The city grew tense as the Darkspawn approached. More of the Wardens' allies came, camping outside of Denerim or nearby, and generally making everyone in the city a bit on edge.
Oshathyla had contacted Shianni and the Tabrises, and they actually managed to have a fairly decent correspondence.
There were still problems between the Templars and the Dalish, but Ambassador Talvi and the dwarves were making good on their alliance and coming between the two groups to defuse any confrontations. It was a good thing, too—there were actually fewer than fifty fully trained battle mages from the Circle, and only five qualified spirit healers (excluding Wynne and Fiona). Everyone else was a child, or simply not trained enough to be in combat. The Dalish had several hundred mages across Ferelden, many healers of varying ability, and a large number of trained combat mages.
No matter how much mages were feared and disliked, no one could contest their usefulness during a fight. The only thing as good as a mage was a Qunari equipped with explosives and artillery, and there weren't exactly many of those around (although a small Vashothari group had joined with the Redcliffe forces).
Without the Dalish, the mage forces would be spread far too thin, and after the disaster at Ostagar, no one wanted to take any chances against the darkspawn.
Then there was the Archdemon.
Only Kitranna, Alistair, or Riordan could deal the killing blow. The Archdemon could be weakened, but not killed by anything less than a full Warden, and they had no idea how they were going to do that.
“There are ways to kill even the largest and strongest of dragons,” Riordan said, as the Wardens met to discuss that very issue. “All Archdemons before this one have died. This one will as well.”
“So do we wait until it gets to Denerim?” Kitranna said. “Or meet it somewhere else?”
“It's coming to Denerim no matter what,” Alistair said with a sigh. “We can't really make it go anywhere it doesn't want to.”
Fiona nodded. “It is an intelligent being,” she said. “There is a reason it is taking the Horde here before anywhere else.”
“If it's so intelligent, what's the point in all of this?” Kitranna demanded. “Why attack the country to begin with?”
“Who is to say?” Riordan said. “Wiser people than us have tried to work out why the darkspawn do what they do, and we still have no idea.”
Kitranna leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. “Alright,” she said. “How do we make sure it will come after us?”
“It is already coming here,” Fiona said. “It will be here in days.”
“I know that,” Kitranna snapped. “Any particular battle plans we can draw up? Something to make sure one of us suicides and it's actually worth it?”
There was a very tense silence.
“We would need to be somewhere high up,” Alistair said.
“I agree,” Riordan said. “Perhaps there are some strategies used against high dragons that would work--”
“Probably not,” Alistair said. “If it's smart, it won't think like a normal dragon. High dragons are like big bears or wolves—but the Archdemon is something else.”
“Could an Archdemon tell when a Warden is attacking it?” Kitranna asked. “Because then it would just leave.”
“I...do not think so,” Riordan said. “But I am not sure.”
“Would enough arrows from a Warden kill it, or do we have to just stab it?” Alistair asked. “Because if we can shoot it, we don't have to get anywhere close, just operate a ballista and--”
“I believe you have to strike it yourself,” Fiona said. “But there is no real evidence one way or the other.”
“So what I'm hearing is that we're guessing,” Kitranna said.
“Sadly, yes,” Riordan said. “The last Archdemon was felled hundreds of years ago, and they are not exactly common.”
Kitranna sighed and sat back in her chair. “Alright,” she said. “Alright. Look—we have a flying thing—I guess the priority would be to get it on the ground?”
“That sounds right,” Alistair agreed. “If we have to get close to it, we can't have it flying around.”
“We would have to focus our efforts on the Archdemon,” Riordan said, gesturing to himself, Kitranna and Alistair. “We could not risk one of us falling before we have the chance to kill the Archdemon.”
Kitranna nodded. “No Ostagar repeats.”
“No,” Alistair agreed quietly. “Definitely not.”
They didn't come up with any solid plans, except to aim for the wings of the thing and try to stay out of the battle until it was absolutely necessary.
Meanwhile, the dreams of the Archdemon grew worse. Kitranna woke many nights in a row, shaking and sweating, the Archdemon's voice echoing in her ears. It truly did have a voice—she just had no idea what it said.
