas, I would have been compelled to disclose the secret of your continued survival, sister."
"Indeed… as painful as it is to admit, you did the right thing by refusing the Well," Maythre said. "Did any of your companions use it? Perhaps they could be persuaded to share this knowledge of Mythal?"
"Someone did consume this knowledge… but unfortunately it was the Inquisitor himself, a man who distrusts and despises me," Morrigan shrugged. "He would never share the Well's secrets with me, but the problem is that he doesn't even understand any of this knowledge, he is much too stupid to comprehend these ancient elven secrets. That Andrastian zealot does not even want to acknowledge that Mythal is or was real. He has convinced himself that the knowledge the Well whispers in his head are merely whispers of Fade demons."
"Unbelievable…" Maythre clenched her fists, fuming in silent anger. "So close, yet so far, aren't we, sister? I don't suppose there is a way for this knowledge to be extracted from the Inquisitor's head?"
"I'm not sure, but I will not give up, you can be certain of it," Morrigan swore passionately. "But while I continue my efforts to learn more, I have also come to deliver a warning. We snatched the Vir'abelasan right from under the nose of Corypheus. His rage was indescribable and continued to grip us with fear even long after we were back in safety. Everyone believes that Corypheus is on his way to attack Skyhold, bringing his darkspawn horde with him."
"Worrying," Maythre clicked her tongue. "Still, I believe that Cauthrien and I should be safe here, off the main path. It would be hard to find a safer place on a short notice."
"Believe me, I am more concerned for my own well being than yours," Morrigan smirked. "After all, I will be on the receiving end of the Elder One's anger when he strikes at Skyhold. And if I'm not there to defend Skyhold together with the others, I will not ingratiate myself any closer with the Herald."
"At least you can always take flight if things are looking grim," Maythre smiled thinly.
"Yes, if I am still alive by then," Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Still, the attack could come at any time, so I should hurry back… there is another critical matter for me to address before Corypheus attacks."
"Then do hurry, sister," Maythre said, smiling as she watched Morrigan's shape starting to twist and blur, her sibling turning into a large raven and taking to its wings. "For what it's worth, I hope to see you alive after the battle."
~***~
Skyhold
The sky was already starting to darken overhead as Bethany crossed the unusually silent courtyard of Skyhold, the remaining soldiers under Alistair's command assigned to their posts, mostly on the battlements to act as lookouts, or to man all the repaired catapults. The afternoon had been spent together with Josie and Riona, discussing everything that her beloved had overheard during the war council session, until her sister had departed to spend time with Nathaniel before the imminent attack, and Bethany had followed her to address a certain matter on her agenda. Merrill had been expected to join them in Bethany's quarters, but the Dalish mage was nowhere to be found, having scurried off to do Maker only knew what.
Hoping that Grand Enchanter Fiona would still be present at her little study in the infirmary where the elven mage often worked up to very late hour, Bethany opened the infirmary doors and quietly stepped inside, turning to her right towards Fiona's workshop and then freezing from the sight before her. She had not expected that someone else might be present aside from Fiona, and she had most certainly not anticipated that she would encounter Warden Alistair in the infirmary, standing awfully close to the elven woman, making it seem as if they had just parted from a tight embrace.
"I… uh, good evening, Bethany," Alistair managed awkwardly, stepping away from Fiona, but even the poor light of the workshop could not hide his embarrassment. "I should leave you to discuss… whatever it is you wanted to discuss," with those words, Alistair literally ran out as quickly as possible, making Bethany wonder just what she had interrupted. Sure, Fiona is still an attractive woman, even if she's getting on in years, but I just didn't think Alistair would be the type to cheat on his supposed fiancée, Bethany thought to herself. Especially since he always appears so happy and in love with Evangeline.
"Err… far be it from me to make assumptions, Grand Enchanter, but…" Bethany began in a hesitant voice.
"Assumptions? Whatever do you mean?" Fiona asked, the realization then dawning on her face, but the reaction was unexpected, the elven mage almost recoiling in genuine horror and disgust. "Oh… oh, goodness… no, it is most definitely not what you think it is, Sister Bethany," she said, shaking her head vehemently. "You'll have to forgive me for not explaining in greater detail, but I can safely promise you that there is nothing of… that nature going on."
"Well… it's not really my place to comment, anyway," Bethany shrugged, then summoning a quick and carefree smile at the elven woman. "I came here for an entirely different purpose. You can probably imagine why I'm here."
