25.

"Something Wicked This Way Comes"

Morrigan had told no one of her plans, certain they would all try to dissuade her from this risky venture. And she was right. If the Empress had known what she was up to, she would have done everything in her power to convince her friend not to try it. Celene had been shocked when the Warden told her that the sorceress had set out alone after Flemeth. She thought back to the night before, when Morrigan had come to speak to her and Roget, who was still recovering from his injuries.

"I…wished to say goodbye," Morrigan had said haltingly, "and …offer my thanks…to both of you for all that you have done. I am not accustomed to using the word friend…but you have both been such to me. I…will miss your company. And I am greatly pleased you two have decided to end your foolishness and be together. Fare you well."

Celene had come up to her and embraced her. "And I am thrilled for you, as well. You finally have your Warden back. You are returning to Ferelden, yes?" she had inquired. The Empress had known this day was coming, but it saddened her, nonetheless.

Morrigan had paused before responding. "The Warden has many responsibilities he must attend to, and has to return to Ferelden," she had finally said, carefully wording her answer.

"Ah, I shall miss you, Morrigan. Your brass and wit are not easily found at my Court. And you have done much to improve the defenses of my country for which I am grateful. You have looked after my interests and protected me against treachery. I have come to trust you as no other in my domain, save my Roget. I…consider you a sister," Celene had said wistfully.

Morrigan winced imperceptibly. "I, too, have valued our time together. But I…must follow a different path now. Paul will watch over you in my place," she had answered.

Roget came up beside Celene and slid his arm about her waist. "I can assure you, I will let no harm come to our beloved Empress, ever. You can rely on me to protect her with my life. Luck be with you, Morrigan," he'd offered, grasping her hand warmly in farewell.

"But, of course, Orlais is on excellent terms with Ferelden now. I consider Anora a friend also. We will visit as often my duties permit, and you must do the same. I would see Brycan grow strong and healthy. We will see each other again, Morrigan, I am sure of it," Celene had promised optimistically.

Morrigan hesitated. "Perhaps. It is my wish, as well. Take care, my friends," she said before turning on her heel and exiting the room.

Celene had thought Morrigan's behavior strange for a parting, though she had always given her the benefit of the doubt based on her childhood. But her friend had seemed agitated, uneasy…more than sorrowful. Now, of course, it made sense. She was saying a more final goodbye. And the Empress was filled with dread.

-----

Impulsive, headstrong, stubborn Morrigan. She had always been that way, and he supposed she always would be. The Warden sighed. He looked at the ring on his finger mournfully and began twisting it nervously. He smiled briefly thinking it might as well have been a wedding band for how religiously he wore it. The only time it had left his finger was when he lay unconscious on the battlefield and it had been stolen from him. Would that he could use it to find Morrigan, for he feared for her life greatly. Her magic might be stronger, as she thought, but Flemeth was still the most powerful known being in Thedas. Sadly, the ring had never worked that way, at least not for him. He had never been able to get more than a feeling from it. It was an emotional connection to Morrigan, not a way to track her. He kept returning to the note that she had left him:

Ryder,

Forgive me, my love, for this one last deception, but there was no other way. I have asked for your mabari's help to track Flemeth, but I will send him back as soon as I know her whereabouts. The hound is a good and true friend to you and I would not see him harmed. I know my mother must be near, for her own body grows decrepit and she has need of mine. She will be lingering at a safe distance, I am certain of it, and she knows I will come for her. We shall find her soon and end this.

Our son needs you. I see that now, and I was wrong not to do something about it sooner. You are a far better example for him than I could ever be. You will teach him all the things that I could not. He will learn what it means to be a great man, like his father. Stay with Brycan and protect him. As you have always been there for me, be there for him now.

I am sorry for leaving without proper goodbyes, but you would not let it be so. If there is a way possible, I will come back to you. But if I do not return, do not seek me out, for it will be Flemeth you find. After everything we've been through, you must understand, I could not let any harm come to you. I love you, my Grey Warden.

