Ostagar was cold.
It was early spring yet, and although the lowlands around Calenhad were warmer, Ostagar and the Wilds were still very, very cold.
Kitranna and her company (including Morrigan) had decided to go to Ostagar, then to the Wilds. There, Morrigan could set up camp in Ostagar while Kitranna and the others dealt with Flemeth. The Darkspawn had moved on by now, either going back into the Deep Roads or going across land to go north, towards where there were more people.
Morrigan wished to be near Kitranna, to know as soon as possible when Flemeth was slain, but she could not get any closer than several miles for fear that Flemeth could possess her the moment her body was destroyed.
There were some darkspawn still lingering in the ruins, old equipment and scattered armor laying about, but that was easy to deal with.
What was worse was the body, strung up over the bridge.
Though the body was rotten and bruised, flesh torn open by scavengers, there was enough of the face and golden hair to identify him.
Cailan.
His was the only corpse remaining--all the others had been dragged off or rotted or frozen. Only Cailan's was still exposed to the air. It afforded the darkspawn with an intelligence that was...disquieting.
“We can't leave him like this,” Alistair said. “He should have a proper burial.”
“If we move the body, it is likely to fall apart,” Zevran said. “I am not sure what good a burial would do him now.”
“A burial does no one any good,” Morrigan said.
“It is for the mourners,” Leliana said. “And to show respect.”
“Why should I? He was not my king.”
“Perhaps we could take down the...structure, first?” Wynne suggested, speaking over Morrigan. “And then burn it?”
They did eventually manage to get the remains—mostly bones and withered flesh—onto a proper pyre. They couldn't find any of his armor or other belongings, and they could not afford to give any of their own, so they instead wrapped him in an extra cloak and hoped that would have to suffice.
After the funeral pyre was burnt to ashes and Ostagar was purged of the last darkspawn stragglers, they went on their way to confront Flemeth, leaving Morrigan behind.
“I will be fine on my own,” she assured a concerned Kitranna. “I would be more wary of my mother.”
“Are you sure?”
“She is a powerful apostate of unknown age,” Morrigan said dryly. “Why would one not be wary?” she reached out and touched the back of Kitranna's hand. “Be cautious,” she said. “Flemeth is not so easily dealt with.”
“I'll be careful,” Kitranna smiled at Morrigan. “I promise.” she took Morrigan's hand in her own.
Morrigan flushed. “I—that pleases me to hear,” she said. “Do take care not to die, if you please?” she stroked the back of Kitranna's hand with her thumb before pulling away.
“I'll do my best.”
The Wilds were colder than they had been earlier in the year, a crust of ice formed over the swamps and small lakes, snow dusting the ruins and giving them an ethereal feel. No birds called, and there were few animals and no people. The darkspawn incursion did not appear to have done much damage one way or the other--or perhaps it had, and the snow simply covered it up.
Flemeth's hut was much the same, still a ramshackle little house, only now covered in snow. Strangely, no smoke emanated from the chimney, and there were no footprints outside.
“This is where Morrigan used to live?” Leliana asked as the shack came into view.
“Her and her mother,” Alistair said. “Who we're here to kill.” he glanced at Kitranna. “Because Morrigan asked us to.”
“That's right,” Kitranna said.
“Is there truly no reconciliation between them?” Wynne asked.
“Flemeth wants to steal her body,” Kitranna said. “So, that's an issue.”
“That is very sad,” Leliana said. “Perhaps we should speak with Flemeth and see--”
“See what?” came Flemeth's voice from behind them, and they all turned, weapons out. She snorted. “Did you think you could come here without my knowing it?” she folded her arms and sat back on her heels. Kitranna realized with a jolt that Flemeth was barefoot, and left no footprints.
“I'd kinda hoped,” Kitranna admitted. “I mean honestly, is there a better way of approaching an ancient bodysnatching witch except by surprise?”
“So I see lovely Morrigan has at last found someone to dance to her tune,” Flemeth said, with a little smirk. “Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn't you say?”
“Not really,” Alistair said.
“Then why are you here, boy?”
“Look, I don't really want you trying to possess Morrigan,” Kitranna said. “Or whatever it is you're going to do, so she asked me to kill you.”
“And yet, you have not done so yet.” Flemeth heaved a sigh. “A soul is never forced on the unwilling.”
“Then why does Morrigan think you're going to snatch her body the minute yours breaks?”
“Perhaps because she cannot possibly know everything about me.” Flemeth shook her head. “But this is an old, old story, one that Flemeth has heard before, and even told. So, let's skip right to the ending, shall we? Do you slay the old wretch as Morrigan bids, or does the story take a different turn?”
“Unless that story somehow guarantees you keeping out of Morrigan's brain, which in no way it could, we could just skip right to the slaying.”
“So eager you are!” Flemeth exclaimed.
“Yes, well, I'm a busy woman.”
Flemeth smirked at her again in that peculiar way of hers. “If you wish to protect your dear Morrigan so very much, I see no cause to stop you. As long as the music plays, we dance.”
Then she turned into a dragon.
In dragon-shape, Flemeth could wield less magic, but she still warped the Fade around her to her advantage, making them incapable of getting near her. They were forced to stick to long-range attacks, making Kitranna, Leliana, and Wynne the most useful party members.
After what seemed like several hours of fighting, however, they managed to beat her. It seemed oddly easy—almost as if she was still holding back, even now. Still, it was better not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
When the dragon collapsed, it did not returned to the shape of a woman. It instead burst into a shower of hot sparks and disappeared altogether—a most unusual occurrence. She left no indentation on the snow, no sign that she had ever been there.
