A little fic I wrote about Loghain's Calling. He is...very old here. Very very old. :') Hope you like it! Thanks to righteous-maximus for betaing it!
He wouldn't go into the night quietly.
Granted, he hadn't expected to live this long in the first place. He'd been through a rebellion, a civil war, and an uprising; not to mention raising a daughter in the time he had between. He could have died in any of the last few fights he was in- he was no longer quite the formidable fighter he had been.
But when the Calling- and he knew that's what it was since he had felt it before, worming its way into his brain with its whispers- came for him, he knew that was the way he would go. He'd been wondering if he'd be one of the very few Wardens to die in his sleep…but it looked like it wouldn't be like that after all.
"You don't have to do this," said a Warden. Loghain had trouble remembering her name. He had trouble remembering anyone's name these days. The names came in the night, people long dead or gone. He didn't sleep much anymore.
"And what do you suppose I do?" said Loghain, the Calling buzzing at him even as the words came out of his mouth. It was strong, so strong, and he just wanted to give into it, to lay down in bed and just let it do what it wanted. But it was in a Warden's nature- his nature- to fight. It always had been.
"Just…wait?" said the Warden hopefully.
He'd needed an escort to Orzammar. The reminder galled him, but the truth was that he was there had been good reason to send a few Wardens with him for his Calling. It had been around thirty-five years since he'd been taken the Joining. He'd had a long life for a Warden…a long life for anyone.
"At this rate, do you really think I'm going to just die in my sleep?" said Loghain, smirking. He'd seen Anora on the way. The trip to Denerim had brought back so much, so many memories he'd thought lost. He had been glad for it, in a way. Everything had become a bit of a blur.
"So you're really going then?"
"Yes," said Loghain, holding his hand out for his shield. They were already in the Deep Roads. Saying goodbye to sunlight had been less dramatic than he'd expected.
The shield came eventually. Everyone around him was stumbling, staring into the dark where the natural lighting of the Deep Roads broke off into tunnels. They were nervous, afraid. Loghain smiled.
"What's the big deal?" he said, drawing his sword with a grunt. "I'm the one going out there."
"It's not every day we say goodbye to the Warden-Commander," said a Warden.
"Former Warden-Commander."
"Forgive me sir, but you're our Warden-Commander."
Loghain took a look at the Wardens with him, blinking the haze away. They were all veterans of Adamant, all soldiers who had served him faithfully. They had probably volunteered for this job.
"Hathaway, Crane, Fortune," he grunted. "Thank you for all your work." He tried to think of something poignant, something big to be what his last words to another person would be. "I'll see you on the other side."
"The same to you, sir," said one of the Wardens.
Loghain straightened from his semi-permanent slouch and gripped his sword more tightly. This was strange, surreal. He was going to die.
"Sir?"
He didn't turn his head.
"Loghain?"
The tallest warden, a woman whose origin or past he couldn't really remember, stepped forward. "You've done enough," she said, kissing his cheek. "You've made up for it. It's okay."
He was going to his death and words from a woman he barely knew meant the world to him. His chin shook for a moment, and she smiled softly.
He turned back towards the dark of the Deep Roads. He wanted to say something but didn't know what. He was as much a Warden as he was a Ferelden. He had done so many things wrong but a few right. His daughter was happy, as were his grandchildren. His life was...had been…good. He thought of Celia. He thought of Rowan. He thought of Maric.
He didn't say anything at all as he walked into the tunnels.
When they found his body it was at the bottom of a pile of darkspawn. When they wiped away the blood, he looked like he was at peace.