Always,
Morrigan

The Warden re-read it over and over, and felt his panic rising. He couldn't just sit by and do nothing. He had to try to find her…to help her. He truly believed it would take both of them to defeat Flemeth…if they could defeat Flemeth. He thought of his son, and the same anxiety that tore at him when Morrigan was to be burned at the stake, now ate at his conscience. Flemeth was all that stood in the way of their happiness now. They could be a family and they could at last find peace and contentment together. If not for the old Witch of the Wilds. No, he could not allow Morrigan to attempt this on her own. He had to find her first, before she found Flemeth.

If only the ring would work in reverse. Wynne came into his mind. She was a great mage in her own right, and with the tomes and the knowledge available to them in Val Royeaux…perhaps the Circle of Magi here could help them alter the ring somehow, as Morrigan had modified it to trace him. He was desperate, and he could think of no other way to find Morrigan quickly. Time was of the essence and they were running out of it. He set out to find the Spirit Healer.

-----

Wynne came rushing into the Warden's room to find him pacing. "I think we have something!" she cried, panting.

His heart swelled. "What is it? Can we use the ring to find Morrigan?" he asked hopefully.

"Well, it's not perfect," Wynne said guiltily, fearing she had raised his hopes too high, "But, time is critical now, and you must find her quickly before Flemeth does. We found a way to use Morrigan's unique abilities to help track her. She has very strong ties to the Fade, more so than any other mage I've encountered. We can use this to track her movements through the Fade. My Spirit of Faith will guide you."

"I don't understand. The Fade is the realm of dreams and death. How can we use it to find her?" the Warden asked, confused.

"This is the drawback. We can only find her while she is in the Fade, while she is asleep. We have temporarily bound my Faith Spirit to your ring. She will feel Morrigan's presence and guide your direction as long as Morrigan sleeps. Thus you will have to move at night, and quickly, for when she wakes, the ties to the Fade will be broken and Morrigan's movements will be lost to you until she next finds sleep. You must move faster in order to overtake her before she finds Flemeth. This is all we could do for you quickly. But you have a chance. Pray that Morrigan sleeps long and often, Warden, for that is where your best hope lies," Wynne said encouragingly.

"Thank you, Wynne, Maker bless you. It is something, and before, I had nothing. I will use it to find her. I must. Give your Spirit of Faith my thanks for everything she has done for us. And tell her not to alert Morrigan that I am coming, for she does not wish to be found and will try to elude me. There is no time for that. I know your Spirit feels a certain loyalty to Morrigan now, but make it clear we are trying to help her…you must make her understand," he said anxiously.

Wynne nodded sadly. It grieved her to see the Warden this distraught. She could hardly have imagined when she first met them, that these two so disparate young people could come to be so inextricably bound. But there was much that had transpired since the day she became involved in their lives she could not have imagined. "I will tell her, but I think she already knows this. I believe my Spirit is equally frightened for Morrigan. Flemeth is a name that conjures fear even in the Fade," she said.

"You and Celene…you will look out for my son until we return? And if…" he paused, giving her a meaningful look, "you will help Brycan with his magic? To control it?"

"Of course, he will be well taken care of, Warden, rest assured. But we have no need to speak of such things. You will find Morrigan and defeat Flemeth and you will both return safely to raise your son together. I have every confidence. Now, we must begin making preparations for your journey. From now on, the night is your friend. You must get some rest. The sun will be setting soon, and we will watch the ring for signs of Morrigan's entry into the Fade. All will be ready for you when we awaken you," Wynne announced with authority.

The Warden's anxiety would not let sleep find him easily, and when it came at last, it was troubled and fitful. Visions of Flemeth and dragons and blood haunted his dreams, and always Morrigan lay dead in his arms at the end of them. When he finally awoke, it was dark. The Fade had been no friend to him this day, ousting him after but a few hours. He prayed that Morrigan would find it kinder and it would hold her longer. And he went to reclaim his ring and await the slumber of his love.

