Chapter I: Return to the Wilds

The sun had begun its lazy descent, casting warm, golden light over the ancient forest. Shafts of amber fell in ribbons through the trees, illuminating a small clearing where a cabin nestled like a secret, hidden away from the world. Thick vines clung to its wooden walls, and the scent of wild herbs and earth filled the air.

Morrigan moved gracefully through her garden, bare feet pressing into the rich soil. She wore a loose, deep purple robe, the fabric slit high on both sides to free her legs. The robe hugged her figure in places, while in others, it whispered around her curves, hinting at her strength and the sensuality of her form. Her long, black hair cascaded past her shoulders, untamed as ever, and she had tied a few sections back with simple leather bands. The sight of her, wild and vibrant, gave the impression of an ancient fertility avatar—a powerful goddess in communion with the land.

Her hands worked nimbly, tending to the plants she had cultivated with care. Bellflowers, elfroot, and deep mushrooms flourished in carefully arranged patches, promising potions to come. She murmured under her breath, a string of words in an old dialect, urging the garden to thrive. It was a life she had built for herself and Kieran, one of balance between the magic of the Fade and the simplicity of earthbound work.

A short distance away, her son, Kieran, leaned against the gnarled trunk of a venerable oak, a thick tome spread open on his lap. The boy was no longer the child who had left Skyhold with her; he was growing into a young man, his features echoing both her cunning and The Warden’s strength. His golden eyes were narrowed in concentration, studying glyphs and incantations with a focus that belied his age. Now and then, a faint shimmer of magic sparked in the air around him, as if the Fade itself was paying attention.

“Kieran!” Morrigan called, straightening and brushing her hands clean on her robe. Her voice carried warmth and authority. “Come, it is time for supper.”

Kieran glanced up, the light catching his golden irises and making them glow. He closed the book carefully, tucking it under one arm as he approached. Yet, before he reached her, Morrigan stiffened, a sudden tremor running through her.

Something was wrong.

She placed a hand over her heart, feeling the pulse of an enchantment she had nearly forgotten. The ring on her finger—the one given to her by The Warden long ago—throbbed with an energy that made her breath catch. It had been years, four long years of waiting and wondering if he would ever return. And now, the magic told her what she had yearned to know.

He was near.

Morrigan turned toward the shadows at the edge of the clearing, her heart pounding. “Kieran,” she murmured, her voice tight with both hope and fear. “He is back.”

Chapter II: The Warden's Arrival

The forest seemed to hold its breath as Morrigan and Kieran stood at the edge of the clearing. Morrigan’s heart raced, and she willed herself to remain composed, though the familiar pulse of the ring on her finger threatened to break through her defenses. She clenched her hand, feeling the hum of its magic and the memory of promises whispered long ago.

Kieran stepped closer to her, his golden eyes wide with curiosity. “Mother,” he whispered, “is it really him?” His voice held the unguarded hope of a child, though he was far older than he had any right to be.

Morrigan’s gaze softened as she looked at her son, but she could not spare more than a moment for reassurance. Her eyes flicked back to the shadows beneath the trees, the place where the world felt as though it was on the brink of splitting open. “Stay beside me,” she instructed, her tone firm but tender. “If anything is amiss—”

Her words faltered as the shadows stirred, and a figure stepped forward into the fading sunlight.

He was there, the man she had both cursed and prayed for, changed but unmistakable. The Warden had returned.

His presence was a force all its own, as powerful as she remembered, though time had left its marks. His armor was dented and scratched, weathered from countless battles, and his face, though still strong and noble, bore new lines of weariness. His eyes, a deep and piercing shade, found hers and held them. For a moment, the world felt suspended between them, a tether of longing and regret pulled tight.

“Morrigan,” he said, his voice rough, as if it had not been used to speak her name in far too long.

Morrigan exhaled, a breath she had been holding since he had left. “You fool,” she managed, her voice trembling despite her efforts. She stepped forward, torn between the urge to strike him and the desperate need to close the distance. “You have been gone for an age. What reason could possibly justify such abandonment?”

He hesitated, his expression pained. “I could not come back,” he said simply. “Not until I found a way to free myself of the taint. I could not risk—” His eyes flicked to Kieran, and a shadow of guilt crossed his face. “Risk either of you.”

Kieran, who had been watching with rapt attention, now stepped forward. The Warden’s gaze softened, and he knelt, meeting his son’s eyes. For a heartbeat, father and son regarded each other in silence, as if weighing the years between them.

