Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“There are concerning reports coming from the lowlands.” The scout relays, watching as the Inquisitor flexes their marked arm, as it was bothering them as of late. “Are you alright, Inquisitor?”

“I’ll be fine. Continue your report.” They say despite their obvious distraction.

“Of course. As I was saying…” The scout started but once more was interrupted as the halls at the far end of the hall swung open quite noisily.

“Inquisitor!” Scout Harding called breathlessly. “Come quickly!! All of you!”

“What is this about?” Leliana retorted with alarm. “We are having a meeting…”

“The Hero of Ferelden is here!”

Mouths fell open and there was a sudden scramble of boots and furniture as they all quickly abandoned the meeting and hurried out of the hall. Down several flights of stone steps, they rushed to the courtyard. Others were gathering as news spread. At the center of this crowd of onlookers stood a large hart in leather and wood barding that bore the mark of the extinct Sabre clan. The creature had a wicked scar, claw marks from a bear, along its neck as well as a burn on its left flank. Its crown of horns branched high and wide, bits of flowers and greenery was draped among the antlers.

Upon the hart’s back sat an elven woman bearing deep read Vallislin on her face and her exposed arms. Her sleeveless leather jerkin fit her body perfectly, oiled to shine in the afternoon light and gilded with bronze. An ornate, wooden long bow and quiver full of hand-fletched arrows strapped to her back. The woman’s dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a tight braid that hung all the way down to her backside.

“By the Maker…” Leliana breathed as she finished pushing through the crowd.

“Fen’aslin.” Morrigan breathed, just as shocked as her companion.

When those hardened green eyes fell upon the sight of Morrigan, the elven woman swung off her steed and, gracefully, landed on the ground. Leliana immediately surges forward, standing between Fen’aslin and Morrigan now.

“I never thought to see you again.” Leliana said, her usually hard and icy demeanor softening at the sight of her friend. “Then your quest?”

“It is finished for the time being.” The elven woman says. “There isn’t much more I can offer the Grey Wardens and after I heard tale of the conflict brought about by Corypheus… but it seems my bow is not needed here either.”

“Do not lie.” Leliana whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer. “You came here to see if Morrigan remained, no?”

“That was years ago.” The elven woman huffs stiffly, though the slight shift in her posture… the stolen glance past Leliana at the tamed witch…

“Of course. All in the past.” Leliana teases her. “Well, don’t let me keep you. We can catch up this evening, if you’re not busy.”

Leliana steps out of the way and Fen’aslin makes a few short strides to approach Morrigan. There is a long silence between the two, a palpable tension that almost no one here understands. Morrigan’s gaze sweeps over the other woman, taking in all that was familiar and new at the same time. The years had worn the hunter down, the toll of the Darkspawn venom entwined to her blood showing through the dark veins at the corner of her eyes.

“You look no worse for wear.” Morrigan says, trying to erase emotion from her voice.

“And you look… well.” Fen’aslin’s voice cracks slightly as she speaks those words, trying to clamp down on the pain in her heart.

“What brings you here?”

“My next hunt but it seems I am too late.” the elven woman muses in a wry tone. “Yet, it is good to see familiar faces. Friends. That you all are doing well under the circumstances.”

“What will you do then?” Morrigan asked her, noticing the woman was fidgeting with the tie of her right leather bracer.

“Perhaps I shall travel to Antiva.” Fen’aslin says. “Ferelden has no need for me but it will only be a matter of time before all of Thedas has no use for me… and the Call beckons me below for the final time.”

“You…” Morrigan gasps quietly.

“I still have some years, do not fret.” The elf says, her arm rising as if to comfort Morrigan but she thinks better of it and lets it drop to her side. “It is… good to see you, Morrigan.”

A commotion in the crowd interrupts as Kieran shoves his way through the crowd until he reaches the center, staring up at Fen’aslin with shock and awe. His jaw was slack, completely oblivious to the pain that suddenly showed in the woman’s eyes, how she choked on her next breath for a brief moment.’

“The Hero of Ferelden! You’re… real!” He exclaims before Morrigan puts her hand on his shoulder and pulls the boy to her side. He looked so much like Alistair… too much.

“Your… son.” Fen’aslin murmurs with pained awe.

“Yes, this is Kieran. Kieran, this is Fen’aslin Mahariel.” Morrigan said.

