Dragon Age 1. Part I

**Author's Notes: **This tale was inspired by a wonderful drawing I saw over on dA. It is called Meeting and it was created by Sia-Chan.

As much as I'd like to take credit the concept and inspiration belongs entirely to her.

**Beta:** None as of yet. So my apologies to any and all grammar nazi's out there. This story will make your eyes bleed (not intentionally of course!) but you have been warned.

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><p>I<p>

The first time Morgan saw Alisa he could not look away. The warrior-woman was nothing like the noble women he had seen before traveling through the Kocari Wilds. The world saw them as the glorious flowers of Orlais. Morgan knew better, they were nothing more than painted blooms too far over done and waiting to wilt. In fact she looked physically stronger than the male recruits who were under her care. If he were honest with himself (which he was not) Morgan would have admitted she was likely stronger than himself. The maiden was beautiful in her simplicity, and ferocious in a way he had never seen before in a woman. Alisa was not the first woman who had caught Morgan's eyes. She was, however, the first who truly intrigued him.

Morgan took pride in his ability to decipher the secrets of the realms. Yet the more he observed Alisa the less he understood her. It was neither her strength, her innocence or even her pure-hearted nature that he hated, it was her mystery. The young warlock was determined to learn all he could about the young Grey Warden, for his father taught him well. Knowledge was power and what was one's weakness, was anothers' to exploit.

Little did Morgan know that it worked both ways.


	2. Part II

**Author's Notes: **This tale was inspired by a wonderful drawing I saw over on dA. It is called Meeting and it was created by Sia-Chan.

As much as I'd like to take credit the concept and inspiration belongs entirely to her.

**Beta:** None as of yet. So my apologies to any and all grammar nazi's out there. This story will make your eyes bleed (not intentionally of course!) but you have been warned.

* * *

><p>II<p>

Alisa was certain all her problems began the day Morgan came into her life. Not only was he a warlock of the wilds he was the most annoying prig she had ever known. 'Morgan's father has the treaties we need, and like it or not he does know the forest far better than any of us,' Cousland replied to Alisa's warnings. With those words everyone took to following Morgan's lead.

Alisa had no intention of having anything to do with an apostate, certainly not one who wore more face paint than a harlot. The fact he could turn her into a toad in a moments notice did not help matters either. Nevertheless, Alisa followed him, not out of good sense, rather out of duty. She did not wish to disappoint her mentor, Duncan.

If that was not enough, the warlock did not even have the decency not to stare.

'Have you never seen a woman in armour before? Or are you keeping watch to ensure I won't wallop you when you're not looking?' Alisa huffed.

Morgan raised a brow and smirked in reply. Clearly he was unfazed by her insult. 'What do I have to fear? Tis I, who by your ignorance, apparently possesses the power to turn everyone into toads. Or has that fine detail slipped your simple mind?'

A million smart retorts and a plate of fine cheese could never match the satisfaction of knocking in the warlock's teeth. Had there not been such a dire need for his assistance, Alisa would have done just that. If only things could have remained so simple.


	3. Part III

**Author's Notes: **This tale was inspired by a wonderful drawing I saw over on dA. It is called Meeting and it was created by Sia-Chan.

As much as I'd like to take credit the concept and inspiration belongs entirely to her.

Also my apologies for any and all mistakes made pertaining to the voices/persona of the characters. I tried to keep it as accurate/canon as possible but I am fallible and may have missed the mark despite my best attempts...

**Beta:** None as of yet. So my apologies to any and all grammar nazi's out there. This story will make your eyes bleed (not intentionally of course!) but you have been warned.

* * *

><p>III<p>

In the brief time Morgan had known Alisa, not once had he seen her look as vulnerable as she did upon learning of Ostagar's demise. There were no tears in her eyes, no words of woe, or platitudes spoken from her lips. There was only silence and the silence spoke volumes. His Father warned him of Alisa's sorrow; it did not stop him from observing her.

Attraction was not forbidden, but Father did not encourage it either. Morgan knew the tales and knew what was expected of him. Women were mere vessels he would say, tools to be used and tossed aside once their purpose had been served. However, Alisa was not like most women. She was more _man_than most men. The young warlock once tried to imagine the grey warden as typical woman with the fancy up-do's, and a gown. The absurdity of the image still made him chuckle. Morgan then wondered if that was why his Father chose to save the two female wardens from the horde.

'If you're planning to turn me into a toad, just do it already! If not, would you please stop staring at me?' Alisa's words, though quiet still carried the weight of a challenge.

Under normal circumstances, Morgan would have jumped at the opportunity. A quick reply, a snide remark and the battle of wits would have begun. He knew that any attempts at a good banter would most likely fall through so he decided upon another tactic. 'Your friend is far better now. She is asleep, though shan't say for how long. Father is a fine healer, your friend is in good hands,' he added with a twinge of pride. Alisa nodded in reply and stared in silence to the forest ahead. Having grown tired of the one sided conversation the apostate turned back to his home once more.

'Morgan-'

The mage paused before glancing back in curiosity. It was the first time she had ever spoken his name. The realisation both annoyed and secretly pleased him.

'I guess I should say thank-you,' Alisa said in sheepish tones.

'Tis my Father whom you should thank, for it was he who saved your lives, not I,' he replied. 'Personally I would have left you both to your fates.'

'That's hardly surprising,' she quipped.

'It's just-' Alisa's voice faltered as she kicked at the grass with her leather boot. 'Thank you for helping us with the treaties and you know, for not turning us into toads,' she concluded with a hint of a sad smile.

Morgan's felt his cheeks growing warm; gratitude, the sincere sort, was a rare thing. 'Once more tis my Father's doing, as he discovered the treaties in the first place. However, your gratitude is…appreciated.'

Turning back towards the hut he added, 'I shall check on your friend, perhaps she has already awoken. Father will wish to speak to you both. It is never wise to keep him waiting.'

Morgan departed without another word spoken. He never forgot the way Alisa spoke his name or the strange emotions it evoked.


	4. Part IV

**Author's Notes: **This tale was inspired by a wonderful drawing I saw over on dA. It is called Meeting and it was created by Sia-Chan.

As much as I'd like to take credit the concept and inspiration belongs entirely to her.

