Work Text:
Elissa woke to the sensation of large fingers brushing over her child swollen belly. She sighed softly as Alistair pressed kisses to her shoulder then neck. One hand moved to cover his. As their fingers entwined, the baby kicked out under their resting hand. Alistair pressed another kiss into the crook of her neck, prompting Elissa to giggle as she turned to face him. He was smiling, their eyes locked together as they shared the simple joy that was supposed to be denied to them.
'You're in bed late,' she remarked, bringing her free hand up to cup his jaw.
Alistair chuckled. 'I've already been up once,' he replied before he dipped his head to kiss her.
Elissa responded by turning towards him so they could deepen the kiss. She untangled her hand from his and let it wander across his hip, tugging at his shirt to expose his skin as they sank into the warmth of their bed. Alistair covered the upper half of her body with his. As she stroked his back, she could feel the coiled tension caused by an early morning training session.
It amused, and frustrated, her that he had not yet managed to let go of his previously regimented life to relax. He claimed it was habit. It was undoubtedly a habit she had hoped to break now they were free of the Blight. Mainly as she had no hesitation about sleeping late and enjoyed waking up with him.
Alistair broke off the kiss to gaze down at her. His bright amber gaze drunk her in as if he had not seen her in ages. Somewhere near her heart, a sharp tug dragged her attention towards the window. The morning was bright and dappled light landed on the flagstone floor, but there was nothing to call her attention away from Alistair. She turned back, her hand slid up into his hair.
'I feel like I haven't seen you in an age,' she whispered, pulling him down, so his forehead rested on hers.
It was such a ridiculous thing to say. Only last night they had been in the royal parlour together, her feet in his lap as they whiled away some free time, talking about the future that wasn't supposed to be. Everything had changed during the Landsmeet when, as Alistair readied himself to present his case to become King, someone else had stepped out the shadows to declare as Ferelden his. King Maric Theirin stepped forward in regal, majestic glory, his stormy eyes reserved solely for the man sat on the throne without authority; Loghain. As a result, Alistair now took up the position of Ferelden's Crown Prince, the next in line to the throne with a golden apology for the life Alistair had been forced to live.
Alistair's new life placed a heavy burden on learning how to rule for when the time came. In recent weeks, however, as Elissa grew heavy with the first Theirin heir to be born since Alistair, Maric felt inclined to allow him some liberty.
He rolled over and flopped onto the bed, allowing her to study his profile. Her gaze lingered on a thin scar cutting on his cheek. A thank you from a shriek in the Deep Roads that had nearly poked his eye out.
'It's been a busy year,' he acknowledged in response to her remark.
She watched him run his hand over his face. The change of pace had been a difficult adjustment for Alistair. Eighteen months ago, he had been a nobody, just some Grey Warden too lucky to die with the rest of them. A smile twitched on her lips, remembering the day he had told who he was under all that armour and ill timed bravado while being halfway in love with him. Elissa reached over and took his hand. Her thumb stroked his knuckles.
'We'll be making the journey to Danesmouth before the month's end,' he said, turning just enough to look at her.
Elissa nodded as the baby pushed against her stomach. Her other hand rubbed the spot as the baby kicked a second time. 'It will take longer for Maric to send his orders to you once we're there.'
Alistair grinned. For a moment, his face transformed into the handsome young man she had toppled in love with. The idea of freedom appealed to him. She knew he would have been happier remaining a Grey Warden. They could have escaped Ferelden after the Blight, gone where they wanted, but the sense of duty that had brought him to present his case to the Landsmeet dictated he stay and take the role his father offered. However, being a Prince and next in line for the throne, sat well on his shoulders. He made for a popular figurehead in the Kingdom.
'We'll be closer to Orlais for all that cheese and wine you desire,' she said, watching a mischievous smirk light up his beautiful face.
Maric called for lunch when the sun reached its high point. The entourage turned off the King's Highway towards a shady copse where they could take their rest. Elissa's carriage bounced uncomfortably over the grassy tracked, leaving her wishing she was able to still ride a horse. Once they reached the shadowed eaves, Elissa left go of a breath, relaxing back now the carriage was still. The door opened, and Alistair appeared, holding out his hand to her to assist her to solid ground.
He stole a couple of kisses from her while she stood in his arms. She laughed against his lips as her arms stole around his neck. The grooms around them turned away to give them privacy, but they didn't care about that.
'Alright?' He asked her softly, holding her tightly.
She hummed. 'Just need to stretch my legs,' she said, pushing up on her tiptoes to press another kiss to his lips.
'Want me to come?'
'No,' Elissa replied, pressing another kiss to his lips.
Around her, the royal guard was dismounting. They were making their journey east, now their home in Danesmouth was ready for occupation. Maric would ride with them until they reached the edge of Denerim Arling. The King was directing the men for the setup, but just for a second, their eyes met. Maric's eyes narrowed as he looked at her.