“Mom’s told me all about your adventures! Oh, this is so exciting, are you staying with the Inquisition?!”

“I…” Fen’aslin hesitates with her answer, the look of adoration the boy was giving her soothing her pained heart. “If it is acceptable to the leader here then yes, I will stay for a time.”

“Inquisitor!! Can she stay, please?!” Kieran called excitedly, as the Inquisitor was standing a few feet away, at the edge of the crowd.

“The Hero of Ferelden is always welcome here.” they say.

“Your invitation is generous. I accept. I… will stay.” Fen’aslin says, her tone a note bashful.

Kieran jumped excitedly and approached her, throwing his arms around her slender waist and hugging her. The elven woman froze, unsure of what to do as though this child was innocent, ht was the living reminder of the honorable end Morrigan had stolen from her… by laying with Alistair despite knowing how madly infatuated, in love, Fen’aslin was with the witch. A light tug on her hand snapped the elf out of her thoughts, Kieran looking at her with excitement.

“What’s your hart’s name?” he asks, gesturing at the beast patiently standing there.

“This is Revas. He has been my companion and guide for many years now but be careful. He is not quite tolerant of shemlen…”

As if understanding they were talking about him, Revas strides over and bows his great antlered head towards Kieran. The boy grinned, wanting to reach up and pet the hart but heeded the Warden’s warning. Fen’aslin braced herself for having to shield Kieran, as Revas could easy kick or bite the child without warning but, to her surprise, the great cervine sniffed at the boy a few times before butting his nose to the child’s chest.

Permission she had never seen Revas grant so easily.

“He would like you to pet him. He likes to be scratched behind the right ear.” Fen’aslin nods, still shocked.

Kieran bounces on his heels excitedly, yet carefully reaches up and gently rubs behind the hart’s ear. It croons in approval, sitting down as he was content. Fen’aslin stared at Revas with shock but the joy on Kieran’s face, delight at the hart being so friendly with him to the point the boy’s face was buried in the thick, musky mane of the beast’s neck…

Perhaps it would not hurt so much to stay here, at least for a little while.

Though she had accepted Morrigan would not love her, Fen’aslin could not bring herself to disappoint Kieran.

Chapter Text

“Finish your homework.” Morrigan chided Kieran, catching her son dallying at his desk again.

“But I wanna go play with Revas and Fen, ma.” Kieran complained, kicking his heels against the leg of the chair. “Can’t I finish later?”

“No. You will finish your studies now and then I shall consider it.” The witch  insisted crossly.

“Fen’s teaching me to ride and that’s much more interesting than these books.” He pouts.

“Your studies are more important than riding!” Morrigan snaps with annoyance, Kieran having never rebelled like this before the Warden’s sudden arrival.

Fen’aslin had made herself at home in the past couple of weeks, though the Dalish Grey Warden preferred to stay near the gardens. They had not spoken since she had first arrived, though Morrigan had noticed Leliana seeking the elven woman’s company after the evening meal. She was not sure why she would notice such things, Leliana had pursued the Warden during their initial adventure, despite the Dalish’s obvious disinterest.

Yet… part of Morrigan was relieved, glad even, that Fen’aslin, still, had interest in no one but herself.

“Finish your work and you may go continue your riding lessons with Fen’aslin.” Morrigan said, Kieran’s expression lit up immediately. “BUT you must do the work correctly and completely!”

It was a surprise to see Kieran so motivated, the boy finishing the rest of his studies within the hour. They had a late lunch (Morrigan had lost track of time) and then she escorted the eager boy to the training yard.

The pair came upon Fen’aslin practicing her archery with Sera… more like Sera was showing off and goading the Warden, who effortlessly showed off her skills much to the awe of the rest of the inquisition’s forces. Morrigan noticed Varric scribbling down notes in his book while Leliana was watching with bemused interest. Morrigan did ponder if the ‘spy master’ had attempted to seduce Fen’aslin, as she had during their journey years ago… unsuccessfully.

“So ya always shoot straight or ya got a fancy for the other side of the target?” Sera asks, waggling her eyebrows in obvious suggestion.

“What?” Fen’aslin says, lowering her bow as she does not understand the other woman’s convoluted innuendo.

“She’s asking if you lay with women as you do men.” Varric pipes up, pen at the ready.

“I have not lain with anyone.” Fen’aslin admits with no shame. “I care not for the gender or station of such who would garner my attention. Only…. one in my life has ever inspired such and they were killed by the same curse that nearly killed me.”

