To feel you there.
A snap shot of my AU dragon age world. No real context or depth although there is a whole story in my head. Right now I'm just seeing how I feel about posting this little AU version of Loghain Mac Tir's life.
It was a beautifully bright day. A perfect start to Bloomingtide.
The young boys and girls had already made their way through the Denerim streets earlier that week, dressed in fresh white linens and chatting excitedly as they filed their way toward the chantry to be educated in the ways of adulthood.
Loghain had grumbled about it being rubbish. What did those in the service to the maker know of life and its possible hardships?
Emilia agreed of course, but she concluded that any generation after theirs would never understand the hardship they faced during the rebellion. Cailan certainly didn't with his sudden insistence to his father that he have this thing and that imported from far and wide. Maric of course was compliant for the most part, only drawing the line when the young boy had began slipping in requests for items from Val Royeaux with an alarming frequency.
Loghain had talked at the boy for what seemed like hours when Maric has tried and failed to bring the subject up casually when Emilia herself had happened to see a list of Cailan's requests upon Maric's desk one day.
"The orlesians were not to be encouraged!" The Teyrn had warned.
The boy had hung his head before finally scampering off to find Anora and Drake to no doubt crow about how their father had scolded him wrongfully.
This scolding had not dampened the boy's spirits however. They never did for long with Cailan. The young prince was now with Drake at a stall not far from where Emilia stood in Denerim's market district, Marigold stood protectively behind them, always on her guard.
They were in safe hands as they browsed the stalls at the busy summer market.
The entire city always seemed fuller in the summer months. Perhaps it was the heat? People flocked to the capital for the new influx of traders from distant lands who would set up shop for the warmer months in the market district.
This often meant many things. Other than the obvious explosion in the Kingdom's economy, there was also a flood of people. More crime. More work. More squabbles. More time away from her home and her children. And crucially, more time away from her Loghain.
The warmer months were prime time for war games. Out of all his duties to the Ferelden military, Emilia knew her husband enjoyed these the most.
Unfortunately these games often involved nearly all of those soldiers who lived and did their service at Fort Drakon, as well as Loghain, absconding from the city and disappearing into the Bannon for weeks on end.
They'd gone early this year as Loghain needed to return in time to see Drake make his Summerday walk to the chantry. Even if he did believe it was a lot of codswallop, he was still proud to watch his fifteen-year-old boy join the procession.
He'd only returned the day before the procession and no sooner had Drake entered the chantry and the doors had shut, he'd taken off to a meeting with Maric and the finance ministers.
It hadn't been a long meeting, simply to discuss spending over the last quarter, but heated words had been exchanged when he returned home to Gwaren estate to change for the opening of the Summerday celebrations.
Emilia could have attended of course and Loghain had pointed that particular fact out but to her it was a point of principal, even though it was probably a selfish one.
Sighing softly to herself, she turned from watching Marigold, her son and the prince to examine the throng of people around her, milling at stalls, drinking and making merry in the sun.
Maric was sitting with several nobles further up the street at some tables that had been placed out in the sun in front of the tavern, well into his third tankard. Four guardsmen and women stood at his sides, all trusted members of Maric's Shield. Bryce and Eleanor Cousland sat to his right, Bann Teagan, Emilia's younger cousin, sat to his left with Anora on his lap.
Loghain was up at that bloody fort again. Even with the summer fare in full swing and the other nobles taking time off, Emilia knew not what, her husband insisted on working. She'd have thought the mere thought of Maric being out in a public place, drinking, out in the open, where anyone could get to him, would have been enough to set her husband's teeth on edge and he'd have been right there beside him.
Apparently not.
Surely, he knew her well enough by now, after all these years, not to assume she'd be the one hovering over Maric like the mother of a naughty child. She had enough of that with Drake.
With a shake of her head, dark tresses pulled up for once into a messy bundle at the base of her skull, with only the twin braids at her temples, to match her husband's, free and falling against the pale skin covering her collarbones, Emilia began to walk.
Those around her wore their best summer garb. Bright colours on soft materials to stave off the heat of the sun overhead.
Em never wore sunny colours. She never had. Even in the heat, she was comfortable in her deep burgundy off-the-shoulders velvet gown. It made her quite distinguishing in the sea of yellow frocks and grass green tunics.
Maric had once laughed and teased that she dressed to match Loghain's expression. She'd shrugged and replied that she was trying to match his humour, to be exact.
Loghain had barely restrained rolling his eyes.
Several people greeted her as she made her way toward the Chantry. She greeted them in return in her demure, almost aloof, way and continued.
She was almost there when she spied cousin Eamon stood at the chantry gates with his mewling quim of an Orlesian wife, talking to the Grand Cleric and the urge to duck off behind a stall and avoid what would be an incredibly awkward conversation rose in her.
Out of nowhere, a huge, gauntlet covered hand landed on her bare shoulder and she jumped out of her skin. Curse Eamon! Even when he wasn't fighting her at every turn or throwing honey covered barbs in her face he was causing her unwelcome distraction.
"I hope for Eamon's sake, you're not armed." Loghain's voice came from behind her and the instinctive reflex to turn and lash out deflated.
"I'm always armed." She replied, turning so his hand slipped from her shoulder and causing her to wince as the metal caught the skin. "It doesn't mean I'm going to lunge for him every time I see him."