Also my apologies for any and all mistakes made pertaining to the voices/persona of the characters. I tried to keep it as accurate/canon as possible but I am fallible and may have missed the mark despite my best attempts...

**Beta:** None as of yet. So my apologies to any and all grammar nazi's out there. This story will make your eyes bleed (not intentionally of course!) but you have been warned.

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><p>IV<p>

It was their fifth night on the road since Ostagar, and Alisa was loathed to be left alone with her thoughts. No one was feeling particularly sociable and Alisa could not blame them. Cousland ever silent busied herself playing with the fire. The apostate, ever sociable, had also chosen solitude. His private camp had been carefully set up some distance away from their tents.

After a failed attempt to speak to Cousland the former Templar decided to seek the young mage out. It had nothing to do with being lonely, or the need to be in the company of another, or so she told herself.

'I was wondering why do you wear face paint? Is it meant to make you look threatening? Or is it more related your magic?' Alisa began as she neared the warlock who was seated on a wooden log by the fire. Drawing from his thoughts the mage tilted his head and raised a brow to her question. Immediately Alisa regretted her decision to sate her curiosity.

'Are you done rambling now?' he replied with a smirk. Alisa's cheeks warmed as she frowned. Clearly amused by her response Morgan continued in mocking tones. 'Oh look you actually believe anyone cares what you have to say! How amusing!'

Alisa hissed a curse as she slammed a fist into the Warlock's jaw causing Morgan to fly back from the force of her attack. Landing hard on his bottom Morgan glared back up at the warrior who towered over him.

'Do I have your attention now?' Alisa challenged.

Scowling, Morgan jumped to his feet and began to draw on the energies around him. Under normal circumstances Alisa would been worried. After five days of tolerating Morgan's foul attitude she was just too fed up with the apostate mage to care.

'I'm tired of your constant nit picking, your belittling, and your lack of manners! Get over yourself already! Your not that special!'

Alisa stormed off before he had a chance to reply. In her wake she left and annoyed, stunned and oddly confused Morgan. It was not the first time such words were directed at him. However, it was the first time it actually mattered, though he could not understand why.


	5. Part V

**Author's Notes: **This tale was inspired by a wonderful drawing I saw over on dA. It is called Meeting and it was created by Sia-Chan.

As much as I'd like to take credit the concept and inspiration belongs entirely to her.

Also my apologies for any and all mistakes made pertaining to the voices/persona of the characters. I tried to keep it as accurate/canon as possible but I am fallible and may have missed the mark despite my best attempts...

**Edit:** In this chapter there is a quote I ripped off from BSG 2003. Naturally credit goes to them and not to me.

**Beta:** None as of yet. So my apologies to any and all grammar nazi's out there. This story will make your eyes bleed (not intentionally of course!) but you have been warned.

* * *

><p>V<p>

'You still have not answered my question,' Alisa began as she grabbed a nearby broken log and took her seat across from Morgan. The hour was late and the Warden had already long since retired to her tent. Alisa, however was entirely awake and eager (much to his exasperation) to make conversation.

Two days had passed since the former Templar had unleashed her fury; it had been about as long since they had spoken. As much as he wanted to mock her for her ignorance Morgan decided it was far wiser, and less painful, to play ignorant to her question. With a raised a brow, he gave her a curious look but said not a word. Unaware of his thoughts Alisa pressed on. 'So why do you have that paint on your skin anyways? Is it magical? Do you have to draw on it everyday?'

Morgan sighed, so much for her seeing through his ruse. He did not know what annoyed him more, the fact Alisa was incapable of silence or that he was incapable of walking away.

'They are called tattoos, and no, I do not _draw_them on my flesh every morn. Surely, if you must ramble you could at least find a subject worth mentioning,' he answered in exasperated tones.

'I just did. You just take it for granted that everyone knows what a _tattoo_is,' Alisa pointed out. Morgan rolled his eyes in reply. One thing he had observed over the course of their brief time working together was that acquiescing Alisa's curiosity often proved effective in silencing the warrior. It was for this reason that he tolerated her ignorance.

'Father gave me these tattoos. They are symbols of protection and power,' he explained. 'Does that mar your good sensibilities, or your pious Templar beliefs?' Morgan enjoyed rattling the ex-Templar, but her thoughtful expression was not so disappointing either. Ignoring his remarks, Alisa continued. 'So the tattoos are spells that are always active?'

Perhaps there was hope for the foolish warrior after all. 'Yes,' he answered. Morgan was rewarded with a moment brief silence before Alisa spoke out.

'Does it hurt? Getting those mar-tattoos?'

'Why are you not asking the Warden these questions? Her skin is marked with ink is it not?' he retorted. It was an uncomfortable topic; one he did not wish to continue. Memories of his father's careful hands carving the flesh of his body with a sharpened bone needle while drawing upon long litany of spells flashed in his mind. At six years of age, Morgan was far too young to understand the reasoning behind his Father's actions. Even as a boy, he learned just how much pain he could handle before succumbing to it. His Father believed that suffering was good for the soul, so Morgan suffered. Years later, the warlock was still haunted by memories of his Father's training and tutelage.

'Cousland is asleep, and you're awake,' Alisa with a wry smile. 'Unless you want to face her wrath and the wrong end of her blade, I suggest we keep it that way.' Morgan had to admit she did have a point.

'I was but a child when Father gave them to me, so yet it was painful,' he reluctantly confessed as he stared ahead at the fire. 'Are you quite done now with your questions?' he quickly added making it clear he did not wish to discuss the matter further.

Alisa silently studied the marks on his arms. It was a strange feeling to be so carefully observed, but not necessarily a negative one; much to Morgan's surprise. Cautiously, Alisa reached out to touch the markings that decorated his arms. Her fingers calloused from long hours training with a blade and felt cool against his warm skin. The warrior's gentle touch was oddly soothing, though he was loathed to admit it.

Almost as soon as her fingers had brushed against his arm, Alisa was withdrawing her hand. Her expression grew pensive as she opened her mouth to speak. Whatever was on her mind was soon forgotten, as the sound of the Warden's mabari barking alerted them to trouble.

There was no relief to be found in the interruption, only a sense of annoyance. The realization left Morgan more troubled than he cared to admit.