“Ya got a fancy way of talking for one of them Dalish, I’ll give ya that.” Sera rolls her eyes, obviously disinterested. “Boo, figured there was something between ya and super-secret bird lady.”

“Leliana knows I have no interest in her yet she persists, even after the years.” Fen’aslin shakes her head. “She will…”

“Fen’s only had eyes for one woman and she will not have her.” Leliana teases, reminding everyone she was, in fact, still in the training yard,  flashing Morrigan a playful wink.

“Ms.Warden!” Kierna piped up, hurriedly approaching the Dalish woman as he was tired of waiting.

“Kieran, you may call me by name.” Fen’aslin says, blushing lightly. “Ah, you want to start your riding lessons.”

“Yes!! I did all my study work and passed my tests!” He said excitedly.

“Do you have your mother’s permission?” the Dalish woman asks coyly, even as she whistles for Revas.

“He does. Kieran worked very hard for the privilege.” Morrigan speaks up. “However, I wish you had asked me before indulging him.”

“M-my apologies.” Fen’aslin flusters. “I am still unused to all the traditions and protocols of shemlen culture. There are so many, it is overwhelming.”

“No harm.” Morrigan smirks, reaching out and patting the Dalish woman on the cheek. “It is a skill he will benefit from in many ways and I would have no other as his tutor in such matters.”

Everyone else in the courtyard watched, flabbergasted as the woman who had united an entire nation against the Fifth Blight, faced the Archdemon herself and rebuilt the Ferelden Grey Wardens from nothing… looked as if she were about to faint because Morrigan had touched her.

“Oh, Fen, you hopeless fool.” Leliana sighs with both amusement and sympathy.

“Ya weren’t kidding.” Sera quips not so quietly. “She really does have the hots for her. Shame she’s straighter than my arrows.”

“She’s, truly, had no other lovers? Not even a seedy whore in an alley?” Varric chimes in with a hushed tone.

“Kieran does not need to hear such gossip.” Fen’aslin growls, having regained her composure. “Do better to keep such thoughts to yourselves… or at least away from me.”

“C’mon. Can’t have spent all these years lonesome.” Sera presses.

“I didn’t.” Fen’aslin says, raising some eyebrows. “I traveled much of Thedas with Revas at my side and spent a number of years in the Deep Roads, safe-guarding and guiding expeditions.”

“The deer doesn’t count.” Sera retorts.

“Revas is a Hart. You would do better to know the difference." The Dalish woman snorts.

The beast in question comes trotting into the area, Kieran exclaiming with excitement and bowing to the beast. Revas bows in turn, then sinks down to lay on his belly so that the boy may climb up on his back.  Fen’aslin allows herself a smile. Though he was the bastard son of Alistair, both him and Morrigan had conspired to rob her of her honorable death fighting the Arch Demon, the young lad melted her heart. Fen’aslin quickly found that she could not bring her ire for her former friend against the kid. She loved Morrigan something fierce but the bond she had with Kieran now…

It had healed something that Fen had not been aware needed mending.

“Can we ride outside the keep?” Kieran asks as Revas trots around the courtyard grounds, Fen’aslin seated behind him to instruct and keep him safe.

“I doubt your mother would permit such a thing.” Fen retorts.

“I'd be safe with you and Revas.” The boy pouts. “I’ve not left the keep since we got here and the war is over, isn’t it?”

“The war with Corypheus is, yes. Shemlens are always in conflict, however.”

“Do the Dalish not go to war?” Kieran asks.

“Some do but the clans are too small, too weak, to fight the shemlen nations.” She replies.

“What about your clan?” He asks, looking up at her over his shoulder. “Do you miss them?”

“I do but I can never go back.” Fen’aslin sighs.

“Why?”

“Because I am a Grey Warden. I no longer have a place among my people.” She replies, shifting uncomfortably as the boy’s interrogation was exposing her deeper emotions and thoughts.

There is a long silence as Revas trots past the tavern, Kieran taking the reigns and practicing the Dalish words Fen’aslin had taught him to command and guide the hart where he wanted him to go… though the beast made a detour towards a fresh shipment of provisions and nicked an apple before continuing on.

“Mom really likes you.” Kieran smiles brightly.

“She…?” Fen’aslin nearly chokes. “We were… friends for a long time. Such bonds don’t always fade with time, Kieran.”