"I can, yes," Fiona replied, walking back behind her working desk and opening the top drawer to remove a thin vial of colorless liquid. "I would have liked a couple more weeks to run further tests, but…"
"But we are out of time, yes," Bethany nodded. She reached out with her hand towards Fiona. "May I have it?"
"Of course," Fiona replied, placing the vial on Bethany's open palm. "Even the smallest dose should be enough to cause an irreversible chain reaction in the body of someone affected by the age regressing potion. Not to mention that the mixture is completely tasteless and odorless, so it can be added to anything, water, wine or tea."
"Amazing," Bethany smiled, quickly pocketing the valuable vial. "Thank you, Grand Enchanter. I will remain forever in your debt for this service."
"Nonsense, Sister Bethany," Fiona shook her head, responding with a warm smile. "It is not as if I don't have a vested interest in seeking the downfall of Madame de Fer. Her poisonous influence must be brought to an end if we mages of the South can hope to enjoy any sort of respite. We cannot hope for Corypheus to do the job for us when he inevitably attacks Skyhold."
"Of that I am in complete agreement, especially considering how Lady Vivienne has always managed to put herself out of the harm's way," Bethany said, bowing her head at the elven woman to announce her departure. "Good night, Grand Enchanter. Hopefully when we speak next, both Corypheus and Madame de Fer will no longer be threats to our peaceful future."
After Fiona had replied with a smile and a nod, Bethany turned to hastily rush back to the main keep, the vial stored in a compartment of her robes, the youngest of the Hawke sisters still wondering about the nature of Fiona's relationship with Alistair, and what else it could be if not romantic… and yet she was still leaning towards trusting Fiona, especially considered her expression of disgust. Running up the stairs and then through the near empty library, Bethany quickly arrived at the doors to her quarters, slipping inside and shutting the bolt just in case, only then turning around to regard Josephine, kneeling on the bear rug in front of the fireplace with an empty wine glass in her hand, staring at the flames with a pensive expression on her face.
"I've got it, Josie!" Bethany exclaimed happily, breaking the Antivan out of her stupor as she turned to look at her lover, Bethany presenting the small vial before putting it safely away on top of the small desk by the wall mirror. "Fiona came through for us, working together with apothecary Ve'mal."
"Good… that's good," Josephine muttered, not quite sharing her lover's enthusiasm. "The threat of Lady Vivienne somehow pales before what we will face very soon… and that makes me sick with worry. I mean… our chances are not very good, I think we all understand that. The very thought that our lives could be cut short now… it paralyzes and horrifies me. It can't happen, it mustn't happen! It's not fair!"
"Oh, Josie," Bethany sighed, dropping down on her knees next to her beloved and embracing her, having forgotten just how unused Josephine was to violence and armed conflict, regardless of how ripe Thedas was with it, the Antivan had spent her life mostly in protected shelter, fighting battles of words that often had more impact than the waving of swords, but she had never found herself in a situation where people would be ripped apart before her eyes left and right in the heat of battle, and she understandably found their current circumstances difficult to endure. "I'll find a way to keep you safe, Josie," Bethany whispered to her beloved. "We'll get through this, you'll see. We'll make sure they never breach the inner keep, and with the doors bolted and barricaded, you should be safe here."
"I don't care about that," Josephine exclaimed, trying to break away from Bethany's embrace. "It's you I'm worried about! You'll be out there, on the other side of these doors… and I will have nothing else to do but to watch."
"I have to be there, Josie… you know that," Bethany spoke softly, hugging the Antivan even tighter. "I'll stand with Riona and Merrill, and we'll look out for each other as we have always done in the past. You know that I can't abandon them, just as they won't abandon me. And as much as I would love to stay here with you from now on until the end of days, you know that we'll have a much better chance if I'm out there with all the others, fighting against Corypheus."
"I know that," Josephine nodded glumly. "I simply hate how useless it makes me feel."
"I can understand that," Bethany whispered in return, then pulling away slightly as an idea occurred to her. "Josie… do you still have those tiny hand crossbows you had from your days as a bard?" The Antivan blinked at the unexpected question, then hastily nodding in reply. "Well, there you go, we have a way for you to help instead of feeling useless. We'll get you a stack of bolts and you can set up by the window and plink away at any darkspawn you see!"
"Hmm… you know, that is not a bad idea at all," Josephine conceded after a moment of thought. "Every little bit helps, that's what everyone is saying," she said, leaning in to press a genteel kiss against Bethany's lips. "Thank you, Bethany… you always find a way to restore my hope. Varric's nickname for you could not be more accurate… you are my Sunshine," she muttered as their kisses intensified and deepened, the two women slowly beginning to lose themselves in the moment, sliding down on the soft rug by the fireplace, locked in a passionate embrace.