“Kieran,” The Warden said, a mix of awe and grief in his voice. “You’ve grown.”

Kieran did not flinch, though there was something hesitant in the way he approached. “Mother said you would return,” he murmured. “But I did not always believe her.” His eyes searched his father’s face, as if trying to reconcile the stories he had been told with the man before him.

The Warden reached out, and after a breath of hesitation, Kieran placed his hand in his father’s, a bond renewed in that touch. “I’m sorry,” The Warden said, his voice heavy with the weight of a thousand unsaid things. “I missed so much.”

Morrigan watched them, her guard slowly crumbling. Yet the Warden rose, turning to her with a look that braced her for what she knew was coming. “Morrigan,” he said, stepping forward, “I found a way.”

Her eyes narrowed. “A way for what?”

“To cleanse the darkspawn taint,” he replied. His words landed like a stone, sending ripples of hope and disbelief through her. “I have the means, the ingredients. All but one, and then the ritual can be done.”

Morrigan’s expression darkened, though this time with a guarded mixture of hope and doubt. “And now you return, bringing danger with you,” she said, her voice low. “You left to keep us safe, yet you come back with the threat you swore to avoid.”

The Warden’s jaw tightened. “Yes,” he said. “Because the only way to truly protect you both is to be free of this curse. We deserve a life beyond this shadow.”

Morrigan stared at him, her heart warring with itself. But Kieran, with the certainty of one who had waited too long, turned to her. “Mother,” he said, “we have to try.”

And with that, the fragile peace of their reunion held on, suspended by a thread of hope and the promise of a final battle yet to come.

Chapter III: The Preparation

The sky had deepened into twilight, casting long shadows over the clearing as Morrigan led The Warden into the cabin. Kieran followed closely behind, his gaze flicking between his parents with curiosity and a hope he had learned to temper over the years. The interior of the cabin was humble but warm, the air rich with the scent of herbs drying from the rafters. A fire crackled in the hearth, and the evening light filtered in through small, leaded windows.

The Warden paused at the threshold, taking in the home Morrigan had built in his absence. He turned, his eyes lingering on the small, everyday details: a battered table covered in potion bottles and old scrolls, Kieran’s neatly arranged collection of books, and Morrigan’s staff leaning against the wall, ready at a moment’s notice. The sight pierced him more deeply than any blade, a reminder of all he had missed.

Morrigan watched him, her arms folded across her chest. “You look like a man returning from the grave,” she remarked, her tone carrying both amusement and pain. “Perhaps that is not far from the truth.”

The Warden met her gaze. “It feels that way,” he admitted. He set his pack down with a heavy thud, the metal and glass within clinking together. “But I am here now. And I have what we need.”

Kieran’s eyes lit with interest as The Warden began to unpack the contents. Bottles of strange, iridescent liquids, bundles of dried roots and fungi, and crystalline shards that caught the firelight in eerie hues. The boy knelt beside the table, his fingers hovering over one of the bottles. “What are these?” he asked, a scholar’s hunger for knowledge in his voice.

The Warden smiled, a soft expression that was almost foreign after years of struggle. “These,” he explained, “are the fruits of years spent hunting for a cure. Each one gathered from places where the Fade and the world meet, where darkspawn magic weakens. They are the keys to breaking the taint’s hold over me.”

Morrigan’s eyes narrowed as she examined the strange collection. “All but one,” she reminded him, her voice cautious. “You said you were still missing something.”

He nodded. “Yes. We need a flower called the Shadowbloom. It grows only in the deepest parts of this forest, in places where light cannot touch and magic runs wild. Without it, the ritual cannot be completed.”

Morrigan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The Shadowbloom,” she repeated, a flicker of worry in her eyes. “That is no small task. I would not have Kieran seek it alone.”

The Warden turned to Kieran, concern etched into his features. “Then we wait,” he said firmly. “I will go with you, Kieran. We can search together when the moon is higher and the forest is quieter.”

Kieran’s jaw tightened, and a look of stubborn resolve crossed his face. “No,” he insisted. “We’ve waited long enough. The longer we delay, the more the magic in the forest might shift, and the flower could be harder to find. I can do this.”

Morrigan’s expression was thoughtful. “He is right,” she said at last, though worry clouded her golden eyes. “But he will not be unprotected.”

The Warden frowned, about to protest, when Kieran stepped to the door and whistled sharply. The ground trembled, and from the forest’s edge, two massive shapes lumbered into view. Made of earth, stone, and twisted vines, the golems loomed over them, their glowing eyes focused on Kieran with an almost childlike loyalty.

