My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  "What did she look like?" he snapped at Reiss.

  "Jet black hair all a mess, and yellow eyes. The most piercing yellow eyes I've ever seen."

  Fuck. Maker take them all!

  Alistair smashed his fist into the ground, a wail of vengeance and agony trying to climb up his throat. Before he could tip back and scream it out, Reiss' trembling hand rose up his shoulder and he stared into her stricken eyes. "You believe me?"

  "I do, I..." It was his fault. Somehow, for some reason, the bitch came back to hurt him. "It's Morrigan," he spat out, unable to look at Reiss while speaking the vile woman's name.

  "Morrigan? Is she the one who...?"

  "Yes."

  "What the fuck does she want with our daughter?" Reiss shouted, her strength returning as she realized she had Alistair fully on her side.

  "I don't know, but I'm going to find out," Alistair reached down and scooped Reiss up into his arms. He carried her back to the agency, neither of them saying a word but occasionally grunting in agony or pain. It felt as if his teeth were going to explode from how tight he was grinding his jaw. Morrigan.

  After all these years. All this time...

  Alistair placed Reiss down on the desk and moved to lift away her coat. "Did she hurt you? Curse you? Use any blood magic on you?"

  "I don't know, I don't think so. The blood in here was from me," she said, lifting up her shirt to reveal a giant black and blue bruise up and down her side. Pinpricks of blood broke through it, something having impaled into her. When Reiss removed her shirt, she broke the scab formed against the fabric and the wound began to bleed again.

  Yanking off his own shirt, Alistair tried to stop her bleeding, then glanced around, "Your wound bled this much?"

  "No, I got her with...with the sword in, in," Reiss glanced back towards their baby's crib. The crib that should hold a little girl gnawing on her foot and blowing bubbles, not a weapon coated in the blood of a traitor. Tears bubbled up in her eyes again, but she squeezed her fist tight and cut them off.

  Staring down a moment, Reiss sneered, "I thought it'd slow her down, it did for a time. I was nearly on her trail when she just vanished. I don't know what happened."

  Alistair yanked back his shirt to find she'd stopped bleeding, but that wound was going to be agonizing for a good week. It nearly covered the side of her entire ribcage. That bitch!

  And it was all on him. Morrigan couldn't care less about some elf's child living outside the slums. No, she did this to strike back at him, to hurt him, to use him or the crown for her own demented plans. He curled his hand up, strangling the blood dotted shirt while snarling at thin air.

  Fingers skirted up his arm until landing upon the cheek. Alistair glanced into Reiss' eyes, the tears falling, "What are we going to do?"

  "We find that witch, we make her pay."

  "How?" Reiss moaned, her head flopping down until she stared helplessly at the ground.

  That was a good question. In all the years since the Blight, Alistair hadn't seen Morrigan once. Even Lanny, the only person in this blighted world the bitch ever called friend saw her all of twice. They needed a way to track her, to sniff her out of...

  He stepped away to peer down at the sword, blood glistening against the golden blade. Would that work?

  "Reiss? Do you have a clean bottle here?"

  "Yeah, in the second drawer. Fresh ones that were already scoured. Why?" She tried to ease off the desk, but crumpled to a ball.

  Alistair gripped onto her a moment before fishing out a small blue bottle. The chantry always used clear, but it was doubtful the color mattered much. Careful to lift the sword horizontally, Alistair placed the bottle's open mouth against the tip and then slowly tipped the blade vertical. The witch's blood didn't stink of rotten eggs, nor was it a putrid green. She probably wasn't in cahoots with any demons, assuming Morrigan wasn't really a demon the entire time they knew her.

  "What are you doing?" Reiss ignored her pain in order to stand up beside him, her eyes glaring at the ink bottle holding a few drops of blood.

  Maker, he hoped that was enough.

  "I need to find a templar and a mage," Alistair eyed up the precious fluid before stoppering it safely. This may be their only chance. "It has to be tonight or it'll dry and won't work."

  "Why? What are you doing with her blood?"