Bethany felt Josie's nimble fingers quickly unclasping the buttons at the back of her robe, insistently tugging on the garment and dragging it down to Bethany's waist, the pair lip-locked the entire time. Bethany herself had developed an admirable proficiency at removing Josephine's clothing, evading all the ruffles to find the collection of buttons, laces and strings, always making her feel as if she was unwrapping a beautiful, precious present during this activity, eventually leaving the Antivan similarly nude down to the waist, heated flesh meeting flesh as they embraced passionately. "Shall we move to the bed, love?" Bethany whispered during kisses. "It's a little more comfortable than down here."
Josie replied with a wordless nod, the pair quickly rising from the floor and quickly stripping the rest of their clothing, Bethany sitting on the edge of the bed and watching as her beloved reached behind her back to remove the heavy golden chain hanging around her neck. Suddenly, Bethany was struck with an idea and she reached out to seize Josephine's arm. "Stop," she whispered coyly. "Leave the chain on."
"Oh… umm, why?" Josephine blushed from the unexpected suggestion.
"You'll see…" Bethany smiled, taking Josephine's hands in hers and tugging sharply, pulling the Antivan towards her and Josie all but fell into her lap, straddling her lover. Bethany's hand slid across Josephine's skin towards her breast, cupping and lifting it against the cold metal of her gold necklace, the pleasurable contrast between Bethany's warm hand and the cool of the golden chain eliciting a moan of delight from Josephine's throat, and it only deepened when Bethany dove downwards to capture a rapidly stiffening nipple in her mouth.
"Oh my…" Josephine managed between deep, throaty moans as Bethany lowered her on top of the soft blankets and truly bent to her task, her hands continuing to kneed the flesh of Josephine's firm breasts, thumbing her nipples to almost painful stiffness, while she herself descended lower downwards to worship her beloved with her mouth, quickly making Josephine surrender in throes of her pleasure.
Over the course of the next few hours, the couple continued to return the pleasurable favor to each other, eventually falling asleep several hours past the midnight in an exhausted, boneless tangle, having managed to distract one another from the stark truth that death itself would visit Skyhold the day after, looking to collect.
~***~
Champion Riona Hawke threw her head back in the pillows and let out a strangled moan, one hand cupping and caressing her swelling breast, the other tangled into her lover's hair, Nathaniel's head moving up and down between her legs, his lips and tongue driving her completely and utterly wild with delight. While Riona usually disliked losing control of any situation, this time she truly enjoyed her delicious helplessness of being left with no option but to go through the maddening pleasure, Nathaniel's strong arms keeping her thighs parted and easily holding her hips down to the bed every time she tried to rock her pelvis against his face. Nathaniel was relentless in his assault on her senses, and it didn't take long before Riona felt herself tensing like a bowstring, a shudder of delight rising in her center and then echoing throughout her powerfully, leaving her shaking and panting.
Riona was still swimming in the waves of pleasurable aftershocks as through half-lidded eyes she watched Nathaniel pulling back to regard his handiwork with a smile on his face, his chin glistening from having pleasured her so thoroughly. With a hungry, needy moan, Riona reached out and wrapped her arms around Nathaniel's waist, dragging him down onto the bed to lie on top of her. Riona's hand quickly found Nathaniel's arousal and began to harshly stroke him, eliciting hisses of restrained delight before lining him up against her entrance and then lifting her hips to easily take him all the way inside, the two lovers both crying out as they became one.
"Don't hold back," Riona whispered in Nathaniel's ear as he began to rock his hips, first with teasing slowness, but then quickly picking up the pace at her encouragement. After several minutes of harsh, unrestrained thrusting during which Riona hopelessly lost the count of the amount of times she peaked, she finally began to sense that the movement of Nathaniel's hips was becoming a little more ragged, his grunts of pleasure deepened, her lover's delightfully muscular frame starting to shake with restraint at how he tried to hold his culmination back in a losing battle.
Still, when Nathaniel could finally not endure any longer and was about to pull out of her pliant warmth, Riona unexpectedly clenched down around him, arms gripping his shoulders tight and legs clenching around his midriff, not allowing him to withdraw. "Don't," Riona whispered at the maddening height of her passion. "Stay…"
Nathaniel let out a strangled groan that sounded almost like a sob, and something inside of him seemed to break, Riona feeling her lover tremble powerfully before he buried his head in the crook of her shoulder and spilled his seed deep inside of her with powerful spurts. Even long after they had calmed down from their exhaustive efforts, Riona would not allow Nathaniel to withdraw, reveling in the increased intimacy of what had just happened between them.
