"Well, what are you waiting for? He killed Duncan! Just, kill him already!"
Alistair's words, delivered with far more passion than she'd ever heard from her normally feckless friend, sliced through her thoughts like a keen blade. It had been a hard battle, and she bled from more than one wound; but there he was, kneeling before her, submitting to her mercy. Loghain, the regicide, the betrayer of Ferelden. The man who had abandoned her and the army at Ostagar, and who had spent the past many months trying very earnestly to kill or thwart her at every turn. And, of course, he had allied himself with that vile snake Howe and had turned a blind eye to the arl's massacre of her entire family. Alistair did have a point. She couldn't really give a damn less for Duncan, to be honest; but for all his other sins, surely Loghain Mac Tir deserved to die.
And yet Moira Cousland did not swing her blade.
She would never be able to say precisely why she showed him mercy that day. She had always been taught that an honorable warrior does not strike down a foe who asks for quarter, of course. But also, Anora was right. This man was a hero – or had been one, once. It seemed… wrong to cut him down like a dog as he knelt on the floor of the Landsmeet chambers, while his daughter looked on in horror. Moira would not inflict the pain of watching a beloved father die on anyone.
Her deliberation was short-lived, at any rate: scarcely before she'd had time to process Alistair's words, another voice rang through the Landsmeet chambers.
"Wait! There is another option!" There could only be one Orlesian man who had cause to be present at the Landsmeet; and surely enough, Riordan broke through the crowd, striding purposefully towards her.
"Let him undertake the Joining."
Moira eyed the Grey Warden warily. The Joining… he meant to conscript Loghain?
"What? No! Have you forgotten how Loghain betrayed us all? I will not call this… man my brother! I won't!" Alistair exploded.
Moira held Riordan's gaze, studiously avoiding Alistair's eyes. Alistair had never been entirely rational where Loghain or Duncan were concerned, and she had the uncanny feeling that all Ferelden's future hung in the balance based on the decisions she would have to make in the next few minutes. She avoided, too, looking at the now-half-standing form of Loghain, who was clearly rather confused that he still lived.
"Why? Why put him through the Joining?" she asked carefully. This was, after all, the man who had attempted to kill them repeatedly. While she'd had reservations about executing him on the spot, she wasn't quite ready to extend to him a welcoming hand and invite him to join the Wardens on their crusade, either.
"Because there are only three of us in all of Ferelden," Riordan explained. "And… we may need as many Wardens as possible to defeat the archdemon."
"The Joining is often fatal, is it not?" Anora chimed in, her usual haughty reserve wavering ever so slightly. "There you have your answer. If he lives, you gain a great general to fight the darkspawn. If he dies, you have your revenge. Does that not satisfy you?"
"No, it does not," Alistair said, his voice uncharacteristically edged with steel. "The Joining is an honor, not a punishment! You make him a Warden, and you cheapen us all! You can't seriously be considering this, can you?"
And yet, and yet. She was seriously considering it. At last, she chanced a glance at Loghain, and found him staring at her intently, his expression inscrutable. He knew that, despite the bickering back and forth between Alistair, Anora, and Riordan, that it was she, Moira, who would be the final arbiter of his fate. It was she whom he had challenged in a duel, and she who had overcome him – and she to whom he'd given his grudging respect when her blade had at last struck home, sending him to the ground.
You are not like Cailan, a child playing at war. He had even compared her to Maric, the king at whose side he had liberated Ferelden from Orlesian domination. She did not imagine compliments came readily from the taciturn general, let alone comparisons to his old friend and comrade. Loghain's gracious, if grudging, praise stood in stark contrast to Rendon Howe's final moments, with which he'd mocked Moira's dead family and cursed her with his dying breath. Why would a man with such a robust sense of honor as Loghain so debase himself by consorting with such fiends as Howe? How could the man who had dedicated his entire life to Ferelden be the architect of its schism? Loghain was a paradox if ever she'd encountered one, and that nettled her.
Who are you, really? she thought as she stared at his unchanging countenance. The Hero of the River Dane and savior of Ferelden, or a deserter and a king-killer? King Maric's best friend and trusted general, or the betrayer and murderer of his only legitimate son? Patriot, or traitor?