  "A phylactery, it's a way to track mages, to track Morrigan. She can't escape it, can't hide from it." He never wanted to be a templar. All but cheered the end of the order along with the mages, but he'd happily brand the bitch that stole his child away from her mother's arms.

  "Will that work?" Reiss drove right to the question.

  "I've done it before," Alistair admitted, "the tracking part. I've never made one, which is why I need help, but...it'll do it. I need to contact Lanny too, she... For some Maker damned reason she may get the witch to see sense." He knew a few people in the chantry who'd be awake now, but fuck it, if he needed to pull the Grand Cleric out of her bed to save his daughter he damn well would.

  "I'll get the phylactery made, should give me a sense of where Morrigan's gone. Build up a cavalcade of guards I trust, warn Lanny through the sending crystal, and I'll head out at dawn to bring back Myra." Saying those words froze him. His daughter was missing, his infant girl taken in the night and left in the trust of a witch that he... Scowling, Alistair bundled his revulsion deeper. He could hate later, the blood wouldn't keep long.

  "Alistair," Reiss reached out, her hand skirting up him, "I'm coming with."

  "You're injured, maybe not fatally, but..."

  Green eyes flared in his, the woman he loved, who fought like a razorback at his side and on his behalf, gripped onto his shoulder, "I'm going with to get back my baby, and when I do, I'm gutting the witch that took her from me."

  * * *

  Winds whipped against the forest just outside the inn. Okay, inn was a bit of a misnomer; it was really someone's house who was kind enough to let the King and his garrison of four burly guards crash for the night. They'd ridden hard for a day, only stopping because the sun finally dipped into the horizon. Reiss was willing to risk camping, but with her injury he refused to let her hurt herself even more than necessary. Luckily, all of the citizens of Ferelden just adored their goofy King appearing on their doorstep asking if they had an extra bed or three to lone out for a song.

  He left Reiss in the fancy room the homeowners gifted their Sovereign, her wound weeping because she didn't take the time to properly heal it. They set out at dawn's light, at first riding away from the sun then towards it. Alistair would look over at her from time to time, but her face was impossible to read under the hat. Any attempts at talking were met with a few grunts.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted a few of his men seeming to be milling around in the back end of this house as if they didn't disobey his order to leave him be, but all needed to take a leak together. As if they weren't given the orders to keep their King both alive and from doing something stupid by the far scarier Chamberlain. It didn't matter if they overheard at this point, he was out of options. Fishing out of his pocket the gem he sent a very terrified young man to pilfer from the Hero of Ferelden's memorial statue, Alistair placed it against his skin and waited.

  It took a bit before her husky voice called through the air, "Ali? You there?"

  "It's me," he said. He'd turned away from his guards, but at the sound of their King talking a few heads twisted over to check on him. Oh well, he was known for being flippant, why not tack crazy on as well. "Where are you?"

  "Outside of Lothering, what used to be Lothering. Which is still a mess. A few city tents popped up, mostly wanderers, but they let us stay. I guess two people with a baby aren't really seen as much of a threat."

  Lanny spoke it with a bit of a shrug and laugh, but at the word baby Alistair's throat constricted tight. He lashed out at the bush beside him and wrapped his fist tight around a branch. Somewhere out there was his daughter, no doubt scared,
cold, and probably starving. Morrigan sure as shit wasn't going to be able to feed her, not that a witch's teat could leak anything but frozen acid.

  "Ali...Alistair?"

  Her voice snapped him out of it and Alistair found he'd ripped all the leaves off the branch. Trying to tuck it back in so no one would notice the bush's bald patch, he spoke up, "I'm here, near uh, Dragon's Peak, I think."

  "What's the phylactery say?"

  He fumbled into his pocket, gripping tight to the ink bottle they'd sealed in wax. It was good to have power, and friends in high places. Anyone else would have kicked his ass out of the chantry for even asking. The Grand Cleric barely batted an eye as she called her aging templar protector to help prepare it. Even then, no one was certain if it would work, the blood being older and near everyone long out of practice making one.