"Why now, love?" Nathaniel whispered, planting a soft peck on her lips. "I'm… delighted that you made the decision, but I'll admit to being surprised by your timing."
"I don't rightly know… it's not like I planned it," Riona admitted, her face still flushed. "I think I just remembered the chat I had with my sister and Josephine about what we're going to do after Corypheus is defeated. Bethany will probably accompany Josie to Antiva City, and I… well, I said that I would like to return to the Vigil's Keep with you. But then I suddenly felt that perhaps it shouldn't be just the two of us returning. Maybe it should be the three of us…"
"I couldn't be more happy about your decision, Riona, you know that," Nathaniel smiled. "The Vigil's Keep will always be your home… as well as the home for our child."
"Not to mention that I'm not getting any younger," Riona smiled serenely, idly tracing Nathaniel's chin with her fingertips. "I'm running out of chances to start a family. And since Bethany probably won't contribute to continuing the Hawke bloodline, all the pressure is down to me."
"Fortunately, Delilah has me covered on that account," Nathaniel smiled. "But I'll confess, I have been thinking about having children of our own. I was going to bring it up after we have defeated the Elder One, but you beat me to it. And I love you for it, Riona Hawke."
"I love you too, Nathaniel Howe," Riona smiled before they kissed again, continuing to lay embraced.
~***~
At the late hour of the evening, Merrill was the only living soul in the library of Skyhold, sitting at a table next to the wooden railing and feigning captivation while she was pretending to be immersed in a book on the pottery of the early Ciriane tribes. In reality, however, her attention was focused solely upon the inhabitant of the downstairs atrium, Merrill having chosen her seat strategically so that she could observe Solas working in silence, adding more and more elaborate elements to the latest of his wall frescos… art that was surprisingly similar to some of the drawings they had observed in the temple of Mythal.
Merrill had used every moment of her time since their return from the temple of Mythal to somehow manage and sort out all of the often shocking and surprising information they had come across. She had initially hoped to do it together with Bethany, but Merrill had quickly realized that Bethany had different immediate priorities, not that she could blame her ex-lover for that. It wasn't as if Merrill was not concerned about the imminent attack of Corypheus, but somehow unlike Bethany she could not let even such a grave concern stand in the way of her thirst for knowledge and the truth. It was natural that Bethany wanted to spend time with Josephine, something that Merrill could not begrudge them both on the eve of the final battle, even if it left the elven mage alone in sorting out all the riddles tormenting her.
And it wasn't only the bits of ancient elven lore they had learned that made Merrill ponder with almost painful intensity, it was also her other observations that perhaps had escaped the notice of the others, even Bethany. Both of them had been working side by side to learn more from and about Solas, granted with limited success, but during these attempts, Merrill had slowly began to develop a theory that seemed crazy even to her, and one she knew Bethany would not believe without facts to support it. And yet, when they came upon the statue of Fen'Harel, proudly displayed in the temple of Mythal, Merrill's confidence in her own theory being accurate started to surge, supported further when Morrigan had all but revealed that Mythal had survived to this day, or at least a fragment of her divine spark in the shape of Flemeth. From that point on, Merrill had began to observe Solas from a new perspective provided by her theory, and… suddenly his mannerisms, the obfuscating smiles, the smug, amused smirks and enigmatic half-replies seemed to make so much more sense.
Even now, observing Solas from her vantage point, Merrill had gained even more valuable insights, watching how he now and then stopped working on the fresco, leaning back to sit on his haunches and reaching out to touch the jawbone necklace around his neck with a faraway smile on his face. Honestly, that should have been our first clue, Merrill sighed inwardly, shaking her head. I can forgive Bethany for not realizing its significance, but as a Dalish elf, I should have realized something was off. An elf proudly displaying appreciation for Fen'Harel… it's too preposterous to be dismissed as simple, harmless curiosity.
Looking back at everything that had happened with the Inquisition, recalling some of the stories that Bethany had told her about the origins of the Inquisition and how Solas came to join them in the first place, Merrill finally began to see a familiar pattern emerging, one of subtle manipulation of events and planned guidance, much in the same vein as she and her friends had already endured before at the hands of the one they called Asha'bellanar without realizing that they should have been calling her Mythal.