“I'm glad they didn’t. I finally got to meet you!” He says excitedly. “Could we go a bit faster?”

“I suppose. You know the command but you need to hold on tight. The way harts run is different from horses.” Fen’aslin warns the young boy.

Kieran, excitedly, gives Revas the command to go into a sprint, the hart snorting and flick its ears with excitement as he finally got to speed up and run around the courtyards. Morrigan watched with trepidation but she saw how Fen had an arm around Kieran while she held the reins in the other without taking them from Kierran. He whooped and hollered excitedly as the hart sprint and prance, valuating over fences. After a couple of laps, Revas comes to halt a few feet in front of Morrigan, allowing Kieran and Fen’aslin to dismount. The boy’s hair was a mess, clothes rumbled but Morrigan could not stay annoyed because he had the biggest smile on his face and such joy in his eyes.

“Did you have fun?” Morrigan asks him as she straightens his tunic.

“Yes! Revas runs so fast and it definitely feels different from a horse!” He says excitedly.

“I'm glad you didn’t forget to learn something from this.” She teases him before straightening and addressing the Dalish woman, who was standing there a bit awkwardly. “My son seems quite enamored with you but I thank you.”

“O-of course.” Fen’anslin stumbles over her response. “I apologize if I overstepped, again.”

“You didn’t.” Morrigan smiles. “As he grows older, he grows more headstrong so a far more disciplined guidance like yours is welcome.”

“Does he know his lineage?” Fen asks a bit stiffly.

“No and I prefer to keep it that way.” Morrgain retorts, narrowing her eyes at her. “I know you hate Alistair and I for…”

“I do not hate you.” Fen’aslin interrupts, making the witch snap her jaw shut. “And I have come not to… hate Alistair for the decision though I will still gut him for touching you if we were ever to meet outside of the protection of his courts.” The Dalish woman takes a deep breath, shoulders slumping. “I do not bear any of that against Kieran and he will certainly not hear such information from me. He is a good, strong lad and though I am apprehensive of the relationship he pursues with me, I find myself happier for it… and Revas certainly likes the boy.”

“Have you truly been… alone all these years?” Morrigan asked quietly, since they were by themselves with little chance of someone overhearing unnoticed.

“I have been alone since the tainted Eluvian took Tamlen and the Sabrae Clan from me. I never found a home among the Grey Wardens and I certainly do not wish to find a home among the Darkspawn, despite the Architect's honeyed attempts at swaying my opinion.” The Dalish woman retorts. “I have come to be content with my lot in life.”

“Are you, truly, content?” Morrigan presses, curious.

“Does it, truly, matter?” Fen’aslin counters, posturing defensively.

“Perhaps it does to me.”

“Do not start this, Morrigan.” Fen’aslin pleads, her expression suddenly pained. “It took me years to accept the truth of things between us. I have made my peace with it but do not re-open this old wound just to sate your curiosity.”

The Dalish woman turns on her heel and walks away, Revas following immediately. Kieran comes back from running around and chasing other children to see the Warden is gone.

“Oh… she had to go? I was hoping she could have tea with us.” He pouts, clearly disappointed.

“Perhaps next time.” Morrigan says, worrying at nail on her thumb with her teeth. “I think she was tired from today’s lesson. Come, we’ll have tea time and then a bath. You smell like beast.”

Chapter Text

“For the last time. Wyverns possess many useful ingredients… but they are only useful if you do not butcher them.” Morrigan retorts with exasperation, having answered Sera’s question for the fifth time since they left the keep.

“Quiet.” Fen’aslin retorts, leading their little hunting party. “It is easier to track our mark if you would stop your chattering, Sera.”

The Warden was also apprehensive of Morrigan being part of this hunting party. She had no doubts about Morrigan’s skill in the arcane but it had been years since she had last witnessed the Wilder mage use battle magic. When word got around of a nest of wyverns causing a ruckus to the north, the Inquisitor saw it as an opportunity…  Then Morrigan heard and wished to harvest fresh materials from the wyvern but insisted on coming along to assure that they did not utterly destroy anything useful from the creature. Of course, Kieran wanted to come along as well but neither Morrigan or Fen’aslin would allow the boy to be in such danger.

Revas comes to a halt, Fen’aslin swinging off the saddle to the ground, inspecting near invisible marks in the grass and soil. Morrigain watched with a silent thrill, forgetting how majestic the Dalish woman was in her element; hunting. Once she was done gathering what intel she could, she swung back up into the saddle.

