Again, if someone finds any mistakes, let me know. I don't submit my work to a beta; generally, I can find and fix most of my own mistakes. However, every now and then, I do find one that slips by me. Enjoy. :)


Cersei woke with a start. She was, at first, unsure of her surroundings. Darkspawn nightmares often did that to her – left her confused and sometimes frightened. Tonight's nightmare was not so bad. At least there was only a montage of darkspawn; sometimes she dreamed of herself as a broodmother, and after those dreams she would wake in tears.

She remembered then where she was – camped just off the North Road out of Denerim. She had decided to finally help Levi Dryden, and was on her way to Soldier's Peak. Loghain had seemed disapproving, but eventually admitted that the old Warden base may have something useful inside. Like perhaps a manual detailing how exactly they were to kill the bloody Archdemon. Riordan still had yet to explain that to them.

She lay back for several minutes, but sleep eluded her. Deciding to join whoever was on watch, she slipped out of her tent. Depending on just how late it was, it would either be Sten or...

"Loghain," she said in greeting as she approached the fire.

He looked up from his sword, which he was in the process of cleaning, and replied, "Warden."

Cersei sat across the fire from him, and attempted to find something to say. Since they had left Denerim three days prior, she had felt rather awkward around him. He had see her, his commanding officer, in an extremely vulnerable state. It made her feel as though he would look down on her now. Which was silly, of course. As his commander, she really didn't need to impress him. Of course, it would be nice to impress the Hero of River Dane and (former) savior of Ferelden.

Loghain's voice interrupted her thoughts. "You must think me a monster. You keep trying to kill me, and I refuse to die. Even your Joining didn't kill me."

"I don't think you're a monster."

Loghain chuckled. "You don't lie very well. But I appreciate you saying that, all the same."

Cersei gazed into the fire for a moment, then spoke. "It's not a lie, Loghain. I... I believe you did what you thought was best. I am truly glad you survived the Joining."

He cocked his head at her and considered what she had said. Finally, he went back to polishing his sword and said, "Thank you."

Cersei watched him for a moment, then said, "How long have you had that sword?"

"Many years."

Loghain really was a taciturn man. After a few minutes, when it had become blatantly obvious he would say no more about it, her thoughts drifted to the sword she had in her tent at the moment. When they had returned to Ostagar, they had found both Cailan and Duncan's weapons. She had wanted Alistair to keep Maric's blade, but he had insisted on having the sword Duncan had been wielding in his final battle. She still had Maric's sword, but she did not use it. As much as she admired the blade, she didn't feel it was her place to use it. Loghain, on the other hand, had been Maric's best friend and right hand man...

"Excuse me, Loghain. I shall return in a moment."

She hurried back to her tent, and as she walked she became more confident in her decision. Loghain should wield this sword. When she reached her tent, she stepped inside and dug around for the sword. She pulled it out and admired it; it really was a beautiful blade. It was old, but the enchantments on it kept the blade razor sharp, and the metal was extremely strong. She ran her fingers along it, and then she wrapped it up in cloth and stepped out again.

She approached Loghain hesitantly. She wasn't quite sure how he would react to this gift. He looked up at her with a questioning gaze as she neared the log he was seated on. She sat at his side, and thrust the cloth bundle at him before she could change her mind.

"What is this?" he asked.

"I want you to have it. I can think of no other man worthy of it."

His hand hovered over the cloth for a moment, before yanking it back. She heard his sharp inhale and was pleased.

"This is... this is Maric's sword. The one he found in the Deep Roads."

"Yes, it is. We found it in Ostagar."

Loghain looked at her, and held her gaze. "You returned to Ostagar? To what end?"

Cersei looked down at her hands. "Well, we were traveling through Bann Loren's lands when we found a survivor. Or more accurately, a deserter. I'm sure you remember him... Elric Maraigne?"

Loghain gaped at her. "From Cailan's honor guard? You mean he didn't die at Ostagar?"