She held his gaze. There was a deep sense of trepidation between Maric and Alistair and Elissa. Not only were there still questions about where Maric had been these past five years, but there was also the fact he could barely be considered an outstanding father figure to his youngest son. Things were improving, but Elissa wondered how much of that was to do with the child in her belly.
Still, she dropped into a curtsey, bowing her head demurely. When she rose, Maric had turned from her. She lifted her skirts into her arms and headed towards the grove.
The sounds of the camp vanished as she disappeared into the cold darkness of the trees. She was glad of the freedom. Part of her had rejoiced when it became clear she could return to some semblance of her own life: pursuing books or time spent enjoying roses and the vast open sky. But another part of her had missed the hours spent walking, falling in love, and finding friends in strange places.
After hours in the carriage, her legs rejoiced at being used again. She stretched, reaching up and arching her back. Above her, the tree canopy had grown so thick that only a few beams of light made it though. She continued on until the woods began to thin.
'I'm serious,' said a soft voice laced with a mix of confusion and surprise. 'Titus should have caught us by now.'
Elissa stopped, her hand twitched and immediately went for her hilt, but nothing there. The belt was too small to fit around her growing child. She sighed, and gathered her courage as three people emerged from the woods; a dwarf, and two women.
They stopped when they saw her.
'Well, thank goodness we found you,' announced the dwarf, then he eyed her stomach. His lips lengthened into a thin line.
'Just who are you?'
Her eyes flicked over them; the dwarf was a surfacer and judging by the accent, a Free Marcher. The blonde, swathed in impractical robes was a mage, Tevinter, she recognised the accent from the Imperium Ambassador at court. Elissa frowned at her, but she received an unapologetic gaze. However, Elissa knew the Rivaini from the Pearl. Isabela. Pirate Captain.
Isabela was the one to step up, her dark eyes narrowed as she examined Elissa. 'I'm still figuring this out, but if I slap her, will it wake her up?'
'Excuse me?' Elissa demanded, stepping up to the pirate.
She might not have her sword, but she had her right hook.
'Wake you up,' said Isabela, not shirking away but looking directly at Elissa. 'We need to wake you up.'
'It's true, My Lady,' added the mage. 'You're in danger.'
Elissa looked between the three of them. 'You're the only ones putting me in danger, you ambush me.'
'Trouble, Elissa?'
King Maric's voice reverberated through the trees. Elissa frowned; why would he follow her into the forest? She looked between him, behind her and to the group as her hand moved to shield her precious bundle.
'They're ruffians,' said Elissa, keeping her eyes on the intruders. 'Though I was an easy target.'
'We're not ruffians,' the dwarf countered, tugging her attention to him. 'Well, we are, but we're here to help. Don't you remember?'
Her gaze flicked to each of them individually. 'I've never met you,' she said, looking at the dwarf, 'or her,' she continued, pointing at the mage, 'before in my life.' She pointed at Isabela. 'You owe me coin though. Because you're a dirty, lying…'
'Demons are coming,' the dwarf yelled, cutting across Elissa. 'And the furious Magister who you have pissed off,' he continued jabbing his finger at her.
She laughed. It was a hysterical chuckle. 'I've never met a Magister in my life,' she said, shooting a look at Maric. 'When would I have the time? I've been in Denerim.'
'Elissa.' Maric cut her off with a quiet, authoritative tone she not heard from him before. When she looked at him, he looked concerned. Possibly sad, his hand reaching out to her. 'Let them speak.'
'What? No,' Elissa protested, running her hand through her hair as the nagging sensation ran through her like a cold trickle down her spine. She stiffened. 'Where's Alistair?'
'Pardon?' Said the dwarf.
Elissa paid him no heed as she remained focused on Maric. 'Where is my husband, Your Majesty?'
'I said, let them speak,' Maric said, placing his hand on her upper arm.
She shrugged away from him, taking a few steps back and gazing into the close darkness of the corpse.
'Your Majesty, I am Maevaris Tilani,' said the mage, stepping forward and speaking for the first time. 'I'm a Magister of Tevinter, and while this might look like Ferelden, we are, in fact, in the Fade.'
Elissa glanced at Maevaris as she placed her hand on her hips and sighed. 'Your body,' she said, continuing to address Maric, 'is in a state on oneiric suspension and your mind has been ensorceled, buy another Magister, Aurelian Titus.' She blinked. 'You must remember.'
Elissa snorted her disbelief. 'This is Ferelden. Magisters don't bother coming here to kidnap our Kings. Everyone else thinks we're just some quaint little backwater.'
Isabela stepped forward, not sizing up this time, but reaching out. 'Elissa, listen to her. This is the Fade. None of this is real.'
