Dragon Age: Osmosis
Nov. 10th, 2015 08:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dhampyresaFor reasons I'm not entirely clear on, I enjoy writing fic for canons I know only through osmosis, assuming that everyone knows that's what's happening. I enjoy reading fic written entirely on osmosis too. Anyway, This is my interpretation of (part of) the Dragon Age games (I'm told I'm missing the second one entirely, btw).
"Alistair," Morrigan said.
"Witch," the king replied. "You are far from your Wilds." They had been, well, not friends -- not even friendly -- but allies with a common goal, once upon a time.
But that had been a long time ago.
"I wish to talk to you about our son," she said.
There were gasps and scandalised whispers all throughout the court room. Off to the side, the queen, who was called Joséphine, muttered, "I knew I should have married Napoléon instead."
Alistair didn't collapse his face into his hands, but it was a near thing.
Luckily, there were dragons to fight so he wasn't kicked out of power when a central power was necessary to organise a proper defence because nobody had time for a civil war, but that too was a near thing.
*
"Alistair," Morrigan said again.
"The fuck you want," Alistair said. He could have been king, once, or a great hero, but now he was a drunk.
Morrigan twitched and sat down at the table in front of him. "It's about our son."
"Your son." Alistair finished his ale. "What about the boy?"
"He wishes to know his father," Morrigan said. A truth, but not all of it. Once upon a time, they had been, if not friends then at least somewhat friendly; he knew enough to tell when she was lying.
"That man is dead. Look elsewhere for him."
*
Morrigan did not bother with pleasantries this time, she simply grabbed Alistair and slammed him against the wall.
"Morrigan! What a, ah, pleasant surprise," Alistair said.
"About our son," Morrigan started, half a snarl on her purple lips.
Alistair had felt dread before, in the days when he'd been friends with Morrigan and in the days since, but it had never felt quite like this. "Is he harmed?"
Morrigan blinked, long and slow like a dragon might blink; evidently he'd gone off whatever script she'd had for this interaction. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel a stab of pride at that. Dying men grabbed whatever joys they could.
"He is unharmed." She set him down and he breathed easier as she continued, "He wishes to know you."
"Oh," Alistair said. There was more he could say, but he knew not how to say it. There was a giant monster under the castle and soon someone would have to lead a suicide charge to kill it; that someone would be him. His castle, his men, his responsibility. He was no drunk coward, he knew his duty.
"I wish you'd come earlier. I would have liked to know him too." If he was dead already, there was no point in lying, was there? Not to himself, not to her. "And... I've missed you, Morrigan."
"Strange as it may seem, I will miss you if you die. Show me your demons," Morrigan said.
Morrigan, it turned out, was half-dragon or half-goddess or half-dragon goddess or something and make chop suey of the archdemon under the fortress in no time.
(Alistair, it turned out, had been love with her from the start.)
"Alistair," Morrigan said.
"Witch," the king replied. "You are far from your Wilds." They had been, well, not friends -- not even friendly -- but allies with a common goal, once upon a time.
But that had been a long time ago.
"I wish to talk to you about our son," she said.
There were gasps and scandalised whispers all throughout the court room. Off to the side, the queen, who was called Joséphine, muttered, "I knew I should have married Napoléon instead."
Alistair didn't collapse his face into his hands, but it was a near thing.
Luckily, there were dragons to fight so he wasn't kicked out of power when a central power was necessary to organise a proper defence because nobody had time for a civil war, but that too was a near thing.
*
"Alistair," Morrigan said again.
"The fuck you want," Alistair said. He could have been king, once, or a great hero, but now he was a drunk.
Morrigan twitched and sat down at the table in front of him. "It's about our son."
"Your son." Alistair finished his ale. "What about the boy?"
"He wishes to know his father," Morrigan said. A truth, but not all of it. Once upon a time, they had been, if not friends then at least somewhat friendly; he knew enough to tell when she was lying.
"That man is dead. Look elsewhere for him."
*
Morrigan did not bother with pleasantries this time, she simply grabbed Alistair and slammed him against the wall.
"Morrigan! What a, ah, pleasant surprise," Alistair said.
"About our son," Morrigan started, half a snarl on her purple lips.
Alistair had felt dread before, in the days when he'd been friends with Morrigan and in the days since, but it had never felt quite like this. "Is he harmed?"
Morrigan blinked, long and slow like a dragon might blink; evidently he'd gone off whatever script she'd had for this interaction. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel a stab of pride at that. Dying men grabbed whatever joys they could.
"He is unharmed." She set him down and he breathed easier as she continued, "He wishes to know you."
"Oh," Alistair said. There was more he could say, but he knew not how to say it. There was a giant monster under the castle and soon someone would have to lead a suicide charge to kill it; that someone would be him. His castle, his men, his responsibility. He was no drunk coward, he knew his duty.
"I wish you'd come earlier. I would have liked to know him too." If he was dead already, there was no point in lying, was there? Not to himself, not to her. "And... I've missed you, Morrigan."
"Strange as it may seem, I will miss you if you die. Show me your demons," Morrigan said.
Morrigan, it turned out, was half-dragon or half-goddess or half-dragon goddess or something and make chop suey of the archdemon under the fortress in no time.
(Alistair, it turned out, had been love with her from the start.)