A/N: Slightly a/u world. I can't keep myself from writing fluff of these two. Please tell me what you think. :)
Loghain had retreated into the garden breezeway shortly after his arrival at Skyhold. He trusted Hawke just about as far as he could throw her, which begged the question as to how exactly he'd been coerced into accompanying the Inquisitor and his flighty informant back to the busy keep. He supposed it might have had much to do with spending the past several months living in isolation at the back of a dank, dark cave in the middle of a soggy waste of farmland due to the undead-infested lakeshore and the bloody wyverns romping about. While he didn't doubt that the unappealing amenities had kept him well hidden, it made for a somber mood. Even the deposed regent and shamed Hero of River Dane appreciated a little sunshine now and again.
Apparently now the sunlight was trying to make up for its absence in his life by trying to sear the back of his eyeballs. Squinting hard at the bright light of mid-afternoon, he made his way quietly to the opposite end of the garden near the stairway - a quick escape route should the paranoid side of his mind end up being right today. Not that he'd made a habit of believing in doomsday's and self-fulfilling prophecies, but between demons pouring out of the sky, the Calling's soft melody playing in the back of his head, and that fact that he was remarkably still among the living, he couldn't knock his intuition.
He was sure Hawke had another word for it entirely.
Some might have thought it comical that the feared Ferelden general, stony-faced father to the Queen, would take notice of the myriad of flowers in the garden, much less take joy in their cheery colors.
Loghain eased back onto the stone bench, situated some distance from the garden's other occupants, trying to ignore his many aches and pains. If coming to Skyhold was good for something, it would be a proper bed with, hopefully, a proper night's rest despite the effects of the Taint. Dreams of Darkspawn were actually rather tame compared to his memories of the rebellion.
Lost in thought, he allowed his eyes to wander over the many flowering trees, petals falling lazily to the ground in the high-mountain breeze. It was peaceful here, he thought, and he wasn't the only person who seemed to think so. The forum was filled with voices, but they were hushed. It reminded him very much of the time shortly before Chantry services on a Sunday morning.
It was then he caught movement out of the corner of his eyes and, turning his wintry pale gaze toward it, was met with the sight of a young girl. She appeared about ten years, dark hair and blue eyes the shade of which sent a small shudder of recognition through him.
She stood quiet with her hands folded primly in front of her, head cocked to the side while regarding him in a manner that was difficult to discern. Curiosity, perhaps?
Well, let her ponder, he thought. He didn't make very good conversation with children, if his track record with adults was anything to go by. Instead, he gave her the briefest glimpse of a smile before returning his eyes to the flora before him.
He didn't catch her returning smile, one that looked suspiciously like his own, as she sat down on the bench beside him.
Loghain could still feel her gaze on him and huffed quietly at the intrusion of his personal space. Did this sprite have no sense of propriety? She was practically leaning against him, wide blue eyes fixed firmly to his face. In an effort to distance himself, he scooted a bit further down the bench. There. That was adequate enough room.
She scooted closer, making up the distance he created, her hands now perched on the stone of the seat as she leaned forward to catch his eye. Still, she said nothing. He was beginning to feel an awful lot like some kind of curiosity at a circus. Again he moved further down the bench and again, she followed. When he'd finally come to the end of the seat he heaved a sigh and turned on her with what he thought was a rather forbidding scowl.
She only laughed, seeming to remember her manners and cover her mouth with a small, pale hand, though she couldn't hide the mirth from her eyes.
Loghain's mouth kicked up at the corner in a semblance of a smile. For a slight thing with boundary issues, she was rather charming, he had to admit.
"Since you seem so intent on sitting here," he began, "we should be properly introduced."
She nodded with a toothy grin, sticking out her hand awkwardly as if she had never shaken hands with anyone before in her life. Humoring her, he took her tiny hand in his much larger one and shook once before dropping it. She seemed utterly delighted by his attention.
"Kira."
He frowned. "Excuse me?"
"My name is Kira."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Kira." Now, where are your parents, that they might come and take you away, telling you to think better of speaking to strangers?
"You are Loghain, correct?"
He inclined his head to her. "Yes. That is my name." She was too young, he thought, to know intimately of him and his exploits back in Ferelden. "How do you know of me?"
"Mother told me all about you. She described you to me just three years ago." She hopped off the bench and shuffled in front of him, hands behind her back. "I also like to think I'm clever enough to know my own father when I see him. It seems like an easy enough task - something that would come naturally. Though I see other children who should know their fathers, and they don't seem to recognize them." She looked thoughtful, then shrugged. "Either way, I know you're mine."
It felt to Loghain as if the entire world had come to a screeching halt beneath him, not entirely unlike getting thrown from a horse who froze before a jump.
Her what? No...It couldn't be.
Grasping for something to say that wouldn't utterly destroy that adorably hopeful expression on Kira's face, he settled for a rather stupid question. He had to be sure.
"Your mother's name-"
"Morrigan," She replied instantly with a smile and a pair of bright eyes.
Maker, she looked a hell of a lot like Anora just then. He'd never thought he'd cross paths with that witch again, much less meet the result of that particular meeting. Oh, what the Hero of Ferelden would say once she got wind of this. He could practically hear the incessant, unending, prying questions now. Friends though they were, this - that night - was something they never discussed and never intended to. They had deemed it an open-shut case. It appeared the Maker had never intended that to be easy, much like the rest of his haggard life.
"And that would make you my-"
"Daughter, yes."
She snatched one of his hands up between two of her own and squeezed affectionately. "You must tell me everything about you."
"That's not very-" He sighed. "It is not very interesting."
She shook her head, taking a seat down beside him again while refusing to let go of his hand. "That doesn't matter. I've been waiting my whole life to meet you! I'm positive anything you say will be interesting." As if to emphasize her point, she leaned against his leg, looking as if she were preparing to learn something of great interest.
When he hesitated, she opened those blue eyes wider and implored, "Pleaaaasee?"
Who was he to say no to a face like that?
No one, that's who.
Resigned, he bestowed upon her a gentle smile and started from the beginning, telling her of the farm where he grew up, his family, and his life after that. He glossed over a few of the more alarming portions of his past, but she sat enraptured by him for the greater part of the afternoon, small hands clutching his. By the time he had finished, the sun had set well behind the walls of the keep, throwing the garden into the long cool shadows crowned by a fiery sky.
Strange how he felt as if no time had passed at all.
"Kira?"
Both of their heads looked up to regard Morrigan at the base of the stairway. She looked over Loghain with a pair of indifferent eyes and motioned for her daughter to come away.
With a small pout, Kira rose and gave Loghain a quick kiss on the cheek before joining her mother. As they turned away from him, Morrigan nodded her head once in his direction before ushering her daughter inside the keep, leaving Loghain once again alone on the stone bench.
The Maker, he reflected with a small smile, worked in mysterious ways.