-----

Ryder had been staring at the ring so long, wishing it to life, that he fairly jumped when it began to glow. The Warden gathered his things and flew to his stallion, galloping wildly in the direction the ring beckoned him. Wynne and Roget had wanted to join the Warden, and Celene had offered Templars and Chevaliers, but the Warden felt a group of witch hunters would only drive Flemeth to ground, that she would simply avoid confrontation and evade them until she could catch Morrigan alone. But he could go. The Warden knew Flemeth would not avoid him, for she would surely relish the chance to mete out her revenge. The moon was high in the sky at that point, and he cursed it. Morrigan had not found sleep easily either, he thought grimly. He must press harder. He prayed there was enough time to find her this night. If not, he would do the same every night until he did. He could only hope he would not be too late.

-----

The Warden had thought he was close twice, but each time his hopes began to rise, the ring would frustratingly go dark. She was awake, and he would have to wait until the next night. Every day she would widen the distance between them. He wondered if Morrigan had shapeshifted so that she and Hunter would make better time. The Warden began to fear his great stallion would not hold up, for he was driving it hard in his desperation. He finally realized he would never catch her if he continued to chase her, for she was making better time and she traveled more than she slept. He had to find a way to close the gap.

The sixth night he made a decision that might mean he would find her…or never see her again. She had tracked the same direction for the past three days, and he thought that if she stayed on the same general path, he had a chance to cut her off if he plotted a course ahead of her. He took a deep breath when the ring began to glow and raced his steed ahead of her perceived route, praying she would not change her heading, and this would not be the night Flemeth found her.

The next night found him much closer. The Warden exulted when the ring sprang to life, and the glow was so bright he had to turn away until his eyes adjusted. He would find her this night, he felt it.

-----

Hunter had led Morrigan to Flemeth. They had lain on the hillside overlooking her encampment that same day. Morrigan tried to decide what to do. She was filled with anger as she glared at her mother - the woman who had raised her and trained her and manipulated her so expertly…and who now wanted to kill her soul. She was nearly overwhelmed with rage when she thought of her son, and had to suppress the urge to attack Flemeth then. But she was exhausted, and had yet to formulate a plan she felt would ensure success. So she had decided to wait and watch for her opportunity and strategy to develop.

Morrigan and the mabari withdrew to a secluded spot far enough away from Flemeth's camp they could not be discovered. She prepared for a cold night, knowing she would be unable to light a fire, and called the hound to her. Morrigan knelt down and spoke to the animal looking into its eyes, "I need you to watch her this night for me. She must not be allowed to escape me. Tonight, I will sleep and gather my strength for what is to come, and at dawn, I will attack her while she is weak and disoriented from slumber. That is when you must return to your master. There will be no time for goodbyes then, so I will say what I must now. You are a good and loyal companion to Ryder, and I would ask that you look after our son as you did his father," she entreated him.

Hunter whined softly, his ears drooping. He licked her hand.

Morrigan smiled sadly, and embraced the mabari. "You have always known my feelings, noble beast, have you not?" she said affectionately, hoping she might one day see the dog again.

Hunter nuzzled her, and whimpered.

"No," she responded, "you have my thanks for helping me find Flemeth, but 'tis between her and me now. I do not wish you to be hurt. You are needed elsewhere. Now, please, I…am not good at these sorts of things. Go now, and watch Flemeth. I will relieve you at daybreak. If she moves before dawn, you must warn me."

The mabari pushed his head under her hand until she sighed, and scratched him between the ears one last time. Then he licked her again and trotted away to keep watch over Flemeth.

"Fool dog," Morrigan murmured, smiling fondly as he ran off.