“What was that about?” Sera retorts but no one answers her, either because they can’t or are in no mood to.

They follow the trail for another hour or so before breaking for lunch. Fen’aslin does not join them, just goes scouting ahead with Revas, leaving the rest to talk. The group is not only made up of the Inquisitor, Sera and Morrigan but Leliana, Cassandra and Iron Bull are following along as well.

“Shame she would not stick around for lunch.” Iron Bull says as he corks his water skin. “Not much of a people person, is she?”

“No.” Leliana chuckles. “Fen’aslin barely tolerated us and that was purely out of necessity… though she always made an exception for Morrigan.”

“Why’s that?” Cassandra asked obliviously, her question directed at Morrigan for the most part.

“Cause the Warden’s all smitten with her.” Sera teases, making the mage fluster for a moment. “But ain’t meant to be or some other mushy crap.”

“Wait, Morrigan and… her?” Cassandra blushes at the thought.

“Nothing NEARLY as twardy as Varric’s romance stories, darling.” Leliana cuts in with a bemused smile. “No hope for love to bloom as Fen will never be Morrigan’s type.”

“Do not speak as if I am not here.” Morrigan snaps at Leliana. “And do not disrespect Fen’aslin. Some of her…  infatuation is because Flemeth was the one who found her, and Alistair, at Ostagar when the Darkspawn had overrun the place and left the two for dead. I tended their wounds day and night. Fen’aslin was incredibly weak as she had just gone through the Grey Warden Joining hours before the assault.”

All conversation ceased when Revas bellowed to announce their return. Fen’aslin dropped down on the ground once they rejoined the group. The Dalish woman noticed the apprehensive atmosphere but ignored it otherwise.

“I found signs that we are hunting a nesting female.” Fen’aslin reports to the group. “I did not find the nest itself but she’s obviously taken the territory of a Frostback.”

“What makes you say this is territory of a Frostback?” Iron Bull asks, impressed by the Dalish woman.

“I found its corpse.” Fen’aslin says, pointing back in the direction she had come from. “It’s been dead for a few weeks but obviously another dragon did not take it down. There were several necrotic wounds, caused by wyvern venom.”

“Never heard of wyvern venom taking down a dragon before. Just slowing them, at best.” Cassandra says, looking concerned.

“I believe our quarry has been… infected.” Fen’aslin replies, her expression growing grim. “I feel a whisper of The Calling but there are no Darkspawn in this region… at least, not above ground.”

“Red lyrium?” Morrigan asks.

“I suspect so but could not confirm.” Fen nods. “It is also quite likely we are being hunted by the wyvern. It is not just a beast of brute strength but of sharp cunning and wit as well… and it is likely not alone.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” Sera quips as Cassandra jumps to her feet.

“It’s not.” The warrior says as she straps her shield to her arm. “We will have to proceed carefully then. Wyverns do not hunt in packs but if this one is behaving as abnormally as you suspect…”

“It will herd us into a kill-box.” The Dalish woman nods, resting a hand on the pommel of her belted sword.

“Then what is the plan?” The Iron Bull asks, hefting his blade to rest on his broad shoulders.

“There are many ways to blind one’s quarry… so, we go after the nest.” Fen’aslin nods. “It will drive the wyvern into a frenzy, making it more dangerous but also easier prey. Such violation of its sanctum will leave little room for thought beyond impulse.”

“How are we supposed to attack the nest if you didn’t find it?” Sera retorts snidely. “Some hunter.”

“I was only scouting.” Fen retorts back, glaring at the other elf with annoyance. “Finding the nest itself is a trivial matter for me.”

“I will go with you.” Morrigan interjects. “The nest will not be unguarded and when it comes to dealing with the power of red lyrium… last I recall, you are not a mage.”

There is a long moment of tense, awkward silence as everyone else in the party waits for Fen’aslin’s response with baited breath. The Dalish woman’s expression remains stern but there is a flicker of… something, for a moment before It's gone.

“I welcome you as a hunting companion, Morrigan. However, I suspect you wish to collect materials from the nest before I destroy it.” Fen’aslin teases her.

Leliana barely suppresses her snicker as Morrigan flusters over her response. With Fen and Morrigan going to deal with the nest, the rest of the party was going to keep moving through the beast’s territory in the opposite direction, keeping the wyverns distracted until the pair had finished destroying the nest.