I must be right, because it just makes so much sense. If my guess on who hides behind the guise of Solas is correct, then he and Flemeth are cut from the same cloth… and from the way Solas spoke of Mythal with such deference, I can imagine that he would be acting in a similar fashion to Flemeth, manipulating us from the shadows while making sure that everyone believes that their decisions are their own. Merrill's thoughts raced, as more and more circumstantial evidence began to emerge to support her theory. It would explain why Solas would have something he needed to hide here in Skyhold… if he is the one I think he is, he could have been the first to ever walk these halls. Perhaps he needed to remove something from the ancient library downstairs… perhaps that is why he had to silence that Chantry sister because she had accidentally stumbled upon the truth? But if this is all true, then… what should I do with this knowledge? Do I confront Solas with it? It might seem that he likes me, but… would he still kill me to preserve his secret?
Creators… the more I think about it, the more plausible my theory appears. If the elven goddess we thought was imprisoned is still active in our world, then why would I doubt that the one who imprisoned the others could no longer play a role? Merrill asked herself, her mind racked with uncertainty of how to proceed. Yes, even that which slumbers through the ages will one day wake. I am more than ever resolute in my belief that Fen'Harel himself walks among us.
~***~
Alistair stood by the fireplace in his quarters atop the watchtower by the main gate of Skyhold, silently staring at the flames with his back turned on Evangeline, perched on the side of his bed and eyeing him with a concerned stare. Earlier, during the final inspection of the battlements and the readiness of their troops together with Cassandra, Alistair had appeared almost hopeful and optimistic about the upcoming battle, but now that the two of them had retreated to Alistair's quarters, a strange gloominess had overtaken the Grey Warden, making it almost impossible to even have a conversation.
"Are you alright, Alistair?" Evangeline finally dared to ask. "Is something wrong?"
"What? Ah no… no, nothing is wrong," Alistair replied weakly.
"You are such a poor liar, so don't even try," Evangeline sighed. "Is it the battle that makes you so worried? Was all that optimism from earlier just an act to make us believe that we can actually succeed, and deep down in your heart you are convinced that Corypheus will destroy us?"
"No, I don't think that at all, Evangeline," Alistair shook his head, finally turning towards her, trying to summon a fake smile but failing miserably. "It's just that-…" he began to speak, but then fell silent again.
"Just what?" Evangeline demanded, starting to become exasperated, but before Alistair could reply a light but insistent knock resounded from the doors. "You should probably answer that," she shrugged, pointing at the doors when Alistair failed to either move to open the doors or answer her question.
"I can't imagine who would want to speak with me at this hour," Alistair muttered, walking over to the doors and opening them, blinking in surprise when he saw who was on the other side. "You?" he managed, forced to step aside as Morrigan simply barged past him and into the room uninvited. "What do you want?"
"I am aware of your enmity Alistair, but perhaps you could try to be a little more polite," Evangeline admonished him. "Good evening, Lady Morrigan… is there anything we can do for you?"
"Good evening Evangeline," Morrigan replied, steadfastly ignoring Alistair. "Has he told you already?"
"Has he told me what, Lady Morrigan?" Evangeline asked, genuinely curious.
"Yes, have I told her what?" Alistair echoed his lover, reluctantly closing the doors and coming to stand next to Morrigan. "Wait… are you wearing perfume, Morrigan?" he blinked, having picked up on the pleasant floral scent coming from the raven-haired witch. Upon further examination, it also appeared as if Morrigan's lips were a shade redder than usually, and the dark eye shadow looked that much more pronounced.
"You have something against me wearing perfume, Alistair?" Morrigan glared at him.
"Yes, why shouldn't Lady Morrigan wear perfume if she so chooses?" Evangeline asked. "What a strange comment to make."
"Uh… she can do whatever she pleases. I'm just surprised," Alistair shrugged.
"Also, are you trying to distract us, Alistair?" Evangeline asked, giving her lover a pointed stare. "Lady Morrigan asked whether you have told me something… what is it that you should have told me, Alistair?"
"I… it is nothing," Alistair shrugged noncommittally. "Also, if it's what I think she means, then I can't even talk about it. Grey Warden matter, I'm afraid."
"Well, I'm not a Grey Warden, so I can explain it to Evangeline," Morrigan said, looking at the Orlesian templar. "By the way, could we please stop with the 'lady' this and 'lady' that? I can't stand it." Evangeline nodded swiftly at that, very much happy to agree. "You see, what Alistair plans to do is-…"
"I can't let you divulge Grey Warden secrets either!" Alistair protested, cutting the dark witch short.