"Could have fooled me." He answered dryly and Em saw the flicker of a smirk at the corner of his lips. He towered over her in his Orlesian plate armour, not that that made any difference. He towered over her 5'4 stature as it was.
With a nonchalant toss of her head she glanced away from her significant other's scrutinizing pale gaze. Eamon had finished speaking with the Grand Cleric and was walking arm-in-arm with that woman. He pointed out things here and there as they strolled and the Orlesian snot made out as if she had interest.
"He deserves it if I were to lunge at him after what he said about you and the children." Em spat irritably in a way very reminiscent of the man stood before her.
"I don't care what Eamon thinks of me." Loghain said, reaching out to press a hand to the small of her back and gently guide her round and away from the direction Eamon and Isolde were heading. Her head turned to watch them as she moved but eventually they were out of sight in the crowds and she straightened up.
"However, I believe I may find myself distracted momentarily if you do happen to lunge at him with something sharp. Especially as he thought it was necessary to drag our children into your argument."
"All I need is ten seconds and a bread knife." Emilia murmured.
Loghain's hand dropped from her back and they walked through the crowds together, back toward the tavern at a leisurely pace. Emilia was certainly in no rush to return to Maric. She knew as soon as he and Loghain were reunited they were almost impossible to separate.
It was rather infuriating.
"Why have you been avoiding me?" She blurted without really thinking. People around them were parting for them, allowing them breathing space. Many smiled and greeted them but Emilia was too busy with her thoughts to return the greetings this time.
Loghain's head snapped round to her as fast as it possibly could without him snapping his own neck in the process.
"I haven't been bloody avoiding you, woman." He said sharply, his intense eyes on her in full force. Others often shrunk away from his stare. Even Maric had trouble maintaining his composure under its icy probing. But for Emilia, it was what had drawn her to him, in the middle of the woods, west of Lake Calenhad surrounded by dirty soldiers in a broken-down rebellion camp. One look could light her blood on fire and pull every ounce of passion from her body. It could also cause her anger to flare and match his in a strength that could cause petty arguments to last weeks.
"Could have fooled me." She parroted back at him. She was angry and he could see it.
"You're being ridiculous Em." He snorted and turned his eyes from her. "I've no reason to avoid you."
"Then please do explain to me why you haven't said more than a handful of words to me since you arrived home? Or why you've run off to the palace or to the fort the first chance you got? Maker's breath Loghain, you've been getting up before day break to leave."
A small girl stepped out into her path and held up a small bouquet of baby's breath. The Teyrna's love for flowers was well known and often amounted to her being given bouquets as gifts.
Emilia paused and took the bouquet from the child, bending slightly at the waist to speak softly to the small girl to express her thanks. Loghain stopped also and stood menacingly beside her while she spoke to the child.
With a gentle, motherly touch to the child's head which sent her back toward her mother waiting nearby, the Teyrn and Teyrna continued on their route, a heaviness hanging over them as they walked in silence.
Neither had any express desire to have a shouting match here and now, in front of the people of Ferelden. They were hailed as heroes. Their love was hailed as the ultimate romance, one which broke through the class barriers and defied the odds of war. As much as Emilia hated the songs that bards insisted on singing about them at every event they attended, she preferred those to tales of how she and Loghain were at each other's throats. The Hero of River Dane, brave and imposing now going to war with his wife, the Bane of Orlais, silent and deadly, in their own home.
The truth was Emilia adored Loghain. She had from the first moment they met, even if Loghain sneered at the possibility of love at first sight. He made no secret that Emilia's advances to him in the beginning had unnerved him and she'd had to agree when she looked back that perhaps she'd come on a little strong.
There were arguments of course but what marriage didn't have those? Any heat in their words was often gone as soon as they were out and before anyone knew it, the Mac Tir household was restored to its former tranquillity.
There was no hatred. There wasn't any spitefulness. They didn't despise each other and their love never waned. Loghain was far too loyal for that to happen and Emilia was far too stubborn to allow it.
The warm touch against her fingers caused Em to jump again, her eyes searching down at her left hand by her side.
Loghain had removed his right gauntlet as they'd walked in silence, Em lost in her thoughts and totally oblivious. Under the gauntlet he wore a pair of soft, kid leather gloves to protect his already rough hands from chafing.
Without even looking at her, his fingers had sort hers and had married themselves with hers, his larger hand holding hers with a protective tenderness Emilia had come to expect from her husband.
"I haven't been avoiding you." He said firmly, his voice low and only for her ears. "I've been faced with a few things I've had little control over lately. Nothing serious." He added, sparing her a glance to reassure her. "I'm sorry you've felt I've been less than attentive."
Seventeen years after they'd first met, Em felt the familiar warmth spread through her chest as she looked up at her giant of a husband. The smile that split her lips was not one of boundless joy or a manic grin of happiness. It was soft and full of love and it drew its own mate from Loghain's lips in return, as slight as his was.
In moments, any anger or hurt had gone and Em found herself giving a girlish giggle as the squeeze of Loghain's hand she gave turned into her hugging his still metal clad arm.
"You're lucky I love you." She smiled coyly up at him, the people around them melting away, leaving only herself and her beloved.