Morrigan rode along with Fen’aslin upon Revas’s back, the mage’s arms around the Warden’s slender torso. The woman was as stiff as a board the entire time, focusing on tracking so her mind would not wonder the feel of the witch’s body against her, the scent of her that she's missed all these years… Revas made an abrupt halt and bellowed softly, stamping his hooves into the dirt.

“We're close.” Fen’aslin says as she slides out of the saddle, then helps Morrigan down. “If anything is up there, it will pick up Revas’s scent so we must make the rest of the journey on foot.”

“Been some time since I've gone climbing.” Morrigan quips upon seeing the forest gave way to rocky hills and sudden cliff faces, glad she had opted for trousers and a shorter robe for this ‘quest’.

“Do you need my assistance making the climb?” Fen’aslin asks.

“I will let you know when I require your assistance. Lead on.”

The pair make the journey, carefully, to the wyvern’s nest. Morrigan noticed the signs getting more and more obvious, as the wyvern and its pack had been dragging and leaving their kills in the area, the density of bone and rotted flesh getting more and more until they came upon a cavern at the top of rugged cliff, the climb arduous because much off the cliff was crumbling.

“Strange.” Fen’aslin says, blade in hand. “There should have been one of the pack guarding…”

“FEN!” Morrigan shouts in alarm, spotting the wyvern lunging from a shadowed crevice above them.

The wyvern shrieked, scrambling for footing as Fen’aslin dodged its attack. Its eyes glowed bright red, with black ichor weeping from its tear ducts and spittle tainted black as well; a sure sign of the Taint and red-lyrium contamination. The wyvern yelped as Fen’s blade sank into the soft flesh of its flank, Morrigan immediately conjuring vines to restrain the beast and prevent it from calling for the rest of its pack… and spitting venom at either of them. The creature was smaller than a typical wyvern but that didn't make it any less dangerous.  Empowered by red lyrium, the creature was far more powerful than normal; its thrashing ripping up the roots and vines restraining  it.

Morrigan swore as she dodged the beast’s snapping jaws as it lunged, efforts pulled short by the remaining bindings. Fen’aslin lunged onto the creature’s back and brought her blade down towards the soft spot behind its skull but the wyvern bucked and twisted, throwing off her aim so the elf’s blade struck against heavily plated scales, bending the blade and blunting its sharp edge. Fen’aslin went tumbling off its back, dislocating her right shoulder as she landed. Through her hazy vision, struggling to stand, she saw the wyvern get free of its remaining restraints, frills fluttering as its entire body coiled and tensed for an attack on the mage, who was trapped due to the cliff edge behind her.

Fen shouted a Dalish expletive in a panic as she lunged onto the wyvern again, arms around its wriggling neck as she planted her feet against the hard stone ground, throwing all her strength into pulling the wyvern back but the beast’s enhanced strength was greater than her Taint-given strength and she began to slide. The wyvern’s head whipped round, sharp teeth slashing through the armor of her right arm and ripping out a hunk of flesh, the wyvern’s venom immediately starting to weaken her grip as it entered her body through the wound. Suddenly the word pitched and she was on her back as the wyvern thrashed and pounced on her. She heard Morrigan scream something but she did not hear what it was as the Lady of the Forest’s ‘blessing’ coursed through her… giving her the strength she needed to overcome in this fight.

The wyvern whimpered as its jaw was, forcibly, slammed shut, its own acidic venom bubbling into the soft flesh of its mouth. The Dalish woman’s form grew and reshaped, doubling in muscle mass alone as she changed from wispy elf huntress into a hulking werewolf of auburn fur with dark patterns where her Vallislin tattoos marked her body, auburn fur missing from most of her right arm and side due to what looked to be a severe burn suffered in the past. Fen’aslin snarled, leather armor and clothes hanging in ruined scraps upon her altered form, as she shoved the wyvern back, sending the beast stumbling over itself, gagging on its own acidic ichor.

“Fen…” Morrigan muttered, shocked as she took it all in while Fen’aslin battled the wyvern. When they had entered the Bercilian Forest to compel the promised aid of the Dalish, they had been attacked by werewolves and Fen’aslin had been inflicted with their curse until they had broken it. To see it again… how?

