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[Miri1984]

I'm still playing through Awakenings so this may have to be edited a little to allow for differences in characters or endings I'm not aware of, but this is the first chapter of my latest.

CONSEQUENCES

Sigrun wasn't the only warden involved in the operation – but she was the only one who knew all the details. As warden commander for the past six years she had been a close confident of the king and the queen and they had all discussed what would happen when this time came. 


The joining ritual and its side effects were still secret – no one outside the wardens knew about their truncated life span – or the exact methodology involved in killing an archdemon. Alistair had wisely decided that the Ferelden people didn't need to know their king had a finite time on the throne – the possibilities for political unrest as he neared his fiftieth year were too great. 


“And to be honest I might not even make it that far,” he'd said to her. “Zevran tells me the Antivans and the Orlesians have started probing the assassins for contracts on me, and there are always accidents. Why I know that my great great grandfather, King... whatsisname..... died from eating a rotten potato on his twenty-eighth birthday. There are always rotten potatoes lying about.”


It was his talk of accidents that gave Zevran the idea in the first place. The king and queen were frequent travellers from Denerim – Alistair liked to think he was a hands on ruler, although Sigrun suspected he just took every chance possible to get away from court life. There were bandits on the roads. The occasional lost darkspawn. Bears. 


So it came to pass that in the twenty-fourth year of his reign, King Alistair Theirin and Queen Miranda Cousland were waylaid by bandits in a pass near the Brescillian woods. Although the bandits were killed – the royal carriage was too damaged to repair and the soldiers accompanying the King and Queen could not protect them. They fell defending their rulers and the King and Queen were lost. Their bodies were brought in state back to Denerim and given a royal burial. Their son, Duncan, only eighteen years old, wept openly at the funeral before taking up his duties as king. Although still young, he was surrounded by the carefully picked advisors his father had surrounded himself with in the early years of his reign. The transfer of power was smooth and while Ferelden mourned the loss of her king and her hero, there was a certain poetry about their final moments. Bards wrote songs and tales of the two battling back to back in their last moments together – as they had against the darkspawn horde and the archdemon twenty-four years ago.


Sigrun accompanied them to the deep roads. She returned frequently – usually with new recruits seeking their vials of blood, but this time she was alone with them. Miranda she had always been comfortable with, but Alistair was something of an enigma for her. In his years as king he had little to do with Sigrun directly – preferring to leave the administration of the wardens to his wife “She knows what she wants, Sigrun – better ask her,” and his human humour sometimes grated on her nerves. 


On the trip to Orzammar, though, she found he was a different person. He was more relaxed – the jokes seemed less forced. There was a lightness around the two of them that she'd not seen before, despite the film that covered Miranda's eyes – the shadows under them. 


Her dark hair was streaked with white now. It had started greying after the third miscarriage – around the time she'd given up her warden commander duties. The pressure on Alistair to marry again or at least take a consort capable of bearing a child wore her down, Sigrun knew that. When Duncan had been born she'd been so much happier – but she'd been less inclined to join in training exercises – more willing to let Sigrun and Anders test out the new recruits. She didn't like spending time away from Alistair and Duncan went everywhere with her – strapped to her in a sling.


There were no more children. Duncan had been coddled for his first few tenuous years – those years when many children were lost to disease. Alistair had recalled Wynne's son from the tower to be their personal physician. He knew how important it was that this child survived.


The situation had been explained to Duncan. He knew he had to lose his parents, knew how important it was that the rest of Ferelden not know the reason. His tears at the funeral had been genuine. He was never going to see them again and chances were they would really be dead within weeks. 


The deep dwarves didn't recognise the king and queen. Sigrun was still considered dead to them – even the legion ignored her now with her new status, but she was a familiar figure, even though the two wardens who accompanied her were older than her usual new recruits. Bhelen had been assassinated four years before – the new king wasn't interested in meeting every grey warden who travelled through Orzammar to the deep roads – there was a steady, slow stream of them despite the depletion of Ostagar. They went down, they didn't come back.


The retaken Thaig still felt dangerous to Sigrun – the taint, the darkspawn were too close. She wondered if it affected the families who lived there. There were supposedly no casteless any more, but the inhabitants of this thaig were the new underclass. The closer you lived to the taint, the less money you had. They ignored the wardens.


They set up camp just at the entrance to the deep roads. Sigrun knew she'd have to leave them soon. Alistair was already looking away from civilisation, his eyes had taken on a serious expression unlike him. The web of lines around them had deepened, even in the few days since leaving Denerim. Sigrun had heard the two of them at night, waking every hour or so, comforting each other. The nightmares were getting stronger the closer they got to the roads. 


During the day, though, they were happy. Laughing together. Telling stories about their time on the road: 


“Remember when Shale used to watch us at night...”
“Wynne and your socks..”
“Morrigan's nose!”


Sigrun felt left out. She wondered why she travelled with them. Perhaps it was because there was a very real chance she'd be heading the same way – in a few years, maybe five if she was lucky. She didn't feel old, but looking at the two of them, Miranda so changed from the first time she'd seen her, determined and strong on the deep roads..... she found, when the time came, she was glad to leave.

Modifié par Miri1984, 30 mars 2010 - 10:15 .

[Freckles04]

This is a bittersweet reminder that even the happiest ending for our Hero is finite. There are no happily ever afters in Ferelden. Sigh.

[Miliat]

Literal cold chills. I liked it very much

[Miri1984]

I originally thought my mage was going to be my canon character, but after "Choices" (and having been annoyed at Awakenings, I must say) I think Miranda is the one I've become more interested in.



There will be cameos and opportunities for backstory here - probably this will be the first of many stories in this universe.



Just hoping that Awakenings doesn't spoil some of my plot points .

[Freckles04]

Honestly, there's very little in Awakening, I found, that would spoil future plots. I think we'll have to wait to see what DA2 brings.

[Miri1984]

I have a bad feeling DA2 will be set a loooong time after DAO, and what I want most (a playable Alistair again ) isn't going to happen.. What I'm mainly worried about is that people I have alive aren't any more. I originally had Mhairi in there! Still extricating her from the plot, which is why there's only one chapter up .

[Miri1984]

 This one isn't going to go up quite as rapidly as my last, but you can expect two new chapters a day for a while because I've gotten quite a ways into it - it might slow down after a few days depending on little miss and how demanding she is. Gotta love maternity leave.

Chapter 2:

Two months after the king and queen had departed, Sigrun was called to the palace. Leliana was waiting for her in the throne room, with Wynne's son Rowan. Duncan was nowhere to be seen. 


“We have a problem,” she said, as they made their way to the royal apartments. Sigrun was puzzled.


“Where's the king?” she asked. 


Leliana cocked an eyebrow. “That's the problem,” she said. “Tell me, can you feel any taint here?”


Sigrun started to shake her head – she'd not felt the taint at the palace since the King and Queen had left, but something made her stop and hesitate. There was something – something different on the outskirts of her senses. The smallest hint of corruption. So small as to be nearly unnoticable, but there none the less. She felt her lip curl involuntarily.


“Darkspawn?” she said.




Leliana shook her head. “I only wish,” she said. “No it's much worse than that.”


They'd reached the king's apartments. Leliana knocked briefly, then opened the door.


Duncan was pacing the room, dressed in court clothes but with a longsword and dagger on his back. They were his namesake's weapons – the previous grey warden commander – his father's mentor. 


Duncan was tall, like his father, with the same ready smile and easy manner, but his hair was dark like his mother's and his build more delicate. He was renowned as a quick and deadly fighter, more in the style of his mother, and the palace had learned to keep a close eye on their locks from the time he was old enough to hold a piece of wire.


Sigrun had always liked him – had even taught him some of his skills on the field. She'd learned to respect him as a warrior and there was even a hint of friendship there, although the boy had always been a little in awe of her. But all of this was secondary to what she felt when she walked in the door.


The touch of the taint she could feel. It was coming from the king.


“Ancestors,” she cursed. “You didn't escape it.”






The four of them sat around the small table in Duncan's room. Leliana was talking – her voice was still captivating, despite her forty-five years. Age had touched her lightly and her duties as a sometime ambassador/liason/spy had kept her fit. Sigrun had no doubt she would be as powerful a fighter as she was twenty years ago.


“Alistair told me about the taint when I became his...”


“...spy?” Duncan intervened. Leliana grinned at him.


“For lack of a better word,” she said. “He thought it was important that I know – in case the information leaked from other sources. One of my duties – and Zevran's of course – was to make sure that didn't happen.”


“So you know,” said Sigrun. “And you Rowan?”


“The queen came to me after she lost the third child. She had talked with Wynne about it before that – but Wynne didn't think there was anything we could do to stop the taint from corrupting the babes. We worked together on a way to overcome that – one of the reasons the Queen spent much of pregnancy with Duncan at the tower. She needed constant magical monitoring to keep him healthy.”


“But when Duncan was born there was no hint of the taint in him,” Sigrun said. “We came to make sure of that.”


Rowan nodded. “I think that was the fault of our interventions. With some of the warden mages we were able to sense the taint in the blood and isolate it – very delicate, time consuming work. And we contained it with magic. But the taint was still there. We mistakenly believed it would be filtered out – but it looks like it remained, locked in the blood, until our magics started to fade.”


“Why didn't you try to contain the taint like that with the king?”


“We did. The taint in the king and queen was too far advanced to contain – we couldn't even begin to capture it. But the blood filtering to the unborn child – that was much easier to manage. It seems the mother's body does all it can to get rid of the taint itself – it's even possible the queen could have had a successful pregnancy without our intervention if....”


