Well, another story comes to an end. I hope you all enjoyed Black Warden. It was certainly much more challenging for me to write. But I guess I did that to myself more than anything. As before, I'm equally relieved and saddened that we've come to the conclusion of another tale. Whereas Orbs of Arastani was my first work ever, I had some experience under my belt with Black Warden, and I hope the story reflects that.

Is this the last that I write of Morrigan and her warden? I don't know, to be honest. Writing these takes up a lot of my time, especially if I want to do it fast enough to keep anyone interested. I admit that a third installment is swirling around in my head as I type this, but whether or not it actually comes out, I don't know. It'd be interesting to see how Dwemer handles life without the huge weight on his shoulders anymore. But we'll have to see about that later. If you all want more, just let me know. I'd love to know what you think.

As always, many thanks to all of you for reading. I started writing with the intention of no one but me ever seeing it; just so I could complete the tale of The Warden and Morrigan for myself. But I'll admit, I've gotten attached to your reviews, emails, and PMs that seem to come at an increased rate by the day. I'm an attention whore, so I've gotten more than a bit attached to it. I love hearing from you guys, and your responses have been great.

Alright, enough of my babbling. Let's get to the conclusion of Black Warden and to the steamy parts you've all been craving. As before, there's a short FAQ-ish thing at the end to help answer some of the questions I get most often about the story.


The ordeal was finally over. The Order of Bohlen had been defeated and could no longer threaten Ferelden. And more importantly for The Warden, they could never threaten his family again. The Order had taken his child, his home, Silas, and very nearly everything he had from him. Everything except Morrigan, that is.

Throughout it all, the witch had remained by his side, ever faithful to her warden. Even when things seemed most bleak, she was always there to make sure he stayed the course to the very end. As with the Blight and Flemeth before, The Warden surely would have failed if it wasn't for her support and aid. And now that their task was finished, he intended to honor his promise to her to retire and lay down his blades. At long last, the cottage that had become a symbol of the life they both so craved, yet couldn't seem to find a way to live, was going to be a home for him and his family.

Fergus was making a quick recovery, and in the days following the defeat of the Order, he was able to be moved back to Highever and Castle Cousland, where he could oversee the reconstruction of the village. General Regorda and his men surrendered themselves peacefully to the king's forces, and Alistair took their actions at Denerim into account before he passed sentence on them. Regorda and his officers would be held at Fort Drakon for no less than ten years and what was left of his army was ordered to be the main workforce in the rebuilding of that which they destroyed. Regorda accepted his fate with grace and dignity, thanking the king for his mercy and giving praise to the Maker above all things.

No one was ever sure about what became of the desire demon. By all accounts the creature simply vanished into the night, using the distraction of the fight at Castle Cousland to make her escape. The Warden continued to have a nagging feeling in his gut that he would meet the succubus again one day, whether for good or ill he couldn't be certain.

Leliana joined the elf, Zervran, and the pair set out together to seek their next adventure. She finally convinced herself that she could do more good with her blade than with her words, which is why she decided to leave the Chantry. Zevran simply couldn't stand sitting around for more than a few minutes at a time. The threat of a lull was the only excuse the elf needed to seek his fortune elsewhere.

To commemorate the victory, Alistair declared the day of the Order's defeat a national holiday; a day to remind the people of Ferelden what happened and who it was that was responsible for saving the country yet again. But even as the people celebrated, the task of cleaning up the many thousand dead remained. All across Ferelden the Order's faithful had taken part in the ritual of the Eye and had seen the Calling. On that night, few villages were spared the bloodshed and carnage that ensued. Many families were left to pick up the pieces of what was left of their lives. Even in victory, there are still many who lose, The Warden thought.

But The Warden wasn't going to let any of that trouble him any longer. While he still deeply cared for the people, he understood that sometimes people have to live their own lives, and it was time for him to start living his. The weight of the entire world was lifted from his shoulders when his parents had given their approval of both him and Morrigan. He no longer felt like he had anything left to prove. He told Fergus about his meeting with their parents, and for the first time in a great while the two brothers shared a moment of joy.

The only thing that was left for The Warden to do was perhaps the hardest task of all: bury Silas. The young warden was laid to rest on the castle grounds, near where the tomb that honored The Warden's mother and father. The day of the funeral was sunny and bright, yet dark clouds hovered over The Warden's heart and he grieved for Silas and all the wasted opportunities.