	6. Part VI

**Author's Notes: **This tale was inspired by a wonderful drawing I saw over on dA. It is called Meeting and it was created by Sia-Chan.

As much as I'd like to take credit the concept and inspiration belongs entirely to her.

**Beta:** None as of yet. So my apologies to any and all grammar nazi's out there. This story will make your eyes bleed (not intentionally of course!) but you have been warned.

* * *

><p><strong>VI<strong>

Alisa watched as Morgan stared at the Black Grimoire in shocked silence. The barely contained mix of excitement and joy in his amber eyes was difficult to ignore. 'You found Father's Grimoire?' he exclaimed. 'While I spoke of it to you I did not truly hope. This is a most fortuitous event!' The warlock fell silent for a moment, as his expression grew suspicious.

'Where exactly did you acquire it?'

If Alisa had any doubts about his response she needed not have worried, it was like catching fish in a barrel. A smirk crept onto her features. 'Now wouldn't you like to know?' Alisa teased stepping back just as Morgan stepped forward, ensuring the tome was just out of his reach. The mage frowned, as his eyes narrowed.

'What is it that you desire of me?' he asked in guarded tones.

'An apology and an explanation,' Alisa stated.

Morgan's silence spoke for itself. Alisa grinned, clearly enjoying this more than she should. 'Fine, I'll make you a deal. One compliment, one sincere compliment, and an explanation.'

'This is ridiculous. By what reason do you require an explanation? Tis a book. One only needs to open the cover and read the contents within. Unless of course, you have yet to learn how to read,' Morgan sniffed.

Had it been anyone else Alisa would have given in. This was Morgan, and she would be damned if she let the apostate have it without earning it first. 'If you want the book you're going to have to do a bit better than-'

'Tis called the Black Grimoire,' Morgan cut in, clearly not amused by Alisa's games. The former Templar recruit continued as if uninterrupted.

'If you want the book you'll have to give me one sincere compliment,' Alisa repeated. 'Oh, and an explanation. I want to know what the Grimoire contains.'

The sight of Morgan attempting to glare at her was almost too amusing. Try as he might he could not keep his eyes off the tome for very long. The mage was like a child in a sweets shop. Try as she might to torture the obnoxious apostate, Alisa could not bring herself to do it. She was too proud to fish for compliments, especially from the likes of Morgan. With a heavy sigh, the warrior placed the tome into the mage's eager hands.

'It was found in the Kinloch tower. The First Enchanter kept it under lock and key,' she said before adding, 'so what does it contain?'

'Secrets. My Father has many of them and this tome represents the one time they were able to get away from him. I do not intend to squander this opportunity to learn more than my Father wished me to know. This should be…interesting.'

Morgan's amber eyes studied the tome intently. It was clear the young warlock wanted time alone to examine its contents. Deciding she had about enough of him for one day, the former Templar recruit turned to depart back to the main encampment.

'Alisa-'

She was not very far before the mage called out to her. There was no sarcasm or condescension in Morgan's voice as he spoke her name. If Alisa did not know any better, she would have sworn he actually sounded kind. Pausing, the warrior's blue eyes met the warlock's own amber gaze.

'You have my thanks,' he admitted in soft tones. Alisa's cheeks grew warm as silently she cursed herself for it. Offering an awkward response of her own, she soon turned back toward the encampment. Morgan's insults and arrogance she could handle, his sincerity and shyness was another matter entirely.

'Do you no more desire a compliment?' Morgan called out in challenge. Alisa gave a shrug as she glanced back over her shoulder.

'Truthfully, I prefer sincere silence, over lies laced with sweetness,' she replied, quoting the words of an elderly Chantry sister she had known in her childhood.

Morgan hummed thoughtfully in response. 'Tis more to you than I once believed. Perhaps you are smarter than the dog after all.'

Alisa shook her head and rolled her eyes in response before continuing her way back to the Warden's encampments. It was not the finest compliment she had received, but it was a definite first for Morgan. Clearly, there was more to him than she once believed too. For reasons Alisa could not explain, the discovery made her smile.


	7. Part VII

**Author's Note:**This tale was inspired by a wonderful drawing I saw over here. It is called Meeting and it was created by Sia-Chan.

As much as I'd like to take credit the concept and inspiration belongs entirely to her.

Also certain quotes used in this particular chapter was borrowed directly from the game. So this too belongs to Bioware's amazing writers

**Beta:** Sadly none so far. So please excuse all spelling and grammar mistakes I swear they are not intentional.

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><p><strong>VII<strong>

Loyalty and betrayal were words that had been engrained into Morgan's psyche ever since he was a small boy. As a child, he was taught that the world was a dangerous, wicked place filled with cruel beings who paraded as ignorant innocents. One wrong word, one slip of magic and those very same innocents would rob him of all he held dear: his freedom, his powers as well as his life. They are all assassins and thieves, his Father so often said. Morgan never imagined that his own Father would be the greatest assassin of them all.

The young warlock stared at the carefully crafted words of the aged tome in silent accusation. He should have known, he should have at least suspected. His Father had always been a hard man, yet not once had Morgan imagined that the elder warlock's intentions were anything but good. Even during those dark moments when the beatings were at their worst, he never once second-guessed his Father's motives. The child had always been so certain of his Father's affection and loyalty. His punishments were only severe because they were well earned and deserved, or so he believed. Now Morgan knew the truth and with it came an engulfing sense of desertion.

The air felt heavy, as he approached the main encampment. Even the night sky seemed to turn its back on him. Tonight there were no stars or even a moon, as weighted clouds consumed the night-lights that normally illuminated the darkness. Everyone was asleep. Even the Warden (normally a night owl) had retired for the night. Their recent journey to the Circle had left everyone exhausted and worn. Morgan could not blame them, though he had not joined them at the Kinloch Hold, he knew what they had faced. He had been trained to conquer, if not control, such dark creatures through magic far older and ancient than most believed existed.

Standing before the dying fire the young warlock contemplated the truth, his future and the nature of loyalty. Was anything sacred anymore? Was it ever? Breathing a heavy sigh he poked at a half burnt stick with his leather boot, pushing it further into the flames. 'Can't sleep either?' The sound of Alisa's voice caught Morgan off guard. He sighed softly as he continued to stare ahead to the campfire.

