This was written as an accompanying fic to a friend's artwork, link a href=".com/post/14458809166/one-day-he-said-bitterly-he-will-see-what-he"here/a, and I think it turned out a little bit okay?

Please note; I am taking a lot of liberty with regards to how the history of Rowan, Loghain and Maric went, and unfortunately I don't have the books to read to actually find out. (I don't like to spoil it for myself on the DA wiki either because I intend to find those books and read them.) Please don't shoot me if how it happened here is actually incorrect. X:

Looking at the artwork is not entirely necessary either, but if you could drop by, look at it, drop her a message to say you like her art it'd make both my day and hers :D

With that, enjoy, and reviews are very welcome!


As he pulled the blanket over her shoulders, he couldn't help but stare at her. Rowan lay asleep in her bed, eyelashes visible against the white pillows. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he continued to look at her. Just gazing. There was no denying that she was beautiful - her features were simple, but it was her eyes that kept him spellbound. Whenever she looked at someone, her gaze was so compassionate, and yet so intense at the same time. Her pride as a fighter and as a Fereldan never faltered, being skilled enough to trump some of his best knights. However, there were only two people to date that she had not defeated in combat. Himself, and of course, Maric.

Riding horses of course, did not count. Maric was an idiot around horses. "I fall off horses. It's this thing I do." Chuckling at how Maric said it at the time, Loghain couldn't help but smile. Maric really was a bit of an ass, both doing and saying stupid things ever since they first met. They were like blood brothers, completely inseparable despite the fact they couldn't have been more different from each other. In all honesty Loghain never understood how he had the patience to be Maric's brother, seeing as how his temper was so easily set alight. They had discussed it once when they were in their mid-twenties, only to have Maric dismiss it, usually citing that it was precisely because they were different that they worked so well together.

"We're halves, complements of each other you see," Maric lay on the grass, staring at the clouds above, "I'm the drop-dead gorgeous one who loves to enjoy life's pleasures, while you're the serious one whom everyone fears but relies on." Loghain remembered rolling his eyes as Maric continued to sing praises of his own charm, eventually giving him a friendly shove to make him shut up. They ran about the field that day, laughing and shoving each other before eventually going back to their camp, arms around each other's shoulders as they went.

He could openly admit it - he loved Maric. Yet their love wasn't as simple as they sang in the songs. It was...well. Simply put, it was hard to explain. Love as brothers was the base line for them. Whether or not it deviated onto the path of lovers was something different, and it was something that Loghain questioned on a regular basis. His own feelings towards Maric were not always that clearly defined. His love for Rowan was undeniable. He knew in his heart that the love he had for her was romantic. When he compared this love with the love he held for Maric however, there were not many differences to observe. He didn't like to think about it that much - it only confused and frustrated him further. This was the only thing that he could not talk to Maric about. Discussing the love he harboured for his brother's wife, who incidentally, was Queen, was an unspoken taboo. Not that it would have mattered, seeing how things had turned out.

The smile on his face faded as quickly as it appeared, remembering the series of events that occurred the other night. He sighed. It was, clearly, a result of Maric's shirked responsibility as King. As close as they were, this time round, his actions was something Loghain could openly express his anger about. But not hate. He couldn't hate Maric. Giving another sigh at his vested emotions, he turned his gaze back to Rowan, only to find her eyes open, looking back at him.

"Rowan," Loghain started, shifting to face her properly, but her hand reached out and took his fingers into her palm. Her fingers were calloused with years of training with a sword, and yet, her touch was feathery-light. Loghain felt his heart stir, fighting the desire to embrace her. And never let go.

"He didn't come back, did he," the tone of her voice was flat, her words not even a question but a statement. She knows. Her voice lacked any form of emotion, but he knew her better than that. Her eyes betrayed her - tears barely hidden despite her visible struggle not to cry. He couldn't prevent the dull stab he felt in his own heart, a dull ache. Pulling herself up to Loghain's level, she held her gaze, refusing to even blink. "Answer me, Loghain...as your Queen."

"Maric didn't come back, did he."

"...No, my Queen. He didn't."

He felt her finger twitch against his skin, and he turned to the lone elf attendant who stood at the door. Shaking his head, the attendant bowed and closed the door behind her. The footsteps of her attendant faded into the distance, and they were now truly alone.

The two of them sat in silence, with Loghain unsure of what to do, of what he could do. Her grip around his fingers tightened and trembled, finally closing her eyes, breaking her gaze with Loghain. Unsure of his next move, he let his fingers break free of her grasp gently. Seeing her fingers start to reach out for his grasp once more, he took them, but this time, took her hands into his. His hands were larger, almost being able to envelop her colder palms in his warmth. He took heart in the fact that her fingers stopped trembling, continuing to look at her hands as she sat there.

It was only when tears started to dot his wrist that he looked up. Looking at her cry almost broke his heart. Her mouth opened to say something, but before she could start her sentence, she closed her eyes again, clenching her teeth and let her tears flow. Bringing her hands closer towards his heart, Loghain leaned in closer towards her, letting her palm rest on his chest.

"One day," he said bitterly, "he will see what he had all along. He will see a strong warrior, a beautiful woman, someone who is his equal and worthy of his utter devotion, and he will curse himself for being such a fool."

Her tears came streaking down her face, with soft cries of agony heard from time to time. Feeling her forehead rest against his, he said nothing further, letting his Queen, his love, weep into his arms. The ache in his own heart echoed hers, pining for a love they could never have.