* * *
Lana didn't rise up from her work until the book nearly landed upon her hand. She twisted to the side, her fingers instinctively trying to thread the veil apart when Lana realized it wasn't an attack. Shaking off the magic like her hand fell asleep, she turned at a soft chuckle from Morrigan.
"Too enraptured in your reading to pay attention. Seems familiar."
"Humph," Lana snorted once, not ready to get into a long conversation with the witch.
In true Morrigan fashion, she took no offense to the barb and returned to Kieran's side. The boy was barely breathing, save the little required to keep him alive. She was dribbling a mix of honey and water into his mouth on regular intervals, which then required her to clean him up. Lana did her best to not watch because it struck her at how tender Morrigan was. In all her time knowing the witch she couldn't imagine this woman gently caring for someone who was invalid or comatose. Morrigan even took the time to be sentimental and placed a few of what must be Keiran's favorite things around as if that might rouse him.
She wanted to keep angry at her, knowing what she did, and while Lana felt the same fury as the others when she looked at baby Myra, it faded away from them. "Have you considered turning him?" Lana asked, her eyes honed on a scrap of text in a book she could barely read. The translation was around here somewhere, but at this point she was skimming anything.
Morrigan paused in sponging the sticky honey that dribbled off the side to glance at Lana. "Turning? Whatever for?"
"Bed sores, those who lay for too long in one place can develop them," she threw off without a thought. "I often ask Cullen to..." Her words faded at the narrowing of those yellow eyes. Shaking it off, Lana returned to her work that seemed to be circling the drain.
The witch didn't take up her advice right away, she was too busy trying to comb Kieran's hair back out of his face. It looked longer than would be stylish for a boy his age. How long had he been in this coma? Morrigan clipped her purple nail against the desk she sat Lana at, "Tis strange to think of you toiling away in a refuge, healing the sick castoffs of the chantry, and none aware of who you are."
She shrugged, "I enjoy the work, the challenge, and..." Lana glanced out towards the living area as they came to call it. Cullen was trying to wash something in a bucket, though not vigorous enough to be clothing. Perhaps it was their son. Maker's sake, she was Gavin's mother and she didn't know if he was in the middle of a bath or not.
Morrigan caught the direction of her gaze and sighed, "I don't know why it comes as a surprise to me that you would foolishly tie yourself to yet another mage hunter."
"Well, you never did understand love," Lana said. "What'd you call it, a weakness?"
"That..." the woman reared back as if Lana slapped her. Her wary eyes darted back to the boy she risked her own life and the threat of an entire nation for. "Life can have a way of humbling, whether one wishes it or no."
Lana laughed at that and stared down at her legs. They got her through rooms and down the occasional hall but that was it. Without magic she could be bed bound for days. Even using it, there were times the pain overwhelmed her. From the Hero of Ferelden to...a quiet cripple hiding in the woods. By all story rights she should have to train up the next great savior of the world before dying in some predictably stupid way.
Flexing her weary hands that were growing tired of flipping pages, she returned to her work. "You seemed surprised I was here, but not that I was alive," she said.
"Were you trying to keep that information a secret? If so, informing that elf was your first mistake."
"Zevran can hold his tongue when he needs to," she brushed off Morrigan's attempt at wedging a bar between her relationship with the old assassin. Lana was doing this to save the baby, not to help Morrigan. That friendship died the moment she held a knife against Myra.
"As you say," she seemed to give in before folding her arms and leaning against the potion table, "still, willing to leap to the old fool's side. Give of yourself for him when he was the one to shatter your heart in the first place."
"Don't," Lana muttered.
"Point out the obvious?" she smirked.
"No," Lana spun around, her eyes narrowed, "Don't attempt to insert yourself back into my good graces by attacking Alistair. Believe it or not but I can move on past grudges and hurt. We are friends and I care for him. I care for his daughter as if she were my own. What you did was...?"
Snarling, Lana buried her face in the book, knowing there was nothing there but needing to move pages lest she smash her fist into Morrigan's perfect nose. She was exhausted beyond measure, three days in and there was no answer, no thread to unravel, not even a starting point. All Morrigan would say was that Keiran slipped into a coma and refused to awaken. She seemed as confused as Lana on the matter.