Backing away a bit more, Elissa shook her head, hand reaching for her baby. Her shoulder hit a tree. Her hand hit the flat, well-toned abdomen of a fighter. Her clothes were different too. Breeches, dragon skin cuirass with matching coat that fell to her ankles; her swords were back, strapped to her waist. Her eyes lingered on the pommel of her blade. A laurel of Highever entwined with a rose. Her thumb stroked the emblem.
'"I'm tired of this, Varric,"' said the dwarf, advancing on her, 'that's what you said, Elissa. "I will find Aurelian Titus, and I will kill him for this". Your words.' His expression turned sympathetic. 'I know it's hard being handed something you want, maybe even need, but you're telling yourself lies. Don't be fooled by them.' Then he turned to Maric. 'You agree, don't you, Your Majesty?'
Elissa turned to Maric. Behind him, the sky had turned a shade of green-yellow. Above him, a silhouette skyline hung in the air. A tremor developed in her hand, and she dropped it into her coat pocket.
'He knows?' asked Isabella.
Elissa's had landed on a small vial nestled at the bottom. Her hand closed around it and lifted it, popping the cork when it was clear of her clothes then tipping the contents into her mouth.
'Of course, he knows,' Varric replied. 'This is his dream. The life he could never grasp. The lie in which he lingers.'
'Why dream of me?' Elissa asked, wiping her mouth clean, her thumb picking up a dribble of lyrium and pushing it over her lips.
'It was your dream, I just found it,' Maric said. His deep voice was sombre as he looked at her. 'I'm sorry.'
She held up her hand to stop him. 'You don't get to say that,' she said as tears burnt in the corners of her eyes. 'You don't have the right.' She trailed off into a quiet voice then looked at the group. 'You said there were demons? Titus?'
'Us, Titus and his army of demons were pulled in the Fade,' Varric explained.
Elissa frowned, adjusting her coat, so it sat across her shoulders properly. 'And how, exactly, did that happen?' As Isabela declared ‘she’s back.’
Varric had the decency to give her a pained expression. She huffed out a dark chuckle with a shake of her head and ran a hand through her hair to push it off her face. Her eyes lifted to The Black City lingering over Maric. She took a few steps forward to gaze upon the legendary city as her memories asserted themselves correctly —a lifeless, bloodied corpse and a howl of pain echoed on the wind around her ears.
'Titus hasn't come for us, yet,' ventured Maevaris.
'You said,' Elissa replied, having gained enough composure to face them.
'Titus is here?' Maric asked, finally speaking up. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. A sword that wasn't his anymore. 'In the Fade?'
Maevaris nodded. 'There is no way he escaped the blast that brought us here.'
The group exchanged glances with each other then looked around as if expecting him to be right behind them.
'Perhaps he is caught in his own lie?' Isabela proposed when they turned back to looking at each other. 'In the twisted world he seems intent on making.'
'Maybe we could leave him to it,' Elissa suggested with a shrug of her shoulders. 'Let his dragons have him.'
'That’s not conducive to us escaping, though, is it? It's his magic that is trapping us here,' Varric said. He looked up at Elissa with a sardonic smile playing on his lips. 'Unless you happen to have something that can rip through The Veil?'
'Damn,' she breathed. 'Left it with my other armour. Besides, we're not in the Fade. Our bodies are out there.' She gestured with a wave in the general direction away from them, to mean their bodies remained in the real world. 'Not that it's any comfort. We could still die out there and be here.'
'You are, as ever My Lady, a regular ray of sunshine and good news,' Varric muttered darkly.' So, how do we get out of here? You've done this before.'
'We take the fight to him,' said Maric, as his hand tightened around his sword hilt.
Elissa followed the gesture, her gaze lingering on the hilt again. It wasn't really here. It was a figment of Maric's imagination, or perhaps her's, she couldn't tell. The real one was in the mausoleum at Weisshaupt Fortress, resting in the stone-carved hands of the last man to wield it; using it to save the world and the expense of his life. Her eyes pricked uncomfortably, and her breath drew short as her thoughts wrapped around the shattered dream. The wind around her ears howled again. It should have been her.
'We have little choice if it is his magic that has trapped us here,' said Elissa, 'so we should probably kill him before he gets us.'
'How do you plan on doing that?' asked Maric, his voice rising with incredulity, just like Alistair's would have. 'He's surrounded by demons. And dragons.'
'Is that all?' Elissa asked, huffing out a bitter laugh. 'You should know, I've faced worse, with good people, friends at my side and lived. Even when I had no right to do so.'
Varric eyed her newly composed statue with a smile lingering around his lips. 'Back to the time-honoured tradition of kicking down the door of the person who wants to kill us?'
'Beats them getting us while we sleep,' replied Elissa, chuckling when she caught Isabella's smirk.
The Fade just went on, and on, a vast expanse of nothing. Maevaris had said that theoretically the Fade should take them to where they desired. However, it didn’t appear to be feeling particularly co-operative. They walked in silence. Elissa could only assume they had been caught in their own dream; looking at the others she wondered what it was that lay buried deep in their hearts. Her own beat against her chest like a knife against her ribs that continually wanted to stab through and engulf her.