The dreams worried Morrigan, in many ways.
“You do not have foresight,” she said one night after Kitranna woke from one such nightmare. “You are no Fadewalker, to have dreams like these.”
Kitranna waved a hand. “It's a Warden thing,” she said, her teeth chattering. She was freezing, as she had woken up in a cold sweat. Morrigan put another blanket over her shoulders. “Alistair gets them too, and he's not even a mage.”
Morrigan shook her head. “I dislike this Taint business,” she said.
“No one really likes it much.”
“Who is to say the Archdemon cannot get into your mind? That it cannot see you? It carries the soul of an Old God--”
“Is that a real thing, or just something made up?”
“According to Flemeth's grimoire, it is true,” Morrigan said, with a troubled expression. “I do not know if this is correct. If so, there are several unpleasant implications.”
“Like that she's studied the Archdemons?” Kitranna cocked an eyebrow.
Morrigan nodded. “I am aware she is old, but to be old enough to have studied one Archdemon, let alone several...” she glanced away. “'tis possible it is something she discovered in the Fade, but her Grimoire says little of Fadewalking. She was no Somniari, that I knew, and her Grimoire says nothing otherwise.”
“Hm...” Kitranna pursed her lips and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself. “So, it's an Old God. What does that mean?”
“The Old Gods were dragons that Tevinter worshiped,” Morrigan said with a slight sneer. “I believe that they were merely beasts possessed by spirits of great strength—but whatever they are, they are corrupted now. Blighted.”
“Do you believe the Chantry's story about how the Blight started?”
“No,” Morrigan sniffed. “It is paranoid drivel, designed to make the peasantry hate and fear Tevinter. Perhaps there was some truth to it, long ago, but it has long since been lost.”
Kitranna sighed and leaned into Morrigan, who hesitated, then put an arm around her.
“Great,” she said. “Can't wait to meet it.” she closed her eyes. “The Warden who kills the Archdemon dies.”
Morrigan was silent for a long moment. “I know.” she murmured.
“You knew?” Kitranna exclaimed, sitting up. “Why didn't you say anything?”
“I could not be certain,” Morrigan retorted. “What good would it have done to say?”
“But--”
“I did not want to be certain,” Morrigan whispered. “I did not want it to come to this. I thought..perhaps...”
“Oh...” Kitranna deflated. She reached over and took Morrigan's hand. “I don't know what to say.” she admitted.
“There is a spell I know,” Morrigan said slowly. “A way out. A loop for your hole.”
“What is it?” Kitranna leaned forward. “What do you know?”
“A ritual, performed on the eve of battle. In the dark of night.”
“This sounds like it could be very...bad.”
“Not for you. It is old magic, from the time before the Circle was created. Some would call it blood magic, but I doubt that means anything to you.”
“Yeah, not really, unless you have to stab a baby or something.”
Morigan chuckled. “No—quite the opposite, really.”
“So you...hug a baby?”
“Pray let me continue, my love?”
“Sure.”
“If I bore a child from someone with the Taint, that child would have the Taint. And when the Archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon. At this early stage, the child can absorb the essence and not perish. The Archdemon is still destroyed, with no Gray Warden dying in the process.”
Kitranna paused and nodded. “There are so many ways that doesn't make sense,” she said at last.
Morrigan sighed heavily.
“Gray Wardens can't have children,” Kitranna said. “And how would a Tainted baby not end up coming out like a—a weird hurlock thing? And how exactly does a baby absorb an Old God's soul anyway? Who even invented this spell?”
“It was in Flemeth's grimoire, so you have her to thank.”
Kitranna frowned. “Flemeth knew a lot about Archdemons.”
“She did indeed.”
“A lot.” Kitranna crossed her arms. “And what's to stop the baby becoming a darkspawn? Do you really want to have a darkspawn baby?” she tapped her chin. “Wouldn't it come out all bumpy? With a weird head?”
“Kitranna,” Morrigan said. “It will not be a darkspawn. The child would be something different—it would have the essence of an Old God.”
“So it would come out like a dragon.”
“I believe you may be missing the point a bit.”