“M-mor-hrgian?” Fen’aslin grumbles, words difficult to form with her muzzle, the wyvern laying dead at her feet and body matted and flecked with blood and gore. “Co-l-ect…des-roy, rrgh, nest.”

Morrigan hadn’t realized the fight was over, nor any recollection of the fight but it was obvious Fen’aslin was the victor. She, hurriedly, approached the nest and collected what materials she felt most beneficial for her collection, then used a potent spell to burn the nest and collapse the crevice entirely.

“Carry-hrgh. Fas-ur.” Fen’aslin growls, crouching and offering her back to the witch.

Despite her injuries, Fen’aslin carried Morrigan with ease back down away from the wyvern den, putting considerable distance from the wyvern nest before going to search for a river. Once they stopped and Morrigan was, safely, back on her feet, the werewolf form melted away, leaving the Dalish woman quite nude at the river’s edge. Morrigan blushed, though as this wasn’t the first time she’s seen the elf disrobed, it had been a long time… and that time had been both a boon and unkind to the Warden.

Maker, the woman cut a beautifully elegant figure.

As all Dalish were, Fen’aslin was lean and muscular yet unlike most of her kin, her entire body was lined with the blood-red ink of the Vallislin; telling of her devotion to the extinct Sabre clan, her family history and dedication to many Dalish deities… but the entire section that had once been tattoo’d on her right had been obliterated by burns… burns the elvish woman had sustained on Morrigan’s behalf. There were also scars that Morrigan could not place and looked far more recent, but not too recent. Fen hissed as she started cleaning the partially healed wound in her arm, as transforming into a werewolf had reverted some of the damage but not all.

“Here, let me help.” Morrigan calls out before approaching the woman, kneeling next to her to look over her wound. “You got injured on my account… again.”

“As long as you remain unharmed.” Fen’aslin replies. “I can bear the scars.”

“Like this one?” Morrigan says, daring to trace her touch over the rugged burn scars on the woman’s shoulder, watching her next breath stutter for a moment.

“Y-yes.” Fen murmurs meekly, wrapping her left arm around her chest and pressing her thighs together in some show of modesty. “I… apologize for my indecency. Revas carries an extra outfit for me and should be here soon.”

“I am not— bothered by your nudity.” Morrigan says, finding it hard to keep her voice even and prevent her gaze from wandering too far from the elf’s injury as she tended to it. “But you were freed from that curse. How do you still carry it?”

“Some years ago, I returned to the Bercilian Forest.” Fen’aslin replies, not trying to hide anything. “I sought out the Lady of the Forest.”

“Why?” Morrigan insists, hand hovering over the Dalish woman’s arm, the wound fully healed.

“Thedas no longer has use for me, Morrigan.” Fen sighs, her shoulder slumping. “A hunter with no hunt, a warrior with no clan. What is the point? I will never bear or nurture a family, that fate was lost to me when the mirror claimed Tamlen… and it is impossible since I am a Grey Warden.”

“You, truly, have had no one all these years?” Morrigan asks gently.

“Yes. There has been no other since Tamlen.” the Dalish woman retorts ruefully. “I hoped returning to the forest would bring me… guidance, peace… something to quell this hollowness. When it did not, I beseeched the Lady of the Forest to turn me into a beast but that too was not the answer. At best, she gave me back this war form.”

“Fen’aslin…” Morrigan murmurs, rubbing her hand lightly down along the length of the hunter’s arm, then back up until she rested her hand against the back of the woman’s neck.

“If I had been born a man, circumstances would not have reached this point.” Fen’aslin continues, her green eyes hardening despite the unshed tears trapped in her lashes. “I’d have had more of a chance at your attention, perhaps even winning your heart but I have come to accept that was never to be a possibility. Then, you conspired with Alistair to deny me an honorable end fighting the Archdemon.”

“I did not want to lose you.” the witch admits, her words stilling the Dalish hunter. “I could accept you loathing me all these years if it meant you still lived.”

“Do not lie to me about this, Morrigan.” she growls. “Your ‘mercy’ was for your own self interest in the Evanuris soul. My survival was a consequence.”

“After all this time, you still mewl like a spoiled cub.” Morrigan chastises her. “It was an acceptable price, especially after all you have paid on my behalf, done for my sake. Flemeth… Mythal, could have destroyed you when you went after her.”

“A useless trade off.” Fen’aslin huffed bitterly. “She knew, planned… and ultimately escaped me. I gave up any thought of pursuit once I learned she is Mythal. All I have to show for my hunt is… yet, I do not regret turning my blade upon her.”