Leliana pursed her lips “... if Alistair hadn't been the father,” she said.


“The child would still bear the taint,” Rowan continued, “and it would bear the taint from birth, and we don't know how long a child with the taint can last. It's possible they could live for thirty years – but I wouldn't like to see how the taint could affect the growth and development of a child."


“Duncan...”


“The taint was contained in me,” the King said. “It's as though I went through the joining a few weeks ago, rather than when I was born.”


“I don't know that we'd even be able to contain the taint with a new warden – although we've been researching ways to do that, to see if we can delay the onset by a few more years at least. And to be honest if we contained the taint in a Warden we would defeat the purpose of the Joining altogether - there's no way to stop the taint without erasing the advantage it gives the Wardens. It's the taint that gives them the ability to sense darkspawn. On top of that we keep coming up against the same problem though – the magics can't be sustained for long enough. We use the subject's life force to power them and after a while it just... stops working.”


“Can't you renew them?”


He shrugged. “Possibly. But the problem remains. Any child Duncan fathers will also bear the taint.The last thing we need is a royal line contaminated by darkspawn – it wouldn't be long before people started to comment on the short life span of Ferelden royalty.”


“We need to find a way to cure it,” Leliana said. 


Sigrun found her heart beating faster. “Ancestors!” she swore. “Do you think we have been doing anything else since the first archdemon was defeated? There is no way to cure the taint. 800 years the wardens have been living with this. Living and dying. Why do you think we can cure it now?”


Duncan sighed. He looked at Leliana and Rowan in turn. “I called you here for a reason,” he said. “I needed people I could trust with this. My father... didn't want any of you to know.”


“What is it?” Sigrun asked.


“I think there is a way to cure the taint,” he said. “But in order to find it – we need to find my brother.”

[Miri1984]

THREE

Duncan had had the dreams since he was little, but never told his parents. He just thought it was a symptom of his loneliness – an only child growing up isolated from other children, protected by all and sundry, kept from adventure and excitement by virtue of his royal blood.


Once he'd reached the age of six his mother had relaxed her stranglehold on him and allowed him to explore the palace and grounds freely – but he was never far from a watchful eye and he wished he had a friend who would help him evade those eyes. Someone who wouldn't think of him as the prince, but as a friend.


The boy in his dreams was older than him – blond and sunny looking, always smiling. He didn't know his name, only that he whispered suggestions to him of what might be fun to do, where it might be fun to go. His parents had despaired of finding out how it was that Duncan knew every nook and cranny of the palace – he never told him it was the boy's suggestions during his dreams – the area behind the throne bulges wrongly – there must be another room there, there are always servants entrances – the dogs know where the air is coming from...


When he reached ten years old the boy was no longer really a boy and he appeared less often. When he did appear he looked less like a friend, although he still acted like one. His face became harder and older.


It was only when he was in trouble with his father one day that he realised the boy in his dreams looked almost exactly like him. The boy in his dreams was grown up, he thought. He won't want to be friends with me any more.


He stopped seeing him completely when he turned sixteen. There were no more dreams about his friend, and part of him mourned the loss. However, there were other compensations to his life by this stage – his mother and father had upped his training and intensified his education, almost as though they were afraid he would have to take the throne at any moment. 


When he turned seventeen they told him about the taint. He still remembered the look on his father's face as his mother explained that they would have to leave him soon – in a few years, maybe as little as one. He hadn't cried. He had always known there was something about being a warden they weren't telling him.


That night the boy returned. The resemblance to his father was more than striking – and Duncan thought at first he was dreaming about the conversation he'd had with his parents that day. But the face was younger than his father's – the blond hair was untouched by grey. And the boy's eyes weren't his father's deep hazel – they were clear, green and piercing – like the eyes of a snake.


“I don't have much time,” he said in the dream. “Mother won't let me communicate with you any more. She's been watching the fade like a hawk. I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you.”


“Where have you been?” Duncan asked. “I've missed you.”


He smiled. “And I've missed you, brother,” he said. “When the time comes, you'll need to find me. Tell our father what I've said. He'll understand who I am.”


“Wait, our father? Who are you really?”


“Alistair will explain,” his friend said. Flames appeared surrounding the man and he started to fade from view. “Forgive them, Duncan. They didn't know.” 


The next morning he debated whether to tell them about the dream, but his friend had seemed so sad – so genuine – that he found himself knocking on his parent's door before dinner.


They were both sitting by the fire, laughing, when he entered. His mother looked for a moment younger than one of the kitchen maids – her dark hair was loose around her face and the firelight shone on it, somehow missing the streaks of grey. His father too, looked younger, or perhaps it was because the image of his friend was so clear in his mind and he could see the resemblance.


“Duncan!” Alistair said and got to his feet to hug his son. “We didn't expect to see you till dinner.”


His mother also got up to embrace him. “What is it, darling?” she asked him. “Are you worried about what we told you?” 


He shook his head, although that, too, was preying on his mind. 


“I had a dream,” he said. “Last night....” Miranda still had her hands on his shoulders. She frowned slightly and motioned for him to sit in the chair she had been occupying. She perched on the arm and his father leaned against the mantlepiece. 


“A dream?” she asked.


It came pouring out of him then. How his friend had always been there for him, a companion who visited while he slept. How they talked and played in his dreams. How as the boy got older he showed him places in the castle, gave him ideas of what to do. 


“They stopped,” he said. “A year ago. The dreams stopped and I was sad for a while. But last night he came back.” Duncan looked up at his father. His mother had taken his hand while he spoke and she seemed unconscious of it now, because she was squeezing it with so much strength it was beginning to hurt. “He told me that you were... our father,” Duncan said. “He said that when the time came, I would have to find him. He said that his mother wouldn't let him communicate with me any more and that she was watching the fade. He told me to tell you this... that you would understand who he was.”


Alistair's lips were pressed tightly together and there was a deep pain in his hazel eyes. Miranda's grip on his hand was very painful now and he gently extricated himself from it.


“So,” she said. “It's come back to us.”


His father gave a tight nod. “I should never have let you talk me into it,” he said softly. She cocked an eyebrow. 


“The alternative wasn't an option, Alistair,” Duncan had rarely heard his mother's voice ring with such command and he suddenly remembered that she had led the armies against the darkspawn, not his father.


“Well, I suppose we'll have to tell you, Duncan,” Alistair said finally. Miranda gave a tight nod and found her son's hand again.


And so they told him about the ritual. He'd heard of Morrigan, of course. He'd heard of all of his parent's companions. But he'd never been told why out of all of them, the witch of the wilds never visited. 


Oh, Leliana had told him that she'd despised her father, but she'd also confessed that she'd actually been a very good friend of her mother's. That often while they were camping the two woman had sat together by Morrigan's fire, talking.


“Your mother saved her life, you know,” Leliana had told him once. “Not that I ever heard a word of thanks from her about it.” 


But no matter what he said to his parents, they would never be drawn into conversation about her. Miranda's expression whenever she was mentioned was strained – wistful but angry at the same time. His father's temper – usually so easy – would immediately become short and he would often leave the room. So Duncan knew virtually nothing of her, save for what he could get from Leliana and Zevran on their infrequent visits. 


The story his parents related to him now (short on MANY details, his young mind was certain) was nothing short of astonishing. He couldn't imagine his father so much as looking at a woman other than his mother – they were still capable of quite sickening displays of affection which had been a constant source of embarrassment for him since his early teens – let alone sleeping with one – having a child with one!


Alistair didn't try to offer an explanation for why he had gone through with the ritual, but Miranda's cool, commanding tone told Duncan exactly why. She'd persuaded him to do it. Duncan couldn't imagine what it had cost her – cost them. But he wouldn't be here now if they hadn't.


“What did he mean,” Duncan asked finally, after the story was finished and there was a long silence. “What did he mean when he said when the time comes?”


Alistair had let his wife tell the story of the ritual. He'd turned to face the fire and his hands were firmly clasped behind his back. Duncan looked up at his mother, still sitting on the arm of her chair. “I don't know,” she said. She got up and moved to her husband, stroking his shoulder until one of his arms loosened, taking his hand in hers and turning him to face their son, “although I don't think it's a coincidence he's made contact.. so soon after we told you about the taint.”


Alistair's brow furrowed. “Yes, that seems an unlikely coincidence,” he said. “We'll need to make plans,” he continued. “There's got to be something we haven't tried to find her.”


“Find them,” Miranda corrected gently. Duncan looked at his parents – impressed, not for the first time, at their strength. 


It was a year later they told him they'd be leaving. He was devastated, although he'd been expecting it for some time. His father had started having the dreams first – no one was supposed to know about it, but the servants talked and it filtered to him. For a few short weeks Miranda paced the castle halls, almost frantic with worry. When they came to her she seemed relieved and Duncan realised she'd been terrified Alistair was going to leave without her.


On the morning of their departure Alistair pressed a box into Duncan's hands. “Open it if you feel you need to,” he said. “It's for when the time comes.”


The embraced fiercely. Duncan couldn't imagine what life was going to be like without the solid presence of his father there to help him.


His mother hugged him just as fiercely and kissed him, but didn't seem able to say anything. She didn't have to. He would miss them both until the day he died.


He took up his duties as king, trying with all his might and education and training to be as compassionate as his father – as practical as his mother. He didn't see how he could fill shoes as large as theirs – they were heroes, they had passed into legend. He was just a boy who missed his parents.


