Foreword:

Well, here we are again. I honestly never pictured myself writing a sequel, yet here it is. When I first started writing Orbs of Arastani it was mainly to clear my head. I never intended on posting it anywhere. But as I browsed the internet I began to see many who played Dragon Age also hated the ending. So I began to post my story and slowly it became what it is now. A lot of people really seemed to like it. So much so that I'm caving to the sequel requests. Okay, I admit it. I'm really looking forward to writing this as well. Funny thing for a guy who never wrote anything before. It's great therapy, I find.

This time around I'm going to get a bit more risky. Maybe a bit darker as well, we'll see. I made a conscious decision with OA to avoid as much of the mushy stuff as I could, trying instead to focus more on Morrigan's growth through her actions and realizations, rather than what was said between her and The Warden. Expect Black Warden to be a bit spicier and....ugh...mushier. The high's will be higher, but the low's will most definitely be lower.

Admittedly, I have never played the expansion, Awakening, and I can't see where I will. There's no Morrigan, so there's no point. For those who have played it and find things in this story that contradict the events of Awakening, I apologize. I will do my best to avoid any such instances since both OA and Black Warden take place after Awakening. If I ever do get around to playing the expansion, I will most definitely adjust the stories as needed. Alright, enough of my rambling. Time to get to what you came for. I sincerely hope you enjoy Black Warden.

Dragon Age:

Black Warden

Part I

Ferelden is a land that has seen little peace in its long history. Each century is marked with its own unique tale of plague,war,and death. From the Exalted Marches carried out by the Chantry, whose goal it is to purge all heathens from the land, spilling much blood in the process, to the periodic blights, whereby Ferelden is set upon by hordes of the vile beasts known as darkspawn. Ferelden is repeatedly in a state of violence. Barely thirty years earlier the Orlisian invaders, who had ruled for a century, were finally expelled. This was, of course, followed by yet another blight.

For the time being, at least, there was peace. The rebuilding efforts needed after the last Blight swept across Ferelden were nearly complete. The Grey Wardens had a new headquarters in Amaranthine at Vigil's Keep and had begun the slow task of filling their ranks with recruits. The Warden had stepped down as Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden to help Alistair in the rebuilding and to address personal matters. Matters involving a certain raven-haired witch.

She had left after the archdemon was slain. And as soon as he was able to, he went after her. It took him months of searching, but he finally found her hiding out in a particularly treacherous part of the Bracillian Forest. But even then they would not know peace as Morrigan's mother, Flemeth, made her return. The manipulative hag nearly destroyed them in her mad quest to free the old god, Urthemiel.

But the days of blights and shape-changing demons were behind The Warden. At long last he and his witch would live out their days in the shadow of a Visparis Oak that grew by a bend in a small river near Castle Cousland in Highever. The unfinished cottage that Flemeth had smashed had been rebuilt and was nearly complete. All that was lacking was the interior furnishings. At the witch's request, he had scaled down the size of their home from before, making it more of a cottage and less of a manor. Still, there would be plenty of room. The Warden greatly looked forward to retiring his blades and settling down.

Unknown to The Warden, however, storm clouds were gathering on the far horizon. A foe greater than any he had faced before loomed in the distance. In the coming days, both he and his witch would be tested. Sadly, those who pair against the wishes of the gods must often face such hurdles.

The dark purple satin easily slid through Morrigan's hands as she inspected it. The fabric had been cut into a long ribbon some twenty feet in length and nearly six inches wide. Small gold embroidery had been stitched along the borders. This ribbon would join several dozen others of purple, white, and blue, that already hung from the ceiling in the main hall of Castle Cousland.

Large silver vases, holding rare and exotic flowers, were being arranged and placed in predetermined locations, their aroma filling the entire hall. The long table that usually sat in the center of the room had been removed and replaced with several rows of chairs to accommodate many guests, separated down the middle by an aisle covered in a rich red carpet.

