For a few weeks now, things hadn’t been quite right with Madeline. She went about her day to day stuff in West Hills like she always did, but as each day passed, something dark was creeping upon her. Whisperings in her mind, evil nasty things. At first she just pushed the thoughts out of her mind, but as the days turned to weeks, the voices grew.
You aren’t worthy of your son. You should have died with your husband. What right do you have leading the people of West Hills. You are a speck of dust, unworthy and unwanted.
Then there were the nightmares that plagued her sleep. The worse they got, the less sleep she got, and the less sleep she got, the worse the voices got. It was turning into a vicious cycle. This particular evening the nightmares were at their worst, she woke from a dead sleep, drenched in sweat and mumbling to herself.
She called for a servant to come help her, screaming that she needed to get dressed so she could leave. Impatient that people were taking too long, she decided screw clothing. Her nightgown would do just fine. So she grabbed her sword and left the Keep and headed to the Eluvian. From there she headed to Denerim and the palace.
Arriving in the palace, in her night clothes, had a couple of the guards on duty stunned and speechless. They didn’t know what to make of what was going on, only that someone that looked a good deal like the King’s mother had arrived at the palace, mad and muttering and in her night clothes. Madeline quickly began speaking louder and louder until she was screaming at the top of her lungs.
Fools, you’re all fools. What have you done with my son?!?! I’ll kill you all if you don’t tell me where you’re keeping him from me!!! She swung the sword wildly to make her point, when a guard tried to get close to her, she swung it at hi and then jumped up on the nearest table. You have done something with my son and put an imposter in his place. I demand you tell me where my son is!!!
Morrigan had been raiding the Ferelden palace's library, when she heard commotion in the hallway. Dammit, now there's going to be guards! Not that guards would do much to the Witch [supposed witch that is].
She stepped out of the library, Echo perched on one hip. She carted the child around like a magic wand, only able to access her own magic when the girl was in her arms. Otherwise she was useless.
Echo was asleep right now, snug tightly in her 'mama's' hold. Hey, miss. She smiled softly as she stepped in-between the guards, Who's your son?
Madeline spun around at the sound of someone speaking to her., Her eyes showing a wild intensity. Even a total stranger would be able to see that something was not quite right with her. She faltered slightly, enough that the point of the sword dipped as she looked over at Morrigan.
The king of course. They’ve done something with him. Put an imposter in his place!!! She simply didn’t understand how no one could see that Byron wasn’t Byron at all, but someone Elgar’nan had planted in the kingdom.
He’s done it, he won’t rest until we’ve all been replaced with his minions!!! A guard stepped closer, Madeline brought the sword back up and spun to face the soldier that had dared to take a step towards her. She shook her head and tried to focus, but she was tired and finding it hard.
Morrigan studied the stranger, Madam Wulff. Ah. I understand. Morrigan stepped closer, steady steps more confidant then the soldiers that were circling the poor woman.
Lady Wulff... do you have any idea where your son's gone? She inquired, curious. Not because she believed the king was an imposter, he was certainly a better choice for the throne than Alistair. But because she wanted to keep the woman talking until she grew too tired to hang onto her weapon.
Morrigan might have said she understood, but the voices whispering in Madeline’s mind were telling her not to trust the woman that was speaking to her. What if she herself was an imposter, how would Madeline know, what if they all were, what if it was all too late.
She held the sword tighter, her knuckles white from the strain. She looked around wildly, paranoia etching lines on her face. I don't know, but I must find him, my son... she muttered. He’s done something with him, I know he has. She was straining under the pressure, under the sleepless nights, under the voices whispering evils into her mind, her determination waivered under the strain.
Morrigan reached for the weapon, fingers curled against the blade, a light touch so as not to cut herself just yet. Let's rest a moment, yeah? Then we'll find your son... She offered, cautiously. She could, if needed, physically overwhelm the older woman but she was hoping it'd not come to that.
Madeline's eyes flickered with uncertainty as Morrigan's words seeped into her frayed consciousness. She hesitated, the sword wavering in her grip.
Rest... yes, maybe I need to rest... she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek as exhaustion finally began to take its toll. You can really help me? Find my son? I don’t trust the guards, he could have paid them off, or replaced them with imposters.
It was strange, being the 'nice person', the 'good person'. That was not her usual moniker. And yet, she was slowly convincing this woman to lower her weapon and rest. I'll find your son, your real son. She promised, carefully pulling the sword - by the blade - to herself.
Madeline's grip on the sword faltered, her eyes locking onto the woman standing before her. There was something about Morrigan's voice, a calmness that cut through the chaotic storm in her mind. Her knuckles whitened with the strain of holding onto her weapon, but the promise of rest was tempting.
Rest... yes, maybe I need to rest... she whispered, feeling a tear slip down her cheek. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, and the voices that had tormented her for so long began to fade, if only slightly. You can really help me? Find my son? I don’t trust the guards; he could have paid them off or replaced them with imposters.
Her breath hitched as she looked around at the faces of the guards, all of them seeming like strangers in their familiar armor. She wanted to believe Morrigan, but doubt clawed at her.
Please, she said, her voice breaking. I need to find him. I need to know he's safe. Everything feels wrong, and I can't... I can't do this alone.
The sword slipped from her fingers, clattering to the ground as her strength gave out. She swayed on her feet, feeling Morrigan's steady hand guiding her to a nearby bench. As she sat down, her body trembling with fatigue, she looked up at Morrigan with desperate, pleading eyes.
Promise me, she whispered. Promise me you'll help me find my son. I can't lose him... not again.
Madeline's head dropped into her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The weight of her fears and the relentless voices seemed to lift, just a little, under Morrigan's steady gaze.
Morrigan dipped her head. I'll help you. It'll be okay. It sounded fake to her, but real enough to the woman in front of her. You should let these nice men take you to rest. I'll keep searching, though.
She would, in fact, go find the woman's son. The King. She needed to meet with him, anyway. She was Ferelden's greatest boon, and their greatest weakness, in her current state. Her knowledge could only get her so far, without actual magic to wield.
But she had an idea of how to acquire more.
How to get back what she had lost. And she wasn't going to ask permission; she was going to just do. Raised with a "take what you want, do what you must", and "ask forgiveness after" attitude meant she was reckless and dangerous.
She'd watched the guards gather the resigned woman, and sigh quietly. That's some sort of curse, bring a healer to tend to her, she murmured to a lingering guard.