She thought again about her decision. There were no good choices. If she had allowed the Warden to come with her and they failed, Flemeth would most certainly slay him. If the Warden took her son back to Ferelden and she failed in her bid to kill the old witch, Morrigan believed Flemeth would go her own way, choosing to forgo revenge for the anonymous safety of her new body and whatever malignant mischief she could conjure in it. But even if this proved not to be the case, Ryder and Brycan would be surrounded by Grey Wardens, mages, and Templars to help defend them. And Morrigan knew in her heart that Ryder would recognize Flemeth. He would know it was not her and would not let himself be tricked by Flemeth in Morrigan-form. He knew her. Her Warden knew her, she told herself. The lump that had risen in her throat made it hard for her to swallow. No, she had made the right decision. Their chances of survival were much higher if they returned to Ferelden.

Morrigan sighed. She knew he would not understand. She knew he would not agree. She could only hope that her Warden would accept it…but she didn't really think he would do that, either.

She ate quickly, and settled down to sleep early, knowing she would need all her strength and energy the next day. She lay awake for a time after the sun had set, not from fear or anxiety, but beset by her memories. She replayed her own history with her son and her Warden over and over in her head, trying to preserve that which was agreeable, hoping it would sustain her on the morrow. Morrigan wondered if the Fade would be good to her that night, and let her relive any of her cherished moments, perhaps for the last time. Finally, she fell asleep, exhaustion winning out over emotion.

-----

Morrigan awoke in a panic, disoriented, a hand clasped over her mouth, warm breath on her cheek. She was pinned to the ground, unable to move, unable to defend herself. Damn it! How had she let herself get waylaid in this manner? She must have been more fatigued than she thought not to have heard the brigand's approach. Not now…when she was so close to her final goal! She struggled violently to free herself.

"Shhhhh! Shhhhh! Morrigan, my love, it is me, Ryder," she heard the man whisper in her ear. And she stopped fighting, her senses in shock at the recognition of his voice. Her eyes widened as she grasped the meaning of it. Morrigan threw him off of her, still in disbelief, but as the moonlight finally caught his face, she saw it was him. Her Warden.

The Warden scrambled to his feet, stunned. "I'm sorry I frightened you, I did not wish you to cry out and give away your position should Flemeth be nearby," he said softly.

For a moment, she hesitated, her fear and anger at war with her passion. She stood and shook her head, as if to clear it of the wildly conflicting emotions that raced through her. To see him again, if only one last time, made her heart soar with gratitude and love…but he was here, and that meant he had ignored her entreaties and had come to fight at her side against Flemeth. And, quite possibly, perish there.

"'Tis twice now I have asked you not to follow me, and yet, twice you pursue. Perhaps you have disrespected my wishes because you think me a simpleton, incapable of making intelligent decisions," she chided, folding her arms.

"And why must you constantly be running away from me? You are an incredibly exasperating woman! How are we supposed to build a life together when I cannot count on you to stay at my side?" he retorted angrily.

"I did not leave you! I told you I would return when this was finished! I…'tis not like before…I wanted to stay…I told you this. But we could not live under the cloud of Flemeth's ever-present threat. We could not wait for her to strike. You must see that, surely. Do you not think that I have thought this through a hundred times? Do you not think that were there any other way I would leap at it? I do not wish you to die at my side, you courageous fool! Why must you multiply the difficulty of what I must do a thousandfold?" Morrigan chastised him, her anger melting into anguish.

The distress on her face was too much for the Warden to bear and he crossed the space between them and gathered her in his arms. "I could not let you go. I can never let you go. I understand your reasons. I understand your logic. But you must understand that I will not let you face death alone while I draw breath. Do not ask it of me, for I cannot honor that request. We must face the good and bad together. That is what it means to love someone," he said earnestly.