There was hardly any time left to make sure everything was ready. And while Leliana had assured the witch that all would be perfect, Morrigan had severe doubts. This wasn't just any event they were planning, it was a wedding. Morrigan's wedding to be exact. And so far nothing had gone right at all.

"Leliana..." the witch said as she walked over to the bard and held the satin up for inspection, "do you not see this? The stitching is uneven. This shall not do. Send it back."

"You sent back the last six orders. You're going to have to pick something, otherwise there won't be any fabric left in Ferelden."

"'Tis not my concern. If there is no seamstress in Ferelden who can stitch a straight line then we shall have to look elsewhere."

"You can't be serious." the bard replied, turning to the witch to give her full attention. "It would take more than a month to get that much satin from Orlais or Antiva. You're getting married in just over a week, there simply isn't enough time."

The witch held the cloth in her hand, casting an evil eye at it. After a moment her expression changed to one of relent. "Very well, this will do." she said with a sigh.

"Everything will be just fine. You'll see." The bard consoled. "You worry too much and that isn't good for you."

"Were it your wedding, would you not do the same as I?"

"You set fire to the poor tailor's trousers!" Leliana exclaimed, reminding the witch.

"Twas but a small spark. He deserved far greater, I assure you." Morrigan quipped.

"Because he made a small mistake on your gown?"

"He should not proclaim himself 'The best tailor in Ferelden' if he is not. He was an arrogant fool and nothing more. We are rid of him and better for it."

"So I guess we'll have to make do with the second best tailor in Ferelden." Leliana said with a smirk. "Which reminds me, the chef will have more samples of the dishes he's preparing. Please try to pick something. Anything. And don't yell at the poor man this time. He's skittish around you enough as it is."

"What makes you think I will yell at him?" the witch asked, almost shocked Leliana would say such a thing.

"Last time you said, and I quote, 'he was an insipid little nothing of a man whose mother should eternally beg forgiveness for having birthed such a wretched creature'."

"Ah...I did at that." Morrigan meekly agreed.

"Maybe I'd better go with you this time."

"Later. Now there is an appointment I must keep." the witch said as she turned and placed the purple fabric on the table next to her her. "I shall meet with you when I return."

The loud clanging of swords striking against each other echoed through the trees of a small clump of forest that sprouted up along the countryside of Highever. Inside a clearing within the woods, The Warden was as he could often be found, engaging an opponent in swordplay. Sweat glistened on his brow and a broad smile was on his face. The combatant he faced was clearly of far inferior skill with a blade. Still, he made no attempts at a killing blow, instead choosing to study and observe his opponent as they fought their way around the clearing.

He would intentionally leave himself open to attack, only to elude his assailant at the last second and approach from a different angle, flanking his startled opponent and administering a quick whack on the backside with the flat of his blade. With a blood-curdling scream of rage, his foe charged in for the kill. The Warden simply stepped back, hooked his blade between hand and handle, and deftly deprived his opponent of a weapon.

Just after stumbling to the ground, a woman's yell of anger erupted from underneath the helmet of his adversary. With a quick flip of her hand, Morrigan flung the metal helmet off her head, which landed on the ground with a loud "clank!".

"You are really beginning to piss me off!" She hissed at The Warden. "You are aware of this, are you not?"

"Hey, you're the one who said don't go easy on you." he answered back, trying to sound as innocent as he possibly could. "Sometimes your opponent will try to get you angry. You have to learn how to use that to your advantage instead of letting it make you reckless."

"Yes...'tis as you've said before." the witch muttered with a sigh as she took his outstretched arm and allowed him to pull her up.

Placing his arms around her waist, he looked at her and said, "You need to learn how to control that temper of yours."

"My temper..." she paused, sliding her arms seductively over The Warden's shoulders, staring deeply into his eyes, "my temper is entirely under control."

"Uh-huh. Is that so?" he asked, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow at her.

"Mm-Hmm." she purred in return as she moved her lips closer to his, hoping he would take the not-so-subtle hint.

"You little minx." he said as a wry grin crept across his face.