The witch folded her arms up and in her cold voice said, "You have a child now, do you not? A little boy, which is an impressive feat given the taint swirling inside of you. What measures did you go to to achieve that?"
"It was an accident, Morrigan. We didn't set out to create him, nor did I have to threaten anyone's baby to do it."
"A side effect of your plan? One you had no intention to make, but once he was here you felt it," her head dipped down and the cold snapped off. Within her frosty depths rolled a sob, "You love him."
Lana turned from her work, fully shocked to find a few tears dripping down the witch's cheek. "Of course I love him," Lana said, "he's my son."
That drew a cruel smile to Morrigan's face, "And if he were dying, what would the Hero of Ferelden do to save him? What atrocities would she commit? Demons would she consort with? Banned magics cast to protect her child? To save someone she loved?"
"I..." There were a few lines in her life she knew she would never cross. Even while taking down an archdemon, while nearly dying in the deep roads, scrounging and scraping in the fade, she refused to turn to blood magic. It was a sign of weakness in a person's will to use it. But if Gavin was hurt...
Maker, even in those first few days when they had barely held him, hadn't seen his smile, or heard him chatter away, she would have risked her own healing to give him life. Now? "I don't know," Lana admitted, her fingers tapping against the vellum.
Morrigan smirked at that, "That's what always made you so interesting, Warden. You tend to think before judging. A rare trait in this world." She stared at Reiss who was dragging a whet stone across her sword and glaring at nothing.
"Then tell me Morrigan, what would you do if someone stole your child and threatened to bleed him dry to cast a spell?"
She blinked a moment and sighed, "I'd gut them like a pig before they had a chance to explain." Either unaware of her hypocrisy or fully embracing it, Morrigan returned to Kieran's side.
Lana could take no more. It was bad enough suffering the long hours of research -- which she hadn't done in years -- but doing it while playing mental chess with the witch was rubbing her raw. She needed a rest and, Maker, to have someone massage every muscle in her useless body. Gripping onto the list of things she thought might help, Lana staggered to her weary feet.
Her cane measured the tread of the floor, every beat of it echoing against the walls and stone ceiling as she inched towards her husband. Cullen sat on the ground, his legs extended out to keep Gavin pinned in while their baby stared up in rapt attention.
"Where'd Daddy go?" he asked, covering his eyes with his hands. Gavin's mouth hung open as if this was the most important question ever put to him. Far more vital than what is the meaning of life. Where could his father have gone? Before he had a chance to fuss, Cullen pulled his hands off and smiled, "Here I am."
At that magic trick, Gavin cracked up, his fists flailing through the air as if demanding an encore. Reaching forward, Lana skirted her hand across Cullen's shoulders. He craned his head up to her and a strained smiled followed. It shouldn't surprise her that he was miserable, but Lana was thrown back by how poorly he was doing at faking it.
"I need a break, a real nap, and after sitting in that chair so long I could really go for your hands digging into my body," she tried to play it lighthearted, but it wasn't working. Even she didn't feel it.
Cullen nodded, "Of course." He staggered up, leaving Gavin to wonder why his father was replaced by a pair of legs, when Cullen plucked him up from the ground. Unable to handle the cuteness, Lana reached over to tickle her baby's tummy.
"Maker's sake, he feels full."
"He should, it's past supper time," Cullen remarked with a shrug.
"What?" Lana glanced around as if there was any sun to tell the time. "Why didn't you come get me? What did he eat?"
"Mashed peas and carrots, and Reiss pitches in when she can. You seemed...busy," he ended with.
"Cullen, I..." He didn't take the whole explanation of Kieran's creation well. Not surprising really that a templar would frown on what could be construed as blood magic. She wasn't certain if it was the fact she helped in the matter or that she kept it from him that hurt more. Explaining that she kept it to herself for Morrigan's sake wasn't helping seeing as how the witch then betrayed her by kidnapping an infant.
