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“You’re awfully quiet today.”
Morrigan’s gaze snapped up from the ground as she walked, and she blinked, focusing now on Alistair who had addressed her. She scowled.
“If you mean to celebrate,” she began threateningly, “I’d think twice.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” Alistair replied wryly.
He glanced ahead to where Wynne and Zevran, conversing lightly, led the way forward, followed closely by Barkspawn. Morrigan watched as a small smile twitched on Alistair’s face at the sight of the dog. She withheld an eyeroll.
“I’m just… concerned, you could say,” Alistair continued, his eyes flicking to Morrigan’s and then forward again. “It’s not like you to go so long without degrading me.”
“There is no reason to be concerned for me,” Morrigan snapped, gripping her staff tightly. “Perhaps I simply grow bored of pointing out your flaws when you remain so undetermined to fix them.”
“Don’t say that, you’ll hurt my tender feelings,” Alistair teased, pressing a hand over his chest. “I suppose I’ll have to find some new flaws to dig up, for your entertainment.”
Morrigan frowned, and fell silent once more. If her behaviour was concerning, Alistair’s was downright alarming. Most of their conversations could barely be considered civil, let alone amicable; now, however, it seemed friendly banter was Alistair’s goal. She didn’t understand it, and it immediately put her on edge. Clearly, he wanted something from her.
“What are you playing at?” Morrigan asked quietly, eyeing the rest of their group ahead.
Wynne and Zevran were certainly too far ahead to overhear them, but Barkspawn made an occasional glance behind him, as though to ensure Alistair and Morrigan still followed. It was… endearing. Morrigan thought the dog might be their group leader after all.
“I’m not playing at anything!” Alistair insisted, his voice high pitched and almost frantic. “I just…” He sighed, kicking a rock on the ground. “Look, I never knew my mother, but I’m sure if I did, I’d be pretty torn up about her death.”
Morrigan laughed, sharp and abrupt.
“You think I mourn Flemeth?” she asked, appalled at the very idea. “She meant to possess me, to take my body for her own continued existence, and you think I grieve her death? ‘Twas a necessary step to ensure my safety and autonomy, nothing more.”
“Right,” Alistair grunted. “But, last time I asked what you’d do if your mother died, you said you would laugh about it. And you haven’t yet.”
“That is your reasoning?” Morrigan hissed. “That because I did not guffaw stupidly, as you do at the slightest provocation, it means I must be ‘torn up’?”
“Exactly,” Alistair said simply.
It was the light smirk present on his lips that kept Morrigan from casting a fireball directly between them.
“... You are teasing me.”
“I’m trying to lighten your mood,” he corrected. “Given how you’re back to the insults, I’d say it worked.”
“I do not need my mood lightened. I am perfectly content, both with our current situation, and with Flemeth’s demise.”
“And who will you go to now, when you need help with magic?”
Morrigan paused in her walking, and glared when Alistair stopped as well.
“I beg your pardon,” she said, low and dangerous.
Alistair only shrugged. “You said yourself, both of her grimoires are more sinister than even you imagined. What if you have a question only she could answer? Who will you go to now?”
“I’m certain I could find other texts that would explain any old magic I do not understand,” she explained. “Regardless, were she still to live, I would not consult her for help of any kind.”
She tilted her head, studying Alistair carefully.
“You believe mothers must be nurturing,” she said. “You are naïve. You would perhaps think Flemeth was not much of a mother at all. However, she provided for my needs, taught me how to survive on my own, and how to control my magic for my benefit. While her goal was to take possession of me, she succeeded in raising a most powerful and cunning mage.” Morrigan straightened, resting her staff on the ground. “Now, her purpose is served. I do not need her.”
“Alright, fine,” Alistair conceded, throwing up his hands. “Your mother was heartless, and so are you. I just thought, maybe, if you’ve come to hate her so much, you would also resent the things she made you become.”