Last time she had been caught in such a trap, it had been her to realise the deception. She had broken free. She had freed her friends. She did not give into the temptation on offer. But this time she fell back into the arms of a lover she could not let go of. Hearing his voice again, even as an echo on the eddies of the Fade, dragged back to the surface just how much she missed him. Her grief bounced off the walls of her body like a spiky ball hitting every part it could.
She swiped her eyes with an angry gesture.
‘You’re Bryce Cousland’s daughter.’
Maric’s voice dragged her out of her grief. She blinked as she looked at him, eyebrow-raising slightly, surprised that after all this time, he would remember who she was. She had only ever met him a handful of times as a young teenager with stars in her eyes over Cailen. Maker, she had forgotten she had ever even had a crush on the man.
‘No one’s called me that in a long time,’ she said quietly.
‘I knew I recognised you,’ he replied his voice as low as hers. ‘I remember you from my visits to Highever. How did you ever end up a Warden? I would not have thought Bryce let his little girl join the Order.’
Elissa frowned. ‘You didn’t ‘see’ that bit?’
Maric shook her head. She continued walking, eyes set towards the never-ending horizon as she took her trip further down memories better left in the past. To the beginning. To a time before. She didn’t recognise the girl surfacing from the depths of her memory with bright grey eyes, laughing as she ran through fields of heather. An unmarred projection of a life once lived before she stepped into the nightmare.
The screams from Castle Cousland now took up residence in her ears. The sound of slaughter so close that she was sure she could use the Fade to conjure the scene.
‘We were betrayed,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Arl Howe.’ She drew breath. ‘At the same time, The Grey Warden Commander was also a guest. My father asked him to take me to safety, but he did so at the cost of my life, demanding I give it to the Wardens.’
‘He conscripted you?’ Maric asked, his face thinning into a frown.
‘There was a Blight. It was needed,’ she huffed out a humourless laugh. ‘I hated him, and I wondered if I could have made it on my own. I was right at the pantry doors. I could have…’ She shuddered to a halt, looking at Varric’s back. ‘But it doesn’t do to live the lie.’ She looked at Maric again. ‘Is he here? Alistair?’
‘They all are.’
‘But he isn’t here.’
‘No,’ Maric said gently, ‘that was your dream.’
She lapsed off into silence, gaze returning to The Black City. ‘I could have saved him,’ she said after a while.
Maric raised his eyebrow at her. ‘Really?’
‘I should have kept him off that battlefield,’ she said. ‘He was our King.’
Maric huffed out a soft laugh. ‘You believe you could have kept him from that fight?’
She looked away. Elissa knew there was no way to stop Alistair. It was why she had put him, them, on the Throne. They were Ferelden’s one chance to unite the country in the right direction. In the weeks after the Landsmeet, Elissa noted that Alistair took what she had given him to heart. It was his duty to protect his country, and he would do so with his life. The grief pinched her again until she wanted to scream to get it out of her head. Because he hadn’t just done it to protect his country, he had done it so she could live. Not that she did. Not that she could.
But a truth emerged, a buried away thought that still had the capacity to keep her up at night; ordering him off the battlefield hadn’t been the only way.
‘There was a ritual we - he - could have done,’ Elissa said. ‘Morrigan said it would have saved both of us but it involved dark magic and the soul of The Old God in the Archdemon. Only Alistair’s blood would do.’ She laughed. It was a dark, humourless laugh that prompted the others to look around. ‘I said no on the spot.’ She looked forward again. ‘After, I wondered if I should have asked him, but I knew he’d have done it just to ease my mind although he hated her and I didn’t trust her.’ She fell into a pensive silence. ‘I thought about it every day after he died. I even regretted not asking him to partake. Until I met Yavana.’
Ahead of her, Isabela, Varric and Mae had stopped, the ground finally giving away as if thoughts of Yavana had been the key to unlocking this journey. Ahead of them, a vast fortress floated wrapped in the sound of screams and greeting chains. Above them, clinging to the spires of the edifice, where dragons, silent but watchful as they approached.
‘For the first time since that day,’ Elissa said, still talking to Maric thought her eyes were on the dragon. ‘I found peace knowing I had done the right thing.’
Beside her, Isabela took in the sight. ‘He dreams big,’ she remarked as Elissa moved to stand beside her. ‘What is this?’
Maevaris was surveying the scene with a dark look in her eyes. ‘He wants to restore the Imperium in this image,’ she said. ‘With the power to reshape the hearts of every man in Thedas.’
‘And you wouldn’t, had you his power?’ asked Isabela, a note of incredulity in her voice.
‘No,’ replied Mae. ‘My people have a wounded pride over the past, but this isn’t the answer. Magic doesn’t fix everything.’