Rolling his clouded brow back and forth, Cullen mumbled, "It's upon you to save the young man. The less we bother you, the more likely you are to solving it."
"I'm sorry," she blubbered, all the stress and exhaustion bashing its way into her heart. Those tears she thought she kept to herself began to drip down her cheeks. "I didn't want to...don't mean to..."
The sobs drew the attention of both Alistair and Reiss, the former sitting by the fire with Myra. "Maker's breath, Lana, I'm..." Cullen wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and tried to tuck her into a hug, but he was too full up with baby. Their baby who should be back at home playing with Honor and being doted upon by two of their washer girls.
"Come on," he tried to tug her onward towards their bedroom. Reiss and Alistair took the octagon room because Ali found it hilarious for whatever reason. The two of them found a smaller one with a functioning door they could close. Not that either were in any mood to be frisky down here, but it was nice to get away from everyone even if it was only with a thin sheet of stone between them.
A pair of pallets stretched across the stone slab, all that Alistair could get for the interim. Lana feared what it would mean if they had to send for actual mattresses. Cullen managed to create a small baby jail for Gavin. He stuffed a good four blankets on the ground for comfort, then placed an old grate -- no doubt used to protect the dwarves from forge fires -- tight to the wall. They could see their baby, and he could see them, but he wasn't getting out of that thing until he learned to climb or gained incredible strength.
For now, Cullen helped Lana to the bed and placed Gavin beside her. She brushed her hand through his thick hair and smiled. "I'm not sure if you're lucky or cursed to have my locks," Gavin's curls already knotted closer to his head. To think he was born without anything. "I can't do a thing with it when it rains."
"You're not the only one," Cullen added, slotting in behind her. "Tell me if it hurts," he said before digging his forefinger and thumb into her shoulders.
Maker's breath, Lana moaned, instinctively leaning back into the hands worrying away the stress knotting up her body. He increased the pressure, working his way down her shoulders and arms. When they first began together, Cullen wasn't the best at massages, but her time in the fade changed that. He had to get better or she could barely function. Gently, he switched to cupping up and down her arms before plying his thumb against her fingers and rubbing the pain away. Those were the worst when she'd been casting a lot of magic.
Lana was nearly jelly, when Cullen switched to kneel in front of her and worked on her legs. Gavin was often privy to these moments, sitting on the bed, or sometimes trying to crawl off it. His mother always made certain he didn't fall, but for now he seemed content to sit and watch his father helping her. Digging into the calves, Cullen lifted her foot out of her shoe and began to roll his tight knuckles against the ball.
Tears sprung up in Lana's eyes and she spat out, "I love you."
He chuckled a moment at that, "I didn't realize my massages could create such devotion."
"No, I mean it, I..." she cupped onto his shoulders, drawing Cullen's attention away from her feet. When those honey eyes landed on hers, he gasped from the tears spilling out of hers. "I love you, both of you, beyond belief and I'm sorry we're stuck here. Really. I just...I couldn't..."
"You couldn't let someone die," he nodded his head, those perfect fingers reaching up to cup her salt stained cheek, "I understand. I do, I'm only..."
"Tired, grumpy, annoyed?" Lana threw out suggestions which Cullen smirked at.
"I would say concerned."
"Worried, of course, why didn't I guess that one first?"
Her husband shrugged, well aware of his attributes nearly four decades in. "What if...Lana, what if this lasts for over a week, two? A entire month?"
"I'm doing all I can as fast as I can," she shrieked, the anxiety rolling into anger. Cullen blinked slowly at that, his eyes softening to pools of pain as they landed upon Gavin. Their baby. Maker's breath, but she missed her son. They'd have a routine at home, a good one where she'd feed their baby breakfast, then Cullen would carry him around on rounds. A lot of their charges adored greeting a full and happy baby in the morning. Post nap Lana would play with Gavin, before his father took over. Then it was dinner time, a bath, wiggling a pudgy baby into pajamas and sleep. It was a simple, busy life but she missed it.
Now her days were nothing but staring at ancient magics willing anything to make sense. She'd tried every spell she knew, began to brew up various herbal remedies, even a few that she suspected were mostly snake oil in the off chance something might help. The only reason Kieran yet drew breath was because of his mother's magic.
