The camp was quiet, save the light crackling of the fire. The light danced and played with the shadows across Loghain's face as he sat, eyes unfocused yet clearly directed off toward the Warden. A rustle nearby drew his attention, a flash of red hair and he curled his lip. The bard. The Orlesian bard, more specifically, earned his irritation even more than the insufferable old woman. Loghain said nothing, however, his attentions returning back to the silhouette of their leader.
His silence, however cold, did not deter the woman. He watched, from the corner of his eye, as she slithered up next to him. Loghain did not turn his head, merely shifted his eyes back again to study the Warden. Their fearless leader. The guttersnipe from the Denerim Alienage that he'd hardly spared two serious thoughts on until the Landsmeet. The untrusting elf that had seen something in him past the surface, beyond the mistakes he'd made. Something about her reminded him of Rowan and his thoughts grew more dangerous and dark the longer he mused on the notion.
"You have been watching her quite a bit."
Loghain's lip curled again. That grating, chirping sound of the bard's voice tweaking his last vestiges of patience. He grunted only, not interested in dignifying her observation with a true reply. To his dismay, though, it seemed she didn't require one to proceed.
"She admires you, you know?" She shifted forward to stoke the fire with a nearby branch, the movement barely catching Loghain's attention. "Oh! You were all she could talk about for a while."
He snorted then, finally peeling his full attention away and directing it to the redhead next to him. "I've no doubt the word of her enemy was on her lips before the Landsmeet."
"You misunderstand me," she shook her head. "For all we saw, she never believed you a traitor."
"Is that so?" he asked gruffly.
"Oh, it is." She nodded, tilting her head as she looked beyond the fire and then back to him.
Loghain bristled, snapping his head around and away from the bard. Eyes landing on the subject of their discussion. "There is a fire in her I have not seen in a very long time," he murmured, voice distant. Longing.
His company gasped suddenly and Loghain twitched, unable to keep himself from looking at her suspiciously. Brows raised and lip curled, he leaned away from her as he studied the woman at his side.
"Maker!" She exclaimed then, clapping her hands against her thighs. "You're in love with her!"
Loghain's eyes went wide as he sputtered, shaking his head and abruptly standing up. "I will not hear such wild accusations, bard." He grit his teeth, hands clenching and releasing a couple times. "I would appreciate you keep such ideas to yourself."
Shaking his head, Loghain turned sharply and stalked out of the camp for a quick walk to clear his head. The notion she could be right was just about as frightening for him as knowing who it came from.