A/N: This is a companion piece to Chapter 38 of "Rend Asunder". If you'll recall, Loghain has just left Gwaren on the return journey to Vigil's Keep. He has a very important task ahead of him when he arrives there. As with many men who are preparing for such a huge, life-changing event, Loghain is getting just a wee bit nervous. This is the story of his nervousness.

Of course, Bioware owns all. I'm just a fan with an imagination. Slight spoilers for "The Stolen Throne".

He was still several days from Vigil's Keep, but Loghain could feel his nervousness building as the miles fell behind him and his entourage. Initially, he was not sure what that strange feeling in his stomach was. It felt almost like he was taking ill and at first, he hoped the salted fish they had for rations had not gone rancid on them. The thought of getting sick, having to stop constantly to vomit—or worse—made Loghain grimace. But as they traveled and he thought about returning to the Vigil, he realized that the feeling was not an illness, but something else entirely.

Loghain Mac Tir was acutely and completely nervous.

Part of him could not fathom why the thought of asking Lhiannon to be his wife would make him nervous. He was absolutely certain that she would say yes; mostly certain, truth be told. She loved him. She was surrounded by far younger men than him, men far more suitable than him; yet, she only had eyes for him. There were days he could not understand why, but simply accepted it as gratefully as his nature would allow.

However, the long journey through the Brecilian Forest left much time for Loghain to dwell in his own mind, turning over and worrying the thoughts that crossed it as the excitement of beginning the journey turned into tedium while the miles fell behind them. A single, tiny seed of doubt had taken root in his boredom and grew as he helplessly worried at it. He tried to banish the thoughts, scowling and cursing himself an insecure fool, but the thoughts kept coming, fed by his nervousness and boredom.

What could make her say no? He was old enough to be her father; she had said age was just a number, but would that change when he asked his question?

Then there was perhaps her closest friend, King Alistair. He disapproved of Lhiannon's relationship with Loghain. She had angrily told the King that loving Loghain was her choice—had even slapped him over it—but would she dare the King's disapproval by marrying him? Lhiannon did get along fairly well with Queen Anora, so perhaps she would be able to assuage the King if he did have an issue. Since the King had not sent assassins to Vigil's Keep nor banished the both of them from Ferelden outright, Loghain did not feel the King would be a serious issue. Loghain scoffed to himself; King Alistair was Anora's problem now and he was confident she would be able to rein the King in if necessary.

Lastly, it was likely that they would not be able to have children. They had discussed that very subject not long before and had decided that they would welcome any child the Maker gave them, knowing that the chances were remote. Would it be enough? Did she harbor desires for a child, not telling him out of fear or possible heartbreak? Her chances of having a child were small enough with a regular man, but nearly infinitesimal with another Grey Warden. As the months passed, those infinitesimal chances would grow even more remote.

With an irritated scoff to himself, he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. Worrying about such things out of his control suited no purpose other than to fuel further doubts and insecurities. He had to have faith that she would say yes, despite the insidious worm of doubt that snaked through his mind.

There was one thing directly in his control that did worry him greatly. He was worried about saying the right thing; he was an abrupt, brusque man, and the thought of saying something flowery seemed wrong, somehow. Loghain wanted to say and do the right thing, but what would that be?

Ask her while down on one knee? Oh yes, and have the moment broken by the sound of my knees cracking like a whip? I hardly think so.

"Marry me." Short and to the point; sounds very much like me. Sounds like a command as well and this is hardly the time for commands. Perhaps I should soften it.

"Will you please marry me? Maker's breath! Now that sounds like begging. I want to ask her, not beg like a mabari looking for table scraps.

Loghain pondered what he would say for most of that day, a quiet traveling companion for those in his entourage. They stopped and made camp near a small stream just off the Brecilian Passage, setting up their tents and campsites as the sun sank toward the horizon. Loghain waved off his guards offers to set up his campsite, hoping the familiar work would help him clear his mind. Perhaps a dawning revelation on what he should say to Lhiannon would come to him. It became clear as he worked, however, that no revelation was coming and the thought made him bristle. After joining the men for an evening meal of rations, Loghain retired to his tent. He lay on his hard bedroll, his thoughts racing as he tried to think of what to say. Just handing her the ring and hoping she got the hint would not suffice; something would have to be said.