The warrior took a seat next to him without bothering to ask. Morgan was too tired and weary to be annoyed by her presence. 'Find anything interesting in that grimoire of yours?' Alisa continued, with mocking emphasis on grimoire. Morgan frowned, not bothering to respond. The warrior gave him with a look that could have been mistaken for empathic. 'That good I see,' she gently concluded.

'Why do you care?' he said in exasperation. Alisa simply shrugged in response. Was this another form of 'good-natured' teasing as the Warden liked to call it? Confused, Morgan stared as Alisa rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh. 'Do I really need to answer that question? And you say that I'm the dumb one!' she teased. The warlock scowled, not appreciating the mockery. Growing serious, she continued. 'Because I can-because I do-though Maker can only guess why. You're not exactly the life of the party, unless it's the wet blanket sort.'

'Tis irrelevant, no one cares unless there is something to be had for their personal gain,' Morgan sniffed in defence.

'Oh go on already!' Alisa exclaimed in exasperated tones. 'What did you find?'

''Tis...not what I expected. I had hoped for a collection of his spells, a map of the power that he commands. But this is not it. There is much of interest within his writings, things I did not know, and one in particular I would never have suspected.' He could feel Alisa's eyes on him, making it difficult to continue. 'Here, in great detail, Father explains the means, by which he had survived for centuries,' he quietly concluded.

'So it's a spell of immortality?' Alisa asked.

'If only 'twere so,' the warlock confessed. 'Father has raised many sons over his long lifetime. There are stories of these many Warlocks of the Wilds throughout Chasind legend, yet I have never seen a one and always wondered why not.

'And now I know. They are all Father. When his body becomes old and wizened, he raises a son. And when the time is right, he takes his son's body for his own. That is primarily what this tome details. The various sons that Father has...acquired. Their preparations and training. I recognize all of it. I...am to be his next host. That is my purpose.

'I am but a mere puppet for my Father to control.' Morgan said before falling silent. There was a strange sense of peace that came with the confession.

'Family, what a kick in the pants,' Alisa said after a moment of silence. The sincere weight of her voice revealed that the warrior understood. It was oddly relieving though terrifying as well. The young warlock waited for Alisa to explain herself, but she remained silent on the matter. Since her encounter with her elder brother in Denerim, the young woman never spoke of her family. Not even the Warden with all of her charm could break her silence. Morgan knew better than to ask, it was not his place to press.

'So why would your father risk having you aid the Warden? It makes no sense at all,' Alisa asked. Morgan did not know and he spoke as much.

''I do not know. Perhaps 'tis as he said; the darkspawn threaten him as much as they threaten anyone else. Or perhaps he believes that this journey will make me more powerful. According to the tome, if the...host...is already powerful and trained in magic, it takes far less time for Father to...settle in.'

The concern Morgan saw in Alisa's eyes was disconcerting. It was strange to have such an emotion directed at him. Uncertain to its meaning the young warlock swiftly denied it, ascertaining that it was just the fire playing tricks with his sight. There were no snide remarks, mockery or even falsified attempts at pity to be heard, only silence. With Alisa, silence held a weight of its own. She wore the quiet well, it was never awkward of untimely, as he had come to expect with other women. Her silence (though rare) was thoughtful, even peaceful. Respectful of it, he watched her closely, reading her body language for any sign or clue as to her thoughts. Alisa was indeed quite beautiful when she was pensive.

'Your Father needs to be stopped. No matter what,' Alisa said as she held his gaze. Morgan was unable to look away. Her words were as fierce, as they were sincere. In that instant he saw a little of the Templar that she never was meant to become.

'I need help to do it,' Morgan said. 'If he is slain while I am near, I am not certain that he will not  
>Simply be able to take possession of me right there. So obviously, I cannot be the one to do it. Someone needs to go back to my Father's hut...without me. There they must confront him and slay him quickly, I doubt he will truly be dead even then, but it will take him years to find a new host and recover his power...if that is even possible.'<p>

'I'll do it.' There was no pause, or hesitation in her reply. It was obvious that Alisa's mind was set she was determined to help.

Morgan almost laughed to the notion of Alisa wanting to risk her life in order to protect him. Either she was unequivocally brave, or she was an even greater fool than he already believed. In her eyes, he saw only sincerity, kindness and an awareness that came only to those who had experienced death first hand. Alisa knew fully well, what she was up against, yet still she wanted to assist. The realization was as awkward as it was humbling. He was not finished.

'The thing I must have is his true grimoire. With it, I can defend against his power in the future. Everything else in his hut is yours,' Morgan said. His eyes flickered briefly to the fire before them before reaching her gaze once more. 'I am grateful. The sooner this can be done, the sooner it will set my mind at ease.' The words spoken were barely a whisper. Alisa's fingers slipped into his hand. Squeezing his hand, she gave him a gentle smile. Suddenly the night air and the dark sky were no longer so oppressing. The night like their conversation continued until the rising of the sun.


	8. Part VIII

**Author's Note:** This tale was inspired by a wonderful drawing I saw over here. It is called Meeting and it was created by Sia-Chan.

As much as I'd like to take credit the concept and inspiration belongs entirely to her.

Also certain quotes used in this particular chapter was borrowed directly from the game. So this too belongs to Bioware's amazing writers

**Beta:** Sadly none so far. So please excuse all spelling and grammar mistakes I swear they are not intentional.

* * *

><p>Alisa always wanted to play the hero, to be the great knight-warrior who conquered evil and saved the innocent. Reality had long since eroded away such dreams, leaving in its wake only harsh truths and a sense of disillusionment. Now as she faced the powerful and ancient magister who claimed to be Morgan's father Alisa found it difficult to ignore the irony. Was this really the dream she had spent years divulging and pining after?<p>

With her blade drawn and the flush of holy smite beckoning on her fingertips Alisa cursed Morgan's name for the umpteenth time before unleashing her righteous fury. The powerful mage was hardly damaged by the attack but it was enough to give the Warden and the warlock Wynne a chance to make their own attacks. Cousland, as always preferred to attack front and center. For all of her strength and skill the Warden was a tactical nightmare. Alisa could only marvel at Wynne's ability to avoid hitting the warrior whilst make his attacks against the ancient mage. Nonetheless, what Cousland lacked in skill she more than made up with enthusiasm. Together, they were a strange mix of power, magic and brute force.