The Warden’s eyes widened. “Golems?” he said, astonished. “You created these?”

Kieran nodded, a touch of pride in his smile. “They’ll keep me safe, Father. They’re bound to me, and I’ve worked hard to make them strong.”

The Warden studied his son, seeing the young man he had become and the strength he had forged in his absence. Pride and fear warred in his heart, but he knew he could not shelter Kieran forever. “Be careful,” he said, his voice low. “Come back to us soon.”

Kieran’s gaze softened. “I will,” he promised, and with that, he stepped outside, the golems lumbering behind him like faithful guardians. He turned back one last time, and then he was gone, swallowed by the shadows of the forest.

The cabin fell into a tense silence. The Warden clenched his fists, fighting the urge to run after his son. Morrigan moved closer, her voice quiet but firm. “He will return,” she said. “He is your son, and he is stronger than you know.”

The Warden nodded, though his heart ached with worry. “He has to,” he murmured, and as the night deepened, he and Morrigan could do nothing but wait, hope, and prepare for what was to come.

Chapter IV

The fire crackled softly, the golden light casting shifting shadows across the walls of the cabin. The Warden stood with his back to it, the warmth of the flames seeping into his tired bones. Morrigan watched him from across the room, her golden eyes unreadable, yet a storm of emotion simmered just beneath the surface. Four years had passed, four years of separation, pain, and longing — and now, finally, he stood before her, as real and solid as the earth beneath her bare feet.

Slowly, she closed the distance between them. The robe she wore clung to her curves, the fabric shimmering in the firelight. Her bare feet made no sound on the wooden floor, but each step sent a wave of tension crackling between them. When she was close enough, The Warden reached out, his calloused hands cradling her face, his touch both gentle and desperate.

“Morrigan,” he breathed, his voice rough with longing. “I’ve missed you.”

A small, bittersweet smile curved her lips. “And I, you,” she whispered, but there was no time for more words. Their bodies crashed together in a fierce embrace, years of pent-up desire and love exploding like wildfire. The Warden’s hands roamed over her body, tugging at the loose fabric of her robe until it slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet.

Morrigan was a vision, her skin bathed in golden light, her curves full and inviting like a goddess of the wild. She pressed herself against him, her nails scraping down his back as she pulled him closer, drinking in the feel of him. “Four years,” she growled, her voice trembling with emotion. “Four bloody years.”

His answer was a groan, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both savage and tender. They stumbled together, hands grasping, bodies pressing urgently against each other. The world around them faded away, leaving only the heat, the scent of skin, and the rhythm of their shared heartbeat.

The Warden’s armor fell to the floor in a clatter, his shirt torn from him in Morrigan’s frantic grip. Her touch was wild, her need raw and untamed, yet beneath the hunger lay a deep, aching love. When they finally came together, it was with a primal intensity, as if their souls had been starved for each other and only this moment could bring them back to life.

Their bodies moved in a rhythm as old as the earth, each touch a vow unspoken, each gasp a testament to the love that had never faded. Morrigan’s head fell back, her cries echoing through the cabin as she surrendered to the sensations crashing over her. The Warden buried his face in her hair, his own moans ragged and unrestrained. Together, they were fierce and unbreakable, like two wild creatures finding solace in one another.

As the waves of pleasure overtook them, their voices mingled in a symphony of release, raw and transcendent. They clung to each other, their bodies shuddering with the force of their love, and for a moment, the years of pain and distance melted away, leaving only the truth of what they had always been: two souls bound by a love that defied the darkness.

When it was over, they collapsed together, breathless and trembling. The Warden held Morrigan close, his heart pounding as he pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. “I’m never leaving you again,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Morrigan’s fingers traced the lines of his face, her eyes soft and full of tears she refused to shed. “You had better not,” she murmured, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. “Or I shall find you and drag you back myself.”

They stayed that way, wrapped in each other’s arms, as the fire burned low and the world outside seemed, for once, at peace.

Chapter V: The Ritual Begins

The night had grown darker, the forest outside the cabin enveloped in shadows so thick it felt as if the world itself was holding its breath. Inside, the air was heavy with tension and magic, a charged anticipation that prickled over The Warden’s skin. He stood at the heart of the cabin, stripped to the waist, his body marked with the scars of countless battles. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths as he prepared himself for what lay ahead.