  "Further west from me, I..." he tried to press his fingers tighter to the glass, the bottle's edge digging into his flesh, "I can't get anything better than that."

  "Hm..." Lana's voice faded, only a few mumbles carrying over the distance and through the stone. "Yes, I'll ask. Cullen's wondering if you can see anything around that will give us a hint as to where she's gone. Visions of the grass or lay of the land? Stars perhaps?"

  "No," Alistair confessed, his chin flopping down. "No, I can't because...I'm a shit templar, unlike him. A shame my daughter couldn't have a real one to protect her, to guard her. I bet he wouldn't have even let it happen. He'd have sensed a witch near him and cut her down without a thought."

  The line fell dead, Alistair cursing himself for being a failure. For letting his Wheaty out of his sight, for not planning on anyone daring to steal Myra away. If he was a better man it never would have happened.

  "Ali," Lanny whispered, "We will find her."

  "What if it's too late?" he gasped, dread filling his heart.

  "Morrigan wouldn't do anything to hurt a baby..."

  He snarled, "What do you know of the witch? What do you really know? She lied to us, both of us, for over a year. And now she's stolen my daughter to do Maker knows what filthy blood ritual. She could have already slit her throat and tossed her..."

  "Alistair, stop!" Lanny ordered. "Thinking that we've lost, being defeatist won't help. We'll get there. I'm going to keep in communication with you as often as possible. I hope we'll find Morrigan first to try and cut off her escape."

  No, Lanny wanted to get to her first to try and reason with the witch. She truly believed there must be some explanation, some excuse for why she did it. Lanny was too big hearted to believe that one of her old friends would think nothing of murdering a child for her own means. She never really saw Morrigan for the snake she was.

  "Gavin, no, don't put that in your mouth...!" her voice faded as she was no doubt racing to stop her baby from attempting to hurt himself. Holding him. Feeding him. Hugging him. Whispering how much she loved him every night.

  "Maker's breath," Alistair gasped, tears burning in his eyes. A pain radiated up his chest, and he clung tight to the armor strapped across it. Attempting to lift it off was doing nothing, his heart shattering below the creaking ribs. "Lanny, I...I have to go," he tried to speak without blubbering, but wasn't very successful.

  "Ali, it'll--."

  "Don't," he interrupted her, "don't tell me that things will be alright. You've got your son and I have..." He shook his head, this wasn't her fault. She was trying to help, "I have to go check on Reiss. Keep me updated, and I'll keep tabs on the phylactery."

  "Okay," was as far as she got before Alistair cut the connection. He dropped the amulet into his pocket, strode deeper into the forest, crouched down, and bawled his eyes out.

  The guards were kind enough to shuffle around, doing their best to ignore the grown man weeping like a child. Losing people in his life stung, as any deaths would. Duncan and all the Wardens dying turned Alistair sullen and inward, but he only risked a few tears here and there when he thought no one was looking. The loss at Ostagaar couldn't compare to the one battering his body to shreds. This was someone ripping apart his chest, yanking his heart out while he watched, and burying it in salt. He felt helpless, as weak as a newborn kitten while also wrathful, his fists often clenching as he imagined all the ways he'd disembowel Morrigan for this. She'd pay, even if Lanny got there first, found some reason behind it.

  Alistair didn't care. He was going to watch that witch's blood dribble off the end of his sword for this no matter what.

  The hatred shored up his tears and he rose out of his crouch. His leg muscles screamed in agony from it, a fire burning up them, but he walked about in a circle to try and shake it off. This wasn't the time for his body to complain, they had so much more road left to ride across.

  "Sire," one of the voices called out of the darkness, "do you need any help?"

  "No," he waved a hand, wishing he knew anyone who could help him. "I'm going to go inside to check on Reiss."

  "Very good, my Lord."

  The homeowners smiled at their King, who could only offer a small wave back. They were concerned that he didn't find things amenable and, as much as Alistair knew he should be playing the game, he couldn't bother. Not while his heart was being stolen into the night by a witch. Barely tipping his head to them, Alistair trudged up the stairs. At the largest bedroom, he paused and tried to wipe away any hint of tears. His falling apart was the last thing Reiss needed.