Loghain opened his eyes sometime later and found himself sitting on a stone outcropping next to the stream he and his entourage had camped near. He looked down and saw himself dressed in his River Dane armor, the armor he had worn for so many years. Loghain felt his brow furrow in confusion as he examined himself; that particular set of armor was adorning a stand back in his chambers at Vigil's Keep. Why then was he wearing it now?

He rose from the rock, moving down toward the stream to splash his face with the cool water, hoping it would help him try to make sense of things. He moved to the bank, leaning over the water to cup a handful when he saw his reflection. He gasped as he saw a younger face staring back at him. It was a face from perhaps ten years ago; a face from before the Blight raged over the land. A face from a time when Anora was simply Lady Anora Mac Tir and not Queen Anora.

"Maker's breath, I must be dreaming," he muttered, rubbing his face with his hands and gazing at his reflection warily. He rose to his feet and moved back toward the rock he had been sitting on.

"You are."

Loghain gave a start and quickly turned to see the grinning face of Maric approaching. He looked resplendent in his golden armor, a dark purple cape thrown about his shoulders and his enchanted dragonbone sword in its scabbard at his side. His hair was as Loghain remembered, long and golden with just a few wisps of white at the temples. Loghain felt the pain of Maric's loss come roaring back again and stared at the figure before him in shock and disbelief.

"Maric?" Loghain asked, hardly believing the figure approaching him. He reached back to feel the stone behind him before awkwardly settling himself upon it, his mouth gaping at the figure before him. Loghain rubbed his eyes, grimacing at the ache that was suddenly behind them. It's just a dream...

"What's wrong, Loghain?" Maric asked, propping a foot on a rock near Loghain and resting his arm on his knee. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Loghain scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Maker's breath, he even jokes in my dreams. "What are you doing here, Maric?"

Maric shrugged, looking at Loghain with a humorous glint in his eye. "I'm resting, what does it look like?"

"Maric…" Loghain growled, glaring at the apparition in front of him with exasperation.

Maric moved his foot off the rock, sitting down next to Loghain with his elbows propped on his knees, his dragonbone sword settling against the rock with a small thud. He turned his head to look at Loghain, his brows furrowing together. He held up a finger as if he were in thought, the frown on his face replaced by a look of grim humor. "Now, I've seen that look on your face before…I think. You have so many that look so similar. I'm guessing this expression is…hungry?"

Loghain scoffed, rolling his eyes at the image of Maric next to him. Maric snapped his fingers and pointed at Loghain. "Ah ha! Vexed! That's what that look is! What has you vexed, Loghain?"

Loghain sighed, shaking his head slightly at the circumstances around him. He would have given everything to speak to Maric one last time about anything and here he was, with Maric at his side and the first thing Loghain wanted to do was tell Maric it was none of his damned business about what had him vexed. Well, it's only a dream…

"A woman…" Loghain began, watching in disbelief as Maric grinned broadly, leaning forward with an excited expression on his face.

"It's about bloody time," Maric exclaimed, nudging Loghain with his elbow and nearly knocking him off the rock he sat on. Loghain growled in exasperation as he put his hand on the rock to steady himself. "How long did I suggest that you take a wife again?"

"'Suggest', Maric?" Loghain scoffed, shaking his head slowly. "That's what you called it? You badgered me for years to take a wife again. And those 'suggestions' you sent to me…"

Maric held up his hands, his brows lifting and shoulders shrugging sheepishly. "They were all completely available, eligible women…"

"They were all shallow, superficial women with less sense than a lickspittle," Loghain retorted, pointing his finger accusingly at Maric. "Concerned only with salons and what fashions were in style."

"Oh, but they would have looked good on your arm."

Loghain scoffed, shaking his head in exasperation once again at Maric's seemingly endless supply of charm and good humor. Maric was a hard man to hate; Loghain could be angry at Maric, and certainly had been on numerous occasions, but his charm always won out in the end. Even Loghain himself was not immune to it. Even here, in an implausible dream, he found himself still not immune to it.

"You know," Maric began, that look of good humor still in his eyes. "I very nearly decided to arrange a marriage for you, since you were taking so damned long. I was going to approach Bryce Cousland about his daughter…"

Loghain's eyes went wide with disbelief. "Maric! His daughter was little more than a girl when…" You died…

A heavy sigh crossed Maric's lips, his eyes taking on a more, melancholy appearance as he continued to look at Loghain. "When I died," he said somberly, bowing his head slightly before raising it again. "I would have waited until she was of age before approaching Bryce; I'm not that much of a creep." Maric paused, sighing wistfully before continuing. "But, that damned boat had other plans…"

Maric raised his eyes to Loghain again, the look of concern in them so great that Loghain could barely hold his glance. "I didn't want to see you all alone, my friend. You've done so much for me—for Ferelden—that you deserved some happiness." Maric paused, his eyes downcast once again. "I know what you gave up for me."