Elissa peered over the edge into the depths of the Fade. Her eyes tracked across to a ledge. It led to a series of steps they would have to jump. It would get them where they needed to be. Her gaze returned to the dragons.
‘We need a plan,’ she said, turning to the group.
Slipping in and out of places was not exactly easy for her. Zevran had attempted to teach her a little bit during the Blight, but she lacked the lithe grace required in favour of the sheer brute force she applied to her blades. So the fact this was easy was concerning. Above her, the dragons had failed to stir. She had assumed this had something to do with the power imbued into Maric’s blood. Despite her distrust of Yavana, Elissa had known the witch hadn’t lied about the power of Theirin blood. It held power, something raw and dangerous that Elissa had only ever gleaned in Alistair. Next to her, Isabela and Varric kept in line with her, not speaking but focused on the steps before them.
Elissa was the first to go. She climbed up the side of a rocky outcrop. She considered another flashy display of her abilities, but the shock and awe had faded, and Titus would expect it. It was the time for old fashioned tactics. A group of hooded priests made their way towards the fortress. Elissa took one of the smoke bombs Varric had given her. She shook it then rolled the vial towards their retreating feet and ducked as it exploded. With a nod of her head they climbed over the ledge with Varric and Isabela. They made short work of their foes.
As a team, one that had seemed rather rag-tag, they had worked well together. It had been a long time since working with comrades, but they had fallen into a pattern that almost made her feel alive again. Varric aimed Bianca skyward and shot up their signal. The inevitability of now or never rolled over Elissa. So long as she got the others out she’d consider it a battle well fought.
‘I haven’t had a chance to thank you,’ she said to them. ‘I only asked for passage to Antiva.’
Isabela smiled. ‘Well, if you think I would pass up on a chance to see the famed Hero of Ferelden on a quest!’ Her expression moved to one of seriousness. ‘Thank you.’
She held her hand out to Elissa. Elissa stepped forward to shake it, then looked at Varric who offered his hand.
‘Someone had to keep you two kids in line,’ he remarked as he let go of Elissa’s hand.
They turned and continued the journey their now dead targets had been taking, ending in Titus’ gaping throne room. From the conversation, it was clear the man was worried that he hadn’t found them, blaming Mae for their elusiveness. Elissa pondered if he was in control of the dream - maybe he wasn’t. Surely he’d have found them if they were. They moved together until they were further in. Titus’ advisor was backing away from him, wringing his hands as he grovelled out his apologies. Elissa couldn’t help but want to stab the man to shut him up.
Once he left Elissa dropped her hood.
‘I bet you wish you’d just killed me in Minrathous,’ she said as she undid the clasp of her cloak and threw it aside.
Titus spun to look at her. Elissa hitched her lips up into a vicious smile. She slipped into her defensive position as she pulled her two swords out. Titus looked at her. His expression denoted his disinterest in her.
‘Like I have any interest in the lyrium-addled whore of a dead King,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised you could muster the strength to even come here.’
He flicked his wrist in a lazy gesture. A row of demons appeared.
‘If you think I wouldn’t have come just to avenge the desecration you wrought upon his tomb, then you know nothing of me,’ she replied through gritted teeth as she engaged the first of the monsters. Her companions joined her, apparently as eager as she was for something they could face directly.
There was a screech of metal against bone. Hot blood splattered across Elissa’s face. Then she kicked the demon away from her where it fell to the floor in a lifeless mess. She moved to join Isabela in taking down a large monster. Her sharpened blades cut through the flesh of the creature with ease. She pulled one free to throw at another demon flanking Varric and followed it, pulling through as the creatures started to multiply over the sound of Titus’ soliloquy on The Fade and the dragon blood he needed to control it.
Bad guys always found a way to justify the means with which to get their end. Elissa found herself opposite Titus again. The battle behind her raged as she circled him.
‘I knew someone like you would consider any sacrifice necessary on your road to power,’ she said. ‘Will you still think it when my blade slices your heart?’
‘I am the dreamer here,’ he said. ‘You can’t kill me.’
Elissa flicked her eyebrow. He raised his hands, muttering in an ancient tongue and a creature with six heads slithered towards her. Its tentacles moved from every direction. She sliced her blade down, lopping off one head, but there were more than she could manage. One slipped around her ankle and tugged. It jerked her foot up, and she landed on her back with a sickening crunch.
She tried to roll, but another tentacle curled around her wrist. One snaked up her body to her neck.
Titus stood above her, looking down, grinning with his teeth bared. ‘So here ends the Hero of Ferelden.’
One foot remained free. She brought it up and kicked out, hitting him between the legs. Titus doubled over in pain. It was all she could do as it pulled her up by her neck. The edges of her vision dulled off. She gasped for breath, but she wasn’t afraid. She welcomed it.
‘Enough.’
Maric’s voice echoed around the chamber. Distracted by the newcomer, the beast coiled around Elissa loosened its grip. She fell to the floor with an unceremonious thud. Elissa put her hand to her throat, coughing as she scrambled up into a sitting up position.