He, of course, obliged the witch. Pressing his lips against hers. Lightly at first, almost like small nibbles of her, then deeply and passionately as his lips drank of her. His hands clasped, tightly squeezing the fleshy cheeks of her posterior, and lifted her up to him, her legs wrapping around him.

He leaned her up against a tree as his mouth continued to ravage her, behind her ears, down her long neck, and down between her breasts. She writhed in ecstasy beneath his skilled touch, unable to speak, save for the moans that escaped her, until at long last she was finally able to form a single word. "Dwemer..." she moaned.

"Hmm?" he mumbled as his mouth continued to work it's magic on her body.

"Dwemer...we must...oh that feels so good...we must...stop." the witch was finally able to say.

"Stop?" he muttered as he drifted lower with his soft kisses, "Why?"

She grabbed the sides of his head and pulled his gaze up to hers. "I must still choose which meal is to be served at the wedding."

"Can't you do that later?"

"I've put it off long enough. Leliana no doubt waits for me in the kitchen even now. I would prefer that my knickers not be soggy while making such a choice."

"So, don't wear any." he teased.

"I am quite sure you would enjoy that to no end." she said, grinning slyly at him.

Soon it became clear to him from the look in her eyes that he had indeed gotten as far as he would get this round. "Alright, I guess I can wait until later." he whined with disappointment in his eyes.

"Until tonight, my love." she said as she caressed his face with her hand and placed a tender kiss on his cheek before departing back to the castle. He stood there awhile and watched her for as long as she was in his sight. It was something he often did. He would think about her being the woman he would spend the rest of his life with, that in just a few short days they would be married. And that's when the chill would run down his spine.

While The Warden greatly looked forward to spending his life with Morrigan, at the same time thought of being her husband petrified him. Would he even be able to be what she desired in a husband? Would he be able to live up to what his own expectation of what proper husband should be? These questions gnawed at him constantly, more so the closer to the fateful day he got. Maybe it was time to have a talk with Fergus, before the anxiety threatened to completely destroy his nerves.

"It's about time you got here." Leliana said to Morrigan as she entered the castle's large kitchen. "I've been waiting here for over half an hour."

"My apologies. My appointment kept me longer than expected." the witch offered in reply.

Before them were several plates laid out on a large table. Each of the plates contained a separate dish from which the witch could chose for her wedding feast. The pair sampled each of the chef's offerings, making comments on them, until Morrigan had at last found the dish she desired most, noting that it was by far the best of the bunch.

She inquired to the chef what the dish was named and what it's ingredients were as she continued to sample the tasty dish. The chef informed her that the dish was called a Merlan's Tart after the small tavern in Highever that first served them. It was comprised of lamb wrapped in a flatbread and seasoned with parsley and sage. A small dash of Antivan Gitonia cheese is then crumbled over the top...

"Cheese....?" the witch said, interrupting the chef's detailed explanation. "Oh, dear."

"Is that a problem?" Leliana asked, puzzled by the sudden change in the witch's demeanor.

"I do not wish to discuss it. 'Tis enough to say that I may not eat cheese." Morrigan answered as she turned to hastily leave the kitchen. "I choose that dish, without the cheese." she said as she passed through the doorway and into the corridor, headed for her and The Warden's personal chambers.

"Without the cheese?" the chef asked in dismay, "that is what makes the entire dish!"

"I will talk to her." Leliana said, trying to sooth the agitated man.

Upon reaching her chambers, Morrigan began quickly searching through her belongings. Rushing from shelf to shelf until, at last, she found what she was looking for. She grabbed a small clear vial from the wooden shelf that hung on the wall. A wooden cork sealed a dark green herb inside.

Gripping the cork in her teeth, the witch unstopped the bottle with a quick tug and spat the cork out on the floor in her haste. Her slender fingers reached into the bottle and snatched the herb from within and quickly tossing it into a mortar. With her other hand, Morrigan picked the pestle from the table and began grinding the herb into a pulp. She snatched another small vial from the shelf, this one containing a yellowish powder, and carefully pulled the cork. With a small tilt of the bottle, she added a few sprinkles of the powder before replacing the cork and setting the vial back in its spot. After adding a bit of water, the witch continued to grind the mixture until it was finally to her liking.