"I'm trying so hard," Lana said. She gripped onto his shoulder, the other hand cupping Gavin's back.
Cullen picked up her fingers and seemed to be weighing them, "Perhaps there is another way."
She snorted, "If you think I can charm Morrigan into releasing Myra by appealing to her conscience you put too much faith in me."
"No," he slid onto the bed beside her and wrapped an arm across her shoulders. Instinctively, Lana tucked her head against his chest even as her brain was pinging a warning. He was going to say something guaranteed to make her angry. Cullen only gripped onto her knee as if he was afraid she was about to bolt when he did it.
"You say that only blood magic can remove the curse put upon their baby?"
"Are you...?" Lana staggered away from him, trying to stare into his eyes but he was glaring through the distance, "You're not seriously suggesting I--."
"No," Cullen lashed out, horror flattening his cheeks, "Maker's grace, no, not you. But, there is a blood mage. Your cousin knows her, in fact. We were all supposed to ignore the talk that she was because of her running in the Champion's circle, but the rumors were more pronounced than usual."
"And you think that's smart? For Hawke to bring a blood mage here? What then, Cullen? There's a chance Morrigan will kill Myra before this malifecarum makes a single step into the cave."
"There are ways around..." he tried, but Lana wasn't hearing it.
"And then what? Leave Kieran to die? Morrigan on a rampage? Or, no doubt, you figure we'd have to kill her too. A real bloodbath on our hands," Lana wished she could stagger to her feet to pace but she was trapped in place, feeling helpless even as her veins burned.
"For the love of the Maker, Lana, she was going to kill a baby," he whipped his head to her, trying to bludgeon her to his side with reason. "Do you truly think she ever stood a chance of surviving after that?"
"She wasn't planning on surviving at all," Lana spat out, causing Cullen to blink rapidly. "What? You didn't catch that part? There's no way a baby would be enough to power any spell strong enough to do what Morrigan had planned. She'd have to slit her own veins open as well. Slowly, t
o have time to cast the magic and leave nothing behind to save her."
"I had no idea," he shrunk back a moment into himself.
"If I get this right, if I can find a damn solution then...blighted no one has to die here. I know Alistair's mad, Reiss looks like she's going to rip out Morrigan's throat with her teeth. But we can all walk away. Weary, but alive. It's..." She drew her hands to cup around her face, shielding it from everything around her. With the blinders on, Lana stared not at the floor or wall but through the veil itself. It was growing easier with time, if she twisted her head too fast she could almost see the edges of a waterfall rising upward or lakes on fire.
Cullen's hand cupped the back of hers and he tried to tug it free. It took a moment before Lana snapped back from that unknowable place that haunted them all. "You believe in her?"
"No, I believe in myself. Sometimes, it's all I ever could. I can't take the easy path here. There was a lot of death in my life, a lot of choices that maybe didn't have to be made, but..." Lana shuddered and she turned to the man who didn't have a spotless record either, "It was never a wrinkle or grey hair I feared seeing in my morning mirror. It was what I wouldn't see in my eyes that haunted my nightmares."
Cullen fell silent, his head drifting down as if he too could peer into the fade. Asking someone to kill an old friend, letting the child die as well was a hard sell to anyone. Lana knew her time was ticking away, if not the taint, age itself would get her, and she'd rather leave daisies in her wake than scorched earth. "Okay," he nodded, "we'll keep at it your way. I was thinking of having the King send a message out to our abbey. Was there anything you required not book related?"
"I don't know. I feel like I'm chasing a ghost, which...in retrospect I've done often and that's more a corporeal fight than whatever illness terrorizes Kieran. It's not the taint, that's easy. It's not a fever, his body is fine. It's..." Her head hung down, Lana crumpling into a ball to suck in air. Thoughts and ideas sparked in her weary brain, but it all ran into piles of fluff, the lightning breaking against it until smoke rendered it into a foggy wasteland. She could feel something in there, but it didn't taste tangible. Every time she almost touched the thought it slipped from her fingers.
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