‘Leave her,’ continued Maric.
‘You?’ Titus laughed, but it was a hysterical, choked thing. ‘You’re a remnant, a thing of the past that holds no power over this realm,’ he said, holding his hands aloft.
Elissa swallowed, then reached for her blades. ‘Keep the demons off him,’ she yelled, getting to her feet and aiming for the closest thing to her.
‘This world is mine,’ Titus said. The two men circled each other. ‘The Magrallen’s magic is our legacy.’
‘It’s powered by my blood,’ Maric stated as he drew his sword. ‘You aren’t the dreamer here.’
Stillness descended over the room. Even the demons stopped fighting as Titus cowered before Maric. Elissa fleetingly wondered if he had towered over Meghren in the same way before divesting the usurping Orlesian of his head. Maric’s sword swung around in a flash of bluish-silver.
Titus’ head landed on the floor with a dull thud. The ground shook beneath them. Elissa struggled to maintain her balance as the world around her changed. The surrounding walls crumbled to reveal the green-yellow Fade. The Black City came back into view and they stood on a floating platform. She rubbed her neck while the others tended to their wounds.
‘That’s it?’ asked Isabela, looking around once she had wrapped some cloth around a cut on her arm. ‘We won. Just like that?’
‘Yes,’ said Mae, running her hand through her fair. ‘Sad that he didn’t even understand what he was creating.’
‘They never do,’ said Elissa, sheathing her swords. ‘Can we leave now? Any hold Titus had on us should be gone if I understood it all?’
She was looking between Maric and Mae as she spoke.
‘You can leave,’ said Maric.
‘What about you?’ asked Elissa, looking at the aged King.
Varric stepped forward so he stood between them. ‘I saw his body in Titus’s laboratory,’ said Varric to Elissa, then he looked at Maric. ‘With respect, Your Majesty, you don’t look well. I think-,’
‘The Margrallen is all that is keeping me alive,’ Maric finished, looking the dwarf straight in the eye. ‘Who’s left out there for me, anyway?’ He asked looking at Elissa now. ‘The people I love are all here - Cailan, Alistair, Loghain…’
‘Well, that sounds like a fun party,’ Elissa drawled as her face drew into a hard mask. ‘You think there’s anyone left for me? Everyone I ever cared for or loved is gone except for my brother. But I still have to try. I’m not saying you ride in and take the throne from Anora, I doubt Ferelden would allow it even with all your legacy. But you can’t live this dream either. There is no world where Cailan, Alistair and Loghain live together in peace. It’s a lie. A lie in which you linger.’
Maric rolled his shoulders and straightened his back. ‘I can say without a doubt, that were he still alive, Bryce would be proud of you.’
Elissa smiled, a soft but sad smile that broke the hard lines that had formed in her gaze, she hung her head. ‘I doubt it.’ She slipped her hands in her pocket and sucked in a deep breath. ‘So what of it, Your Majesty? Do you wish to live the lie or have a chance to walk in the real world once more?’
‘I wouldn’t mind tasting real Fereldan ale again,’ Maric replied.
This time Elissa’s face split into a wide smile before she laughed. ‘If that’s what you’ve been craving.’
A blinding light enveloped them. Elissa felt pushed back, and then she woke. Thick raindrops fell onto her face. She opened her eyes to stormy grey clouds and the sounds of a nearby battle. She turned her head to see the vast Qunari silhouettes cut down Titus’s private army. Elissa pushed herself up with a groan. Her back hurt. She rubbed her neck, but the injuries she had sustained in the Fade didn’t mar her body. Then she pressed her hand to her abdomen.
The dream churned in her mind. aAs she looked at the sky. The sensation that this place was the displaced reality flooded her senses. Around her, the colours were too sharp. The sounds were deafening. The memories from the Fade were so real. Just the memory of Alistair’s voice in her ear prompted goosebumps to explode over her skin. She reached over for her fallen sword. The weight felt wrong. Over heavy. She got to her feet.
Ahead of her where the main gates., nothing but They were a smouldering mess remaining of what had been proud edifices.
‘Isabela,’ she yelled, turning on the spot to find her companion.
She sat on the floor, looking around as if this world hurt her too. Elissa jogged over. The two women looked at each other. Sympathy lit up Isabela’s eyes. For a second, Elissa wanted to smack it out of her. Sympathy was of little use. But then a tiny voice reminded her it meant the surrounding people cared. Elissa offered Isabela her hand.
‘We have to find Varric,’ Elissa said once Isabela was up.
‘And King Maric, apparently,’ said Isabela.
Elissa hummed in agreement. ‘This isn’t what I was expecting.’
She slipped her hand into the pocket of her coat. Her hand closed over a vial of lyrium. She pulled it out. Elissa flicked the stopper out with her thumb, then poured the contents into her mouth.