“Morrigan, it would have four feet or—horns or something!”
“No, it would not.”
“How do you know?”
“Flemeth's instructions were very clear, and extremely thorough.”
“How did she know?”
Morrigan paused.
Kitranna sighed and slumped. “You have no idea if she knew or not.”
“I did not say that,” Morrigan said.
“Did Flemeth ever have some kind of horrible dragon baby?” Kitranna asked. “I mean, she could turn into a dragon, so I guess if she did it wouldn't be a problem--”
“Shapeshifting while pregnant is highly inadvisable,” Morrigan said. “It gives the child strange ideas.”
“It's a baby, what ideas could it get?”
“Flemeth outlined several possibilities—you could read for yourself if you wished—it does not matter,” Morrigan exclaimed. “Because if we did this, you would be alive, instead of dying. Even Alistair would be alive.”
“But what if it hurt you?” Kitranna asked. “I mean—from what I hear, normal babies are hard enough. And from the sounds of it, this would be a horrible little dragon thing with six limbs and horns--”
“I am confident it will not be that,” Morrigan said.
“Yeah, but you don't know,” Kitranna insisted.
“Is it not better to try, and then you shall be alive, instead of not try, and then you shall be dead, and the soul of the Archdemon lost?” Morrigan said.
“I suppose...” Kitranna bit her lip. “What can you even do with a horrible Archdemon baby anyway?”
“The soul of an old God is something to be saved, not merely tossed away.”
“Yeah, but the Archdemons were corrupted.”
“By the Taint.”
“Which your baby would have—how are you supposed to get pregnant, anyway?”
“The usual means by which one becomes pregnant.”
“Morrigan, that means you would need to—perform the usual means—with Alistair. Or Riordan.” Kitranna made a face. “Gross.” she perked up. “Unless you had some other idea?”
Morrigan shook her head. “Sadly, I do not.”
Kitranna stuck out her tongue. “Gross,” she repeated. “And Alistair doesn't even like you. You fight all the time. And Riordan would probably be weird about the magic.”
“Neither of them wish to die.”
“And I don't know how everyone else would feel about an evil mutant baby...”
“It will not be evil,” Morrigan sighed.
Kitranna sat up. “And what would Anora think? Half of the mess we're in now was caused by succession struggles...”
“I can promise you the child will not attempt to seize the Fereldan throne.”
“Good,” Kitranna relaxed. “That's a relief.” she rubbed the back of her head. “Well...I guess we should at least talk to Alistair about it,” she said. “I'm still not sure about Riordan, though.”
Morrigan nodded. “There is one more thing,” she said.
“What is it?”
“If you do this, you must let me leave, and raise the child on my own. You must never search for me.”
“What?” Kitranna exclaimed. “I can't do that!” she snatched up Morrigan's hands, shrugging her blanket off. “What if something went wrong? What if someone hurt you? What if you twisted your ankle and there was no one around but a weird four legged demon child?”
Morrigan gave Kitranna a slight, sad smile. “I am entirely capable of taking care of myself.”
“You've never been pregnant before! I haven't been pregnant before! What if the baby's head were—were turned around or something and you were all by yourself? What if you got sick? What if--
“Kitranna,” Morrigan said.
“What?”
“You knew, when we began this, that it did not mean I would stay by your side forever.”
“That's not what I--” Kitranna sighed. “I'm—I'm worried,” she said. “I don't want you to leave me and I'm scared to death of something happening to you and I'm not there to help.”
Morrigan paused, her eyes wide. “I—I know,” she said. “I'm glad. I—I am not used to someone caring for me.”
“I care.”
“I am well aware of that. But regardless—we must discuss this with your fellow Wardens, mustn't we?”
Kitranna pursed her lips. “Fine,” she said. “But we're not done.”
“I am aware of that, as well.”
“Do you just have a thing for asking me to do things I really don't want to do?” Alistair asked Kitranna.
“What, do you want to die killing the Archdemon?” Kitranna snapped, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms.
“How are you so certain this would even work?” Fiona asked Morrigan. “Flemeth, for all her knowledge, could not possibly have performed this spell before. All the Wardens who have ever killed Archdemons before died when they did so.”