“I do not hate her,” Morrigan said, her frown deepening. “In fact, I have great respect for Flemeth. She has done everything in her power to survive for so long, and for that, I cannot fault her. However, when her survival threatens my own, she must be defeated. And she was.”
“Okay.”
Alistair stared at her in silence. Morrigan shifted uncomfortably.
“What now?”
“Feels weird, right?” he asked, grinning. “When I’m suddenly quiet?”
Morrigan did roll her eyes, now.
“This again?”
“I just don’t understand!” he insisted, waving his arms for emphasis. “What, are you just pensive? Plotting how you will take Flemeth’s place as the Witch of the Wilds? Daydreaming about killing her over and over again? If you’re not upset, then what is it?”
“What I do not understand,” Morrigan interrupted sharply, “is why you helped.”
Alistair squinted at her.
“What?” he asked stupidly.
“Why did you help me kill her?” Morrigan clarified. “You wish to know why I have grown quiet? It is because I do not understand your motives. Why did you collect her grimoire for me? Why were you so eager to see my wishes met?” She drummed her fingers against her staff. “And why do you care how I feel now?”
Alistair blinked. Then he laughed ruefully.
“Maker, you really are bad at this,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re not messing with me, right? You’re really wondering?”
“Are you so empty-headed that-”
“Are you?” Alistair interrupted.
Morrigan’s mouth snapped shut in outrage. She shot him a glare that usually had any man cowering; instead, Alistair only smiled gently. She was mildly impressed.
“Like it or not, Morrigan,” he began, “you don’t travel this long with someone, and go through this much together, without becoming friends.”
No matter how long Morrigan stared, Alistair’s grin did not falter.
“You think we are friends,” she remarked. Not a question.
Alistair simply watched her.
She meant to lash out further. She had practised it in her head many times, how she might cut down anyone within an inch of their life to keep them from bothering to care for her. Such things were trivial, wastes of time; this, she knew well. ‘Friends’ were worthless, and served only to make one hesitate in decisive moments.
But now, as she opened her mouth to bite back, something lodged in her throat. She turned the word over in her head, inspecting it as though hearing it for the first time. Friends. She thought of Leliana’s laughter, her gentle singing by the fire. She thought of Zevran’s flirtations, the way he danced through battle to shield each of their backs. She thought of how Wynne had taken it upon herself to care for each of them like her own children; her nurturing had always made Morrigan scoff, even as it warmed something within her.
She thought of Alistair, and his constant rambling, and how he always looked to her first when deciding the next course of action for their party.
It seemed she already suffered from the weakness of friendships. Should this Blight take any one of their lives, Morrigan knew she would mourn in the way Alistair had expected her to for her mother. Her survival now relied on theirs; and her contentment, it seemed, relied on their presence.
“I… do not make friends,” she said, her voice weak.
“You certainly put up a fight,” Alistair huffed. “Honestly, you still piss me off sometimes. A lot of times. But I think you’re a big softie on the inside. I’ve seen you pet Barkspawn when you think no one’s looking.”
“I detest that sentiment,” Morrigan murmured.
“I figured you’d say that,” he grinned. “You’re getting predictable, you know. You should work on that.”
“You actually care for me?” Morrigan asked, incredulous. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Alistair rolled his eyes, though his smile remained.
“Me neither, actually. But I’ve been watching you. Just to make sure you didn’t try any funny business,” he added, raising a brow. “Wouldn’t want you to kill us and take our things in our sleep. But I’ve noticed some other things. For one, you’re very clever. And kind of scary. For two, you’re sad all of the time.”
“I am not,” Morrigan argued.
“Yes huh. There’s hardly ever a light behind your eyes. It’s like you’ve got nothing to live for.”
“I have plenty to live for. Tormenting you, for example, is a pleasurable purpose.”
Alistair laughed, and Morrigan found herself fighting back a smile of her own.
