Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: T

Spoilers: May contain spoilers for Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening, and Dragon Age II, Dragon Age II DLC, Dragon Age Inquisition as well as the novels The Stolen Throne and The Calling.

Warning: A totally alternate universe re-imagining of the world of Dragon Age from my own highly skewed perspective, which if you know anything about me you should know is highly Loghain-centric. This is the Blight, and in this half of the story, Loghain is alive and almost well.

Chapter One

"General, if you are truly set on leaving, then I'm going with you." Cauthrien was adamant. Stubborn. Identical to him in terms of personality, in fact, if far prettier in feature.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because the Shield needs its Commander."

"And doesn't the entire army need its General, then, also?"

He clapped his big hands on her shoulders and shook her once gently. "They can live without me for the time being. They have enough Commanders to suffice as long as they have good people like you."

"Why do you have to go? Anora is wrong to send you away."

"Anora is right. I'm upsetting the nobles. She needs time to calm things down. Time without me. And I'll be getting things done, things I probably wouldn't be able to get done with noblemen in the way. Don't worry about me, my dear. I'll be back, safe and sound, before you know it."

"It would help if I knew something about your itinerary," she said, dark brows furrowed.

"Ha! It would help me, too. But I don't think the Warden has an itinerary, as such. Don't worry, I'll help her get straightened out. Somehow I think she's just being pulled in too many directions at once. I know how that feels for a young person who never thought they'd get thrown into a situation where they're expected to lead."

"I still think I should come with you," Cauthrien said.

"And I still know that the Shield needs you more. There is no one else I trust with the job."

She heaved a deep breath. "All right. I understand. I will stay and do my duty."

"Good. I knew I could count on you, my girl. And… if and when you can… keep an eye on Anora for me? Not that I expect her not to be able to look after herself, as you know, just… you know…"

She nodded. "Try and keep the wolves off her. Yes, I know."

"Thank you, dear. Sorry to put that kind of weight on you, especially in addition to what you're already carrying."

"It's all right, Father."

He kissed her on the brow, then stepped back and saluted. "All right. I've got to go get this ragtag band in order, see that they have horses and supplies. This is going to empty my stable. Do you know I have to find a suitable horse for a qunari? I don't even know what constitutes a suitable horse for a qunari. I've never met one, I don't know how big they are except through rumor and hearsay. The Warden doesn't seem to be any great help to me. She doesn't want me to give her any horses in the first place and her descriptions of her comrades are vague in the extreme. She just says the bastard is 'big.' Won't even tell me what sort of armor he wears."

"She doesn't want horses? Why ever not?"

"She doesn't want 'charity.' I say I don't want our little excursion to take three fucking years. Well, I'd better get to it. It's a long way to go to her campsite, horses or no, and her companions may have already given her up for dead. If we're going to find them before we have to make camp for the night we have to get moving."

Cauthrien gave him a hug and a kiss and bowed herself out after a formal salute of her own. Loghain returned to filling his pack with the few things he'd need for an extended journey that he hadn't left up to his servants to pack for him. His map of Ferelden, completely memorized but still necessary just in case, a few spare weapons, extra socks and smallclothes. Finished, he geared himself in his plate and primary weapons, shouldered his pack, and headed for the stables.

He was still saddling up his favorite mount, a silver-grey charger of no particular breeding he affectionately dubbed "Stew-Bone," when the others of his party began to arrive. The elven cousins, Loghain Tabris and red-headed Shianni, were first on the scene, wide-eyed and severely out of their element, much as they'd been when they arrived at the estate just in time for dinner, to which they'd found themselves promptly invited. Loghain finished checking his preparations and handed Stew-Bone's reins to a stable hand and went to meet them.

"I suppose you two don't know how to ride," he said.

"We've… never had the opportunity, no," Tabris said, shaking his head.

"I've got a couple of Ferelden Forders that are nice and gentle, shouldn't give you any trouble. Here, let me introduce you to them. They're right over here in the stalls. This one is Glue-Pot, and this one here is Dog-Meat," he said, showing them a pair of dark brown horses with reassuringly calm brown eyes.