She looked at her Warden intensely. In truth, she would have been surprised if he had not found a way to come for her, for it was exactly the kind of thing she had come to expect from him…fierce love and loyalty. Bravery and determination in the face of certain death. Yet somehow, he had always managed to escape it. Perhaps he might yet avoid death once more. She prayed it would be so. Morrigan surrendered, and clutched him to her, choking back her tears. "Ryder," she managed, her voice thick with emotion.

"Morrigan," he whispered ardently, "thank the Maker, I am not too late."

He held her for a few moments, before his fighting sense returned to him. "Where is Hunter? He should be keeping watch over you," he said, annoyed at his faithful mabari for abandoning his post.

Morrigan corrected him, "No, my Warden, he is where I sent him. We have found my mother and he is watching Flemeth's encampment to make sure she does not escape. For 'tis my plan to attack her at daybreak. But I needed rest before I could face her."

"Flemeth, here?" the Warden asked alarmed, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

"No, we withdrew to a secure distance to avoid discovery. We are safe here," she said softly. Morrigan looked at the sky. Dawn would break soon. The reddish hint of sunrise tinged the skyline, ending any hope of more time together. She leaned in to kiss him, pulling him to her and holding him a moment longer before succumbing to the dreaded task in front of them.

"We must go, now, before Flemeth can gain her senses," she said solemnly, finally releasing him from her embrace.

He nodded, and they made their way towards Flemeth and the end game.

-----

They found Hunter faithfully watching the camp where Flemeth slept, and sending him back to Val Royeaux to watch over Brycan, they approached the old witch's tent, prepared for battle. Suddenly, a mocking voice cackled from behind them, "Ah, at last all the players are here. Now, the game can begin in earnest. I thought perhaps you might not make our little party, Warden. I have been waiting for you to make your move, my dear, but I'm giddy you chose to delay. It will be so much more enjoyable watching you suffer while I dismember your precious Grey Warden."

Morrigan said coldly, "No, Mother, 'tis you who will die this day. I am far more powerful than I was when last you saw me. And with the Warden at my side…"

Flemeth laughed at her, cutting her off, "Foolish girl, do you not think I have planned and waited for this moment? I know you are more powerful…far more powerful than I ever dreamed you would become when I slaughtered your parents and stole you away as a small child. I raised you as my own, prepared you in anticipation of this moment. You will make a superior new host for me." She gloated, hands on her hips, relishing Morrigan's devastated reaction to her words.

Morrigan gasped, flooded with a thousand emotions…grief at the loss of the parents she could not remember, sorrow for the loss of the life she might have had, and outrage at the monster that stood before her, that she had once called Mother. So she was not even born of Flemeth. In truth, she had wondered at the prospect, for they bore no resemblance to one another and Flemeth had always treated her with callous indifference - more a servant than a daughter, with the harshness reserved for one that was resented, yet needed, nonetheless. But, of course, in her isolation, the young sorceress knew nothing else. Morrigan's efforts to win Flemeth's approval almost always met with failure, and she had longed for something…more. It was the Warden that had given her that something more. She had not known until she had given birth to Brycan what it should be like between a mother and child. And it had never been so with Flemeth. But this revelation would make things easier. Any vestige of feeling, of regret she might have had for trying to kill the woman who raised her was gone now.

The Warden was at her side then, and clasped her hand in support. Morrigan looked at him with tears in her eyes. For a moment, her mind flashed back to that fateful night in the Brecilian Forest when she had taken Ryder's hand in a similar fashion to bolster him in his time of emotional crisis.

"I have been watching you over the years in some form, casting spells, manipulating you and your Warden," Flemeth continued, satisfied with the grief she had inflicted on them.

She was only too happy to taunt them with her genius in destroying their lives. Flemeth told them of the night she cast the spell in the Brecilian Forest that insured Morrigan's pregnancy. She tormented the Warden by revealing her spells of anger and confusion that had driven them apart at South Reach when the ring had almost reunited them. Morrigan and the Warden exchanged pained looks then, knowing this last terrible separation had been brought about by Flemeth's machinations. Flemeth told them everything she had done to them, savoring and admiring her own brilliance in guiding and controlling events. But then, she thought of her failure with the Old God. The old witch had not been with Morrigan when she had sought help from Wynne at the Circle Tower at Lake Calenhad. Flemeth had been unprepared for the exorcism attempt, prompting her to try to steal off with the child before the Old God could be destroyed.