“Yes, I do notice you seem much more lively when I’m the target of your contempt.” Alistair crossed his arms over his chest. “Hence my earlier concern.”
“‘Tis amusing that you seek my disapproval,” Morrigan remarked, smirking. “I’ve never met a man who so enjoys being humiliated.”
“Oh, I humiliate myself well enough,” Alistair dismissed, waving a hand as though swatting a fly. “It’s cute seeing you try to.”
Morrigan paused, her eyes narrowing.
“Cute?” she repeated.
Alistair’s face instantly turned bright red, and his eyes widened. He grinned sheepishly.
“Did I say that?” he stuttered. “No, I think I said, uh, a hoot. Yes, it’s very funny, is what I meant to say.”
Morrigan’s grin was smug. She took a step closer, appreciating how Alistair stiffened at her proximity; yet, he did not move away.
“Do you, perhaps, fancy me as something besides a friend, Alistair?” she asked, continuing closer as though stalking prey. “You would not be the first man to show such interest in me.”
“Let me guess,” he said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, “you siphoned the life force from them all? Cooked them up in your stew?”
“And fashioned their bones into jewellery,” Morrigan added. She placed a hand over Alistair’s unarmoured bicep, squeezing it lightly. “The meatier the man, the better the stew.”
Alistair’s complexion would make a tomato jealous. Laughter bubbled up from Morrigan’s chest, and before she could stop herself, she was chuckling, bowing her head in mirth. Quickly after, the sound of Alistair’s own laughter joined hers, and when she glanced up, his eyes were warm, and bright. When she calmed down, her chest felt oddly light, and something fluttered in her gut. It was a new sensation, but not entirely unwelcome.
“You have a nice smile,” Alistair said quietly, looking as though he was about to explode. Or, perhaps, wishing he would.
“I know,” Morrigan remarked. “I wield it well.”
She stepped back, amused when Alistair’s gaze fell as though in disappointment.
“Tell me, Grey Warden,” she began. “What is it you want from me?”
“I guess I’m supposed to say something romantic,” he scoffed. “Something like ‘to sweep you off your feet’, or whatever. But I think that would just make you kill me.”
“A tempting thought.”
“See? I know you so well.”
Morrigan tapped her staff once more. Becoming known made her vulnerable, easy to manipulate. She should be terrified of such a thing. Instead, she rather felt nothing for it at all. Still, she wouldn’t let Alistair have the upper hand.
“Not too well,” she said. “I have many facets not even you could predict.”
“Like what?” he asked, raising a teasing brow. “That your idea of romance is performing blood magic together? Or, that you’d sooner turn me into a toad and carry me around in your pouch than kiss me? Or-”
Morrigan surged forward, silencing Alistair’s next guess with her lips on his. Alistair startled, and froze in his surprise, making the kiss stiff and awkward. Morrigan pulled away just as quickly, satisfied by Alistair’s shocked expression.
“Either you are an oddly shaped toad,” she said, “or I am not so predictable after all.”
“I knew you’d do that,” Alistair lied, his face reddening once more. “I was goading you, obviously.”
“Of course,” Morrigan replied sarcastically. “You had to trick me into a kiss, because you wouldn’t dare attempt it yourself.”
“I know what you’re doing,” he said, grinning. “I’m not going to lie, It’s working.”
He kissed her back, far more pliant, though noticeably inexperienced. Morrigan sighed in disappointment, slung her staff over her shoulder, and placed both of her hands on either side of Alistair’s face to position him better. He moved with her direction easily, eager and surprisingly submissive. It was a welcome change from Morrigan’s past partners, all demanding as though they weren’t lucky to end up in her bed.
She wondered, distantly, if that was Alistair’s next desired destination. She wouldn’t mind, of course; he was far more attractive than even he realised, which she was eager to exploit. But for now, the gentle press of his lips was enough for her.