And now he had to find this child - more precisely, he had to let Leliana find him, for there was no way, as a new king, he could leave Denerim and go searching Ferelden for someone he'd only recently discovered was real. The last thing he wanted to do was send Leliana away from him - her calm, measured presence had helped him through the worst of the separation, her advice, often delivered with light touches of irony, was what he relied on the most. Although he found Zevran just as effective a bodyguard, the older elf was far from the restful companion the Orlesian bard had always been. And now both of them would be taken from him.


He found himself wishing, sometimes, that he'd had a life more similar to his parents'. The freedom to wander Ferelden was a luxury he would never have, and he realised that they had given up something precious when his father took the throne. He hoped they had managed to get some of that back on the short journey to Orzammar.

[MireliA]

I like your story and love that Morrigan's child has made an appearance through the fade.

Two chapters a day? I don't think thats enough 

[Miri1984]

This is a big long one - a lot had to happen here so apologies. Chapter after this is a little lighter and has Bann Teagan in it .

FOUR

They met near Redcliffe. Leliana, Rowan, Anders, Oghren and Zevran. The wardens had responded quickly to Leliana's request for aid, especially when they heard the full story.  Sigrun couldn't leave her duties as commander in Amaranthine, though and Nathaniel had taken Leliana's place at court to protect Duncan. 


"A position rich with irony," he'd said to Leliana when he'd arrived from Amaranthine. "Queen Miranda would have been proud."


“I miss Sten,” Oghren said. Zevran cocked an eyebrow at him. 


“Really?”


“Well, no,” he replied. “But someone had to say it.”


Leliana ignored them. “Duncan gave us all the knowledge he had about Morrigan's last known whereabouts,” she said as they sat around the fire.


“Duncan is it?” Oghren said. “First name terms with the king eh? Hur hur.”


“Shut up Oghren,” said Anders. 


“I don't take orders from people in skirts,” Oghren growled. "Sparkle fingers."


“Oh, everyone knows you're just afraid of your affection for me,” Anders replied. The two wardens were the same as they had always been – although Anders' hair was beginning to grey. Leliana wondered how long it would be before their calling came. She thanked the maker that Zevran had never been tempted to join the wardens. For all of her companions to go the same way in quick succession – she would feel so alone.


“To be honest it's mostly out of date,” Leliana continued. “A sighting near Haven just after the coronation. Another in Amaranthine when Duncan was born. The last information Zevran picked up had her in Orlais. But really information is not what's going to help us here.”


“What is?” Anders asked.


She held out three phylacteries. “These are,” she said. 


“Phylacteries,” Rowan said. “They're from the king, the queen and Duncan. Of course it would be better if we had one for Morrigan – better still if there was one for the child, but we're hoping that Alistair's at least, and maybe Duncan's, will give us enough to track them down.”


Zevran cocked an eyebrow. “But for that, we'll need a templar, yes?” he said. 


“Which is why we're going to the monastery at Redcliffe. There's an old... friend of the king's there. Alistair told Duncan that he owed him a favour or two.”


“A templar owes Alistair a favour?” Zevran asked. “I find that difficult to believe, considering what he told us of his time there.”


“It seems he didn't tell us everything,” Leliana said. “Our little templar was more private than we thought.”


The monastery was about a day's ride from the town, perched on the edge of the lake. Leliana had never been there, despite her chantry connections. It struck her how beautiful it was – overlooking the water, it's carefully tilled fields and gardens surrounding a delicately built castle that, although defensively sound, certainly didn't give the impression of a place of war.


The sisters who ran it reminded her of those in Lothering – they were calm, measured and at peace with the world, something that she soon realised was necessary – given their charges.


In the courtyard below them the screams of children playing echoed. Ferelden had been at peace for many years, but there was still no shortage of orphans for the chantry's charity to take in. About fifty boys and girls lived at the Redcliffe monastery at this stage. Aged ranged between four and fourteen.


Most of them were not slated for the templar order, of course. They would become brothers and sisters, although a select few would leave and make their way in the world as merchants, traders, farmers. Some would never take their vows but stay anyway. 


“I remember the king,” the revered mother said as they sat in her study. She was a grey haired woman with grey eyes but her skin was sun-browned and her face had wrinkles that could only be made from smiling. “I was only a girl, just new to the order when he arrived.” She shook her head and tutted, “such an angry boy,” she said. “I remember thinking we'd have to keep an eye on him – the angry ones are often the worst bullies, you understand.”


“Alistair was a bully?” Leliana said. Only Zevran had accompanied her into the chantry and they exchanged a glance. 


“Oh no,” the revered mother said. “Not at all! He was... well he was a lovely child in the end. So handsome! That beautiful hair.. and he had a way of smiling at you that made you think he could never do anything wrong...” she smiled to herself. “He had a smart mouth  though -  couldn't stop himself from backchatting – that made him very unpopular with some of the sisters. The revered mother at the time... she didn't like that sort of thing. But he stood up for the other children. They loved him.”


“Alistair always told me he didn't have any friends in the chantry,” Leliana said. She could well imagine him backchatting to the sisters, but in his stories there had never been any mention of the other children in the monastery. It had sounded much like there had just been Alistair and a group of brooding brothers and sisters, all ancient, crabby and powerful.


“Well... that's probably true, to a point,” the revered mother said, pursing her lips. “He didn't have any particular friends who he played with. And you must understand, very few of the orphans here became Templar initiates - they were a very different type and Alistair frankly... antagonised them. But the orphanage children - they looked up to him – and he was very kind to them. Especially to Yuri.”


“Ah yes, the very templar we've come to meet,” Zevran said. The revered mother smiled at him. 


“Yuri was a troubled child,” she said. “He came here younger than most – he was only five when he got here. The king was twelve – just about to start training with armour. He didn't have much time out of the watch of the trainers by this stage – he only really had contact with the other children at meal times and when they were sleeping.”


"He slept with the orphans, not the initiates?" Zevran said then.


The revered mother pursed her lips, then stood up and started pacing the room. She was straight backed and energetic despite her age. "At the insistence of Brother Hubert," she said. "Apparently Alistair used to sit in his cell and scream until the brothers came to him. The templar initiates have private rooms, you understand, the better to meditate."


Leliana found herself laughing. She remembered that conversation with Alistair, on the road in the Brescillian woods. It had been one of their first talks. She had been so shocked, and convinced he was joking with her. The revered mother stopped and smiled at them. "Brother Hubert thought if he had to share a room he would be less inclined to disrupt the rest of the monastery."


Zevran grinned. "Oh, he delighted in keeping the rest of us awake during our travels," the elf said. Leliana shushed him. The revered mother didn't need to know that it wasn't screaming that had kept them awake on the road. Well.. not often any way.


The revered mother continued, "The other boys teased Yuri – for no particular reason – just because he was younger than they were, and smaller. Alistair – the king, he stood up for Yuri and the boy worshipped him.”


“Stood up for him?” Leliana asked. She found herself fascinated by this picture of the young Alistair.


“Yuri came from a village near Ostagar – the other children used to tease him because they thought he was chasind. He was small and dark – so it's even possible he was. But he never talked about his parents, and never denied anything the other boys said about him. It was when they were eating dinner one day – Alistair didn't come in till halfway through the meal and he found Yuri surrounded by older boys. The sisters... didn't supervise the boys at mealtimes you understand..” the revered mother looked guilty “we didn't used to any way. That duty was left to the older boys – the farmers and brothers.”


“The older boys were trying to force Yuri to eat. He never had much of an appetite, poor thing, he was only small... the boys around had dumped their meals on the floor and were trying to get Yuri to eat the food 'Like a proper chasind beast,' the ringleader was saying.” She looked disgusted. 


“Alistair was fresh from the training field – he even had a wooden sword on him. Well he saw what they were doing and went crazy...”


She smiled a little then. “I'm told the ringleader … what was his name? I think it was Bannik... couldn't walk for two weeks afterwards. But that wasn't the best of it. He took the supervising brothers to task in front of all the boys, called them out for being insensitive and ignorant and even threatened to give them a beating like the one he'd given to Bannik. They were furious – dragged him up in front of the revered mother, wanted to have him thrown out of the chantry. But the revered mother... she just looked at him, heard the story and let him go. She didn't say anything to him at all. I think she knew she couldn't punish him for standing up for the other boy – but she also could see what we hadn't been able to see before that – that it wasn't right to let the boys supervise the boys – that we needed to take better care of them.”


She sat back behind the desk again. “Nowadays we all eat together,” she said, smiling. “The revered mother, the sisters, the brothers, the children. It makes for a much more peaceful repast.”


“That must have caused trouble for Alistair later,” Zevran said. “From those boys – in my experience people of that sort do not let things go easily.”


The revered mother nodded. “Oh, they tried to get back at him – but they weren't templar initiates, those boys, and Alistair was bigger than they were. Mostly they tried to take it out on Yuri – the poor boy suffered quite a bit. But they never tried anything when Alistair was near.”


Leliana found herself close to tears. She missed him. She missed them both. She looked at Zevran, who also looked suspiciously emotional. 


“May we see Yuri?” she asked. 


The revered mother nodded. “Of course,” she said. “He'll be on the training field at this time of day.”


Leliana rose, as did Zevran. As they were leaving the study she turned to the revered mother. “Thank you,” she said.


Her holiness looked surprised. “What for?”


“For letting us share part of our friend's past,” she said.


The revered mother's eyes filled with tears suddenly. “We all miss them,” she said. “But I suppose it must be worse for the two of you. To lose friends is never easy.”