And the Warden's intervention in her schemes had thwarted her plans repeatedly. A fury welled up in her. Her eyes narrowed to slits of venomous, cold rage. "You have cost me much Warden, and you will pay dearly for it," she hissed at him menacingly.

Then she turned to Morrigan, her mood shifting, madness dancing in her eyes. "Who will suffer more, I wonder, my dear, you or your lover? What to do? What to do? 'Tis a quandary," she sang more to herself than Morrigan.

Before they could react, Flemeth had morphed into her high dragon form, flailing and swinging her massive tail. She knocked Morrigan away, careful not to hurt her, and concentrated her attack on the Warden. She meant to tear him limb from limb, to rend his flesh, and burn him alive…whatever she could to increase his physical suffering…and Morrigan's emotional distress.

The Warden's first instinct was to race to Morrigan's side, but he recognized Flemeth's strategy and resisted his impulses. Flemeth needed him out of the way, and Morrigan unhurt if she was to take over the younger woman's body. She would try to minimize the damage Morrigan took until she could possess her. It was the only thing that gave the Warden hope. He could attack Flemeth with full force without immediate fear for Morrigan's life. The Warden and Morrigan fell into their old patterns seamlessly, he barking out orders and she casting and healing, both always moving, dodging, rolling. For a time, it seemed they might be weakening Flemeth, but at last, it became apparent that she was toying with them, and the old witch had inflicted far more damage than they.

Fatigue began to set in and the Warden's legs felt less responsive. Finally, he could dodge her tail no more and it crashed into his chest, breaking ribs and propelling him across the clearing into a massive fallen tree. He felt sharp, shooting pain in his chest. His breathing was agonizingly labored, and he heard himself gurgle as blood escaped his lips. He was stunned. This was not broken ribs. Those he had experienced before. In shock, he calmly looked down and saw the great jagged branch protruding from his punctured chest, rivers of blood pouring from the wound. Maker, no! Morrigan…I have failed you, he thought. He slumped, and gritting his teeth, pushed himself forward, freeing himself from the spike and falling to his knees, clutching his chest.

Morrigan regained her footing and scanned the scene wondering why Flemeth had seemingly stopped her attack. And then she saw him…impaled on a thick branch, bleeding out. Her heart stopped. "Ryder!" she screamed in horror. She raced to his side, tearing open a healing potion and forcing it down his throat as she fell to her knees and frantically pressed her hands into his gushing wound, casting healing incantations. It was a terrible injury. Her Warden was losing too much blood too fast. The tears began streaming down her face. She did not have time...Morrigan watched as the color drained from his face. She frenetically murmured spell after spell, pouring potions into him, knowing Flemeth was at her back, and not caring.

Flemeth cackled with glee across the clearing behind her, as she returned to human form. She reveled in the pain she was causing, taunting Morrigan, "It's over, my child. You have lost. Your pathetic efforts to heal him will not change the outcome. I will take you and there is naught you can do. You have destroyed my plans for the Old God but you will not deny me this. Shall we finish this dance now? Come, girl, let us end this. I do not wish to do any damage to my new body." And she laughed a cold and vicious laugh.

Morrigan looked helplessly into her Warden's eyes, knowing in her heart they could not defeat her mother directly now. But all her spells had stabilized Ryder, and though his wound was severe and had left him greatly weakened, she took comfort in knowing he would live…if she acted now.

She stood and turned to face Flemeth, resolute and defiant. "Very well, I will fight you no more. I will give over my body to you on one condition: that you let the Warden and my son live. No harm shall come to them, and they will be free of you forever," she offered, her head held high.