“All of Flemeth's other experiments have worked,” Morrigan said with a shrug. “And she has performed many in her time.”
“This is incredibly dangerous,” Fiona said. “Disregarding entirely that I am not sure at all if it would work—you would be putting yourself at risk for the battle.”
“I would be hardly a day pregnant.”
“But you would still be so,” Fiona said. “That is—if you are even certain your spell would guarantee a viable child.”
Morrigan nodded. “It would. Flemeth had many means of begetting children.” her lip curled in disgust. “She even had specific methods by which she could be sure of a daughter with magic.”
Fiona raised her eyebrows. “Did she now?”
Morrigan nodded again.
“Interesting...” Fiona tapped her finger on her lips. “Does her grimoire say anything about removing the Taint?”
Morrigan shook her head. “That was not her particular area of interest.”
“She knows how to have a child with a Gray Warden but not how to get rid of the Taint?” Alistair said, his expression doubtful.
Morrigan shrugged. “She could not know everything, even if it seemed as if she did.”
“I say we do it,” Kitranna said, looking down at her knees.
“What?” Alistair exclaimed.
“Well, why shouldn't we?”
“There are so many reasons why we shouldn't!”
“It is a highly experimental spell,” Fiona said. “I worry about any side-effects...not to mention a human child imbued with the soul of an Archdemon...” she looked at Morrigan. “What would such a child be like?”
“Quite similar to any other child, if Flemeth's notes are to be trusted.”
“And are they?”
“Every other spell of hers has worked.”
“I really, really do not want to do this,” Alistair said. “Shouldn't we talk to Riordan?”
“Gray Wardens have a more open view of magic,” Fiona said, biting the inside of her cheek. “But even so, I doubt he would agree to this.”
“It couldn't hurt to ask. Also, I don't want to.”
“You'd rather die?” Kitranna ask. “Or have me die? Or Riordan? Because those are the choices here.”
“No, of course not!” Alistair exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head.
“This is looking like the only way not to die.”
Fiona still looked troubled.
“It is a way for all of you to live,” Morrigan insisted. “Should you not take this, one of you will die.”
“That is, if we all don't die killing the Archdemon,” Alistair said.
Morrian sighed. “Yes, if given that.”
“What if you had the baby, and then in twenty years he shows up wanting the Ferelden throne?” Alistair asked.
“You have nothing to fear on that account,” Morrigan said. “I do not want or need a throne.”
“Yeah, but your baby might, 'specially if it was an evil Archdemon baby.”
“That's what I've been saying!” Kitranna said. “But if it's an evil baby over getting killed, I'll take the evil baby.”
“It will not be evil,” Morrigan insisted with an exasperated sigh.
“How do you know?” Alistair demanded. “You're pretty evil yourself.”
Both Morrigan and Kitranna glared at him. “Pragmatic is not evil.” Morrigan said.
“Enough,” Fiona said. “Come—we must decide, and soon.” she bit her lip, then shook her head. “I am too biased to make an effective decision,” she said. “Not when your lives are at risk. I am no Warden—not truly. You must be the ones to make this choice.”
“Fiona--” Alistair said.
Fiona got to her feet and squeezed Alistair's shoulder, then she left the room.
Kitranna watched her go, then turned back to her companions.
“Well,” she said. “What are we going to do?”
“There is not reason not to do this,” Morrigan said.
“There are plenty of reasons not to!” Alistair said.
“We don't have to do it until the 'eve of battle,'” Kitranna said. “That's what you said, right?” she asked Morrigan, who nodded. “Right. So, we don't have to decide just yet, but I think we should do it.”
Alistair sighed. “This doesn't seem like...well, like good magic, exactly,” he said. “Seems pretty fishy.”
“Isn't anything that keeps us alive and not dead good?” Kitranna asked.
Alistair rubbed his eyes. “That is a very good point,” he said. “I really don't feel like dying.”
“So you'll do it?”
Alistair looked at Morrigan and grimaced. “Well, it's a pretty hard choice--” Morrigan glared at him more intensely, her yellow eyes boring into his brown ones. “But yes.”