The creature that had once been Morgan's father was quick to retaliate and no sooner had they shortly gained the upper hand he was taking charge. It was the greatest fight of her life and all Alisa could think of was all the ways Morgan was going to pay for this final insult. 'T'would seem Morgan has finally found himself a puppet to dance to his tune. Tell me child is he really worth all this?' the warlock taunted with a smirk.

Alisa thought to herself as she flooded the warlock with another anti-magic attack. The creature merely laughed as he extended his arms causing the ground beneath their feet to erupt.

'Pathetic worms, you try my patience! I have fought and defeated the eldest of the old gods, and have travelled to the golden city! What chance do you stand against me? Tis folly that you fight!' Massive rock formations shaped like spikes emerged all around them. The grassy knoll shook as enormous cracks tore the ground wide open in an attempt to swallow them whole.

'Still think Morgan is the victim here?' Alisa shouted to the Warden who was barely able to keep from being impaled by one of the rocky spikes.

'This was your brilliant idea Alisa not mine!' Cousland huffed in retort before jumping over one of the small cracks and rushing back towards the ancient mage.

'Not a chance!' Alisa retorted. 'It was Morgan's idea and I swear he's going to pay for it!  
>Even if it means I have to come back from the grave-' she began before her world was engulfed in flames. Instinctively the ex-Templar counter-attacked dousing the fire with cleanse. Despite her speed, the spell left her armour heated and damaged. Clearly unfazed by her defensive move, the Tevinter mage reached to the sky causing bolts of lightning to wash over them in a flood of waves.<p>

Everything happened so swiftly, yet time moved at a crawl. All coherent thought was lost; leaving only years of training and instincts to guide Alisa's every action. In the end it was all that stood between them and certain death. The ancient warlock was more powerful than anything they had ever encountered before. Not even Wynne and the spirit that he housed was much of a challenge for the entity. With relentless strength, the ancient unleashed spell after spell without ever taking a moment's pause to gather his strength. Even his defensive manoeuvres left them struggling for their lives. Cousland was the first to succumb to her wounds, soon after even Wynne could not stand. The warden noble began the great battle and Alisa who ended the struggle.

The ex-Templar was on the verge of defeat when she finally drove her sword deep into the man's throat. With a soft gasp, the great being met her gaze with a smirk. 'Tis only the beginning child,' he rasped into her ears. Alisa never let him finish his statement. With a growl and a curse, she drew back her blade and swung it hard, severing his head from the rest of his body. The being's lifeless form fell to the ground, its head landing a short distance away.

Wynne was the first to recover and swiftly he attended to the Wardens near fatal wounds. Alisa too distracted to notice her own injuries, was entirely fixated on the lifeless form of Morgan's supposed father. His face, his real features were oddly familiar as though she had seen him in another place, another time. It was not until she caught sight of the pendent on his throat that Alisa realized his identity. As a Templar initiate she had been forced to study, all that had been written about the ancient magister's who sought the golden city and brought about the darkness. Alisa never placed much credence in the tales, but now there was no denying the magister's words. Truly, there had been a golden (black) city, and it would seem he was one of few remaining to have witnessed it.

Mustering the last of her energy Alisa tore the pendant off the corpse's throat and silently stuffed into one of her pockets. Every bone and muscle in her body ached in protest. It was the greatest battle she had ever fought in her life, yet the victory felt empty. Despite the intensity of the fight, Alisa knew it had been far too easy. If Morgan's father truly was indeed one of the ancient Tevinter, then there was no possibility that he would have succumbed to defeat so easily. The realization made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Suddenly, Alisa wanted nothing more than to collect Morgan's precious grimoire and return to camp, anything to distance herself from this place of dark secrets.

Wynne healed the worst of Alisa's wounds as the Warden collected the grimoire. The ex-Templar was far from fully healed but it was all the warlock could do in his own weakened state. It was not long after that Cousland returned with the ancient book in hand. Whatever she discovered within the hut the Warden did not say; her troubled expression spoke for itself. Neither Alisa or Wynne dared to ask, and Cousland knew better than to tell. As they departed for their encampment, ex-Templar could have sworn she heard the dead man's words whispering to her in the wind.

_Tis only the beginning._

Whatever had transpired in this place, it was far from finished.

* * *

><p>The hour was late when they finally returned to the camp. Morgan as always, was lingering alone by his fire when Alisa slowly approached him. At any other time she might have been amused by his surprised expression, instead all she felt was furious indignation.<p>

'You have returned from the Wilds…alive. What news-'

Alisa promptly silenced him with a clenched fist to his face. Immediately the warlock went limp dropping at her boots without a sound. Removing the heavy grimoire and the ancient Tevinter pendent from her satchel, Alisa tossed it to the ground by his side.

'Next time you need someone to fight your battles for you, find someone else. Better yet, grow a spine and do it yourself!' she growled before limping off to her tent.

A day later Morgan's right eye was black as his hair. Two days after Alisa awoke to the sight of a black rose by her pillow. They never spoke of either incident.


	9. Part IX

**Author's Note: **Also certain quotes used in this particular chapter was borrowed directly from Aimo's online comic. So this too belongs to the amazing Bioware writers and Aimo.

My apologies for the lackluster chapter...As much as I've enjoyed writing this tale I'm looking to wrap it up as I am no longer inspired by it. So please bear with me I'll probably return to it later to finish it properly as I should...

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><p>Alisa squirmed under the attention of the servants and handmaidens who were attempting to groom her hair. Remaining just beyond the ex-Templar's sight, Morgan watched on feeling both amused and oddly disappointed. A warrior like Alisa was never meant for a life of court politics or intrigues. 'What part of, I do not want to be queen does no one seem to understand? I don't care about power, politics or stupid frilly gowns! No means no! Why can't anyone see this isn't who I am?' Alisa grumbled in agitation.<p>

'No 'tis not,' Morgan murmured to himself. Cousland laughed at Alisa's complaints before assuring her it would all work in the end. The noblewoman's tongue as always was quick and sharp. Morgan slipped away before Alisa could catch sight of him. The young warlock was certain Cousland had already seen him. She was wise enough not to speak a word.