The training field was mostly empty – only three or four other initiates were practicing with each other. Yuri was close to the edge of the field, surrounded by a group of six or so boys. They were about fourteen years old and dressed in practice armour. 


The revered mother had said that Yuri had been a small child. Leliana's mind refused to accept that – looking at the giant in front of her. He was almost as big as Sten. His thick, black hair was cut short and he had straight, thick eyebrows above dark eyes – no wonder the boys had thought he was chasind. He also had a fearsome looking scar down one side of his cheek. He looked up as they approached. “Your holiness,” he said. His voice was deep and rumbled through his massive chest. Leliana found herself wondering if he could sing. 


“Yuri, can these recruits be dismissed? These people would like to speak with you.”


The massive man nodded and waved his hand. The boys melted away almost silently.


“I'll leave the three of you,” the revered mother said. She put her hand on Leliana's arm as she turned to go. “I hope you find what you need, sister.”


“We can talk over there,” Yuri said and pointed to a row of benches at the side of the field. She assumed it was a classroom of sorts for the recruits. 


They sat on two of the benches and Yuri looked at them. “I recognise you,” he said to Leliana. “Alistair wrote about you. His descriptions were quite eloquent actually, although they didn't do you justice.”


Leliana found herself blushing. “He wrote about me?” she said. Yuri nodded.


“We didn't correspond much,” he said. “A few letters here and there over the years. He brought the queen to visit me once – lovely woman she was. And I met Duncan when he was just a baby.”


“He never mentioned you,” Zevran said.


Yuri looked up. “I asked him not to,” he said. “People expect things of you when you know the king. Alistair understood that better than most people.”


Zevran nodded. 


Leliana reached into her shirt and took out the letter she had been carrying. “Alistair's son – Duncan, he asked me to give you this.”


Yuri took the letter from her, an eyebrow raised. Leliana folded her hands in her lap and waited. The big man removed his gauntlets to reveal surprisingly long fingered and delicate hands. He broke the seal on the letter and opened it. Inside, another folded letter fell out which he caught with his other hand before it slipped to the ground. 


He examined the second letter and his eyes widened, but he didn't open it. Instead he read the first silently, his expression unreadable until he neared the end, when his eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. “Mmm,” he said – a deep rumbling sound that Leliana could feel right through to her toes. He had a lovely voice. 


The templar gently put the first letter next to him on the bench and opened the second. “This is from Alistair,” he told them. Leliana was surprised – Duncan hadn't mentioned a letter from Alistair.


The letter was shorter than Duncan's and it took the templar only a minute to read, but he sat looking at it for a long moment afterwards and a palpable melancholy seemed to pour from him.


Finally the templar looked up at them. “I think you should read them,” he said. “I don't know what to think just yet – it will give me time to decide my answer.”


Leliana knew what was in the first letter. Duncan explained why they needed a templar to try to track down Morrigan and her son - Alistair's son.


The second letter, the one from Alistair, Leliana didn't know she wanted to read. But she took it from the templar any way.


My dear friend,


A long time ago I made a decision – well, a joint decision really, to do something that was probably a mistake. I always knew the time would come when that mistake might come back to haunt me, but I did it anyway. You of all people know that the consequences of our actions come back to hurt us – or if we're very unlucky, hurt those we love.


My son has need of you. I don't know exactly why, because chances are by the time you get this letter I will be gone, but I can guess it involves finding someone, or something, that will be quite difficult to find without your help. I hope the research you and the other templars have been doing can be used for this. I hope you will help him. 


And I hope, when you find what they're looking for, you can bring yourself to forgive me.


Alistair.


She passed the letter to Zevran, who cast his quick elven eyes over it before giving it back to Yuri. The big man took it and let it rest on his lap for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable.


“Did the revered mother tell you much about Alistair and me?” he said finally.


“Only that he stood up for you in the chantry,” Zevran replied.


“Aye,” the templar continued. “And on the practice field, and wherever else I happened to be. He was a good man, the king. The best, in fact,” he sighed heavily and looked away. “I wonder why he never believed that.”


Leliana thought she could guess. The years at Redcliffe, with Isolde breathing down his neck. The loss of his mother. The scorn of the other nobles.


“I think he needed more people like you in his life,” she found herself saying. “That would have helped.”


Yuri wiped his face with the back of his hand. “So,” he said. “You need my help to track down maleficarum. The revered mother didn't mention to you I haven't been in the field for more than five years? I'm a bit out of practice.”


“We need someone who knew the king,” Zevran said. “Someone we could trust with the news about his little...indiscretion.”


“A bastard son of a bastard son eh?” The templar chuckled. “Well I could do worse than get out of this place for a while. This mage who's helping you, Rowan, did he tell you how phylacteries work?”


“No,” Leliana said. “But he did say that it was possible to track less effectively through the blood of a mage's relative. That's why the king and queen and Duncan all had phylacteries made. The last thing the queen wanted was for one of her brood to go missing.”


“Well, it's possible,” the templar continued. “But it's not easy, and it's not as accurate as the regular methods we use. I'll need to examine them. Are you staying at the chantry tonight?”


Leliana looked at Zevran. “We're camped an hour or so away,” she said. “We have... other companions that probably wouldn't be fit company for a revered mother. We thought it would be better to leave them where they are.”


“Very well,” the templar said. “You'll need to give me some time to pack then.”


The templar was a taciturn companion, only speaking when spoken to on the way back to their camp. But he was pleasant company in his way. There was something reassuring in his measured footsteps.


He wore simple chainmail, rather than the regular heavy plate templar armour, and there was an axe strapped to his back. It was a plain weapon that had seen some hard use.


He didn't seem surprised that their companions were a dwarf and an apostate mage. Anders didn't take to the man immediately – after all these years he still disliked templars, had never really warmed to Alistair in fact, although Leliana had his suspicions as to why that was. Oghren, however, seemed delighted by the big man's presence. “I'd like to have you at my back in a fight,” he said. “He he. You're so sodding huge, the 'spawn wouldn't even see me!”


After being introduced to everyone Yuri sat by the fire with Duncan's phylactery in his hands. He had discarded the queen and king's – saying that a brother was a better match, although he might need to go back to the king and queen's later. “They could be very helpful,” he said. “Sometimes it's easier to separate the different pulls when one of the subjects is.. no longer with us.”


Rowan sat with the templar and the two concentrated fiercely for well over an hour. Finally Yuri sighed and leant back, and the mage grinned one of his rare grins. “Well,” Rowan said. “We can give you a general direction. And it looks like we're in luck – we won't be needing to head to Orlais. The pull is east, towards Orzammar.”


Yuri nodded and closed his eyes. “We'll be able to pinpoint his exact location when we're closer,” he said. “I'll need to come with you until then.” He placed Duncan's phylactery back in the box next to the other two, his long fingered hand resting on it for a moment before he picked up them up and cradled them both in his hands. Again the melancholy that Leliana and Zevran had seen on the practice field returned and she quietly got to her feet, motioning for the others to do the same.




“It's time we slept,” she said softly. 


The next morning she found him in almost exactly the same position. There was no sign he had slept, and there were shadows under his eyes. The phylacteries were back in their box, sitting next to the log that was his chair.


No one else was up. She had always been used to being the first awake in camp and it was a surprise to have company while she busied herself preparing the simple porridge they normally ate for breakfast.


“I'm glad you're awake first,” Yuri said finally, after a few minutes of pleasant silence. “I wanted to have a word with you in private.”


“If you wish,” she set the pot to bubbling and sat on the ground near him. It struck her how still he was – there was absolutely no wasted movement about him at all. He looked at her for a long moment.


“You're not telling me everything,” he said to her. “There's more to this child than just his royal blood, isn't there?”


Leliana cocked an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?” she said.


“The king and queen have been gone for months,” the templar said. “Duncan is a capable ruler – he's young, he's healthy – there's even talk of an impending marriage to an Orlesian princess. There's no reason for stripping him of his most trusted advisor and running around the country trying to hunt down a bastard son.”


“No reason?” she said. “Alistair's son has a valid claim to the throne. He's older than Duncan – there's a real threat he may end up being a challenger.”


“The boy is what – twenty-four years old now?” Yuri said. “If he was going to challenge for the throne he would have done so as soon as the king and queen.... departed. As it is he's significantly absent. There have been no rumours of his birth – none. And I for one know that the king would never have been unfaithful to his wife – Alistair just wasn't that type.”


She had to give him that point. 


“And the last reason – the reason I know there's more to this than you are telling me – I found out last night while you were all sleeping,” the Templar fixed his dark eyes on hers for a long moment. 


“The king and queen are still alive.”

[Miri1984]

 FIVE

Duncan stood in front of the mirror and adjusted his collar. He tried to smooth his hair but only succeeded in messing it up more than it was. Nathaniel came up behind him and stopped his hand as he tried to smooth it again. "Here," the older man said, and deftly rearranged it for him. "Now don't touch it."


Duncan swallowed. "I'd rather face a horde of darkspawn," he said. "This is intolerable. Why is this so difficult? I've met women before."


"Of course," Nathaniel said then. "But you weren't going to marry them. It does make a difference."


"How would you know," the King said then. "You've never married."


Nathaniel gave one of his rare smiles. "And I think you're beginning to realise why," he said. Duncan sighed. He had watched his mother and father all his life - they were an equal partnership, but more than that, they cared for each other. He knew that kind of marriage was rare in nobility, but he'd always nourished a secret hope that he would have something similar of his own.


Although he had dallied in the last year or so with several ladies, of noble birth as well as common, none had inspired in him the sort of passion he'd seen between his parents and he had begun to think that perhaps that aspect of life would be denied him.