"You will let her speak, Alistair," Evangeline spoke up quietly, but it was the kind of voice that Alistair knew not to argue with. "Or else, Morrigan and I will continue this conversation in my quarters without your presence." Alistair sighed and shook his head at that.
"Thank you," Morrigan nodded at Evangeline. "I'm not sure how much you have been told about what happened at the temple of Mythal, but amongst many unbelievable things we observed an incident where Corypheus triggered an ancient elven trap that literally tore him to shreds."
"Are you saying it killed him?" Evangeline gasped. "But everyone's talking about him attacking Skyhold!"
"Yes, because after his death, the essence of Corypheus was transferred to the nearest darkspawn and he rose from the dead, in a manner that is identical to that of the Archdemons," Morrigan explained. "This is why Archdemons can only be killed by the Grey Wardens. The Warden who lands the killing blow absorbs the soul of the Archdemon, which then is obliterated together with the soul of the Grey Warden, killing them both in the process. What we observed makes me believe that we can kill Corypheus only in the same way as an Archdemon. And knowing Alistair, I know with absolute certainty that he stands ready to deliver this killing blow and sacrifice himself."
"Is… is this true, Alistair?" Evangeline looked up at her lover, her face pale as chalk, voice trembling to the point where she was barely able to speak.
"I, uh…" Alistair coughed uncomfortably, shooting Morrigan a dirty glare before turning back to Evangeline, looking a bit like a whipped mabari. "I don't have the right to ask anyone under my command to make this sacrifice, Evangeline. What sort of commander does that sort of thing, demanding a sacrifice from his own loyal troops? No… I wish there was a way to avoid this, but I have to be the one who does this."
"Maker…" Evangeline whispered, her shoulders slumping as she sat on the edge of the bed as if frozen. "Why… why would you do this, Maker? My one chance at happiness, and you must steal it away from me! I hate you! I hate your cruel silence!"
"Please, Evangeline, don't say that…" Alistair pleaded, walking up to his beloved and reaching out to comfort her, but she angrily batted his arms away.
"What would you say if I told you that there is a way out?" Morrigan asked with an enigmatic smile on her face. "A way to make sure that Corypheus is killed and Alistair's life preserved?"
"Of course it would interest us both, but knowing you, Morrigan, I don't imagine we're going to like what you have to say," Alistair sighed.
"There's no harm in hearing her out, is there?" Evangeline asked, nodding at Morrigan to continue.
"I first offered this solution to Maythre on the eve of the Battle of Denerim, though little did I know that her plan actually involved for Loghain to die while killing the Archdemon," Morrigan began to explain. "When Maythre denied my offer, I was forced to leave her company. Alistair is not aware of this, for he was no longer with us following the betrayal at Landsmeet."
"What does this solution entail, Morrigan?" Evangeline queried.
"I won't hide that it is a ritual of… controversial nature," Morrigan said. "But it will allow the Warden who kills the Archdemon, or in this case, Corypheus, to avoid their grim fate. The ritual is a form of blood magic, from ancient times before the Circle of Magi even existed."
"Of course it would be blood magic," Alistair frowned. "Give us the specifics, Morrigan. Will you have to drain me of my blood, or something like that?"
"Not as such… and not of your blood, in any case," Morrigan muttered, looking just a tiny bit hesitant and uncomfortable, but she shrugged it off quickly. "There is a way to lure the essence of the Archdemon into an unborn child bearing the darkspawn taint, rather than the Grey Warden killing the Archdemon."
"That sounds crazy even for you, Morrigan," Alistair said, shaking his head. "Besides, what unborn child? We don't have any unborn children to endanger with this ritual!"
"Not yet," Morrigan nodded. "If you were to agree to my plan, then I would have to conceive this child with you."
"What?" Alistair managed, slumping down on the edge of the bed next to Evangeline, too shocked to even stand. "What… is this a joke? You must know how insane this sounds! If it were that easy, why wouldn't I simply conceive a child with Evangeline?"
"There is more to this ritual than simply conceiving a child," Morrigan shrugged. "There are complicated spells to cast, both in preparation and afterwards to ensure that the Archdemon's soul finds its new target alluring enough."
"So just cast these spells on Evangeline!" Alistair snapped. "If… uh, if she agrees, that is," he added, casting a brief glance at his beloved.
"I would, but I believe that Morrigan is in the position to dictate her terms here," Evangeline replied. "We must hear out her proposal and then decide whether we agree to it or not."