Of course, he was all of those things. She held his life in her hands now, and yet he did not beg or entreat her; there was no plea for mercy, no last-minute mea culpa, no attempted explanations or justifications for his actions. He merely held her gaze, steadily, awaiting her decision. Having seen many men die, she knew that few faced their end so stoically. He was unrepentant; or, perhaps, he believed that whatever penance he had to offer was for the Maker's ears alone. And that was when she knew she could not kill him.
"I think Riordan is right," she said carefully. "I think we should put him through the Joining. We do need all the Wardens we can get." She could not bring herself to look at Alistair as she said the words, knowing that he would see them, despite her intentions, as a deeply personal betrayal.
And so he did. "No! You can't do this! I won't stand for it!" he bellowed. "I'll – " he paused, hesitating briefly before committing himself to the thing which he had dreaded most. "I'll do it. I'll take the crown. I'll be king, if that's what it takes to see Loghain get justice."
"Listen to him!" Anora shrilled. "He is putting his selfish desires over what is best for Ferelden! He would be a disastrous king – surely you can see that!"
Now all eyes, it seemed, were looking straight at Moira. Alistair seemed a stranger; never before had she seen such fire in his eyes, and there were no traces of the callow juvenility that he usually adopted with such practiced ease. Anora was as imperious as ever, but Moira saw the real fear lurking beneath her carefully composed countenance. Riordan watched impassively, waiting for her to make her decree. Eamon seemed impatient, as if wondering why she was taking so long to proclaim Alistair the rightful king. And Loghain – his expression had not altered in the slightest. He looked steadfastly at her, neither angry nor afraid, and she could see that he was resigned to whatever judgment she delivered. It was almost as if – but perhaps she was reading too much into things –
Almost as if he is giving me permission. Of all the souls in the room – only he, of all people, understood the full weight of responsibility that was now pressing, heavy and unwanted, upon her shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Alistair," she said. "You yourself know that Anora will be the better sovereign. And Riordan is right. We need all the help we can get. We need Loghain."
"Need him?" Alistair's voice was low and dangerous. "We need him like we need stabbed in the back! Or have you already forgotten?"
"Alistair – "
"How you could do this?" he said, anguished. "How could you pick him over me?" His face was riven with pain, and Moira's stomach twisted into knots as she began to realize the full price of her decision.
"Alistair, it's not like that," she said firmly, but she could see that her words were useless.
"Isn't it?" His tone was flat and cold, and that hurt far worse than his furious outbursts had. "You know what? Fine. You two have a merry old time curing the Blight. But I can't be a part of this. I'm leaving."
"Alistair – "
"I'm afraid it won't be so simple as that, Alistair," Anora cut in, back to her usual clipped self now that the mortal threat to her father's life had passed. Moira felt a twinge of irritation at the interruption – couldn't she see what a savagely personal conversation she was butting into?
"As long as you live, you remain a symbol. Whether you would sanction them or not, rebellions and uprisings would be conducted in your name, under the banner of restoring Maric's true heir to the throne. Ferelden cannot survive another civil war, and I will not allow this country to be torn apart again. I am afraid I am going to have to call for your execution."
Moira's stomach sank even further – Anora wasn't serious, she couldn't be! But of course she was – and the worst part was that she was right. Hadn't Eamon used Alistair as just such a rallying cry, against his will?
"What? Are you serious? You got what you wanted! You have your crown and your wretched father – but that isn't enough for you, is it? You want my life too? The final feather in your cap?" Alistair said, his mocking tone belying the fear that Moira knew lurked beneath the jokes and jibes.
"I am truly sorry it has come to this, Alistair," she said. "Please believe me when I say I take no joy in this. But it is necessary for Ferelden."
"Yeah," he drawled hatefully. "I've noticed a lot of pretty awful things seem to be 'necessary for Ferelden' these days."
"No," Moira cut in suddenly. "Anora, you owe me a boon. This is what I ask. Let Alistair go."
"You would spend your favor on this?" Anora's tone implied what exactly she thought of that decision. "Very well, though I think it unwise. You may leave, Alistair, on the condition that you will never return to Ferelden, and that you forsake all claims to the throne or any titles, for yourself or your heirs."
"Fine," Alistair hissed. "I want nothing to do with any of you people again. Ever. I swear to that."