"What if she's ugly?" he said then. "What if she has a whiny voice? What if I don't like her?"


"From all accounts Princess Amelie is beautiful, charming and witty. I'm sure you'll like her."


"Looks aren't everything, Nathaniel," Duncan said. "She might be a shrew. Or an idiot." A thought much more frightening suddenly occurred to him. "She might think I'm an idiot." He looked at himself in the mirror. The collar felt like a noose. "Of course she'll think I'm an idiot," he said. "I am an idiot."


"Your majesty is not an idiot," his bodyguard replied. "Although they might think so if you delay any more. Come. They are waiting."


He tugged at his collar again, but Nathaniel's insistent arm forced him into movement.


"His majesty, King Duncan Theirin," the herald announced. Duncan waved as regally as he could as he entered the banqueting hall. The nobles were standing around the long tables plied with food and drink. Every head turned to look at him and he managed to curb the urge to swallow nervously. He had been trained for this from birth - he was used to court functions. But this time was different.


"Is she here yet?" he hissed to Nathaniel as he made his way towards the tables. 


"No, your majesty," Nathaniel said. "She will be required to make an entrance after you - for propriety's sake."


Duncan knew this, but he'd wanted to hear Nathaniel's voice. Although he still missed Leliana (and even Zevran, although he dreaded to think what the elf's commentary for this little occasion might have been like) he'd come to find Nathaniel's cool, dry competence almost as reassuring.


Arl Teagan was standing with his wife near the head of one of the tables and Duncan made his way there in relief. Teagan was good company. His auburn hair was streaked with grey but he was still a fit and powerful man, and his administration of Redcliffe after Eammon's appointment to chancellor had served the district well.


"Teagan," Duncan said, gripping his friend's hand warmly. "It's good to see you."


"And you, my liege," Teagan said then. "Although I imagine you're somewhat preoccupied today."


Duncan swallowed. He had no real need to pretend with this man - who had known his parents so well and been a regular guest at the palace since his birth. Teagan saw his expression and laughed heartily. "Don't worry, your majesty," he said then. "Marriage is actually quite a lot of fun, once you get used to it."


The herald trumpeted and Duncan felt a wave of nervous nausea wash over him. 


"Her majesty, Princess Amelie of Orlais," the herald announced. The room turned to look towards the double doors as they opened.


Two women stood framed in the doorway. It was immediately obvious which was the princess. She was dressed in an elaborate Orlesian gown of dark blue silk which set off the shining gold of her hair, piled in braids atop her head and held in place by a gold circlet. Her companion, obviously a lady in waiting, held the train of her gown as she walked down the short flight of steps to the dining room and across the floor towards the king. She then deftly hooked the train to the dress in such a way that it wouldn't drag on the floor as the princess walked and both of them dropped an elaborate curtsey in front of him.


"Your highness," Duncan said, remembering just in time the formal words he had prepared for this occasion. "May I offer you the heartfelt welcome of the Ferelden people. We are indeed fortunate that Orlais has condescended to allow it's most precious treasure into our kingdom."


The princess looked up and fixed him with a pair of twinkling green eyes that made him catch his breath. Her face remained solemn, however, and her lilting accent made her words sound like music as she responded. "It is an honour," she said. "I bring greetings and best wishes from my mother, the Empress, and hope that relations between our two nations will continue to flourish."


He held out his hand to help her to his feet. Her fingers enclosed his - they were long and delicate and adorned with several rings. He also noted, with a slight hint of glee, that her palms were sweating. Despite her cool appearance, it seemed the princess was just as nervous as he was. He found himself smiling down at her in sympathy - mixed with a healthy dollop of admiration. Certainly not ugly, he thought to himself. And those eyes hold the possibility of humour. Perhaps this will be easier than I thought.


The court erupted into cheers and Duncan allowed himself to let out his breath. First meeting and he'd managed not to stumble over his words or look like a complete idiot. He hoped it was a sign they were off to a good start.

[Miri1984]

I hope people are still reading . I promise there is more excitement in store - battles, witches, raunchy bits, fade dreams and darkspawn to come.

Modifié par Miri1984, 22 mars 2010 - 11:09 .

[MireliA]

Still reading, still liking .



That was one hell of a cliffhanger on the previous chapter

[Miri1984]

Oh, goody goody, I'm so glad you liked the cliffhanger . There are more of those to come.

SIX

They'd told Yuri, in the end. Really, Leliana had suspected they would have to tell him from the start, but Zevran – ever cautious – had recommended not. The story still seemed astonishing to her. To think that Alistair could have done something like this... but she knew how fiercely Miranda would have fought to keep him and suspected the driving force had been the Queen. Alistair could deny her nothing. Yuri had not been surprised that his friend and his wife had departed for the deep roads and not died at the hand of bandits, he simply nodded.


“Alistair stopped me from becoming a grey warden,” Yuri said. “I tried to join – after the blight when Miranda was recruiting, but Alistair told me in no uncertain terms it was not a life I wanted. I... resented him for that. Now it seems he had a valid reason.”


At the end of the tale Yuri stood up. They were still encamped. Anders and Zevran had disappeared somewhere – their packs were next to the remains of the fire, ready to be claimed. Oghren was busy with his own gear – repacking again – he never seemed to have enough room in his pack for all his gear, and Leliana had her suspicions why.  It clinked a lot more than anyone else's.


“We have a long way to travel, and I doubt it will be an easy journey,” she said. “We'd best be off.”


The journey to Orzammar made Leliana melancholy. As they skirted the lake and made their way on into the Frostback Mountains she found herself seeking Zevran's company. They didn't speak much. Zevran's usual flirting had fallen off over the years as he became easier in her company (and perhaps, because on one occasion, they had  been lovers) and she found herself singing short snatches of ballads and tales she had learned in Orlais – favourites of Miranda's usually, although at one stage she found herself singing the ballad of the archdemon. 


Surprisingly, the templar Yuri joined her when she sang on occasion – his deep, rumbling bass a welcome counterpoint to her high soprano.


They had battles together – twice they were waylaid by bandits, once by wolves. In the foothills of the mountains they were attacked by Darkspawn and Zevran was injured if Alistair and Miranda had been with us the trap would never have worked, she had thought. Rowan healed him with consummate skill – his magics were far in advance of his mother's. She had taught him all she knew in the short months they had known each other and Rowan had been improving on it ever since.


In the mountains, about four days from Orzammar, the Templar performed the ritual again. It was more complicated this time, they were trying to pinpoint a location rather than just find a general direction. Leliana hugged her cloak around herself in the cold night air. There was a hint of snow smell on the wind and she hoped they'd be able to outpace the blizzards. 


At the end of the ritual Yuri sought her out by the fire again. “He's in the deep roads,” he told her. “All three of them are.”


“They're still alive?” she said. She didn't like to think what that meant. She'd been having nightmares on and off, since Yuri had told her. About the broodmother. 


“They are,” Yuri replied.


“Both of them?” it was crucial, she knew. Both of them must be alive.


“Yes.”


Leliana sighed. If Alistair was alive there was no way Miranda could have been taken. The former templar would kill her himself before that could happen. 


“Why would the child be there too?” she wondered then. “What purpose could he have in the deep roads?”


Yuri shrugged. “Aren't we looking for a cure for the taint?” he said. “Didn't the boy tell Duncan to find him when the time came? I can think of no better place to find answers about the taint than the deep roads.”


“I wonder,” Leliana said, thinking of a voice she hadn't heard in twenty-five years, a pair of eyes, green and piercing, a flare of power. “I wonder if his mother is with him.”

[MireliA]

uh oh not morrigan! I like Yuri, he's a great character

[Miri1984]

 What, no Morrigan fans?? That's a shame!

SEVEN

He was climbing the wall of a chasm - a chasm so deep he couldn't see the bottom, although in the back of his mind he was aware he had come from there originally. The walls were jagged and cut his hands, but despite the blood that flowed freely over them, he continued. The pain seemed separate from him. He was nearly at the top - he could see the edge of the wall ahead and the closeness of his goal was enough to spur him on to greater efforts.


Finally, he pulled himself over the edge and flopped, exhausted, on the dirt floor of the enormous cavern. 


"Well, well," a voice drawled from above him. "Who have we here? A deepstalker with hands?"


He looked up into the eyes of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her jet black hair was pulled back from her chiselled cheekbones, emphasising the deep pools of her clear green eyes. The eyes were familiar. He felt a jolt of recognition, although he couldn't place where he had seen them before. 


Her full lips were curled in what looked like a snarl which, if anything, made her more lovely. She was dressed - barely he was suddenly, painfully aware - in what looked like a motly array of rags, and he could see the top of a staff over her shoulder.


Apostate, he thought as he hastily pulled himself to his feet. But what is she doing here?


Hang on... where IS here exactly?


Manners took over and he sketched a quick bow."I am Duncan," he said. "No deepstalker, lady. Who might you be?"


A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she folded her arms across her chest. "Manners is it?" she said then. "Well it seems your mother taught you well in that regard at least. More than I had hoped for, truly."


"And yet you do not deign to answer me," he said.


She laughed then, a deep, hearty chuckle that was seductively infectious. "And I must apologise," she said. "You can call me Morrigan."


Duncan remembered almost too late that he stood on the edge of a cliff, as he was about to take a step back. How had he not recognised her? Leliana's description had been accurate and eloquent, yet the woman seemed young - as young as Duncan. But then, she was a witch of the wilds, daughter of Flemeth, who had lived for many centuries.