She shook her head. "No, and he was inches from death when we found him. He told us, however, that he had buried the key to Cailan's personal chest at Ostagar... and so we went. We fought darkspawn, we recovered Cailan's armor and Duncan's weaponry, and we recovered certain... documents. Personal correspondence of the king. And, of course, we obtained his father's blade from his chest."

Loghain studied the sword in his lap. He remembered when Maric had brought it back from the Deep Roads, after that fool expedition with the Grey Wardens. There was something different about the blade now... Ah, now he saw. When Maric had returned with the sword, the runes engraved in it's surface had been a brilliant blue. Now they were yellow.

He looked up at Cersei again. "You think me worthy of this blade?"

She smiled faintly, and said, "No other man has given more for this country. Not even Maric."

He narrowed his eyes at her. Did she really have an inkling of what he had given up? History books only provided so much information. But then, her father had fought with him. Maybe he and Rowan had not been as discreet as he imagined. That didn't really matter now though, what mattered was that Cersei was looking at him expectantly.

"I'm surprised, Warden. Thank you."

And there was that smile again, the one that made him forget that there was twenty-five years and a river of blood between them. The blood of her family, of the Wardens, of the king and his army. She may think the gap was bridged, but he was not so certain. At this point, he knew only that her thin linen shirt was apparently not providing much protection against the chill night air...

Now she was looking at him with an impish grin. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then finally said, "Do you want to see them?"

"Wh-what?" he sputtered, still thinking about what her shirt was – barely – hiding from view.

She gave him a strange look, and said, "The documents we found. What did you think I meant?"

Loghain felt his cheeks color. "Nothing," he muttered. "If you still have them, I don't see why not. I'm sure they will be entertaining, if nothing else."

Cersei hurried to her tent and came back with several pieces of vellum in her hand. She held them out to Loghain, who hesitated before reaching for them. As he began to read, she sat down on the log next to him to watch his reaction. She thought he would be thrilled – after all, here were letters that justified his fears about Cailan and the Orlesians. However, as he read, his face quickly went from impassive to a scowl. Seeing it, she began to think this had been a bad idea.

He finished the first letter. She knew that was the one from Empress Celene, discussing Orlesian aid marching into Ferelden. Loghain gave her a hard look, then moved on to the next letter. His scowl grew darker as he read Eamon's advice to 'set Anora aside.' He threw that letter aside, and started on the third. Within moments, he had leapt to his feet yelling, "The cheating bastard!"

Cersei started, and almost fell off the log. She looked rapidly around the camp for signs of movement; she was sure his shout had to have woken the rest of the party. Surprisingly, it didn't sound like anyone was stirring. Looking back, she noticed that Loghain was moving towards the woods with a black look of fury on his face. He quickly disappeared into the trees.

She considered following him, but was unsure about leaving the camp unattended. Before she could dwell on it further, however, she heard a voice in her ear.

"My lovely Warden, I think maybe you should follow our taciturn companion, no?" Warm breath tickled her ear, and she recognized the leather and spice scent of Zevran.

She turned to him, and said, "Do you think that's wise, though? He probably thinks I angered him on purpose, just to flaunt my superiority or teach him some kind of lesson. Who even knows what goes on in that head of his?"

He smirked, and replied, "Either that, or I can show you the fine art of Antivan massage. I am a man of many skills, as you already know. Or perhaps you are ready to experience the Antivan milk sandwich?"

Cersei laughed, and gave him a playful shove. "How many times have you already asked me that, Zev? It hasn't worked yet!"

"Fifty noes and one yes means 'yes.' I am eagerly awaiting that word from you, mi amour. Although my chances seem to be getting slimmer, as you so clearly have eyes for another."

Confused, she was about to ask Zevran what he was talking about when she heard a string of curses come from the trees. She gave Zev's shoulder a friendly squeeze before heading toward the sound, his words momentarily forgotten.


To say Loghain was angry was an understatement. The last time he had been this uncontrollably furious was when Maric had died, leaving his fool of a son on the throne. And now, he had proof that Cailan had been a bigger fool than he thought. How ashamed would Maric have been, to know that within one generation his own son would be willing to hand Ferelden over to the Orlesians again? Not only that, but to become the plaything of the Empress? The only scrap of intelligence Cailan had displayed was in getting himself killed before he could toss aside his queen to be an Orlesian lapdog.