“Would you do so again?” The witch tests the waters, watching the other woman’s face carefully.

“If you asked it of me, yes.” Fen’aslin replied without hesitation.

The pair sat there for a long moment in utter silence. Fen’aslin did whistle for Revas again but the hart did not respond to her, leaving the hunter to wonder if he had returned to the others. Of course, Morrigan had noticed the hart attempt to approach them from downstream but the beast had stopped, bowed its head to her, then left, before Fen even noticed.

Crafty creature.

“Are you cold?” Morrigan asks, feeling the slight tremble in the elf’s arm and how her skin had prickled to gooseflesh.

“A little.” Fen’aslin admits meekly. “Where is that damn beast? I hope he is not hurt. We need to rejoin the others.”

“I am sure Revas is fine. Here…” Morrigan assures her before wrapping her arms around the woman, chest pressed to the firmness of Fen's back.

“W-what are you doing?!” The Dalish woman protests with sheer embarrassment.

“Keeping you warm, obviously.” the witch replies, pressing her forehead to the base of the woman’s neck as she was fighting down a blush.

Fen’aslin was as stiff as iron, acutely aware that Morrigan had her arms wrapped around her torso, finger tips dangling way too close to... The warmth of the woman’s breath tickling her spine wasn’t helping as the emotions and thoughts she had pushed down and buried deep all those years ago now run rampant in her, suffusing her being with the warmth of arousal.

“Why did you never write me a letter or come to visit?” Morrigan asks, tone soft and sultry.

“Why didn’t you?”

“You are a difficult woman to keep track of.” The witch scoffs. “When you left Warden’s Keep, the only news I could ever get was rumor at best… and even Leliana, with all her resources, could not find any credible tracks of yours.”

“That was my intention.” Fen’aslin sighed, then something about what Morrigan said dawned on her. “You… tracked me, all this time?”

“Yes. Are you familiar with the shemlen phrase ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’?”

“I am not, no.” Fen says, startled by the flutter of hope she feels in her belly, her heart now hammering against her ribs. “Morrigan, I warned you to not do this.”

“When have I ever heeded the warnings of others?” Morrigan scoffs, moving herself so she could rest her chin on Fen’s shoulder, putting her mouth right by the woman’s pointed ear.

Morrigan backed off when Fen'aslin shrugged her off, swiftly getting to her feet and moving well out of reach of the witch, arms wrapped around herself with her bare back turned to Morrigan. 

“Do not! I… I will not survive this a second time, Morrigan.” Fen’aslin begged. “It hurt worse than dragon flame to accept the truth you will never love me. It took years to bury my emotion and thoughts of you so deep and yet—”

“Then why did you come here?” Morrigan demanded as she rose to her feet as well.

“I—” Fen’aslin hesitated. “It was no lie. I had hoped to join the Inquisition in its fight against Croypheus but I was, obviously, too late. I… also hoped I could see you one more time, at a distance, before I sought the death you denied me. One last hunt.”

“W-what?!” Morrigan blurted. “You came all this way to die?!”

“You should have let me die!” Fen’aslin snapped, wheeling around as her expression was contorted in pained anger. “Your selfish ambition put me on this path and I, foolishly, followed every step!! The one thing I wanted—NEEDED, you wouldn't even grant me that!”

“There would have been no honor in your sacrifice!” Morrigan snaps back, Fen’s jaw clipping shut. “That was a price no-one needed to pay, especially you Fen’aslin!”

Morrigan took the two long strides to get right in the Warden’s personal bubble, cupping her hands around the elf’s face and pulling her face down so their lips crashed together. Fen’aslin stumbled slightly, stilled by absolute shock. When Morrigan pulled away, still holding Fen’s face, the Dalish woman was staring at her with wide eyes.

“You fool.” Morrigan smiles, chuckling ruefully. “Yes, I was selfish. I am selfish and then, my ambitions were far more important than your infatuation but I have never ignored nor forgotten what you have done… are willing to do, for my sake.”

Fen’aslin just stared blankly at the witch as she stepped back, arms falling back to her sides before she rests them on her hips, letting her eyes rake over the Dalish woman’s nude form rather appreciatively.

“Call your wayward beast and let us find the others. Hopefully, the wyverns have not eaten them…  some of them are far too useful still.”