The Warden gasped, "No! Morrigan, no! You can't! I won't allow it!" He struggled to rise, but was unable to do so.

Morrigan turned back to him, and smiled a sad, encouraging smile. "You are in no condition to stop me, my love. I am sorry. This is how it must be," she said softly.

Morrigan whirled to face Flemeth, glaring. "Is it agreed?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Flemeth began to dance about madly, sensing her moment of triumph was finally within her grasp. "Agreed, agreed, your body I need!" she chanted in a sing-song tone.

Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "I would say goodbye to him first," she demanded, leaving no room for discussion.

Flemeth relented, indifferent to this last delay. She was close now, so close.

Morrigan turned back to her Warden, eyes shining. There was so much she wanted to say, but there was no time.

"Please don't do this, Morrigan. I love you. Do not give up, we can defeat her still," the Warden entreated, not believing his own words.

"Take care of our son. Let him know I loved him. And you, my beloved Grey Warden, know that I have always loved you," she said emotionally. Then she kissed him with a passionate finality, threw her arms about his neck, and held him close.

He clutched her tightly, unable to fathom his life without her…without the hope of ever being with her again. Suddenly, he heard Morrigan whispering desperately in his ear.

"Flemeth will not keep her word, Ryder. You must behead her the moment her soul leaves her body to enter mine. Deal your blow when she is surrounded by a bright red aura…before she enters my body and regains corporeal form. You must succeed or we are both lost," she entreated. She had not wanted it to go this far, to let Flemeth get this close to taking possession of her, but she had gleaned from the Grimoires and the Circle of Val Royeaux libraries, that there was still a chance to stop Flemeth if the process could be interrupted at the right moment. The spell was not complete until Flemeth's soul had taken possession of her body, when her own soul would be destroyed. Until then, Morrigan's body belonged to her. If Flemeth was struck down while her spirit was between forms, the spell would be broken, and with no body to inhabit, the old witch would cease to exist. It meant risking everything, for if it failed, she would be Flemeth's. But there was no choice now. They had not been able to triumph over her in battle, and this trick was Morrigan's only hope…and the Warden's, for Flemeth would surely kill Ryder if she was able to take Morrigan's body.

The Warden tried not to react to Morrigan's words with Flemeth watching, but his mind raced. What if he mistimed his strike? If he struck too early, Flemeth would retaliate, killing him and ending any chance Morrigan might have to save herself. But there was no time to debate on it now. He had to trust Morrigan and follow her instructions.

She pulled away from him slowly, her hand caressing the face she loved so dearly, and she stood, turning to face Flemeth with icy determination. "I am ready," she said to Flemeth, walking away from the Warden, leading the woman she had called her mother to the other side of the clearing.

Flemeth had dismissed the Warden as a threat for he seemed so weak. He was unable to stand, much less be a danger to her, she had thought derisively. She arrogantly turned to face her "daughter", offering the Warden her back as proof of her disdain for his ability to stop her. "Soon, my lovely, there will be only Flemeth. Flemeth will be Morrigan and Morrigan will be no more-again," she mocked, laughing wildly.

Morrigan willed herself not to look at the Warden and give him away as he frantically downed every health potion he had, to give him the strength he would soon need. She stared at the old witch with steely eyes. "Get on with it then, Flemeth, I tire of your foolish prattle," she said through gritted teeth.

Flemeth's gleeful expression turned into a cold sneer. "Very well, then, my dear. Goodbye, my child," she said devoid of emotion. She raised her arms and began an incantation.