"Alistair," Moira said urgently. Everything had spiraled out of control so fast – all she'd wanted was to spare Loghain from a public, on-the-spot execution. She hadn't wanted any of this. "Alistair, wait. Please. You don't have to go."
"Yeah. I do. Or didn't you hear your queen? I get to leave, or I die," he sneered. "So bye, I guess. Have fun ending the Blight, or whatever. It doesn't make any difference to me any more." And with that, he was gone, storming through the Landsmeet chamber doors before Moira had a chance to respond. She stared after him with a growing sense of anger and grief – why had it come to this? It shouldn't have come to this!
Anora began to speak, rallying the now-united Landsmeet around her banner and declaring her support for the Grey Wardens as she named Moira her champion against the darkspawn, but Moira was barely listening. Why couldn't Alistair have seen reason? Why couldn't he see that she had made the right decision for all of them?
She turned from the door – and once again, her eyes met Loghain's. His countenance remained unchanged – stoic, resolute, unafraid of what was to come. Yet again, she got the sense that he alone, in the entire chamber, knew how she was feeling at that precise moment.
But he does, doesn't he? For better or for worse, Loghain had made terrible, momentous decisions, decisions which had inflicted bloody consequences across all of Ferelden. Hadn't she done the same? Hadn't she single-handedly decided whom to place upon the throne of Orzammar, and killed the supporters of Prince Bhelen – and the prince himself – when they had rejected her choice? Hadn't she debated whether to choose between the Dalish elves or the werewolf victims of their curse – and if Zathrian's cure hadn't worked, whom would she have chosen?
But it did work. And I always opted for the least violent solution wherever possible. I'm nothing like Loghain. But as she gazed towards the Landsmeet chamber doors and thought of Alistair, she was no longer so sure.
Cheers resounded throughout the chamber as the Landsmeet applauded Anora's rousing words, but Moira could not bring herself to feel inspired. Riordan interrupted her reverie.
"I am sorry about Alistair," he said. "I understand his anger, but he of all people should know that personal vendettas must be set aside during a Blight if we hope to survive."
"You understand nothing," Moira said bitterly. Then, softening at Riordan's expression, she sighed. "I'm sorry, it's just – "
"I know. He was a friend. And even if Loghain survives, he is… not. But you cannot blame yourself for Alistair's choice."
"Can't I?" she said softly, still looking at the door. But it did not matter if she looked at the door for another hour, day, month, or year – Alistair would never come walking back through. She shook her head.
"I've had enough of this place," she said. "Let's get this over with, then."
Riordan nodded. "I will prepare the chalice. Bring Loghain to Arl Eamon's estate whenever you are ready." And then he was gone, leaving her alone in the center of the floor with Loghain.
He said nothing as she approached him, and she felt the anger rising in her chest. She'd thrown away one of the best friendships she'd ever had for this man? The man who had been her sworn enemy for months, the man who'd abandoned the king to die and caused all of this heartache and bloodshed to begin with? And now he didn't even have the decency to thank her? She felt herself beginning to glower, and it deepened when she noticed a hint of a mocking smile on his face in response.
"Come with me," she said brusquely. "We're going to Arl Eamon's estate, where you'll undertake the Joining. You'll either be a Grey Warden or dead by sunset."
He furrowed his stern brows. "Yes, well, the Blight isn't waiting while we stand here dallying, is it? Let's just get to it, then."
"Fine," she snapped, and gestured for him to follow her. A stray thought of Alistair entered her mind as she exited through the very same doors he'd stormed through not so long ago, and the anger built up within her anew.
"You'd better be worth it," she snarled – though whether to him or to herself, she could not say.
A/N: So, as per usual with me, I have come to this franchise very late. I just played through DA:O - it was something I'd been meaning to do for the longest time, but things just kept getting in the way, until I decided that I wanted to get caught up in preparation for DA:I. Long story short, I loved it, and Loghain became my favorite character even before my first playthrough ended. Hence, this story. I will attempt updates as regularly as I can, but my muse can often be reluctant, so I can't promise strict timelines - but rest assured, I do not abandon stories. I hope you enjoy, and any reviews, comments, questions, criticisms, or PMs are always appreciated! Thank you for reading!