Morrigan poured the contents from the mortar into a cup, and with a fierce grimace, tipped the cup and hastily guzzled the liquid contained within. She held the back of her hand over her mouth, trying desperately to keep the disgusting concoction down. Finally, after a few uncertain moments, the witch was able to exhale. The medicine was absolutely terrible, but it was still far better than the alternative.

Until very recently, Morrigan had never heard of cheese, or dairy products of any kind for that matter. "Do you recall seeing many cattle in the wilds.", she had said to The Warden when he first teased her about it. And cheese, being the funny thing that it is, has a way of letting a person know when they don't have the stomach for it. Literally. The witch found her insides would react violently whenever she had even a small amount of dairy. Apparently, dairy was something that one either consumed their entire life or not at all.

She stood in front of the tall mirror, examining her rumbling belly. Painful shards wracked her guts, making her wince. With luck, the medicine would soon be calming the storm that was brewing in her stomach. Until then, she would have to ride out wave upon wave of searing pain.

Behind Morrigan, there was the loud sound of The Warden making his entrance to their quarters. She could hear his footsteps getting ever closer to her and she braced herself for the inevitable. And, just as she predicted, she soon felt him press against her back, his arms reaching around her and squeezing her closer to him.

"That is unwise." she cautioned.

"Why?" he asked, continuing his embrace while placing a soft kiss on the back of her neck, "Don't I at least get a kiss?"

His answer came in the form of a low rumbling noise that emanated from between them. The raspberry sound lasted several seconds and varied in pitch from low to high before weakly dying out.

"Oh..." he said, stunned, "that wasn't quite the kiss I had in mind."

"I tried to warn you!" Morrigan exclaimed through her embarrassed giggling, her cheeks turning bright red.

"And next time, I'll listen."

"Do not tease! There was cheese in one of the dishes I sampled." the witch replied, attempting to defend herself.

"You can't have cheese. You know what it does to you." he said, stating the obvious.

"Twas not on purpose. I was unaware the dish contained it."

"I guess that's something I should mention to the chef." The Warden admitted.

"That would be best, I think." Morrigan agreed. "In the meantime I am off to fetch Seth from the nanny."

"Do you feel up to it? I can go get him if you want."

"Thank you, my sweet. That shall not be necessary. The medicine I took is taking effect and I feel much better."

"Alright, If you say so."

The Teyrn of Highever, Fergus Cousland, had sent word to his brother to meet with him in the large study in the east wing of the castle. He made sure that the messenger told The Warden that the matter was of some urgency. And when he arrived, The Warden found his brother sitting in a large leather chair near the fire.

"King Alistair will be here in the morning from Denerim." Fergus said noticing his brother's approach.

"He's early. The wedding isn't for more than a week yet." The Warden replied.

"I'm afraid that's not why he'll be here." the teyrn said, looking up at The Warden, "apparently he brings some bad news concerning a friend."

"Bad news about a friend? What does that mean?" The Warden asked, both confused and curious.

"I don't know. That's all the messenger said. You can ask the king when he gets here." Fergus said as his eyes shifted to the fire, "In the meantime I've got not only a wedding to host but royal accommodations to plan for."

"I really appreciate you letting us use the castle to host the wedding."

"You're still a Cousland, Grey Warden or not." Fergus returned, "Where else would you get married? Now go be with that woman of yours and give my nephew a hug from his uncle."

"Thanks, Fergus." The Warden said with a wave as he exited the study.

Failing to find Morrigan in their chambers, The Warden checked where he figured she was next most likely to be, the castle library. And, not surprisingly, the witch was there, sitting at one of the large wooden tables near the center of the hall pouring over large volumes while Seth meandered between his mother and Leo, the large mabari warhound who was laying on the floor.