Flemeth's hut was freezing cold, only ashes in the hearth. It was hard to tell how someone could have lived there. Inside there were not many things, but Kitranna located a few books and Flemeth's true grimoire. They returned to Ostagar, to find Morrigan.
“You have returned from the Wilds, alive, even,” Morrigan said when they met each other again. “What news have you?”
“Flemeth is dead,” Kitranna said, handing Morrigan the grimoire from out of her pack. “Turned out she could turn into a dragon. Could you do that?”
“Dead?” Morrigan took the grimoire, looked at it, then back up at Kitranna. “You actually managed it? I barely dared to hope 'twas even possible...”
“Aw, thanks,” Kitranna said. “Well, she's dead now.” she rubbed the back of her head. “No body, though. That was weird—she kind of...turned into sparks, like a dead demon would.”
Morrigan nodded. “That body she had was not her original one,” she said. “I assume it would act differently than her own.” she looked down at the grimoire. “And so here it is! Her grimoire! Fantastic! ...and thank you, for helping me,” she added quickly.
“You're welcome,” Kitranna said.
Morrigan let out a relieved sigh. “Hopefully, we are free of any pressing matters regarding my protection. I do believe we must be on our way to Denerim.”
She stood, looking at Kitranna, then reached out and took her arm. Very swiftly, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Kitranna's mouth, then stepped back.
“My thanks, again,” she said.
Kitranna touched her mouth. She smiled, then moved forward to brush a quick kiss across Morrigan's brow.
“You're welcome,” she said again.
Morrigan was blushing heavily. “We...should be off, should we not?”
“We really should.”
“I have a question for you,” Morrigan asked, on their trek back to Denerim.
“What is it?”
“What is your opinion of 'love?'”
Kitranna shrugged. “I don't know.” she glanced at the other woman. “Why?”
“You do not know?”
“Well...I...” Kitranna rubbed the back of her head. “I never really thought about it. Why are you asking?”
“We—have been close for some time, have we not? And you protected me from Flemeth without hope of reward.”
“Was I not supposed to?”
“I...do not like this feeling of dependency,” Morrigan admitted. “'Tis a weakness I abhor. Is that—do you know if that is love? I could not say.”
“I don't know either,” Kitranna said. “I trust you, if that's what you're talking about.”
Morrigan snorted. “Then we are both fools, and we need to do something immediately.”
“We are doing something. We're walking.”
“Oh, you are of no help!” Morrigan snapped.
“What's the matter?” Kitranna demanded. “Is there something wrong with me? Who cares about love or not?”
“No, there is little wrong with you.”
“Little?”
“Your habit of charging facefirst into battle does you little credit.”
“I'm an Arcane Warrior! You're supposed to do that!”
Morrigan sighed. “This is irrelevant. I—I have gotten too close, allowed myself to become too close. This is a detriment to us both.”
“No it isn't,” Kitranna reached out and touched Morrigan's shoulder. “I really like you, and I trust you. What's wrong with that?”
“I am—I am not like other women,” Morrigan insisted, flinching back a little. “I am not worth your—distraction. And you—you are...” she halted.
“I'm what?”
Morrigan pressed her fingers to her temples. “Neither of us can afford to be distracted, we are not worth each others' time.”
“Morrigan...” she brought the other woman up short. Morrigan glanced up at her, then away. “It doesn't matter that you might be different than other people. You're worth my time. Do you really think I'm not worth yours?” she took Morrigan's hands, feeling hurt.
“No,” Morrigan looked away. “No, I...I have...no experience with any of this,” Morrigan said. “I look upon you and I—I do not know what it is I feel. It should not matter.”
“Who says?”
Morrigan bit her lip. “There are things that must be done,” she said. “Tasks that must be accomplished. I cannot distract you, and you cannot distract me.”
“Why don't we do them together?” Kitranna urged. “Whatever it is, we can do it together.” she caught Morrigan's eyes. “I mean, I killed your dragon mother for you. I'm sure I can handle most everything else you throw at me.” she paused. “Unless you think I'm stupid. Then I'd be pretty pissed.”
Morrigan chuckled, in spite of herself. “You are not stupid,” she said. “Foolhardy, reckless, infuriating--”
“You really know how to flatter a lady, don't you?”
“This is a weakness we cannot afford,” Morrigan said quietly. “I have no experience with any of this--'tis all very unexpected.”
“Morrigan, we're going to Denerim to try and lead an army of Dalish, dwarves, mages and humans to kill an Archdemon. I don't think any of this was expected.”
“That is not what I am speaking of.”
“Morrigan...” Kitranna reached out and touched Morrigan's cheek. “Nothing bad will happen if you like me. Or even love me.”
“You cannot possibly be certain of that.”
“Of course I can. I'm not in the Circle, and I'll punch anything that tries to mess things up.”
Morrigan laughed, a little sadly. “That Circle did the strangest things to your perception of the world...”
“And living in a swamp with your evil dragon mother did weird things to yours, so we're even.”
“We will both regret this,” Morrigan told her.
“Or we could both be eaten by Darkspawn tomorrow.”
Morrigan sighed, and smiled, and leaned forward and kissed Kitranna. She tasted like lightning and lyrium, like spellwork. She pulled away. “If you are so insistent, then I suppose we shall regret it together,” she said.
Kitranna smiled, touching her lips. “I guess we will."