"I get the feeling that you really want this child, Morrigan," Alistair gave the dark witch a suspicious stare. "Probably for some nefarious reason…"
"Of course," Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Very well… I will be honest with you, Alistair. Do you remember when Flemeth saved both you and Maythre from the top of the Tower of Ishal?" Alistair nodded swiftly at that. "Even then, she already had a plan in her mind. The real reason why she sent me with you was so that I could eventually perform this ritual, with you as the intended target. That was perhaps the biggest reason why I acted so unpleasantly towards you, Alistair. I felt as if my mother was pushing me towards inevitably having to lay with you to complete her task."
"Oh. And here I thought you just hated me," Alistair shook his head.
"And now you know that it was more than that," Morrigan replied quietly. "I know the knowledge that the ritual comes from Flemeth is not exactly reassuring, for even I can only guess at her motives. But know that Flemeth has always hated the darkspawn and the Blight, and she has always tried to oppose it. She would never do anything to encourage it by somehow aiding the darkspawn."
"You must have theories as to her motives, Morrigan," Evangeline urged.
"Flemeth told me that the child would survive this process of accepting the Archdemon soul. In fact, it would no longer be the soul of an Archdemon… it would be the soul of an Old God, freed from the darkspawn corruption by the magic of the ritual," Morrigan tried to explain. "Strangely enough, I believe that Flemeth was telling the truth… or at least what she believed to be the truth. This ritual has never been attempted, at least not to my knowledge. I understand that there might be risks involved that even I don't know about… but is it not a better alternative than to throw your life away?"
"What would happen with the child afterwards?" Alistair asked, still not looking happy. "How do we know that we won't be unleashing an even greater evil upon Thedas?"
"You won't know that, but I intend to do everything within my power to make sure it is not so," Morrigan replied. "I would raise this child alone, away from the eyes of everybody to avoid any rumors of our connection. You would forsake all rights to this child, Alistair, but there is a loving woman who would undoubtedly be happy to gift you with more than one heir." Evangeline blushed darkly at that as Morrigan continued with unusual passion in her voice. "I would do my best to make sure this child grows up to become a fine young man or woman. They would enjoy the doting love of a caring mother, even if you probably can't see me as one."
"I can," Evangeline replied honestly. "Alistair…" she began in a soft voice, turning towards her beloved who still appeared uncertain. "I won't pretend that I'm going to enjoy this, but… if there is even a slim chance that this helps you cheat death, how can we not take it? I won't deny selfishly asking it for myself, but I urge you to consider the bigger picture… Ferelden stands deserted by those who should rule her, land of strife and chaos. I need you, but if that is not enough, Ferelden needs you!"
"It is enough that you need me, Evangeline," Alistair replied quietly, leaning closer to kiss her. "And you will not object to me and Morrigan… you know…" he blushed furiously, unable to finish.
"Like I said, I won't enjoy it, but it is such a small sacrifice to make," Evangeline replied. "I will swallow my pride and my jealousy, and in return, the love of my life won't be taken from my side. That seems like a fair deal to me."
"You don't have to leave, unless you want to," Morrigan said matter-of-factly. "I don't mind you joining us if it makes you feel more comfortable."
"I, umm, I don't think so," Evangeline blushed, while Alistair's eyes next to her had gone as wide as saucers. "But now I believe I should leave you two alone. With Corypheus and his darkspawn approaching, there can't be much time left to do what needs to be done," she said, kissing Alistair firmly on the lips one more time before departing and leaving the two old acquaintances alone in the room.
"So… that's why the perfume and the lip gloss?" Alistair finally recovered to ask. "I wonder if I should feel flattered about you making the effort."
"Believe me, I have no intention to make this unpleasant for you," Morrigan sighed, shaking her head. "Now… Evangeline was not joking when she said that we don't have much time. If we are going to do this, best start removing your clothes."
"What lovely bedside manner you have," Alistair rolled his eyes, though he did rise from the bed and began to tug at his tunic, pulling it over his head. "Wasn't there some spell or something you had to cast beforehand-…"
"I've already made my preparations," Morrigan replied, busy with removing her own clothing, then perching down on the side of the bed to undo the straps on her knee-high boots.
"Uh… that's great, I guess," Alistair muttered absentmindedly, numbly finishing undressing himself and remaining to stand next to the bed. He reluctantly turned around to face Morrigan, watching the raven-haired witch leaning back on top of the blankets and giving him a slightly amused glance, but Alistair still did not move from his spot.