The Warden paused to watch his son as Seth's toddler-steps took the child shakily from one place to the next on an endless path of discovery. The child was over a year old now and turning into quite a handful for his parents. Everything Seth touched was something to be explored, and then discarded, while he moved on to the next object that drew his fascination.

"Puppy!" the child would yell, attempting to get the mabari's attention. "Puppy! Book!" he shouted, gleefully holding out his discovery for Leo to see. The dog, after giving a brief sniff, rest his head back on the floor.

"Mom'er!" the child said as he patted the witch's leg, "Mom'er! Book!"

Seth referrence to Morrigan as "Mom'er" was not something the witch especially cared for. She had hoped he would call her "mother", but he was still very much in the early stages of speech and mom'er was the result of his efforts. The Warden considered in quite endearing. Although, he knew better than to tease the witch about it.

"Yes, Seth, dear. 'Tis a book." the witch said, taking a painfully long time in the child's eyes to acknowledge.

"What are you doing?" The Warden finally asked, fully entering the room.

With a gleeful squeal, the toddler ran to his father, wrapping his tiny arms around The Warden's leg in the largest hug the child could muster. The Warden reached down and scooped Seth up into his arms, saying, "There's my big man." as he did.

"Book!" Seth exclaimed with excitement as he pointed to the various books he had strewn about the floor.

"What are you reading?" The Warden asked again as he attempted to look over Morrigan's shoulder to get a better look.

"'Tis a listing of birth records." She replied, "Herein lies the names of all those born in Highever Teyrnir."

"Ah..." he uttered, realizing. "You're looking up your family again."

"Yes." she confirmed, her nose still buried in the book.

"Why don't you just go meet them. I know the tavern that Wynne spoke of in her letter."

"Do not be absurd. I am sure they have little desire to make my acquaintance after all these years, and still less to offer me for my effort."

"Tell yourself whatever you want. I think your afraid to meet them."

Her eyes shot up at him, casting a glare that cut straight into his soul. A glare that said You had best choose your next words very carefully, lest the sight of your own blood pleases you. After a moment her fierce stare melted and the witch let her true face show through. "Of course I would be terrified to meet them. These are people whom I have never met yet are a part of who I am. I bare no shame for my actions, but how approving of me could they possibly be? No...I think 'tis best if we keep our distance from each other. Let them go on believing whatever lie it is they choose to."

"But they're your family." he said, trying to convince her.

"As you have stated, I already have a family." she returned.

"Don't they at least deserve to know that your alive? What if something like that happened to Seth..."

"Silence!" the witch huffed not liking where the conversation was going.

"Still my point is valid. You would do anything to know your son was safe."

Morrigan bowed her head with a sigh. "We shall see. I will think on it."

"That's all I'm asking."

Trumpeters outside, in the courtyard, heralded to arrival of the king the following morning. Twelve people covered in shiny metal armor rode their steeds through the castle gate. The king, joined by his newly promoted captain, Dyana, along with ten of the king's best cavalrymen all rode up to the main steps of the castle. Pulling back on the reigns and bringing his horse to a stop, Alistair, clad in his golden armor, dismounted his steed and greeted The Warden and Fergus with an outstretched hand.

"You're early arrival was unexpected, Your Majesty." Fergus said as he clasped the king's hand in greeting.

"I've got some bad news, I'm afraid." Alistair replied as he turned to face The Warden.

"What kind of bad news?" The Warden questioned seeing the look on his friend's face becoming saddened

"Wynne's sick, Dwemer." the king answered, "She's dying."

"Where did you hear this? Are you sure?" The Warden asked shocked.

"I was just at Circle Tower, to see if I could get her to come to the wedding. But she can't because she's sick. Whatever spirit was keeping her alive has decided her time is up." the king explained, having a hard time keeping his composure. "She doesn't have long and she asked to see you, Leliana, and Morrigan before she...you know...she.."

"I know, Alistair." The Warden said, trying to console his friend. "Of course we'll go to Circle Tower. We owe her at least as much."