The past few days had been tumultuous. With Loghain's death and the transition of power to his son, everything was finally progressing as the Warden originally intended. By morning, they would return to Redcliffe to face the risen arch demon. Be it victory or defeat, it would be the end of an era. Either way, the warlock knew he would not witness the new _era_ that was certain to come.

The warlock never imagined he would find himself hesitant to part ways with the warden's rag-tag group, or more exactly _her._ Morgan made his way to his bed chambers, his thoughts troubled and torn. Duty and honour held no meaning to him in the past, now it consumed his every thought. He was a selfish man, it was a fact the warlock knew better than most. He never gave it much thought; tonight it wrecked havoc on his mind.

The pages of his father's grimoire rustled between his fingers as the candles pierced the dark with their flickering dim light. The hour was late but rest was furthest from Morgan's thoughts. The crinkle of the parchment, its rough feel beneath his hands used to soothe him as a child; it filled him with trepidation now. Morgan knew what had to be done. He used to believe it was the key to making his every dream a reality. Power was the only thing that mattered, or so his father always taught. So why did he feel so uncertain?

Dark shadows danced around him as beyond his window a thunderstorm raged. _Tis a perfect symbol of what is to come, _ Morgan thought. He could almost hear Alisa's voice teasing him for always being so serious. The memory of the warrior woman squirming as servants attempted to do her hair brought a smirk to his lips. He could not imagine a stranger candidate for the throne, yet as loathed, as he was to admit it Morgan could not deny that Alisa would have made a decent queen. Stupidity and ignorance aside, the warrior was honest, fierce, and ancients help him, even compassionate. Such traits were rare in any position of power; yet entirely necessary for a long and fruitful reign, or so he had discovered. It should have made the decision simpler; instead, it made it all the more difficult.

_Save Cousland, save Alisa, or save yourself. Only one shall walk away unscathed and it will not likely be you. _

His Father's voice whispered in his thoughts, as Alisa's visage that filled is mind's eye. Morgan already knew the decision he was about to make and it terrified him more than anything he had ever known. 

* * *

><p>The hour was late when Morgan found Alisa wandering the hallways. The halls were silent save for the crackling of the fiery torches that decorated the dark stone. The ex-Templar was alone looking awkward yet ethereal in a gown that was made for a queen. Only Alisa was no longer to be a queen, thanks to Cousland's quick thinking and silver tongue. The warrior maiden was free, but for how long only Morgan knew.<p>

'Come to laugh at me in my lovely little jester get-up?' Alisa said in dry tones.

'Tis suited for a queen, not a warden,' the warlock answered.

'You know better than most what we face tomorrow. Might I suggest you get some sleep,' Alisa began, 'that is if you warlocks ever bother to sleep at all-or maybe you just turn into a cat and chase mice? That might be fun.' The warrior's attempt to mock Morgan fell flat as Alisa gave a heavy sigh. Her eyes held a weight of its own, and Morgan knew the reasons behind it. The time had come to speak of what was not meant to be, and what was yet to come.

'If asking a friend to do something terrible might help…would you do it?' Morgan asked. Alisa's expression said more than words ever could.

'You want advice from me?' Alisa balked. Morgan ignored her stunned question.

'What would you be willing to sacrifice in order to save the ones you call friends?' he questioned. Alisa studied him with wariness in her eyes. Morgan returned her gaze readily, his own thoughts guarded.

'I would do whatever is necessary to ensure the safety of others. Why do you ask?' her eyes narrowed as she spoke.

_Always the noble answer so ready to speak platitudes like those that she was taught, _ Morgan mused. Yet in Alisa's gaze, he saw only honesty. Ever the innocent fool, she had meant every word. He briefly wondered if he truly was among those, she called friend.

'Let me guess, this is the part where you mock me for being weak-holding onto petty ideals and romantic notions,' Alisa defended as she misread his silence.

The battle of words once so thrilling to him, now felt stale. They had come too far and endured too much to continue playing trivial games. The realization left him feeling both old and tired. 'And am I one of those _others_ you speak so fondly of?' The words came unbidden and without warning. Alisa betrayed none of her thoughts.

'So you do have friends?' she challenged. The taunt was forced; Morgan could see Alisa had grown as tired of the games as he had.

'No. I have but one, tis all I need,' Morgan softly replied. There were no further words of insult or jest. The ex-Templar did not need to speak a word, her eyes revealed all that he already knew. Alisa had been willing to sacrifice her life in order to save him from his Father; he knew if it came to it, she would do it again. In that moment Morgan, realize he was willing to do the same for her.

'You know what is to come don't you?' Alisa's words were more a statement than question. Morgan nodded feeling his stomach tighten. He knew what had to be done. The silence that fell between them was thick with all that could not be said.

'Do you trust me?' he finally asked. After a moment's pause, the warrior woman nodded her head.

'I know of a way to save Cousland's life,' Morgan said. _As well as your own life, _ he thought to himself. Alisa studied him intently. Ever since he first set, eyes upon her Morgan had denied the strange feelings he felt towards the warrior maiden. It was easier to ignore the truth and pretend as if nothing had changed within him. Tonight there could be no more hiding and no more denial. In her eyes, the young warlock saw all that he desired and all that he feared. He never felt more vulnerable, or more frightened by the truth.

'Tell me then and spare me no details,' Alisa said. In that instant saw the warrior-woman he first encountered in the woods so many months ago. Despite his doubts, Morgan knew he had been right about Alisa all along. Taking Alisa's hand into his own, the young warlock silently guided her to a quiet place where no ears or eyes would spot them. There he spoke of the dark ritual, as beyond the great castle walls the sky continued to tear itself asunder.


	10. Part X Epilogue

**Author's Note:** My apologies for the lackluster epilogue...As much as I've enjoyed writing this tale I'm grateful to have finally wrapped it up as I am no longer inspired by it.

This tale was inspired by a wonderful drawing I saw over here. It is called Meeting and it was created by Sia-Chan. As much as I'd like to take credit the concept and inspiration belongs entirely to her.

Also certain quotes used in this particular chapter was borrowed directly from the DLC titled Witch hunt. So this too belongs to the amazing Bioware writers.