"Do not be saddened, my love." Morrigan told her warden as they made their way back into the main building. "Instead, you should be proud."

"Proud? What is there to be proud of?" he asked in return.

"Silas was a brash and foolish young man. He had lead a spoiled and sheltered life until it was taken away from him. Without your guidance who knows what would have become of him? In the end, however, he sacrificed himself to save us. And in so doing, showed that he possessed the best qualities of you. Your efforts were not in vain."

"I always knew he could be more than he was, if only he let himself."

"And in the end, 'tis exactly what he did." Morrigan consoled as she wrapped her arm around her husband's, holding onto it tightly.

Alistair and Dyana had traveled back with The Warden to Highever to attend Silas' funeral and were waiting for The Warden inside the castle. The king and his captain had gotten quite close to one another during the previous weeks and were now quite the couple. Both Alistair and Dyana frequently sought the advice of The Warden and his witch when it came to matters of their relationship. Advice The Warden and Morrigan were all to willing to give, even if it was something the lovebirds didn't actually want to hear, or know.

"You know you're in for some big changes, right?" The Warden asked his friend as the two men stood in the atrium alongside Morrigan and Dyana, with the witch holding Seth's hand as he stood next to her.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, as you two start to settle in and get comfortable with each other, she's going to turn into a different person." The Warden replied, drawing a glare from his witch that said You had best be extremely careful with your next words.

"I don't understand." Alistair said, confused.

The Warden returned his witch's scowl with a sly grin, saying, "Oh sure, now she gets herself all prettied up for you and she seems like the perfect person in every way...and then it happens."

"What happens?" the king asked, obviously concerned.

"The questions start coming. That's when you know things are headed in a different direction altogether."

"What sort of questions?"

"At first they're innocent enough. Things like: do I look pretty? Or, did you notice what I've done to may hair?"

"Then what happens?"

"The questions get different. One day you're minding your own business when suddenly she's standing in front of you naked and bent over, asking, 'What is this on my arse?'."

"Dwemer!" the witch cried out as she gave his shoulder a good whack. "And I suppose you have remained the perfect gentlemen?"

"Of course I have." he said with a large grin.

"I shall remember that the next time I see you with your finger crammed so far up your nose one would think you are trying to snatch your brain from your skull."

"A man's gotta be able to breath, right?" he said, looking toward the king who's expression had changed to one of uncertainty.

"Uh..." was all Alistair could say.

"Anyway, I think Morrigan and I are going to call it a day." he finished as he and the witch exited the atrium arm-in-arm, leaving both the king and the captain standing there staring at each other with uneasy faces.

"You are an evil man, do you know that?" Morrigan whispered to her warden as they walked down the corridor to their chambers. "Telling them such things as that. You'll have poor Alistair tied up in knots. And knowing you, 'twas entirely on purpose."

His only reply was the smile he beamed back at her.

"As I said...evil." the witch said, shaking her head and smiling. "It does make me wonder, however, does it really bother you so that I've grown comfortable around you?"

"Not at all." he answered confidently. "It means that you feel safe around me and that you trust me. I wouldn't change that for anything."

Back in their chambers, Morrigan laid Seth in his bed and prepared to put him down for the night. As she pulled the blankets over him she sung a soft lullaby. The tenderness in her voice soothed the child until he was fast asleep. The witch leaned down and kissed her son on his forehead, "I love you, my darling. And I shall tell you as much everyday until you understand what you mean to me." she whispered and turned to face her warden, saying, "And to you as well."

"I love you, too, my beautiful, golden-eyed witch." he replied as he took her in his arms and kissed her passionately.

They stood there for long minutes entwined in each others arms; his tender kiss showing her the depth of his devotion, which she received without shame and returned to him. She pulled away from him only long enough to take his hand and lead him to the bed. Once there, the couple resumed their kissing as he reached down and pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor beside the bed. He slipped her skirt down and she stepped out of it, his face mere inches from her treasure.

Morrigan laid down on the bed naked and invited her warden to join her, saying with a coy grin "Come, my love. Let us make this a night to remember. And from our joining a child shall be born."

"I've heard that before." he said as he cocked his head to the side.

"Indeed you have. Only this time I shall still be here when you awaken. I am yours completely, now and forever."