"You're going to have to join me sooner or later if we are to do this, you know," Morrigan smirked, her right hand sliding across her flat stomach before disappearing between her lightly parted legs, starting to move with a steady rhythm of her wrist. When Morrigan's head fell backwards and she allowed a small moan to escape her throat, looking at Alistair with her eyes half-lidded in pleasure, the Grey Warden felt a shudder running through him, spurring him into action. Regardless of what he thought about Morrigan's personality, he could not deny that she was a beautiful woman and her naked body slowly writhing before him was extremely alluring, making him react as most men would do, becoming almost painfully aroused.
Alistair staggered forward, clumsily climbing into the bed, but still failing to reach out and actually touch Morrigan, not until the dark witch sighed and took his hand in hers, placing it upon the soft skin of her flat stomach, then guiding him lower until Alistair's palm slid between her legs to cup her sex, the warm wetness of Morrigan's growing arousal coating his fingers. The very thought that Morrigan, the woman who had been treating him with such scorn over the years, would actually be aroused from the idea of bedding him, it all filled Alistair with sudden confidence and assertiveness as he began to use his fingers to further tease and torment Morrigan, earning more and more sighs of delight from the raven-haired witch. Morrigan's response was swift and relentless as she reached out and wrapped the fingers of her left hand around Alistair's hard length, starting to mercilessly stroke him until he cried out and gripped her wrist to push her hand away.
Sensing that Alistair was ready, Morrigan invitingly spread her legs further, but Alistair was overcome with the burning desire to dominate this woman who had spent so much time tormenting him over the years, sensing a chance for the sweetest of paybacks. The Grey Warden roughly yanked Morrigan towards him and then flipped her over with a startled yelp. Alistair's hands grasped Morrigan's hips and pulled her closer towards him, swiftly lining his aching arousal with her warm, inviting entrance and then pushed inside her pliant tightness, both of them groaning at the maddeningly pleasurable contact, Morrigan's inner muscles gripping him with surprising firmness as he picked up a frenzied pace of his thrusts. His hands found hers and wrenched them behind her back, leaving Morrigan completely helpless at his mercy, having to endure the harsh rhythm of his pounding as he took her from behind.
It didn't take long for Morrigan's quiet sighs to turn into deep, unrestrained moans, and as much as she tried to suppress her pleasure by biting down on the soft pillow, she was not particularly successful in hiding just how much enjoyment she was taking from their animalistic coupling, Alistair could feel it in the way her muscles began to tighten around his arousal, more and more before he felt her trembling around him, a thousand tremors shaking Morrigan's frame as a powerful orgasm coursed through her. The way Morrigan's inner muscles continued to grip at him, the way she reared her head to look back at him with half-lidded eyes, the unfocused, pleasure-addled stare, it all added to Alistair's own arousal, and he realized that his culmination was nearing inescapably. He released Morrigan's hands and gently lowered the exhausted witch atop of the blankets, remaining buried deep inside of her. His hands found her firm, swelling breasts as he summoned the strength for a few final thrusts before his pleasure crested and he felt himself releasing deep inside the woman he had once thought the most irritating and disagreeable in the whole of Thedas.
Less than a minute later, Alistair pulled out with a soft groan and rolled over to lay on his back next to the panting Morrigan, the raven-haired witch eventually also rolling around on her back as they both lay side by side, but avoiding touching each other, staring at the ceiling, still breathing hard while not quite knowing what to say.
"So, uh…" Alistair eventually managed, unable to bear the silence any longer. "Lovely weather outside, or so I hear."
"Yes," Morrigan nodded, her dark hair drenched in perspiration, draped across her brow haphazardly. "Cloudy, with chance of darkspawn."
Alistair suddenly burst out in laughter, both at the joke as well as at the absurdity of the situation. "I can't believe we just did that, you know," he said, a little more seriously.
"I can," Morrigan replied simply, rolling over on her side to regard him with a strangely warm look in her eyes. "You know… I have heard stories about the Grey Wardens having a notoriously poor aim in these things," she said with fake idleness in her voice.
"Uh… what are you saying, Morrigan?" Alistair gave her a slightly bewildered stare.
"I'm just saying that your life is at stake here, Alistair," the raven-haired witch purred. "Maybe we need to make sure that it really did work," she whispered, reaching out to run her hand across his muscular stomach, moving lower where with a few firm strokes she swiftly made Alistair painfully hard yet again.
"Maker… I don't believe this…" Alistair groaned as Morrigan swiftly flipped her right leg across his hips and then lowered herself atop of his bulging arousal. Still, when the raven-haired witch began to rock her hips, riding him with a hungry, predatory look in her eyes, Alistair made no move whatsoever to stop her.