Morrigan moved around him in a practiced, ritualistic dance, her bare feet gliding over the wooden floor as she arranged the ingredients he had brought. The robe she had hastily thrown back on after their passionate reunion hung loosely from her frame, the slit sides swaying with every motion. Her hair spilled down her back like a river of midnight, and her golden eyes glinted with determination as she muttered incantations under her breath.

The Warden watched her, a mix of awe and trepidation twisting in his chest. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low, though it carried the weight of his fear.

Morrigan paused, looking at him. “There is no other way,” she said, her voice steady but lined with worry. “We must expel the taint, force it from your body and back into the Fade. It will not be gentle, and it will not be kind.”

He nodded, though a shiver ran down his spine. He had faced horrors most men couldn’t fathom, but this — allowing the monster within him to surface — terrified him in ways he could not articulate. Yet Morrigan’s resolve gave him strength. They had survived too much, sacrificed too much, for him to falter now.

Morrigan set the last of the ritual components in place: a ring of warding runes, a bowl of glistening, enchanted water, and a cluster of dark gemstones that pulsed with an eerie, violet glow. “When the taint emerges,” she continued, stepping toward him, “it will try to overpower you. It will seize upon your fears, your weaknesses. You must fight it, or it will consume you.”

The Warden clenched his fists. “I’ll fight,” he promised, though the shadows in his heart whispered doubts. What if he wasn’t strong enough? What if he lost control and became the very monster he had fought to protect them from?

Morrigan reached for his face, her fingers warm against his skin. “You are stronger than you know,” she whispered, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “And you are not alone.”

He leaned into her touch, drawing strength from the warmth of her hand. But before either of them could say more, the cabin door creaked open. They both turned to see Kieran step inside, his expression serious and his posture proud. In his hands, he held the delicate, dark flower they had so desperately needed.

“I have the Shadowbloom,” he announced, the blossom glowing faintly in the dim light. Behind him, the two massive golems he had crafted loomed, silent sentinels that had protected him on his journey. The Warden's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the towering constructs, a testament to Kieran's burgeoning power.

Morrigan’s eyes filled with relief and gratitude as she approached Kieran, taking the Shadowbloom from his hands. “You did well, Kieran. More than well.”

Kieran’s gaze flicked to his father, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and apprehension. “Are you ready, Father?” he asked, his voice steady but his concern evident.

The Warden managed a smile, though it was strained. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, his voice thick with both courage and doubt. He reached out, resting a hand on Kieran’s shoulder. “Stay strong, son. Your mother and I will need you.”

Kieran straightened, but there was a flicker of defiance on his face. “I won’t just stand by and watch,” he insisted, his voice strong. “I’ll help anyway I can.”

Morrigan’s lips pressed together, but she did not argue. She knew better than anyone that their son was powerful, a force to be reckoned with. “Then you must follow my lead,” she instructed, her voice firm. “The ritual will be dangerous, and any mistake could cost us dearly.”

Kieran swallowed but stood tall. “I understand.”

Morrigan’s gaze lingered on her two men, her golden eyes shadowed with concern. She murmured something about preparing herself and stepped away from the center of the room. Her movements were swift but unsteady as she crossed into the small washroom at the back of the cabin. The door creaked shut behind her, muffling the whispered incantations that still seemed to echo in the air.

Inside the washroom, the wild witch leaned heavily against the wooden sink, her fingers gripping the edges as she caught her breath. She stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror, her expression lined with the weight of all they had endured. “Let this work,” she whispered, the plea raw with desperation. Her hands drifted down, lifting the hem of her purple robe to her hips, baring her smooth skin and her toned abdomen.

From the satchel at her side, she pulled out a white, glistening egg. The egg was smooth and cool to the touch. Morrigan inhaled sharply, her jaw tightening as she pressed the egg against herself her vulva. With deliberate care, she began to push it inside, a grimace crossing her features as discomfort coiled through her body. The sensation was foreign, invasive, and as the egg slid into her vagina, she bit back a gasp, her body shuddering with the intrusion.

For a moment, she remained still, one hand braced against the wall as her body adjusted to the presence of the object now nestled within her. Sweat glistened at her temples, and her breathing was shallow. “It must be done,” she muttered to herself, summoning her resolve. When she finally straightened, she smoothed down her robe and gathered her composure.

Morrigan returned to the main room, her steps steady but her expression more serious than ever. The Warden and Kieran turned to look at her, both sensing the shift in her aura.

Morrigan lifted her chin, her voice steady but grave. “The ritual,” she explained, “will draw the taint from your body, my love. But to do so, I must absorb it within myself.” Her gaze flicked to Kieran, her eyes softening slightly. “At the height of this magic, I will carry the burden and expel it in a manner not unlike… birth.”