**Beta:** Sadly none so far. So please excuse all spelling and grammar mistakes I swear they are not intentional.

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><p>It was the rumours of the Eluvian that first alerted Alisa of Morgan's intentions. Five years had passed since that fateful night the arch demon was killed. It was about as long since she had last seen the estranged warlock. Alisa could no longer say if his mysterious departure was the blessing she had once desired. As loathed, as she was to admit it a part of her missed the opinionated apostate.<p>

With only an enchanted ring and a dried onyx rose left in her care Alisa left the comforts (if one could call it that) of her life as a grey warden in search of the one who had forever changed her life. Cousland had always been one for adventure. She was also the only one who knew of the dark ritual, and the effects it had on Alisa. Neither knew the effects it would have on Morgan.

_The ritual will absorb the taint from you and draw it to me, _ The memory of his words whispered in her mind as Alisa guided her companions through the labyrinth of ancient dwarves ruins. Drawn by rumours of a rogue Maleficar in the region Alisa chose to explore the ruins personally. She too had questions that needed answers.

_What becomes of you once the taint is absorbed? Wouldn't demon's essence kill you?_ she once warned him.

_I will not perish 'tis not my path,_ Morgan spoke no further of the matter.

The tomes she found spoke little of the magical mirrors. Not enough to reveal what had become of the ones who used it, nor did it reveal any hint as to why Morgan sought its use. Alisa was certain it was related to the dark ritual; she wondered if it was a curse or cure, that he sought. For all his selfishness, Morgan's actions that night had not been entirely ignoble. Both the warden and Alisa were living proof of that fact.  
>The warlock's subtle attempts to keep in contact with their daughter revealed another part of him; his desire to be near. It did not take Alisa long to know he was watching her from a distance. Her ring revealed as much, and there were times when she could almost feel his presence just beyond reach.<p>

A dream, and many rumours later, Alisa's hunt for the warlock she once sought to be rid of had finally reached its end. Alisa did not know what to expect of their reunion; the weariness and turmoil she saw in his eyes had not been it. Neither was the dark black veins that crawled up his arms and tattooed chest. His skin, always naturally pale, was now ashen; his eyes normally sharp and alert were dim with exhaustion. Morgan was dying and Alisa knew the dark ritual was the cause of it.

'You promised me that you would not perish. 'Tis not my path,' you said,' she said in greeting. A hint of a smile graced his lips but could not erase the weight of his eyes. 'Morgan you are still every bit the poor liar I once knew,' Alisa added with a wry, yet sad, smile.

'And you are still every bit the fool. For I am very much alive,' he answered in almost exasperated tones. The warlock's appearance was not the only thing that had changed. His golden eyes were softer now, and the bitter air of disdain that once lingered about him was no longer there. Had Alisa not known any better she might have mistaken his watchful expression for something akin to contentment. Even his voice lacked the snide cutting edge she had once knew so well. Such thoughts were promptly buried for the ex-templar was reminded of Morgan's words. He was not a man prone to nostalgia; like love, it was a weakness he could do without. Alisa wondered, as she often did, if his late father was responsible for that too.

'I assume you know what this is,' he said glancing over his shoulder to the mirror behind him. For all intents and purposes, it appeared like any other mirror, save that it lacked a reflection. 'I have gone to great lengths to find this ancient portal, and not even you can stop me from activating it,' he warned.

'I know,' she simply replied. There was little that Alisa knew of the Eluvian's power, and even less of its affect on those who encountered it. 'Where do you hope it will take you? Or what, rather, do you hope to achieve?'

Morgan fell silent for a moment, as he studied her with watchful eyes. Though he appeared stoic, Alisa could see the internal struggle in his eyes. In another time, another place she would have mocked him for it, taking advantage of the rare moment of vulnerability; all she felt now was compassion. For all of his sharp and harsh words, there was more to Morgan than the misguided and obstinate image he tried so hard to maintain. Alisa knew that he was a good man; the way he had subtly watched over their daughter was evidence enough, the fact he willingly sacrificed himself to save the Warden and her was even more so.

'It will take me to another place, far beyond this world, and even the Fade. What I hope to accomplish-tis none of your concern,' he began. The former templar frowned as she silently approached, closing the distance between them. 'Not another step further,' he warned. 'Give me a reason and I will activate it, and you will not be able to follow.'

'Then why don't you do it? I'm sure there are a million of reasons you could use to disappear in a puff of smoke. Every one even more convincing than the last,' Alisa retorted, calling his bluff with a sad smile. 'Truthfully, you could have left at any time and taken our daughter with you. Yet here you remain; why is that?'

Morgan's eyes fell to the ring he had given her the morning after the _dark_ ritual. Day after day, Alisa would promise herself that she would be rid of the cursed thing the first chance she had. Yet day after day it remained firmly in place on her finger until years later Alisa finally allowed herself to accept the truth her heart had always known.

'You kept the ring,' he marvelled in quiet tones. Alisa simply nodded, as her eyes met his own. The warlock's smile, though weary, was sincere. 'I have sensed your approach-' his voice trailed off. 'I never hoped-' he began again only to fall silent once more. 'No, I knew that one day you would seek me out,' he finally confessed. 'Though might I ask why did you come? If not for my pleasant company, or my dashing good looks.' His jests sounded tired to Alisa's ears, as though the mask Morgan once readily wore had grown too thin.

'Maybe I just don't like unfinished endings,' she said with a raised brow and a hint of a smile on her lips.

'I thought we had an agreement, Alisa. Once what is done, was done. We would part ways, never to return. That was our deal was it not? A deal you are breaking,' he pointed out. There was no denying the almost impish look in his eyes or the smirk on his lips. Morgan had changed so much and yet some part of him still remained. He always loved breaking society rules, and the standards that the world had tried so hard to impose upon him.

'A deal that you broke first,' Alisa corrected, as her own smile grew mischievous. Morgan's smirk faded as he reached out to lightly brush back the loose strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes; a simple gesture, one that spoke volumes.

'Tell me what do _you_ hope to gain by coming here now?' he asked, his golden eyes watching her intently.

'Answer me first, and maybe I'll tell you,' she replied. Morgan breathed a heavy sigh as he glanced away.

'Tis as much for our daughter's future, as it is for my own. Beyond this place, she will learn of her powers without ever fearing for her life. Nor will she ever be judged for her magic or grow corrupted as so often happens to those who know not how to wield it properly-'

'Now who is the one being an idiot?' Alisa cut in in disbelief. 'You don't even know for certain if this portal will even work. Nevermind the effects it has on those who use it! Yet you seek to send our daughter through its gates anyways.'

