Doom Upon All The World

Chapter 20: Mythalus

He would give her their mother's memories but not their father's.

To do so would kill her.  Even with magic in her blood, even with Solas' God-genes in her DNA.  Nicolynn would not survive the process.  However, giving her their mother's memories is harmless.  "Close your eyes."  Mythalus tells her.  "I will give you parts of her at a time.  Nothing too fast.  All things in moderation."  His smile tells her that he's amused with himself.  

He takes her hands in his and pours a sweet smelling, sticky liquid into her palms.  "What is that?"  She asks, turning her nose up at it.  He grins, though his sister can't see it, knowing she'll hate the answer he's about to give her.  "Lyrium."  He responds firmly.  

Nicolynn's shoulders slump and she tilts her head in disappointment as her expression changes.  "Why is it always lyrium with you, Mythalus?  You know what it can do to you, yet you use it still."  He is swift to reply, being honest with her as best he can.  "It helps me."  He says.  He can tell she doesn't expect much more out of him but he goes on.  

"I lost our parents when I was younger than you, with very little idea of how the world worked.  I can't even remember the last thing mother said to me.  The lyrium puts me in a haze long enough to forget.  To stop their faces from coming to me in my sleep, to stop the thought of their suffering from running through me, to keep the nightmares at bay."  He shrugs as her eyes flicker open, staring at him with aching sympathy.  He tries not to chuckle at the plain emotion and waves her off. 

"It wares off eventually and the ache returns.  And so I take more.  It may be addictive.  It may even harm me but it helps, it helps me forget they ever existed."  He mutters, massaging the lyrium into her skin.  "Much, I suspect, like the young Commander Rutherford helps you."  Mythalus adds snidely, ever the prying, wicked little brother.  His lips curl up in the corners subconsciously as she glares at him.  

Nicolynn shakes her head.  "That's different."  She whispers.  "I don't use Anthony to help me forget what happened to our parents, what happened to us."  Her eyes meet his, her magic fighting his as Adelaide's had only a day ago.  Only this is different, he isn't certain of his power of her.  His magic wavers at the shove it takes from hers. He doesn't let his surprise show.  "I love him."  Nicolynn murmurs and Mythalus' face turns sour as he stands and walks to his desk.  

"Yes, well that is obvious.  However, deep down, somewhere inside you, is an instinct to feel secure, an instinct that could trick you into loving anyone.  Even a human."  Her eyes narrow at him.  "Is that what this is about?  You think that I shouldn't be with Anthony because he's human?"  Her voice is indignant.  Mythalus only stands blank faced in front of her.  

She shakes her head again and he sits down, taking her hands in his.  "You've been sleeping with Pierre.  How is that any different?"  She requests and her brother laughs a snarl of a laugh.  "First, my relationship with Pierre is exclusively physical and for my pleasure only.  A distraction I require from time to time to silence the voices in my head.  And second,  I lack the required tools to produce half breed barbarian children with Pierre.  A disgrace that would be most unfortunate to mark upon our lineage.  Can you imagine?  The blood of a God, two Gods at that, and the Inquisitor, wasted on a human halfling?"  Nicolynn's stomach rolls over in her gut at his words but he doesn't hear anything wrong with them as he snarls. 

She remains silent as he waves his hands over her lyrium doused palms and sparks fly between their fingers.  It's when the fire starts in her palms that she speaks again, having considered his words.  "They'd be beautiful."  She whispers thinking briefly on the life she could have with Anthony.  Could have had were it not for this cursed magic in her veins. Mythalus nods.  "Yes, yes.  Aesthetically, they'd be dark haired, bright-eyed darlings with sharp reddened ears and pale skin.  But power?  Status?  They'd have a human surname, a Fereldan one at that.  And little or no magic.  Not to mention they'd be looked down on for their half blood on both sides.  Elves would hate him for his human heritage.  And humans would disregard him for his knifed ears and skinny stature.  Is that what you want for your child, Nicolynn?"  His bright green gaze is locked on hers as her brow furrows.  

Her voice is barely audible.  "You said him."  She mumbles as her head spins from side to side, denying what she fears in her soul.  Her hand goes over her stomach and Mythalus throws his head back in hilarity as tears blot her eyesight.  He grips his sides as they begin to hurt from all his laughter.  Honestly, Nicolynn has not amused him this much since they were children. 

"No, sister.  You are not carrying Anthony's child yet."  He snickers.  "After one night it would be unlikely that I'd sense the presence of the fetus but perhaps after two.  Give it another day and ask me again."  He jokes, looking more like their mother than she ever gave him credit for.  He calms and becomes serious again.  "I saw one version of a very blurry future.  Yours is uncertain, constantly changing as you do.  It's quite interesting actually."  There is no concern for his sister's life in his voice.  He holds it back, knowing her fears better than she does.  But even he doesn't know what will happen when the dawn breaks tomorrow morning, on the sunrise of their passing, of their murder.  

Nicolynn's chest is heavy with labored breath as Mythalus channels more energy between their hands, the flames within swirling chaotically.  "Now, close your eyes."  He demands.  She does so and the fire in her palm disappears into her skin.  She convulses very suddenly and his hands go to his knees, waiting out her fit.  She's adsorbing the information, taking it in.  But that much emotion that fast is painful.  She won't remember it when it's over.  

When her eyes open, they are filled with tears.  He gave her many things.  Mostly memories before the Inquisition.  But some of them were from when their father broke their mother's heart and the days, weeks that followed.  Every word he said to her.  Every truth he told her about himself.  Nicolynn takes in a shaky breath as her eyes wide in exasperation of what she's seen. 

Mythalus nods, ready for the next part of his reason for showing her this.  "Good,"  He mutters and meets her gaze.  "You know everything father told mother about the Gods, about the magic in our veins."  He states and she nods, still trying to process the images in her head.  Her too blue eyes wander frantically around the room.  

"Now."  He says, grabbing her face in his hand, forcing her to look at him.  "I need you to focus and listen to me very carefully."  He grins, wicked, mischievous.  "I have a plan."  Mythalus goes on.  "I know how we're going to save you."