Within seconds, a bright white light surrounded them both. The Warden stripped away his chestplate, to ease his burden and boost his speed. He mustered all his strength to stand, propping himself against a tree, and drawing Starfang slowly, quietly, he made ready to strike. The glow was changing, swirling, hues developing. He felt light-headed and began to fear he would black out before he could attack, but when he saw the agonized look on Morrigan's face as the light enveloped her, his resolve hardened and he fought through his own weakness. With his last ounce of strength, the Warden charged the old witch as soon as the glow reddened, sword grasped in both hands. Offering one last plea to the Maker, he swung the weapon with all his might and lopped off the head of the old Witch of the Wilds.

Morrigan arched her back suddenly, and the body that had belonged to Flemeth crashed to the ground lifeless. But as the old crone's body crumpled to the earth, so too, did that of Morrigan. Horrified, the Warden rushed to the side of his beloved, cradling her in his arms, begging her not to leave him again. "Come back to me, Morrigan, please, come back," he whispered in her ear, rocking her. There was no movement, no sign of life, and no health potions left.

Suddenly, Morrigan inhaled sharply, drawing air into her lungs as though life had left her and returned. The Warden was overjoyed at first, but realized he did not yet know which woman he held in his arms. It was Ryder's turn to hold his breath. Was it her? Was it Morrigan?

Her eyes struggled to open and finally cleared, resting on his face. He peered at her intensely, hoping to read some sign of his beloved sorceress and not the malicious old witch. The Warden was not sure if the look he saw on her face was one of relief or satisfaction, and he felt his anxiety rising. Morrigan's lips parted to speak, and the Warden felt his heart skip a beat.

"Perhaps," she began softly, "my beloved rogue, I could bake some bread, on occasion, as long as I am not otherwise occupied with darkspawn and Old Gods."

And he knew it was his Morrigan. He laughed, trying to hold back his emotion. "And perhaps I can paint the shed from time to time, when I am not slaying archdemons and abominations," he offered as his part of the bargain.

Morrigan's brow furrowed and she teased him, "Do not be ridiculous. 'Tis common knowledge you must paint regularly in harsh climes. I will not permit you to shirk your husbandly duties."

The Warden started, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Did you just ask me to marry you?" he asked incredulously.

"Not if you are planning in advance to escape your marital responsibilities. And do not think to impress me with your stature as Grey Warden Commander of Ferelden. 'Twill not entitle you to ignore that which is expected of you at home. I have known you since you were but a fledgling recruit, and I will not tolerate such obvious attempts to evade your obligations. 'Tis not a good example to set for your son. You must consider these things when raising a child. If this is not acceptable to you, then I shall withdraw the offer and we shall speak no more of it," Morrigan said in mock capriciousness.

The Warden laughed. "No, no, do not withdraw the offer. I vow not to shirk my husbandly duties…any of them," he said devilishly. "Though I hardly think the darkspawn care much about the condition of our shed," he added, grinning mischievously.

She pretended indignation, "Hmmph! Then they are impractical fools and I shall tell them so when I dispatch them. 'Tis no excuse for you, though. You shall still have to paint. The weather can be inhospitable in Highever…" Her face softened and she smiled. "Or perhaps Amaranthine, if you prefer? Or Warden's Keep?" she offered agreeably.

The Warden studied her before responding, "It matters not. You are my keep, my love. Where you are, I will be. You are my tower…my home, and I will always find my way back to you. Anywhere you go, Morrigan. Anywhere," he whispered, holding her tighter.

"Always," Morrigan murmured, smiling. And she kissed him.

-----

Far away to the west, past the Gamordan Peaks, but before the Sea of Ash, in a massive cavern far beneath the Sulfur Lakes, an ancient dragon awoke roaring in pain. Razikale, the Old God of Mystery, writhed and twisted in confusion. As its tainted eyes cleared, it looked about wildly at the horde of strange creatures that surrounded it. One of the creatures stepped forward. "We have heard your call, and we are here to serve," it said. With that, the thousands of darkspawn that filled the cave fell to one knee, heads bowed in homage. Razikale felt a kinship, and an overwhelming desire to destroy.

THE END

Author's note: Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Let me know your final thoughts about the overall story!