"Why such horrible names?" Shianni said. "They're beautiful creatures."

"Any animal that runs afoul of me runs the risk of a horrible name," Loghain said. "It's just my way."

"Which one do you want, Cousin?" Shianni asked, stroking Dog Meat's nose.

"Well, it looks like you've already forged a bond with that one, so I'll take this one. Glue-Pot, right?" Tabris said, giving the other horse a few gentle pats.

"I can't call this poor horse 'Dog-Meat,'" Shianni said. "I'm going to call her… 'Majesty.'"

"Call her whatever you like, but don't call her 'her,'" Loghain said. "She is a gelding. A former 'him.'"

"Oh. Well. 'Majesty' might be a little too royal for a castrated horse, eh?" Shianni said. "How about… 'Buddy' instead. He looks like a Buddy."

"Ooph. Demoted, there, Buddy," Loghain said, giving the horse a pat on the neck. "Don't feel bad about it. It's still better than Dog-Meat, eh?"

Zevon showed up, with his pack on one shoulder and his guitar on the other, held by a strap. "Zevon. Can you ride?" Loghain asked.

"Fairly well. I wouldn't put me at the head of a mounted charge, my Lord, but I can hold my own at a trot or a canter," Zevon said.

"Good, I'm running out of first-time rider-friendly horses. You can have 'Yellow Snow' here," Loghain said, leading a lean white horse with a yellowish tint to certain places in his coat out of a stall. "He's friendly, and generally gentle, but he's got a touch of attitude to him, so you've got to know something of what you're doing when you ride him, but it doesn't take an expert horseman."

"What sort of horse is that, Ser?" Zevon asked. "Any particular breed, my Lord?"

"Orlesian Courser. He's a gelding. I don't breed Orlesian Coursers. Oddly enough, not so much because they're Orlesian but because they're generally unsuitable for me. I need bigger, stronger horses for carrying men in plate armor. But he should do well enough for you."

"If you don't like Orlesian Coursers, why do you have one?" Shianni asked.

"Because I found him in a bad place. Someone had him who didn't know how to keep a horse properly. He was starving, filthy… and there was no cause for any of it. His owner wasn't too poor to care for him. I took him away and gave him a proper home."

As the rest of the party arrived, suitable horses were found for all of them. The Warden grumbled but accepted the reins of the Amaranthine Charger he handed over to her, stepped into the saddle with practiced ease, and gave the horse an affectionate pat when she thought no one was looking.

"Well, if this is the best you have, I suppose it will do," she said haughtily, as they all mounted up behind her. "I hope they can all keep step. It's a ragtag bunch, here."

"They can keep up," Loghain said. He grunted and grinned. "If we make a stop by Gwaren we can trade off for some Landhammers. I breed them there. Don't have many. Less is more, with those things."

"Landhammers?"

"Better seen than described, my dear. Shall we go, then? The evening does not linger for such as we."

"Maybe we should leave in the morning? It's really quite late," Hawke said.

"We'll make good time with these horses. If we don't make the Warden's friends tonight before we have to camp then we should be able to overtake them before they get far from us tomorrow. If they haven't given up already, they won't wait for the Warden much longer," Loghain said.

"I have a name, you know," the Warden said. "Elilia."

"Hurry along, Warden. Time waits for no one," Loghain said, and mounted Stew-Bone. "Come on. We'll make for quite a party, leaving the city, especially with the extra horses."

"We could've just walked," the Warden said, with a toss of the head, its effectiveness lessened by the fact that her long hair was suppressed by her griffon-wing helmet.

"And we might still be walking while Denerim falls to the darkspawn," Loghain said. "I'll not take that chance, Warden. Now I'll put it in terms perhaps you'll understand better than any I've used heretofore: Shut. Your. Pie-hole."

"Hmph!" she said, but quieted.

