BioWare owns Dragon Age…
Shakespira owns Merisoo…
Inspired By…the perfect mage in chapter 8 of Shakespira's 'With Noble Intent'. Thank you, milady, for allowing me to play with such a nightmarish creature….XD
Born blessed by the Maker and Andraste, Merisoo had never wanted for anything in her life. The mountain-side village of her childhood overflowed with an astonishing abundance of blossoms in the spring, amassing a wealth of magnificent crops in the fall. Every lamb survived to grow into a bearer of the most desirable fleece. All cows and ewes contently donated extraordinarily rich milk to be made into the finest of cheeses. Each sow gave birth to numerous lively babes which grew to enormous size themselves.
Her birth had been their boon, or so the villagers whispered to one another. The unspoken acknowledgment of her healing ability was a well-guarded secret, kept even from the far-off Chantry. Unfortunately, suspicious neighbouring towns called for an investigation into the unseemly bounty, and Templars were dispatched to find the source of the wondrous richness in the prodigious hamlet.
Great anguish befell when Andraste's Warriors caught Merisoo in the act of healing a wind-battered ladybird beetle upon their arrival.
Needless to say, she was promptly claimed by the Holy Knights. Memories of the wailing merchants and weeping farmers haunted her for many a year. Having being drained of mana by the rather regretful Templars, Merisoo was unable to use her abilities to ease their pain upon her departure.
Unlike other children transported to the Circle Tower, her soothing nature soon captivated the grim warriors. They marveled at the spectacle of swarming birds joyously twittering and swooping in circles above her head. The gossamer, shimmering aura created by the myriad of butterflies clustering about her left them speechless. After the first rainstorm had passed along on their way to Kinloch Hold, one of the Templars swore he could see the rainbow arcing from her feet.
The others became convinced of the holiness emanating from the little wonder in their midst. As a group they began to question the tenets set upon them by the Chantry. Could she be Andraste re-born? What if Andraste had been a mage - would She seriously be considered a possible threat to Her people, thus being condemned to a lifetime of isolation? Did the Chantry truly expect them to watch as this perfect little girl succumbed to the dark despair that claimed the spirits of so many of her kind? The questions nagged at them, eating away their once indomitable resolve.
The previously indoctrinated Knights knew if they attempted to hide Merisoo, the Chantry would send apostate hunters - the ones trained to kill on sight. Against their better judgment they decided to continue on with their journey to the Tower of Magi. Heart-sick, the Templars agreed to finish with their duty, and then forsake their vows. They would disperse into the Frostbacks, and search for others who would spread the word that Andraste had returned to Thedas. It was all they could do while formulating a plan to free her from the cold, heartless prison of Kinloch Hold. She sadly hugged the sobbing warriors as they said their good-byes. Though she never heard from them again, Merisoo hoped the former Templars found what they were looking for in the Frostback Mountains.
Almost three decades later, Merisoo found herself…bored. Being gifted with eidetic memory gave her plenty of free time to perfect skills in the differing schools of magic. Even the translation of ancient Tevinter tomes became tedious in the repetition. Bereft of stimulating undertakings, she was at a loss as how to rectify the matter. When Uldred and Irving informed her of the King's call for Magi assistance at Ostagar, she leapt at the chance for adventure. The fresh air and exercise would do her some good, she surmised.
The rain-splattered, muddy morass of Ostagar was more of a challenge than she'd expected.
The experience was not what Merisoo had imagined it would be, as certain groups made their concerns about her company quite clear. Ash Warriors lamented loudly as their once-ferocious battle hounds were reduced to joyful, wriggling, squeaking masses of fur and muscle in her presence. The Commander of the Grey Wardens was aghast upon watching his men carelessly toss their shields and capes over puddles to ease her passage. Priests stared in shock as the troops genuflected in her direction while praying. Many considered her presence in Ostagar an impediment, not a boon.