Loghain's brow furrowed, looking at Maric warily. "Gave up what?"

"Rowan," Maric said. "I know you gave her up. She never said so, but she never had to. All I had to do was look at her at the mention of your name."

"Ah," was all Loghain could say, his blue eyes staring at the ground between his feet. That was something Rowan had likely never forgiven him for and Loghain carried the guilt of forcing her to Maric on that rainy night so many years ago every day since.

"I had hoped you would remarry after your wife's death," Maric said, changing the subject and returning his gaze to Loghain. "You didn't deserve to be alone."

"You managed."

Maric waved his hand at Loghain, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "You know well enough that I had dalliances from time to time. You even saved me from myself a number of times." Maric paused, lowering his voice. "Did you even have that? Dalliances, I mean?"

Shaking his head and scoffing irritably, Loghain turned to give Maric an exasperated look. "Even in a dream, you're an idiot."

"It's your dream, so who is the bigger idiot?" Maric grinned, gently elbowing Loghain in the ribs again.

Loghain scoffed, his exasperation at Maric's scrutiny beginning to grate on his last nerve. "Maric, I had my duty and I had Anora. That was enough."

"Ah yes, always duty with you, Loghain," Maric chided, rolling his eyes dramatically. "I know I had demanded that you put Ferelden first during the war, but I never meant it to be an all encompassing facet of your life for your entire life."

"It is who I am."

"Indeed, Loghain. Nice changing the subject by the way," Maric grinned. Loghain scoffed and shook his head. Maric, or his manifestation, was not going to let this go after all.

"So then, why so glum, Loghain?" Maric said, resting his chin in his hand and listening intently. "If there's a woman in your life that you want to marry, why does that make you so glum?"

"I don't know what to say to her," Loghain shrugged. "I don't have your charm or your gift of words."

"I seem to remember a time after West Hill where you had the right words for me and Rowan."

"Perhaps," Loghain muttered reluctantly.

"And I know someone gave a rousing speech just before the battle of River Dane, when a dragon was sighted. It spurred the men to victory. I wish I could have heard it in person."

Loghain grunted noncommittally; he hated when Maric was right and pointed it out in his affable way.

"So you do have the words within you, Loghain. You just need to have faith in yourself to find them. And you will." Maric grinned at him. "I learned long ago that when you put your mind to something, Loghain, you can do just about anything."

Maric stood, adjusting the sword at his hip and the cloak that draped his shoulders. He put a hand on Loghain's shoulder and smiled. "I would wish you luck, Loghain, but I know you won't need it." He turned and took a few steps away before Loghain quickly jumped to his feet. "Maric," he called out, watching as his friend turned and raised a brow in question. "Cailan..."

Maric held up a hand, stopping Loghain before he could continue. "That is a discussion best left for another time, Loghain," he said solemnly. "Suffice it to say that we all played a part in what happened. We all failed each other."

Suddenly Maric grinned, that lopsided grin that Loghain had known for so many years. "Now, when you wake up, I expect you to find your lady and woo her off her feet with your smooth tongue." He gave a jaunty wave with his hand and turned, his dark purple cloak swirling about him regally.

Loghain woke up.

As he set off toward Vigil's Keep that day, he felt his mood lifted. The nervousness still remained, but the doubt had been replaced by a new confidence given to him by an unlikely apparition in a dream. Strange, but the Maker did have a sense of humor and saw fit to remind Loghain of such on numerous occasions. Soon, he would enter the walls of Vigil's Keep and ask Lhiannon the most important question he would ever ask her.

She would say yes.

Fin

I hope I have the nervousness at least in the ballpark. I was on the receiving end of the ring, not the giving end. :) I had a "what if" enter my mind as I was writing RA and it bloomed into this.

I think Loghain is a man who could become nervous at such an event (he's human, after all), but he's not going to show it outright. And if it does, it would be in an angry outburst that most people would think was just Loghain being Loghain. Pity the fool at the receiving end of THAT outburst.

Thanks as always for everyone following along with "Rend Asunder" and its various offshoots. I appreciate it more than you know!