Kieran’s eyes widened, but he said nothing, his trust in his mother unwavering despite the strangeness of her words.

The Warden’s brow furrowed. “Morrigan, are you sure—”

She silenced him with a look, her eyes blazing. “I am certain. And when it comes to the final moment, neither of you can follow me. Trust me, and I will return.”

With everything set in motion, they took their positions, each prepared for the darkness they were about to face. As Morrigan began her incantation, the room seemed to pulse with life, shadows dancing in the corners, and the warding runes flaring brighter with each uttered syllable. The ritual was beginning.

With the Shadowbloom in hand, Morrigan returned to the center of the circle, placing the flower in the bowl of enchanted water. As the petals dissolved, a pulse of magic surged through the room. The runes on the floor ignited, bathing everything in a violet glow.

Morrigan took a deep breath and turned to The Warden. “Lie down,” she commanded softly. “We begin now.”

He obeyed, lowering himself to the ground, the cold wood pressing against his back. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for what was to come. Morrigan began to chant, her voice weaving ancient words that thrummed through the air like a drumbeat of the old gods.

The Warden felt the first stirrings of darkness within him, the taint shuddering to life as Morrigan’s magic called to it. His veins burned, his body locking up as the monster inside him awoke. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to scream.

Morrigan’s chanting grew louder, more desperate, and the room seemed to pulse with the magic she wielded. Kieran stood at the edge of the circle, his hands glowing with his own spellwork, ready to lend his power.

And then, with a shuddering gasp, The Warden felt the taint surge forward, a black tide of corruption threatening to drown him. The battle had begun.

Chapter VI: Corrupted Birth

The air inside the cabin had grown suffocating, thick with the acrid scent of magic and tension. The Warden lay within the circle of runes, his muscles taut and trembling as the ritual unfolded around him. Every breath felt labored, every heartbeat a thunderous drum in his chest. Morrigan’s voice filled the room, a haunting melody of incantations woven from the oldest and darkest tongues.

Her hands moved in intricate patterns, drawing power from the wards and the enchanted water, which now glowed with a ghostly blue light. The Shadowbloom dissolved completely, releasing a fragrant mist that swirled through the room, mingling with the oppressive shadows.

The Warden felt it then: the taint inside him awakening, fighting back. A deep, searing pain clawed through his veins, and he arched his back with a strangled cry, his body straining against the force trying to rip him apart. Darkness surged through him, coiling and writhing like a living thing. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he saw monstrous shapes looming over him, taunting him with whispered threats.

“Hold on!” Morrigan commanded, her voice ringing with authority, though her eyes betrayed her fear. She could feel the corruption inside him pushing, twisting, desperate to break free. With a steadying breath, she stepped forward, ready to do what she must.

Her chanting changed, and the runes flared brighter, locking the dark magic in place. As she drew closer to The Warden, her hands began to tremble. The final step was upon them, and she could feel the egg pulsing with corruption deep within her, feeding off the very taint she was about to absorb.

Morrigan knelt beside The Warden, placing her hands over his chest. His skin burned under her touch, feverish and slick with sweat. She met his eyes, searching for his strength, even as her own resolve wavered. “I will take it now,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Be strong, my love.”

She pressed her hands harder against him, and with a final, guttural incantation, she drew the taint from his body. It surged toward her, a black tide of corruption that twisted and lashed, fighting her every step of the way. Morrigan gasped, her body convulsing as the dark magic poured into her, filling her veins with ice and fire. She felt it settling inside her womb, tainting the egg she had planted there, warping it into something foul and monstrous.

The pain was excruciating, tearing through her in waves that left her breathless. But she forced herself to stand, staggering toward the door of the cabin. “Do not follow me!” she called back to Kieran and The Warden, her voice raw and desperate as she stumbled outside into the cold night air.

Morrigan collapsed to her knees in the dirt, her body wracked with tremors. The egg inside her had grown larger, pulsing and humming with an eerie purple glow that spilled out between her thighs. It throbbed with each heartbeat, pressing against her insides with a pressure that was almost unbearable. She clenched her teeth, her fingers digging into the earth as she tried to force it out.

Her body heaved, muscles straining, but the egg resisted, slick and swollen with dark magic. She cried out, a primal sound that echoed through the forest. With a desperate push, she felt the egg begin to slide, the corrupted object stretching her hole painfully as it descended.