‘Life is rarely boring when you are around,’ said Isabela, as Elissa swallowed. ‘Come on.’
Finding Varric was easy. It was a simple matter of following the bodies with bolts in their eyes. They moved as quickly as they could while being wary of enemies lurking the shadows. However, they had been drawn out by the Qunari. Eventually they found themselves at the top of a great spirallingsprialling staircase. Neither woman found this shocking. Hiding a secret, illicit magical laboratory in was a given. Isabela started to open her mouth, but Elissa silenced her with a shake of her head.
Elissa stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The strange pulsating hum coming from the room had gotten louder. She tightened the grip on her sword. Just inside the door, Elissa could make out Maevaris, huddled in a cloak with her hair askew. Elissa relaxed a little, then went to join Mae’s side. Mae’s eyes swam with the same sympathy she’d found in Isabela’s. This time, Elissa bore it with dignity. She nodded.
Then she looked at the Magrallen.
She felt her eyes go wide at the sight of Maric strung up. It was reminiscent of the sacrilege wrought on Cailen by the darkspawn. Her nose wrinkled at the smell, then she exchanged a glance with Varric. The dwarf shook his head sadly. Elissa placed her hand on his shoulder as she walked by.
‘There are healing magics,’ said Mae from behind Elissa. ‘I’ve heard rumours about the Dalish, and another Magister exiled to the Anderfels.’ She trailed off. Elissa looked at Mae, noting for the first time her injuries. ‘Legend says they could graft spirit onto flesh to restore life. But I don’t know.’
She did not sound hopeful. Elissa shook her head. ‘I don’t think it would be right.’ She walked forward, then around the Magrallen. ‘His soul might not even be there. Not after all this time.’
She paused where one of the ugly tubes reached out of the orb and up into Maric. She grabbed it. Then another until they were all in her hand.
Elissa looked up at Maric‘s face. ‘Draw your last breath, my friend. Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker's right hand, and be Forgiven,’ she recanted as she tugged downwards on the tube.
As she did, Maric opened his eyes. He groaned; a sound of relief. As the magic ebbed away, flesh disintegrated to the bone. Elissa cried out in surprise, stumbling back as bones clattered to the floor. She grimaced. Putting her hand over her mouth to fight the rising bile. Behind her, Isabela placed her hand on Elissa’s shoulder, squeezing tightly as silent tears sprung in Elissa’s eyes.
They built the pyre on a cliff edge facing south, towards Ferelden. Elissa had placed the bones atop it as best she could. Her hand shook as she lit it. She stood in silence watching the flames take hold, cleansing the bones of the foul magic that had tainted Maria for all this time. Varric watched her. She was near inscrutable but for the pool of agonist emotion in her eyes.
‘This is the third Theirin King I’ve set to a pyre,’ she said, when she turned to Varric. ‘Elissa Cousland, Hero of Ferelden, Bane of the Theirins.’
‘It isn’t your fault,’ replied Varric. ‘You didn’t kill him. And you didn’t kill his sons either.’
Elissa raised an eyebrow. ‘He was right, you know, about Alistair, I could never have kept him from that last battle,’ she said. ‘He asked me to let him save me, just this once, never ever realising he already had.’ She bit her lip, then it hitched into a smile. ‘I hadn’t really allowed myself to acknowledge just how much I still miss him.’
Her gaze returned to the flaming pyre as Isabela returned with Mae. She was wearing some decent clothes now and a smattering of make-up covered up the worse of her bruising. Isabela carried a ceramic pot. The simple design was not the urn of the King. Elissa wondered how many people would believe she had stumbled across what remained of King Maric’s life. There was a part of her that felt angry for having witnessed his miserable end.
Elissa glanced over her shoulder at Mae. ‘Could you?’
Maevaris lifted her arms, muttering an enchantment. The air froze around them, and the flames of the pyre died. Then a thin frost covered the remains. Elissa walked up and scooped a few handfuls into the urn.
‘What will you do with them?’ Maevaris asked.
‘Return them to Ferelden,’ she said. ‘My brother will see to it. He should be interred at the Royal Vault in Denerim, but I doubt that will be possible. No one will believe this.’
At Minrathous, Elissa disembarked The Siren’s Call with Maevaris, leaving the urn with Varric, and instructions to take it to Highever. The letter also contained a writ of payment for her two companions and the eighteen-month run around she had brought upon them.
‘What will you do now?’ Isabela asked her as they stood on the jetty.
Elissa shrugged. ‘Return to Weisshaupt for a while, then return south in time.’
The parting took an unexpected turn when the Pirate Queen threw her arms around Elissa, hugging her. Elissa hugged her back and the two exchanged a smile before she returned to her ship. After giving a regal nod to Varric, she joined Maevaris at the portside.