"Ah, I see you have heard of me," she continued. "Which is all to the best, I do believe." She unfolded her arms and took a step forward, then another, until she was so close that he could smell her scent - flowery with a hint of musk, almost overpowering in its sensuality. She lifted a finger and lightly touched his cheek, tracing her finger down past his chin... his neck.. to the opening of his shirt. Duncan's breath came faster and he had to fight to keep control of his body, which was torn between wanting to twist away and wanting - oh so badly - to sink right into her embrace. She leaned forward until her lips brushed his ear. "I need something from you, my dear boy," she whispered, and her voice sent shudders through him from head to foot. "Because I think you know where he is, don't you? Or if you don't...." her fingers, which had been lingering at his throat, parted his shirt and trailed lower to rest lightly just over his heart, "you soon will."


He took a deep, ragged breath, unable to speak as her scent overpowered him. Her fingers started to roam again, lower and lower and alarm bells were flashing in the back of his head. This was the woman, he thought frantically who slept with his father - who conspired to kill her own mother. She can change into a spider - a bear! She...


was my mother's friend....


A clear picture of his mother's face cut through the haze of desire that was crowding him and his hand shot out and captured that of the witch - just before it was about to venture into his most intimate regions. 


"My lady Morrigan," he said, and although his voice was hoarse, his tone was steady, and he fixed her eyes with his own. "If you would be so good as to tell me who it is you are seeking, for the sake of my parents who owe you a debt, I would be more than happy to help you. As it is, however, I can do very little else that would give you satisfaction at this time."


Morrigan's eyebrow shot up as his hand enfolded hers and she pursed her lips for a moment. She did not step back however. "I find that difficult to believe," she said then as her eyes flicked downwards. He found himself blushing furiously, but moved her hand away from him firmly. She stepped back then - gently freeing her hand. Was she angry? Pleased? Her expression was unreadable but she did nothing but look at him.


"It took me a long time to find you in this corner of the fade," she said eventually. "It seems a waste not to take advantage of our time here."


Duncan laughed then, a quick, harsh sound. Morrigan's lips twitched and she began to smile. With her scent removed from him his faculties began to return in full. He was dreaming, he knew that now, although he had never had a dream so real. 


"Can we be sensible?" he said then. "You want something from me. I will help if I can, as I said. There's no need for... anything else."


She cocked her head and considered him for a long moment. "You are far more like your mother than your father," she said then. "You have her look, you know."


There was a pause as they considered each other. Duncan was still standing at the edge of the cliff, and although he knew it was a dream now it was no less terrifying a drop. 


"I'm sure to wake up soon," Duncan said then. He was anxious for this discussion to end - he knew he was at a disadvantage and was certain he could have handled himself better. This woman was dangerous, no matter how much of a friend she had been to his mother. 


"My son," she said then. "He's gone and I need to find him. I must find him. I know he's communicated with you before. I know you have a connection to him. Please," her face lost its guarded expression and she simply looked lost, "please tell me where he is."


She was beautiful, and perilous, and he knew somehow that this request was not one he could agree to without condtions. Her son, he thought. My friend. That final contact they had had - he had been trying to evade Morrigan, going against her wishes. And he had seemed so genuine in his desire to help. 


And yet - this was his mother. There was no mistaking the genuine concern in Morrigan's eyes - the sense of yearning. He sketched a bow to her. "My lady," he said. "If it's within my power to help you, I will try."


She smiled then, and it was a smile of genuine relief. "Thank you," she said simply. Green flames surrounded her and she faded from view.


He awoke in a pool of sweat with his sheets tangled around him to such an extent that it took him five minutes to free himself.

[Miri1984]

 And the moment we've all been waiting for:

EIGHT

It was difficult, entering the deep roads. Of all their adventures during the blight, this had been the place where they had faced the worst – where the true horror of the taint and the archdemon had revealed itself. The machinations of dwarven politics, the madness of Branka – all of these things had felt so wrong to Leliana, even at home with intrigue as she was. Being so close to something so terrible had warped these people.


Oghren, too, was uncharacteristically silent. His wife and child were near, in Orzammar, although he made no move to suggest they visit. 


Once they were in the deep roads Rowan and Yuri conferred again, calling Oghren to them after a while. “This will take some time,” Yuri said to her afterwards. “The roads are difficult to navigate at the best of times, and although we can tell you how far away they are, there isn't always a direct route to that place – or so Oghren tells me.”


“Does he have any idea of where we need to go?” Leliana said.


“Past the Anvil of the Void,” Rowan said.


There were suspiciously few darkspawn – some stragglers here and there, never in groups of more than three or four. They were easily dealt with and easily sensed by the two wardens. Leliana asked Anders about the numbers.


“The legion has grown again,” he explained to her. “And the wardens who are called here have more of a purpose these days.”


Leliana cocked an eyebrow. “I thought their purpose was to die in battle.”


Anders was uncharacteristically grim. “Well, there's that,” he said. “But the warden commander – I'm sorry, the Queen, charged all wardens who were called to seek out and destroy broodmothers.”


Leliana was not shocked. It made sense – to destroy the darkspawn's methods of reproduction, keep their numbers as low as possible. 


“Also, the.. women wardens... they are given a magic token,” he said. “We worked on it for many years. It's a way out if they happen to be... taken. It's not foolproof, but from the little we've heard it means the 'spawn aren't getting what they need from us any more. They've taken to.. raiding the dwarven settlements instead. Not often, and not usually successfully – but they are obviously still managing to take some.”


She grimaced, an image of the darkspawn broodmother they had killed suddenly clear in her mind. 


They walked through the oppressive heat and humidity of the roads for five days before they found the signs they were looking for. Darkspawn numbers were increasing the further they travelled – past the Anvil they had to be on constant guard against ever increasing groups of genlocks and hurlocks. 


It was on the sixth day that they heard the sounds of battle. 


It was a crossroads – like Caridin's cross. The centre of the crossroads had been fortified with scrap wood, old, twisted weapons and the bodies of dead darkspawn. The ground was raised in the middle – a defensive hill. There were at least fifteen darkspawn massing on the centre of the hill. 


Leliana could hear their voices – and she knew immediately that the king and queen were both in the midst of those darkspawn. She drew her bow as her companions drew their own weapons and charged.


The battle was fierce and fast. Yuri waded through the darkspawn like an Ogre – almost as large and just as effective against the short genlocks. Leliana's arrows flew as fast and true as they ever had, and Zevran, quick and agile, danced amongst his enemies, felling them with deadly accuracy. Rowan and Anders bolstered their skills and blasted their enemies with well timed and aimed counterpoints to the other's physical attacks. 


Five minutes later it was all over and Leliana found herself with her heart in her mouth. It had been nearly four months since the King and Queen had left. She remembered poor Hespith – her babbling – the dark sores on her face – the empty, filmed over eyes. Somehow to see the Alistair and Miranda like that would be worse than not seeing them at all. 


But Hespith had been in the deep roads for two years. Dear Maker, let them not be too far gone.


They had their backs to her, the three of them. Miranda was easy to distinguish – the shortest of the three, lithe and dark haired. The other two were so alike in build that Leliana wasn't sure who was who until Alistair turned to them, sheathing his sword behind him in a gesture so familiar that Leliana found it difficult to breathe. His eyes were still the clear hazel she remembered, although his face was grey and haggard. His hair was longer, caught back in a knot at the base of his neck. But his smile was the same – open and honest and infectious. He held out his arms as he surveyed the group before him “By Andraste's holy knickers!” he cried, and his voice was the same as well. “What are you doing here?”

[Miri1984]

I've just registered for FFnet - was wondering if people preferred to read here or there? I haven't posted anything there yet because I wasn't sure. I just look at how long these posts are and think a neat little orange link might be prettier .

[Miri1984]

 NINE

Duncan fidgeted with his shirt as he heard the supplicants. More money for trade. More land. More soldiers to protect from bandits. Just for once he'd like to have a Bann or an Arl come to a session and say "Actually, your majesty, I don't need anything this month. Keep up the good work!"


Teagan, as one of his closest advisors, was invaluable in these sessions, having stepped effortlessly into Eammon's role as chancellor in the same way he had taken over the administration of Redcliffe. His son, Daveth, ruled there now, and Teagan had a grandchild on the way, Duncan remembered - too easily distracted from the endless stream of requests. He must remember to send the Arl home for a break soon.


A motion at the doors made him look up past Bann Lockey who was petitioning for bridge repairs in his demesne and he saw Princess Amelie's lady in waiting enter. What was her name again? Duncan had been told it several times.. Rosa? Rillan? He could never remember, but that was possibly because whenever he was in her presence he was distracted completely by her lady.


She moved swiftly and silently to Duncan's side and pressed a folded note into his hands. Duncan took it and barely had time to thank her before she turned and glided out again, without a word.


He didn't think he'd ever heard her say anything, actually. The note felt hot in his hand and he felt his heart speed up as he surruptitiously unfolded it and cast his eyes over the contents. Yes, he thought to himself. Oh, my lady, most definitely yes.


Lockey's voice was beginning to grate on his nerves. He had heard the petition before and it was reasonable, but Lockey had the resources and the men to make the repairs himself. That he wanted the king to deal with it was a measure of the man's tight fistedness and Duncan was sick of it.


"Lockey," he said finally, interrupting the man. "We've discussed this matter several times and my answer is still the same. Your resources are plentiful, your manpower is adequate. If you wish the bridge repaired, you must do it yourself. I know that the merchants who are so willing to trade with you are finding different routes past this obstruction, and quite frankly it is a waste of your time and mine to keep asking."