They separated slowly, and Morrigan released Alistair’s face, trailing a finger down the stubble along his jaw. His eyelids fluttered open, his gaze meeting hers. He grinned as she stepped back, looking in awe. The fluttering in Morrigan’s stomach returned.
A sharp whistle startled them both, and Morrigan practically leapt away from Alistair. A few yards ahead, Zevran was leaning against a tree, watching them with a smirk. Wynne stood nearby, shifting awkwardly and gazing resolutely at Barkspawn as though attempting to pretend she wasn’t paying attention. Morrigan realised belatedly that she and Alistair had stopped following behind for some time, and the others had noticed their absence and made their way back. It was just her luck that their arrival coincided with her moment of weakness.
“That was a good show,” Zevran teased, pushing himself off of the tree. “I’ve been waiting for something interesting to happen between you two.”
“You wretched elf,” Morrigan spat, shifting her stance to the defensive, her staff back in her hand. “How long have you two been standing there?”
“I only just arrived,” Wynne answered weakly. “I saw nothing.”
“I scouted ahead of her, of course,” Zevran replied, feigning severity. “I was worried you two had been captured, and we would wander our way back into a trap. I had to be cautious, you see.”
“And you did not make your presence immediately known, because…?” Morrigan urged, her irritation rising.
“Well, who was I to interrupt such a sweet moment?” Zevran held out his arms, gesturing to the two of them. “Besides, I like to watch.”
“Pervert,” Alistair muttered.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Zevran teased, trailing his eyes very obviously over Alistair’s form, his gaze one of open desire.
Morrigan didn’t think it was possible for Alistair’s blush to deepen, yet it did. For that, she could refrain from firing an arcane bolt at Zevran’s pretty face, for now.
“We’ve delayed enough,” Wynne remarked, still not meeting anyone’s eyes. “There’s important work ahead. Let’s get moving.”
True to his name, Barkspawn barked in agreement, wagging his little tail so hard his hind shook. He gazed at Morrigan, and she squinted at him sternly, silently discouraging his attention. Instead, he took it as a challenge, and bounded up to her excitedly. He began licking at her hand and drooling on her boots, and Morrigan reeled back, sneering.
“Enough, beast!” she reprimanded, using her staff to hold him back. “Alright, we will go! Cease your disgusting affection.”
Satisfied, Barkspawn retreated back to Wynne’s side, his tail ever-wagging. Alistair laughed at Morrigan’s expense, but her deadly glare silenced him instantly. Groaning, Morrigan stepped forward, ushering the rest of them onward. Alistair caught up to her as Wynne continued leading the way, and Zevran fell back to walk by her other side, as though he wasn’t in danger of her ire. She respected his confidence, even as it annoyed her.
“If you two ever wish to really go at it,” Zevran whispered, “I would be happy to help.”
Morrigan whacked the side of his head with her staff, and Zevran ducked with a hiss, rubbing his scalp.
“Should either of us wish for your assistance in bed, you will know,” she said. “Do not bring it up again, or I will silence you for good.”
“Promises, promises,” Zevran teased, leaning towards Morrigan and batting his eyelashes.
She shoved him away, but couldn’t help an amused grin at his antics. The three of them fell back into their typical banter, making sure not to lose Wynne again as they travelled on.
At times, Morrigan still found it hard to believe just how drastically her life had changed in the past few months. Not only was she so far from home, she had friends; and now, she had whatever this was with Alistair. She was surprised to find herself eager for what the future held.
While Morrigan may not mourn her mother’s death, Flemeth’s absence was certainly felt by her. But where once she had seen it as an end - an end to Flemeth’s reign, to her power, to Morrigan’s need to fear her - perhaps it was, instead, a new beginning. A mark of her life truly beginning as her own.
She wasn’t so desperate as to place her hand within Alistair’s own, though the thought did occur to her. It was far too soon to give Alistair any such ideas, however. So, for now, she settled for bumping his shoulder occasionally as they walked, and ignoring his resulting grin.