'You already know that this child means to the future, and why all this 'tis necessary,' he calmly replied. 'You also forget that I have far more knowledge of this Eluvian than most everyone else in Fereldan; perhaps even in the known world. Clearly, you know this to be true. Otherwise, why else would you have come here? Or why would you permit me to see our daughter, even from a distance?' he said.

The warlock gave her a wry smile as he continued. 'Rather than rob her of her gifts, as most mothers without magic would have, you instead chose to aid our daughter in embracing her destiny. Yet here you stand in shock because I seek to continue what you have already begun?'

Morgan was right; it hurt more than she cared to admit. He knew better than anyone else of the destiny that lied ahead for their daughter, and how to best prepare her for it. Deep down, Alisa had always known this truth, just as she had always known that one day she would have to let it all go. The realization did not make the decision any easier.

'You knew this had to be done, and that is the real reason that you are here,' he said in quiet tones. Never had Alisa seen him more frail, or vulnerable in all the time she had known him. Immediately she recalled Duncan's words about the slow death; the sort that stole a grey warden's soul, without ever stealing his life.  
>In his eyes she could see how much the taint had devoured Morgan's flesh. Wynn claimed that beyond the Eluvian's mirror, was a realm that could heal one of the dark spawns taint. Alisa had never took much claim in the old warlock's tales. Now she desperately hoped that there was more to the wistful legend than fanciful ideals bore no weight in the real world.<p>

'Actually, I had come for you. You need me-and perhaps, I need you a little too,' she blurted, feeling suddenly foolish for her admittance. He spoke not a word in mockery. Instead he stared at her in disbelief, his golden eyes filled with emotions the warrior maiden never would have imagined that he felt for her.

'You once argued that love is not weakness,' he said in tones so soft, that Alisa was uncertain she was actually meant to hear it. 'I will never understand you. And you will never understand me,' he then added in a slightly louder voice. There was no venom to be heard; only curiosity and a little sorrow.

'Then help me understand. A wise man once told me, that understanding is the only cure for ignorance,' Alisa said, quoting her late mentor Duncan.

'A wise man indeed. 'Tis a shame he only had you to call his apprentice,' Morgan mocked with a hint of a smirk. At any other time, Alisa would have rose to the taunt. Instead, she felt only relief to see a reflection of the man she had once known and had since come to, dare she admit it, love.

'I…would not even know where to begin explaining,' he continued with a soft sigh. Studying him intently Alisa realized no explanation was needed, for his thoughts now mirrored her own.

'At any time you could have robbed me of our daughter. Claiming her for your own without warning, and certainly without my knowledge,' she admitted. 'Yet you remained biding your time, waiting for me to find you first. Perhaps I understand you better than you believe.' Alisa said reaching out to take Morgan's hand into her own. His fingers were still soft, yet strong, and as before they fit into her hands perfectly.

'Or perhaps t'was I, who knew that you needed me,' he softly replied. Their eyes met, and in his gaze the warrior maiden saw only the truth.

'Our daughter, where is she?' the warlock asked. 'Is she safe? Is she near?'

Alisa gave a nod, as her eyes drifted to the strange mirror that lacked a reflection. Morgan had yet to activate the portal, but even she knew enough to know that once it closed it would never open again. Whatever was to come now, there would be no turning back.

'She is safe with Wynne, and she is near,' she answered. 'The child is an innocent, Morgan. She knows nothing of the destiny that lies before her. It is our duty, as her parents to ensure she remains that way until she is ready to embrace it.'

'I will not rob her of her childhood, as my father had robbed me of mine. But I must prepare her for what is to come, or she will become corrupted by the power that she will one day wield,' he warned. Alisa understood all too well the weight of his words. She too, in her own limited way, had sought to teach their daughter what she could of the world and magic. Wynn of course was a far better mentor, but Alisa wanted the child to learn the ways of both worlds. She knew that Morgan understood this too.

'She needs her mother, as much as she needs her father,' Alisa said, ensuring the warlock was clear of her intent.

Morgan merely nodded in assent. He too needed no further explanation. 'Then you shall join us beyond the portal,' He concluded. 'T'would be wiser for you to remain, but you have always been a fool. Far be it for me, to suggest otherwise,' he added with a sigh. This time there was no denying the flicker of joy she saw in his tired gaze.

'Where you go, I will follow,' she affirmed, before adding with a wink. 'Whether you like it or not.' Morgan smirked, and once more she saw a little of the man she knew.

'How the roles have changed,' he said as his expression softened. Alisa felt his grip around her hand tighten. 'Then come, my love,' he softly whispered. Now it was Alisa's turn to squeeze his hand. 'The portal will only be opened for a brief time, and it will require a great deal of power. Once it has closed it will never be opened again.'

'So make your farewells, gather your daughter and together we will face the future, come what may.'

With a smile on her lips, the ex-templar rose to balls of her feet and kissed the mage full on the mouth with all the love she bore for him. Hesitant, then eager, Morgan returned her kiss; his hands slipping from her grasp, so as to wrap around her armoured waist. After years of absence, the desire of their hearts could be denied no longer.

It was two days before Alisa was able to convince Wynne that the journey was indeed in her daughter's best interest, and another week for her to gather her things in preparation. A single day to make her farewells, but several hours to get their daughter to go to bed so she would be rested enough for the journey.

Alisa found Morgan waiting for her at the entrance of the caves. Though the dangers had long since been eliminated, the warlock remained watchful and wary. He feared his father's return, and spoke of all that he had discovered during his hunt for the last Eluvian. This time it was Alisa who found herself assuring the warlock that there was nothing to fear.

Approaching the Eluvian, Morgan drew upon his magic, activating the portal with a few words spoken in a language she did not understand. The task took much from the young warlock, causing Morgan to stagger and sway as he stood before the mirror. Immediately, Alisa was by his side slipping an arm around his slender waist, just as their daughter promptly grabbed his hand. With a shy smile she kissed his cheek as their daughter beamed up at him; proud as any child would be of their father.

Together, they stepped through the shimmering glass of the Eluvian's portal; they never looked back.


End file.