In search of someone to heal rather than hinder, Merisoo explored the rain-battered encampment. Catching sight of two great tents dominating the grounds, she strolled over to them in hopes of finding respite from the constant downpour. Curiosity led her to the Teyrn of Gwaren's pavilion first. She'd grown up reading of his heroic deeds - was he truly as great as he was portrayed to be?
Merisoo smiled at the Teyrn's guardsman, only to gasp in horror as the seemingly stalwart soldier suddenly fainted. With arms spread wide, he slowly fell back into an enormous mud-puddle, sheer bliss lighting up his face. Almost immediately a stern-looking aged man stepped out from the tent. Silverite eyes glanced at the unconscious form at his feet before turning an accusing glare towards her.
"I swear, Ser, I did nothing but smile at him," she murmured in her low, throaty voice. To her enormous relief, his gaze softened and his lips parted in surprise.
Loghain had gone without sleep for far too many nights.
Conscience battled with duty as fear battled with hate. Since Commander Genevieve had somehow ensorcelled Maric and betrayed the late king during an ill-fated trip to the Deep Roads, he had viewed the Order of Grey Wardens with ill-concealed disdain. Now he had to deal with Cailan's hero-worship for the newest Commander of the Grey.
He was torn as to what to do next. Did he tag along with the Warden Commander's directions? Or did he put an end to their existence within his beloved country? What about the letters from Eamon concerning Cailan's duty to provide an heir, possibly with Empress Celene? What would Maric - or more importantly - what would Rowan do, were she in his shoes? Rowan's memory had guided his conscience for so long. Maric, on the other hand, most likely faked a 'death by ship-wreck' to escape from his responsibilities. The kingdom needed another Rowan, another Queen with comparable devotion to duty. Anora was such a Queen. She deserved better than to be held back by the worship of the Theirin bloodline, for all its historic glory.
More disturbing was Maric's unacknowledged son, now a fully-fledged Grey Warden. The boy was no longer shackled by the Chantry, and one day could become a threat to the future stability of Ferelden. The General's informants told him of the Anderfel's acceptance of 'Grey Warden right to rule'. As well, the realization that the present Warden Commander was of Orlesian persuasion was unsettling. Eamon's interference had been taken care of with an apostate's help. The only remedy for the poison coursing through the Arl of Redcliffe's veins was resting in a locked chest hidden in this very tent. Loghain needed only to formalize a plan to keep Alistair, and the Grey Wardens, away from Denerim.
In the process of rubbing his bleary, tired eyes, he heard an odd noise from outside. Loghain strode through the flap, halting just in time to avoid trampling over the inert guardsman. He stared down at the prone form in the puddle. The guard's mud-caked face was beaming with joy. What kind of sorcery was this? The sudden painful memory of a previously 'shocking' encounter with one of the Circle Tower's mages had him seething with rage. Looking up from the torpid man, he glared at the woman standing beside the fallen guard…then melted at the sight of her.
She was…perfection. Long, thick ash-blonde hair cascaded over shapely hips. Almond-shaped azure eyes sparkled through golden lashes. Heart-shaped lips parted slightly, begging to be reddened by a masterful kiss. And then there was her voice…he had never seen such a vision, nor heard such ecstasy in a sound in his life.
General Loghain's mind ceased its tormented swirling. He understood the irrelevance of his fears now. This woman before him had the power to defeat all his enemies, keep potential invaders at bay, and unify the Noble Houses in Denerim.
The aging warrior began to tremble. His knees shook. Long forgotten urges thrummed through his body. The Hero of River Dane became giddy with the vision of tangled limbs and sweating loins in nights of steamy, musky passion. At long last here was someone able to rid him of the never-ending, aching loneliness caused by the loss of Rowan.
The Teyrn's heart opened up to the possibility of the hope and peace exuding from her. Loghain stared into the unknown face of perfect love, raised his arms to the clouds, and rejoiced!
Hopefully he could get the antidote to Eamon in time for the Arl to attend the wedding.
Heh heh heh.
Guess I don't have to say how A/U this is! XD
Also, thanks to The Carpenters and Buddy Holly…may your perfection always stand the test of time.