Lockey's big, flabby jowls dropped in shock. The king was usually much more diplomatic in his refusals, and Duncan wondered if that was the reason the rather thick-headed Lockey had never taken them seriously before.


"Y..your majesty," the Bann said then.. bowed and sat at the table with an audible thud. The king swept his eyes over the remainder of the arls and banns seated around him. "If there is nothing else?" he asked them. 


The remaining petitioners, seeing his current mood, wisely decided their requests could wait, or be delivered in writing, and the assembly stood. Duncan stood also and bowed before swiftly exiting the chamber with Teagan close on his heels. 


"Your majesty," Teagan said as they walked. "I must confess to being a little surprised at your... dismissal of Bann Lockey."


Duncan snorted. "He's had it coming for months," Duncan said. "I should have told him that earlier."


Teagan was having to trot to keep up with Duncan's long strides. "I suppose so," he said then, "but..."


"Teagan, you know I value your advice and opinions," Duncan interrupted, stopping abruptly and facing the older man. "But do you think you might leave me alone for a little while? I have... something to attend to."


Teagan bowed, but not before Duncan caught the hint of a smirk on his face. Curse the man, he thought to himself. He's too observant for his own good. "Your majesty," Teagan said, and turned on his heel to leave.


Duncan sighed, then remembered where he was headed and renewed his journey with more vigour.


The kitchen gardens were easily accessed from the main area of the palace - if one knew the routes - and Duncan had been careful to teach them to Amelie. He found her there, waiting with her back to him. He used all his not inconsiderable skill in stealth to approach her unawares and yet, as he was almost close enough to feel the heat from her skin, she turned and caught his eyes with her own, halting his advance far more skillfully than any opponent had managed on the practice field.


"Dear Duncan," she said. "Haven't you learned yet that you cannot surprise me?"


He laughed out loud. "Your highness," he said. "You never cease to delightfully amaze me." She held out her hand for him to kiss, which he did formally, catching it in his own with a flourish and giving her a full courtly bow. But he did not release her hand at the end, and she used her other to cup his cheek and bring his face closer to her own.


"I'm so glad you could make it," she said then, her breath hot on his lips. It was all she had time for before he claimed those lips with his own.


It was some time later and the lady was somewhat more dishevelled when they paused for breath.


"As pleasant as this is," Amelie said, gasping a little, "it's not the only reason I called for you."


Duncan had his arms around her slim waist and his face buried in her neck as she spoke. "Not the only reason?" he murmured. "I'm hurt."


She laughed. "No indeed," she said, and firmly moved his arms away from her waist, edging along the bench they both occupied until there was a measure of space between them. "I have some information for you." 


Suddenly intrigued, Duncan sat upright. "Information?"


"Cecile has been - mingling with your people," she continued. Cecile was the bard Amelie had brought with her as part of her retinue. Naturally she had immediately been tagged by Nathaniel as someone to watch, but the watch had been somewhat relaxed after she had worked her way through most of the visiting nobility. The woman was beautiful, talented, and very willing to share.


"I'll say," Duncan muttered. Amelie laughed.


"The girl knows what she likes," she said. "And she's uncovered a lot of resentment towards you among the nobility."


Duncan smiled. "Oh she has has she?" 


Amelie nodded and bit her lip. Suddenly Duncan realised she was telling him this because she was worried - worried for his safety. He had to fight an urge to embrace her again. This woman was a treasure indeed, and he had no right to be so lucky.


"My dearest," he said. "I doubt very much that it's anything to worry about."


"But Duncan..." 


He stood up and paced the small walled garden. "Let me guess who she's discovered to be... less than loyal," he said then, and he started to tick it off on his fingertips "The Arl of Bannorn. Bann Wolver. Bann Hurick. And the indomitable Lady Neira."


Amelie's mouth dropped open - adorably he was pleased to note. "Indeed," she said then. "Although I wasn't aware of Bann Wolver." 


"No, I suppose you weren't," he continued. "Cecile isn't his type I'm afraid."


"How did you...?"


Duncan sat next to her and enfolded her in his arms again. "My closest advisor - and my father's before me - was a lady named Leliana. Also from Orlais. She taught us everything she knew, and I'm pleased to note that we learned it well."


Amelie laughed. "Well, well," she said. "Ferelden is not so backward as we thought!"


"No indeed," Duncan replied. "We like to take the best from the cultures we encounter..." he leaned forward and his mouth found her neck again... and matters of court and state were once again forgotten.

[Sandtigress]

This is a fantastic little tale. Keep going! And I don't mind reading here or on FF.net.

[nos_astra]

I like FF.net because you can easily follow stories. Every morning I have a mailbox full of story alerts to read after breakfast. I like that. ^^

[MireliA]

I'm really enjoying this story I don't think it matters where you post tbh. Your story, your choice.

[Miri1984]

 Well, FFnet won't let me post yet, but when they do I'll upload this one and the other one as well. I think I might just link to FFnet in the synopsis listing for this one though as I've already started posting it in full.

I'm working on before events - ingame stuff with the same characters, and it's a bit more racy than these are so those can be posted on FFnet and linked to from here.

Thanks so much for reading, everyone. I really appreciate the input .

TEN

Leliana found herself grinning all over her face. It was so good to see him, despite the changes, despite their surroundings. She had been certain they would never meet again and for the first time in many years she felt the hand of the Maker gently guiding them. She wondered at herself - the days when she had let her faith guide her completely and utterly were gone - with age and experience she had felt the Maker's presence less and less, and she found she had missed that rock hard certainty.


Miranda turned next, still holding her sword and dagger at the ready, and Leliana's grin faded a little. The queen had not fared as well as the king. Her once clear grey eyes were filmed as though she was blind and her cheeks were hollow. She had a scar that started on her jaw and ran down one side of her neck and under her armour – a wound that had not entirely healed. 


But she smiled as well when she saw them and snapped her weapons back into their sheaths with the same precise movements Leliana remembered so well. “Alistair, you never used to swear so much,” she said sternly.


Her husband laughed. “I always wanted to,” he said. “But they used to make you eat soap if you swore in the chantry. Old habits, you know. No one cares who's nether regions you take in vain down here, though. Thought I'd get it in while I had the chance.”


Miranda moved closer to her husband and put her arm around his waist. He pulled her in tightly and kissed the top of her head. 


The third figure had knelt by the corpse of a darkspawn as they talked. 


The king looked behind Leliana to where Yuri was standing and his eyes widened. He stepped forward quickly and embraced the bigger man in a fierce hug. “I hoped it would be you,” he said. “It's good to see you again.”


“Your majesties,” Leliana said, bowing her head slightly. “We actually didn't come looking for you. Although the Maker knows I am glad we found you.” 


Miranda smiled at her. “Lelli, you of all people don't have to call us that,” she said softly.


“Didn't come to find me?” Alistair said. “I'm hurt. Here I was thinking Ferelden was falling apart without me and you'd travelled all this way to drag me back...” he stopped for a minute. “Mmm. Must be a measure of how long I've been down here that makes that actually sound appealing.”


Leliana laughed. She hadn't seen Alistair this light hearted for years.


“No, father,” said the third figure, getting to his feet and facing them. “I rather think they came looking for me.”


It was Alistair – but – Alistair if he hadn't been sent to the chantry, Alistair if he hadn't learned to protect himself with humour, Alistair if he had never met Miranda, or had the cares of leadership on his shoulders. The face was the same, but the eyes were Morrigan's – and something else as well. There was age there – as though the young man had seen more than Leliana could ever imagine.


“Ah, yes,” Alistair continued. “I must introduce my... son. Fion.”


The young man bowed. “You must be Leliana,” he said softly. The voice as well had something of Morrigan about it – the same inflections and accent, although she was relieved to find there was none of the woman's scorn. She nodded. He turned to her other companions and named them in turn. She wasn't surprised that he knew all of them. Something in his eyes made her think he knew everything there was to know. He was dressed in a simple tunic and breeches, and unlike his father and the Queen, there were no blood splatters on it. He was also unarmed – no staff for magic focus, no blades. She somehow doubted that the king and queen were responsible for all of the darkspawn bodies that surrounded them though.


Leliana nodded. “Your brother sends his greetings,” she said. 


“'Twould have been better if he had come himself,” the young man replied, and Morrigan's scorn shone through for a second before he continued, and this time she was sure he was a young Alistair “still, being king and all, couldn't really expect that I suppose.”


Miranda opened her arms and smiled ruefully. "It's not much," she said, "but it's where we usually call home these days. If you follow me I'll take you somewhere that doesn't have quite so much..."


"Blood?" Zevran said. Miranda laughed. 


Down one of the branches of the crossroads there was a lava hole in the wall that was quite deep - it twisted for a hundred metres or so before ending in a flat floored cave that had obviously been set up as a camp for the three of them. They negotiated a series of traps and lures that Miranda had set up to get there. "There's magical protection as well," Alistair told Leliana as they walked, "but Fion can deal with that. You won't be sucked into the fade or anything."


So he does have magic, Leliana said, eyeing the younger man. I wonder if it's anything like his mother's? She had an image, then, of Morrigan transformed into an enormous spider, leaping on her enemies, and shuddered.


The small cave felt crowded, especially with the presence of Yuri crouched like a bear next to the firepit. Supplies were stacked in the corners - there were two bedrolls on one side of the fire, close to each other only two? Leliana thought. So Fion doesn't sleep here as well? There was even a stack of books against one wall and a storage chest for herbs.