He quickly removed his clothes and climbed over his witch. He kissed her behind her ear and trailed his lips down her neck, greatly enjoying her moans of ecstasy as goosebumps raised over her entire body. His mouth found each breast in turn, caressing them gently with his hands as his mouth brought each nipple to a stiff and excited peak. He pursed his lips and blew on their wet tips, causing Morrigan to grab the headboard with her hand while she writhed in delicious agony. His kisses went ever lower, until he found her center. And with his skilled tongue he pleasured her as she arched her hips, desperately trying to grind against to him. Her hand went to the back of his head and pressed him closer, as her moans of pleasure grew deeper. And just when the witch could stand no more sweet torture, he rose back above her, sliding his large muscled frame between her legs and slid himself inside her, claiming her treasure for his own.

His thrusts rocked her back and forth amid the sheets while her hands wrapped around him, with her nails digging deep into his back. Her eyes met his as each was moved by the pleasure being given and received. The fire inside Morrigan's belly began to burn out of control and she was caught up in wave after wave of searing ecstasy as his movements pushed her over the edge, and beyond. The witch lost total control and she succumb willingly to the passion they shared.

His movements became faster and more intense, with each of his thrusts slapping against her. She felt him dive deeply inside her one final time before her loins felt the familiar gooey warmth of his climax. He sheathed himself as deeply as he could, releasing every last bit of himself. When it was over, he put his mouth against her neck, softly nuzzling it between his winded breaths before finally rolling over to the side and collapsing next to her, totally spent.

"That was definitely worth the wait." he gasped, his body covered in sweat. "Thank you."

"You have my thanks as well. 'Tis evident your talents are not lacking, even though you've not had a chance to use them." she purred as she turned on her side to face him.

"You're not half bad yourself." he returned, smiling.

She cuddled up next to her warden and drifted off in his strong arms. Never more in her life had Morrigan felt more safe and secure. As she slept, the witch dreamed of a distant time. A time when both she and her warden were crowned with gray hair and were entertained by their children, and their children's children. It was a future that the witch would have never even considered for herself not so long ago. But with him by her side, anything was possible.

When she was younger, Flemeth taught her that true strength lie in magic and the power one gains from it. Only the strong survive and the weak must be culled like the lowly animals they were. At first glance, one would have thought the witch had done Flemeth proud. Morrigan had married the most powerful and respected man in Ferelden, who just so happened to be a member of one of the highest houses in the land. And in the process, the witch became nobility, herself. But all of that was meaningless to her anymore. She would be with her warden even if they were forced to live in Dust Town, the slums of the casteless in Orzammar. All that mattered to her was what they had together and the road that lay ahead. Ferelden has a long history of violence. But at least for the time being, she and her warden could live in peace and happiness.

The End.

Well, there it is. Another tale in the life of The Warden and his witch comes to a close. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It was certainly a labor of love, especially near the end as my free time grew less and less. I found myself writing this at all sorts of odd hours just so I could complete it. And, as promised, a few quick answers to some of the more common questions I get about the stories.

Q; Why do you capitalize "The" every time you mention "The Warden"? Isn't that bad grammar?

A: Because, as I mentioned in the story, he's not just any Grey Warden. I treat it like it's a part of his name. And really it is.

Q: Why did you make everyone so old?

A: I didn't. Bioware did. The character's ages in the stories are based on their ages in the game. Although none are explicitly mentioned, with a little digging it's not hard to find out how old they are.

Wynne is in her early sixties at the time of BW, which is probably the most obvious of all the characters.

Leliana is the oldest of the core group; in her early forties. Her age comes the closest to being mentioned in the game. When Wynne tells her she got her first apprentice about twenty years ago, when she was close to Leliana's age.

Alistair is the youngest, not quite thirty as of this writing. Again, clues from the game are what I used to determine his age.

Morrigan, however, was a different story. I actually had to do some research on that and through one of the writers at Bioware I was informed that she was always meant to be in her late twenties or early thirties. They decided to go with the latter to keep her in line with Claudia Black's age, who was in her mid thirties when she recorded Morrigan's voice.

Dwemer is five years younger than Fergus, who's son was close to ten years old at the start of Origins. That would comfortably place Fergus in his mid to late thirties at the start of the game. Which makes sense given his appearance, crows feet and all.

Q: Was the wedding ceremony really that hard?

A: Yes. It is still the hardest thing I've had to write so far. Mainly because in medieval times, weddings as we know them didn't exist yet. It was a totally different process. I had to research a good bit and the closest I could find was an article pertaining to an early renaissance ceremony that I borrowed heavily from.

Until we meet again my faithful readers. Take care.