“Come on,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she bore down once more. Sweat and tears streamed down her face, her body convulsing with the exertion. At last, with a wet, sickening pop, the egg slid free, landing in the dirt with a splatter of thick, viscous fluid. Now grotesquely swollen, it pulsed with a sinister purple light, a hue that echoed the twisted magic of the Archdemon from the Blight.

Morrigan collapsed back, gasping for breath, her body aching and raw. But she couldn’t rest. Not yet. She raised a trembling hand, summoning the last of her strength for a fire incantation. Flames erupted from her fingertips, engulfing the egg in a conflagration of purple, pink, and black fire. The corrupted object screeched, a keening, inhuman wail as it burned, the dark magic within it consumed by the purifying blaze.

When it was finally over, Morrigan slumped forward, her body wrung out and trembling. The flames died down, leaving nothing but charred earth and ashes behind. She pushed herself to her feet, swaying with exhaustion, and stumbled back toward the cabin. Every step was agony, her legs weak and her body heavy with the aftershocks of the ordeal.

Morrigan pushed open the cabin door, her golden eyes finding Kieran and The Warden, who both looked up with wide, worried expressions. Her bare feet dragged against the floor as she crossed the room, her body moving with difficulty, but her eyes shone with relief and love. “It is done,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but victorious.

The Warden reached for her, pulling her close despite her shaking limbs. Kieran stepped forward, his young face lined with concern, but he, too, looked relieved. Together, they stood in the aftermath of the ritual, a family still whole, still together, and finally, on the brink of hope.

Epilogue

Morning light filtered through the cabin’s wooden shutters, casting golden stripes across Morrigan’s bare skin. She stirred awake, her dark hair spilling over the pillows, and stretched languidly, feeling the familiar soreness from the night before. Her body, sensual and full, was every bit the embodiment of wild fertility, and as she shifted, she became acutely aware of the dried stickiness between her thighs. The remnants of passion made her smirk, a primal satisfaction mingling with the ache of love fulfilled.

Rising from the bed, she slipped into a nearly transparent purple robe, the fabric barely concealing her generous curves. Her bare feet padded across the wooden floor, and she stepped outside into the crisp morning air, the robe clinging and fluttering around her like a veil. There, in the clearing beside the cabin, The Warden stood, his armor and sword arranged almost like a shrine, gleaming faintly in the dawn.

Morrigan joined him, her presence as commanding as any forest goddess, fertility and power intertwined. She traced the outline of his armor with a fond smile, and he turned to face her, his gaze softening at the sight of her.

“You haven’t changed,” he murmured, taking her in, his eyes lingering on her wild, untamed beauty. “Not in all these years. Sultry, wild, beautiful as ever.”

Morrigan’s eyes glimmered with a mischievous light as she leaned into him. “And you, my love, are as gallant and infuriating as the day we met in the Wilds.” Her voice dropped to a teasing whisper. “Though judging by the state of my thighs, I am pleased to see your lust for me wasn’t merely driven by the taint after all.”

The Warden laughed, a deep, genuine sound, and pulled her into a kiss. It was gentle and reverent at first, but quickly deepened, a reminder of how fiercely they had missed one another. When they finally broke apart, Morrigan’s fingers lingered on his cheek.

“I never thought I’d find this again,” she admitted. “Love. Family. It almost feels... unnatural, does it not?”

He ran his hands through her hair, relishing the way her body molded to his. “Tell me of the years I missed,” he said, his voice tinged with regret and curiosity.

Morrigan sighed, leaning against him as she recounted her time. “After you left, I served as an advisor to Orlais and later to the Inquisition. Kieran grew quickly, though he carried a burden greater than any child should bear. Flemeth... she came for him, took the Old God soul from within him. A mother’s worst nightmare, yet she did no harm. I’ve made peace with her, as much as one can make peace with a force such as she.” A wistful smile touched her lips. “I doubt I shall ever see her again.”

The Warden caressed her face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said softly, guilt flickering in his eyes. “You should have never had to carry that alone.”

Morrigan tilted her head, her expression softening. “I did what I had to. We all did. And now, here we are. Whole.” She looked back at the cabin, her voice growing playful. “Though I must say, I’ve somehow been turned into a domesticated housewife, and it is all your fault.”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist as they began to walk back. “I suppose that makes me guilty. But you, Morrigan, will never truly be tamed.”

She grinned, her laughter echoing through the forest, wild and full of life. Together, they made their way back to the cabin, where Kieran waited, and the morning air buzzed with the warmth of new beginnings.

The End.