If it weren't for the fact that the Teyrn of Gwaren rode at the head of their party, the guard might well have hassled them on the way through town. It certainly wasn't every day that so many people and so many horses went walking through Denerim. The mercenary companies that occasionally passed through were made to stable their mounts at the edges of town, and the nobles that resided in the city in winter rarely rode through the middle of the city en force. Loghain, however, was known for not acting like anyone else, and it was certain that Anora had sent word ahead to the city guard. They were not bothered.

They kept the horses to a walk, so the uncertain riders could get accustomed to the saddle. The Warden rode in front at a slow trot, leading the others, because she knew where she had left her people, and where they hopefully still were. They encountered no problems and the road was clear, and by the time the sun set they came to the place where the Warden's encampment was meant to be. Elilia pulled up her horse and dismounted.

"Let me talk to them first, all right?" she said. "I don't want to just spring you on them. Alistair would have a heart attack. Let me talk to them and kind of smooth things over before you come popping out of the sunset like a small army. Alistair… really isn't going to like… well… he isn't going to like this."

"I don't give a damn," Loghain said.

"Neither do I," the Warden said. "But I'd still like as little stress and male posturing as possible. Just let me talk to him."

"All right, just make it fast. These people need to be situated, and the horses need rest," Loghain said.

The Warden pushed through the bush to the clearing where she hoped her friends were still camped. She smelled the smoke from the campfire, so her hopes were high. When she came out at the edge of camp, Alistair scrambled to his feet and came to greet her.

"Maker! I never thought I'd see you again! Did you have to fight your way out? You did, didn't you?"

"No, no I didn't, Al. Listen, I said I would try to get some official help? Well, I got some. But not exactly the kind I was expecting."

"You got us help? So… what, then? Is the bounty off our heads? Is Loghain dead? That would be wonderful, if Loghain were dead. Although I would really regret not being able to kill him myself."

"The bounty is off our heads. But Loghain is not dead. Loghain is our help. He and a few of his friends."

Alistair stopped short and stared at her with confusion in the depths of his guileless hazel-green eyes. "You mean… you brought him with you? He's here?"

"On the road just outside of camp."

"You brought that traitorous bastard here?"

"Lower your voice, Alistair. His hearing has proved to be very keen."

Leliana came over. "This is a good thing, Alistair. His experience will be a great asset the party."

"He killed our King!"

"That was a demon, Al. He wasn't even in the battle at Ostagar, he was tied up and unconscious the whole time. He's lucky he survived at all, just as we are," the Warden said.

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Alistair said.

"The nobles and the Queen herself all saw the demon reveal itself when he came back."

"But how did a demon get control in the first place?" Alistair said. "An Envy demon has to get into your head to learn about you, and it does that either through control or through consent. It takes a long time, so if he wasn't bound and gagged for months, then he must've been in on it from the beginning."

"Maybe you don't know as much about demons as you think you know, Templar-trainee," the Warden said. "You're not going to make trouble, Al. Sit down and shut up. We need this. Think of it as a training exercise. 'How to get along with people you hate.'"

He plopped onto his splintmail-coated ass by the fire and pouted. The Warden returned to the road and led the group to the camp. Introductions were made. Leliana smiled and greeted everyone with Orlesian effusiveness. Loghain was predictably rude.

"You never said your minstrel was a fucking Orlesian bard, Warden," he said, ignoring Leliana's cheerful and courteous greeting completely.

"Actually, she's a lay sister in the Chantry," the Warden said. "What she may have been before that is immaterial."

"You're rather foolish, girl, if you really think that."

"I was only raised in Orlais, Lord Loghain," Leliana said, nervous now. "I was born a Fereldan girl."

"Even if that little tale is true, how you're raised is all that matters."

"I understand your mistrust, but I hope we will be able to get past this, and become comrades, my Lord," Leliana said. Loghain merely gave her a cold stare and said nothing. She dropped her gaze and executed a curtsey and backed away to her side of the fire.