It wasn't exactly cosy, but it was better than some of the camps they'd been forced into during the blight. And looking at Miranda and Alistair, still alive, still together, she thought they wouldn't care about their surroundings. They were doing what they'd always done best - fighting darkspawn.


"It's straightforward down here," Miranda said, watching her. "No politics, no intrigue. The darkspawn come and we kill them. Period."


"How long have you been here?" Anders asked. He looked at the Queen with some of his old longing and Leliana threw a quick glance at the King, who grinned a little and cocked an eyebrow at her. 


"About a month," Miranda replied. "We hunted for a while, before Fion found us and before I got this," she motioned to the wound on the side of her neck. "Found three broodmothers and killed them - it was a lot harder without you there, Lelli - then Fion came."


Alistair nodded. "He told us people would come looking for us and we should probably stay put to make it easier for them. Wouldn't tell us who though." The king snorted. "I wouldn't have believed him, any way."


"How is it that you're still..." Leliana began, and stopped.


"How is it that we're not ghouls?" Miranda said. "Well. I think you should ask Fion that."


"I've halted the corruption," he said. "The taint will not progress - as long as I'm here."


"So you can reverse it?" 


"No," Fion said. "Nothing can reverse the taint."


"There is no taint in you," Anders said then. "We'd be able to sense it if there was. And your father..."


The young man turned his disturbing gaze on the mage. "I said it couldn't be reversed," he said slowly. "Once the damage has been done, there is no way to bring the subject back to normal. But the king.. Duncan... will not be so far gone that he cannot be brought to the level I am at."  


"But you have no taint," Oghren said. "We're wardens and we'd be able to sense it. There's none in you."


"That's not strictly true," Fion continued. "I have mastered my taint. It is contained. You can't sense it because of that."


"So you can teach the king to master his taint?" Leliana said. "So it doesn't pass on to his heirs?"


"I can teach him to master it, yes," Fion said. "And although his children will also carry the remnants of the taint, he will be able to teach them in turn, and in a few generations it will be gone. But I doubt it's going to be that easy to get to him. If I leave the protection of the dark roads she'll be able to find me. It's one of the reasons I needed you to come and get me."


Leliana's heart skipped a beat. "She?"


Fion fixed his eyes on hers. "My mother."


Fion slipped away not long after their conversation. Anders and Oghren and Zevran busied themselves with some of Oghren's stash - Miranda had guaranteed they would be safe in the cave for some time "The spawn tend to come in waves," she said. "I don't expect another attack for a few days at least. And Fion is resetting our wards at the crossroads - even if they do come we will have ample warning."


Leliana sat on the floor near her two friends, basking in their company for the first time in months. It felt so familiar, suddenly, to be camped in a place surrounded by danger with these two - and oddly safe. 


"Tell me about Fion," she said. "He does not seem like the incarnation of... what did you call it? an old god."


Miranda pursed her lips. "He tells us he doesn't remember anything of that," she said. "That part of him is still locked. Although his magic is far more powerful than anything I ever saw from Morrigan. He says that's because of what he is, although he claims it's the only thing that makes him different from your average royal bastard."


Alistair rolled his eyes. "There's a lot of his mother about him," the King said then, and he sounded sad. "But he seems genuine in his desire to help us. When he found us..." Alistair took his wife's hand in his, sudden pain in his eyes. "When he found us Miranda had just been injured. I thought... thought she wasn't going to make it. But he healed her." 


Miranda chuckled. "Alistair didn't know who he was at first," she said. "Of course I knew straight away. How can you mistake him? They look so much alike."


Leliana agreed. "He said he's stopped the taint, " she said then, and she couldn't keep the hint of hope out of her voice.


Alistair seemed to know where she was going and shook his head sadly. "Delayed it," he said then. "He said he didn't know exactly how long it would last, but he needed us, at least until you got here."


"But you'll come with us," Leliana said. "When we go to Duncan? He misses you."


The Queen lowered her head, and Alistair stroked her hand. "I'm sorry, Lelli," he said. "We won't be going to the surface again."


"But Fion said..."


"He can't stop it for long," Miranda said, and her voice was hoarse. Leliana remembered how enraptured she'd been at her son's birth. It must have been terrible to leave him - to know that she wouldn't see him again. "He told us it would help for a month or two, no more. Enough time for you to get to us."


Leliana's heart sank and she was suddenly angry. "So why delay it all all?" she said bitterly. "Why give you so little time, let us see you again and..."


"I said he had a lot of his mother about him," Alistair interrupted. "He needed me to hide him from her. As a templar - I can mask his magic to a certain extent, make it difficult for her to sense him. The darkspawn around us help as well. And he knew I wouldn't help him if he didn't do the same for Miranda."


"It's not the only reason, though," Miranda said then. "He does have a lot of his mother about him, but he... he wanted to meet us. He wanted to know his father."


"Maker knows his mother wouldn't tell him anything good about me," Alistair said. 


"But why is Morrigan trying to find him?" Leliana said then. "Why is he so determined not to be found?"


"Now that he won't tell us," Miranda said then. "Although we've asked him often enough."


"He's a closed book on the subject of Morrigan," Alistair said, and there was still a slight tension to his voice when he said the witch's name.


"I can guess some of it, I think," Miranda said after a pause where all three of them studied the firelight. "Morrigan was very.. purposeful when she approached me about the ritual. She wanted the child - so much so that she was willing for Alistair to be the father. She told me that Flemeth had wanted the child as well - more particularly she wanted the soul of the old God. But Fion - well, he's not an old god. He's powerful, yes, and there's something about him that isn't exactly... human. But I'm certain he's not what Flemeth had in mind when she sent Morrigan with us. And perhaps he's afraid if his mother finds him she'll force him to become whatever that was." She stopped and smiled up at her husband. "Maybe she should have found herself another grey warden to father her child," she said. "Alistair's blood might have given him a little too much independence."


"Oh, yes, and I've ended up exactly where I wanted," Alistair said. "Forced into kingship, hijacked into marriage....." Miranda grinned and tweaked his nose.


"You two seem... happy," Leliana said then. She couldn't imagine how. They faced certain death and the possibility that it would not be a clean one had haunted her from the day they had left. They were locked away underground away from the light and all that was human. But apart from their obvious grief at their separation from their son there was no shadow on them. They were the same bright pair they had been on the road and Leliana was glad suddenly that this would be the last meeting they had, and not the formal parting at the gates of Denerim. 


"You'll need to leave with Fion tomorrow," Alistair said then. "I'm sorry we can't stay together longer, Lelli - but Fion says every moment counts. He needs to get to Duncan as soon as possible."


Time was difficult to track in the deep roads, but they slept for a while (as best they could with Oghren's snoring) and when they woke they prepared to depart. Fion appeared just as they were stirring. Leliana had no idea where he had been. He showed no sign of tiredness and he moved silently - like an assassin. It was unsettling.



At the crossroads they parted. 


"Where will you go now?" Leliana asked them. 


Miranda looked away. "Deeper," she said. "There are more broodmothers to kill. We need to find greater numbers of darkspawn. I have a few tricks up my sleeve from Amaranthine that we've been saving for the..." she stopped and looked up at Alistair who smiled ruefully at her. "Saving for the last battle."


Last?


"Tricks?" Leliana asked.


Alistair gave a half grin. "Exposives," he said. "Should be enough to take out a goodly number of 'spawn. If we're lucky we'll be able to block another passageway so they can't get near the dwarven settlements so easily."


They didn't say it. But Leliana felt their intention. A clean death, she thought. 


They hugged each companion in turn, although Alistair and Anders merely shook hands. Miranda's arms were tight around Leliana and she again found herself close to tears. 


Fion stood nearby, his arms folded across his chest, watching with a puzzled look on his face. When Alistair turned to face him, a series of complex emotions fought a battle across his features. Finally the younger man nodded, a quick, sharp motion of acknowledgement that had everything of his mother about him. Alistair laughed and took his older son in a hug. "If you run into your mother again," he said, "tell her she did a good job." Fion's look of surprise was comical. "Despite herself," Alistair added as he let the younger man go. Miranda came up next, and although she didn't hug him, she gave him a long look.


"Tell her I missed her," she said finally. Fion looked down for a moment before nodding again. 


The former king and queen shouldered their packs and left then, without another word. Leliana was rooted to the spot, unable to move until the two figures were completely out of sight. She felt a hand on her arm, and then fingers entwining hers and looked down to see Zevran next to her, uncharacteristically solemn. He looked up, however, and there was a twinkle in his eyes that made her smile. 


"Let's go," she said.


Four days later, just before they were to enter Orzammar, there was a shudder in the earth - a deep rumbling that was over as quickly as it began. Fion had been walking ahead of them - he seemed to know the tunnels better than they did and was able to lead them through more quickly - and he stopped and looked up. 


Leliana caught up with him, wondering if there was some way he could tell her if that rumble had been what she feared.


The young man's eyes were distant, as though he was focused on some other world. Leliana was afraid to draw attention to herself. Eventually, however, Fion blinked and looked at her.


"They're gone," Fion told her matter-of-factly. She opened her mouth to ask but he answered her question before she could voice it. "Don't worry, " he said. "It was quick, and they went together."


She bowed her head and allowed the tears to come. 

[Tasmen]

Like the story. I'm eager for you to put it on ffnet. As someone else already mentioned, I much prefer to read fic over there. It's just easier to read it in one sitting (don't have to sort through comments to know if there has been an update).

[Miri1984]

 This is now up on FFnet as well:

www.fanfiction.net/s/5839325/1/Consequences