The Mage looked at her with interest. Elissa had abandoned her leather travelling garb in favour of her Grey Warden armour. Grey Wardens, she had explained the three of them, were less likely to be stopped in their travels and harassed.
‘Do you need anything, before you leave?’ Mae asked as they watched The Siren’s Call cast off.
‘Lyrium,’ she said, taking a vial from a pouch on her belt. She took a swig then stoppered it. ‘It’ll take time to reduce my intake. And a fast horse.’
‘That stuff isn’t good for you,’ Mae cautioned, watching as Elissa slip the vial back into its pouch.
‘I know,’ Elissa replied, turning to follow Mae into the city. ‘But it also isn’t good for the rogue mages that get in my way either.’
‘How did you learn those skills?’ asked Mae. ‘The blocking magic stuff. I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘It’s what our Templar’s can do, to control mages,’ Elissa explained, ‘Alistair trained, for many years, to be a Templar and during the Blight, he taught me. After he died, I wanted something I could hold on to,’ she trailed off. ‘He warned me about the lyrium. I thought I knew better, could control it.’ She smiled sadly. ‘If the taint doesn’t kill me, the lyrium will.’
Weisshaupt Fortress loomed against the mountains in the distance. The journey to this point had barely taken a week. There was a grim irony. This quest had started in those halls. She had swept through them in a rage, yelling at anyone who dared come near, to demand who could do it.
Who would dare desecrate the final resting place of Alistair Theirin?
As she made her way over the desert tundra, she let her horse walk at a slower pace. She had pushed the poor beast down the Imperial Highway from Minrathous. Now there was not a soul in sight.
The gates opened on her arrival. The guardsmen unchanged from her last visit and greeted her with solemnity. A groom took her horse as the Seneschal, Meinhard Hagelstein, emerged from the keep in all his majesty. He bowed to her, an acknowledgement of her rank, and only rose when she stood before him.
‘The First Warden has returned to oversee the investigation,’ Hagelstein informed her as she followed her up the stairs.
‘I’m surprised Caius finds the time,’ remarked Elissa. ‘How are things in Hossberg?’
‘Uninteresting to you, I am sure, Warden-Commander,’ he said. ‘But the First Warden has noted your absence from Ferelden. Mistress Woolsey has written often to recommend that you are replaced.’
Elissa smiled. ‘She knows what is best, I am sure,’ she said succinctly. ‘Meanwhile, have you been able to establish how a Tevinter Magister breached these walls?’
‘Sorry?’ said Hagelstein.
‘See, while you have been sitting on your hands, I know who breached these walls. I even know why. The only part you need to answer is how,’ she hissed. Hagelstein squirmed under the sound of her voice. ‘It’s been two years.’
‘The First Warden—’ started Hagelstein.
‘Has no real interest in how it happened,’ ground out Elissa. She shook her head. ‘This place is not worthy.’
She marched ahead of Hagelstein, leaving him gaping at the door as she made her way through the keep. Wardens bowed to her as she strode passed with single-minded determination. She only stopped when she reached the mausoleum. Here, Elissa slowed.
The metal of her boots clinked then echoed around the great chamber. There were seven alcoves, one for each Blight. Two remained empty. Elissa’s gut always churned at the thought. The Order remained waiting for two more terrible wars under the gaze of Archdemons. She passed each alcove. The first was a memorial to fifty Wardens who fought Dumat. No one knew who landed the blow that killed the first Archdemon. They nicknamed the second the Memorial of Lovers; Corin and Neriah lay side by side in honour of the joint sacrifice it took to slay Zazikel. A single suit of armour of a warrior who had pushed forward alone represented Toth’s slayer while Garahel’s shrine was the most ostentatious of them all. The man had united all of Thedas to his cause. They displayed his sacrifice in such a way as to tell the Wardens he was the best of the Order.
Then she reached the shrine of the Fifth Blight. Alistair’s name was carved into marble, his full title as King of Ferelden acknowledged. She walked into the alcove. It was a simple memorial. As she walked alongside the effigy, she rested her hand on the sword in its hands.
Anora had wanted the blade to remain in Denerim. Maric’s sword was a symbol of Ferelden’s freedom, but Elissa had persisted, taking the weapon with her to Weisshaupt to ensure it found rest beside the last man to use it. Besides, the poison of the Archdemon coated the metal - it was poisonous to any bar one of the Order.
She placed her hand on the hilt. ‘I found them,’ she whispered. ‘I told you I would.’
Elissa felt closer to Alistair here. She had brought most of his ashes here. She stepped back. Her eyes swam. The remnants of the dream allowed her to identify everything wrong with carving. It would never have his golden eyes, nor would it ever capture his humour or any other part of him she loved. Those who visited in the distant future would only see the regal King taken in his prime rather than the man who’d given her so much.
Her knees gave out. They hit the floor with a metallic clank. Elissa wrapped her arms around her middle. The ache she had been bottling up let loose and she sobbed out her anguish on the marble floor.