His anger boiled through his veins like a living thing, and he lashed out at the nearest tree. As he should have expected, it hurt. Quite a bit.

"Andraste's flaming bloody ass! Damnable bitch!" In his fervor, his mind seized on something the dwarf had said, and it came out before the thought was fully formed.

"Asschabs!"

When he realized what he had just said, some of his anger faded. It was such a ludicrous thing to say, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at himself. He nearly chuckled, but then he heard the sound of someone moving through the trees. It must be the Warden. He doubted anyone else would actively seek his company, and an attacker would make some attempt at stealth.

"Loghain?" she tentatively called.

He closed his eyes. Perhaps if he could not see her, she would simply go away.

"I know you're here. And did you really say 'asschabs'?" she asked drily.

He stifled a groan. She had actually heard that? This was surely going to rank as one of the more ridiculous moments of his life.

He probably should have kept his mouth shut, but logic flew out the window and he answered her. "Yes, I really said that. I fear my mind has been lost, just as you suspected."

Now that she had a bearing on where he was, she approached rapidly and slid up beside him. She simply stood, watching him, with a guilty look on her face. He realized she was probably expecting him to launch into a tirade, as he had done numerous times before. Ah, well. It wouldn't be the first time he disappointed her.

"Why did you show those to me?" he asked, rather calmly.

Arching an eyebrow – he really wasn't going to yell? – she replied, "Well, honestly, I thought it would help you gain some trust in me."

"What? Did we not already decide we can trust each other with our very lives?"

She snorted. "Yes, I suppose, but I meant... it's just... wouldn't this be easier if I knew you could trust my decisions? Or if we could push past the whole 'former enemies' thing and become... well, friends?"

His brows drew together, and he looked at her in astonishment. "Have you any idea, truly, just how strange you are? Even if you can forget everything else, I was at one point the man who approved the attempt on your life. You wish now to be friends?"

"Look at it this way – Zevran was the actual assassin, and we're friends now. Beside, Zev already told me that it was Howe who contracted it. You were just a vote of approval. I suspect Howe would have done it anyway, even if you had decided otherwise."

Loghain inclined his head to her, and said, "Alright, point taken. But how would this make me trust your decisions? I fail to see what Cailan's agenda has to do with-"

She cut him off. "Don't you, though? I'm providing you with actual evidence that supports my decision to spare you. I wasn't just being... emotional, or hysterical, like some people believe. I had already read these letters at the Landsmeet, and knew that your paranoia about Orlais had some basis in reality. I didn't just... sacrifice Alistair because you probably know better tactics, or because having you in my group will make idiots run in fear. You have an uncanny ability to see the big picture, and that's what I need right now. The Blight is only part of the big picture, and Alistair couldn't seem to see past it."

Once again, Loghain was moved by this woman. She made a lot of sense, and apparently put a lot of thought into her actions. She was rational, pragmatic, and passionate when she believed in something; she was also as skilled with her words as she was with blades. At the Landsmeet, she had reminded him of Maric, but now... she seemed to embody Rowan's fiery spirit and sensible disposition. And dear Maker, was he actually attracted to this woman? How long had it been since he had felt this stirring in his heart, faint though it may be? He cleared this throat, starting to feel a bit self-conscious. She was still watching him, waiting for a response.

"Alright, Warden. You've convinced me that I can trust in your judgment. But tell me something – after everything that's happened, after all the things I've done or let my name be attached to... why would you ever want to call me friend?"

Cersei laughed. "Isn't it obvious, Loghain? I rather fancy the ego boost that comes from calling the Hero of River Dane a personal friend, as opposed to simply being my personal hero-"

She suddenly cut herself off, and felt her face grow hot. She hadn't meant to reveal he was her hero. It just didn't seem right for her, the commanding officer, to inform her underling that, 'Hey, you are incredibly impressive and I strive to be like you. And by the way, how do you maintain that incredible physique at your age?' No, wait, scratch that last bit.