  She'd been a rock the entire ride. One hand gripped tight to the reins, while the other rested against the sword in her scabbard. The dagger was back in her hair, her Solver hat and coat abandoned for full armor. There were no tears in those summery eyes, only vengeance. It was so intimidating it made Alistair flinch at how easily he crumbled if he dared to think about their daughter's golden waves, or her sharp, tiny nails slicing into his cheek on accident when she leaned forward to kiss him.

  Opening the door, Alistair slid into the well furnished room. Reiss' back was to him, her head tipped down as she sat on the vanity bench. She must not have heard him as she didn't look over, her hands worrying something in front of her. Closing the door softly, Alistair yanked up his hair and said, "I spoke with Lanny. She's near Lothering and heading out towards..."

  His words faded as Reiss sat up fast. She turned over to look at him with eyes as red as blood. The tears wouldn't stop, silently pooling down her cheeks. In her shifting, the blanket she threw over her back fell off to reveal she was topless. Both of her hands were worrying her breast as if trying to unscrew it from her chest.

  "Reiss...?" Alistair stumbled towards her, his hand cupping against her naked shoulder.

  "It," she sucked in the pooling despair to try and get a word out, "without Myra they're...in agony. I don't know what to do! I need my baby to suck them dry. To release this pressure, but it's...I'm sorry." She whipped her head away as if she'd failed in any way.

  "Oh, Reiss," he wrapped his hands around her, pulling her face towards his chest in a hug.

  "I have to clear it...or infection might. They hurt so bad and all I want is. Maker damn it, all I want is my baby!" She exploded into sobs, her face crushing into his chest while Alistair soothed back her hair. He had nothing to say to fix this, his own heart broken. Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he tried to envelope the woman he loved tight into his embrace. The despair she swallowed for an entire day erupted from her, tears staining his chest and her lips wailing for the child stolen from them.

  Alistair was scared to think of Myra, to dwell upon her for more than a moment because...because it may be all they had left. The memory of her tiny hands clinging to theirs, her happy laugh, those bight green eyes gazing up in wonder. Her hatred of socks and need to kick all her blankets into a wad at the bottom of the crib.

  Oh Maker!

  He began to bawl too, his salty tears dripping into Reiss' hair while she moaned against him. She was stepping back, the armor slotting into place, just as Alistair came undone yet again. When Reiss lifted away from him, he tipped his head
up to try and hide his despair. But she gripped onto his cheeks and tugged him down to her. Butting her forehead against his, they both cried together, admitting that neither of them were made of stone.

  "What if we...?"

  "We'll find her!"

  "If it's too late?"

  "We'll ride faster!"

  Impossible to know who said which, both parents playing optimist and pessimist in equal measure while the winds shifted below them. The only reason either of them were still standing was the rage burning in their hearts. The only reason they didn't turn feral from the anger was the hope that they'd see Myra again. Reiss could cover her chubby cheeks in kisses and Alistair would mash all her hair straight up until it wafted back and forth like wheat fields.

  Reiss was the first to come back from their sorrow fugue. She didn't wipe the tears off her cheeks, her hands busy trying to knead away the pain in her breasts. "You said Lana has a plan?"

  He rolled his eyes hard at that, needing to take his anger out on someone. The fact Lanny wasn't here to shout him down for it helped immeasurably. "When doesn't she have a plan? They should have named her Plannema Plannerson, the Queen of Plans. I..." Alistair stumbled at Reiss' fingers cupping against the scruff on his cheek. He'd started this with a fresh shave in anticipation of some stupid little holiday that didn't matter. Nothing did until they saved Myra and punished...

  "I know Lanny. She thinks she can fix this, get Morrigan to see reason." Maybe it was for the best to let her deal with the witch. Assuming their baby was safe, that she was returned unharmed and no demons inside of her or in her future, then...what was the point of caring what happened to Morrigan?

  Reiss went quiet a moment, her hand flexing into a fist and releasing. "Do you think she would retaliate when I slit the witch's throat?"