Loghain froze, and looked at her. The corner of his mouth upturned slightly, and he said, "Personal hero, you say? Still?"

"Uh, well, I... that is to say..." Cersei threw her hands up in the air, and said, "Okay! I admit it! You've always been my hero, and even after all this time, you still are. I know that makes me sound like a sodding fool, but I don't care."

She crossed her arms, started tapping her foot, and gave him a strange look. He had no idea what that meant, though, so he just ignored her and spoke. "I don't think you a fool, but you must realize my reputation is a bit overrated. I'm just a man, after all."

"And that's exactly it, Loghain! You are just a man... yet you almost single-handedly drove out the Orlesians. You made us Fereldans again. And you've been trying to shoulder all the responsibility since the Blight began. Don't you see? You're the only person I know who can possibly relate to what I've had to do these last months. You carry all the responsibility like you carry your armor... and you make it look so easy. And none of my companions really understand how hard it is to make the necessary decisions, to do what needs to be done."

At this, Loghain actually laughed – the first time Cersei could recall him actually doing so. It shocked her into silence. After a moment, he said, "Commander, if I had know just how strong you were in your convictions, and how persuasive you could be, I would have taken you with me when I left Ostagar. You would have been able to sway all of Ferelden into uniting against the Blight. But," and he sobered up again, "if you think it has ever been easy for me, you are sadly mistaken."

"I'm no fool. I said you made it look easy. I know it wasn't. It's what I admire most about you. The people of this nation have felt... safe. For years. And all because you make it look effortless, since defending your country is what you do best. You hide the burdens well, and people love you. You're like a good mother. The mother of Ferelden!"

He grimaced. "Please, never call me that again."

She laughed at that – laughed so hard, in fact, that she had to reach an arm out to brace herself. What she didn't quite expect was her hand missing the nearby tree and landing instead on Loghain's arm. She felt a jolt like lightning at the brief contact (and yes, she did know what that felt like, thank you very much Morrigan) and her laughter dried up. She looked up, into his eyes, before quickly jerking her hand back. He had looked nearly as shocked as she felt (and look, another clever pun by Cersei!). Looking over her shoulder towards the camp, she said, "I suppose we should head back."

With a gesture, he replied, "Lead the way."

In moments, they had reached the campfire. Zevran was sitting on the log previously occupied by Loghain. Cersei and Loghain glanced at each other. She had a question in her eyes, and he very slightly shook his head in response. He would not be joining them at the fire; he instead would be retiring to his tent. Before he could, however, he felt it prudent to retrieve Maric's blade, which was leaning on the log near Zevran.

As he approached the assassin, he was surprised to hear Zevran speak to him. While the elf was not hostile like some of the others, he had not actually gone out of his way to speak to Loghain yet, either.

"So, err...is it Lord Loghain?" he asked, with a smirk on his face.

Loghain resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He probably should avoid alienating the first of these... companions to speak to him in a civil manner.

"I am no longer a teyrn, nor even a knight. Address me without a title, as you would any other Grey Warden," he answered.

Still smirking, Zevran said, "So just Loghain, then?"

Hoping that the elf was going somewhere with this, he said, "Correct. What's on your mind?"

The smirk widened to a rather cheeky smile. "You know who I am, yes? I was one of the Crows you hired to kill the Grey Wardens."

Loghain froze for a split second, and he felt a sliver of something akin to guilt slide down his spine. He recovered quickly. "I thought you looked familiar."

Zevran stood, and bowed slightly. "Well, I just wanted to report that I failed my mission, Loghain."

Now Loghain did roll his eyes. "You don't say." He glanced over at Cersei, and noticed she was trying – not very successfully – to smother a laugh.

The assassin looked back up, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Or perhaps the Crow was being serious, and it was only the firelight reflecting off his eyes. Either way, he spoke again. "I'm terribly broken up over it."

"Hmm," Loghain grunted. "Well thank you kindly for informing me."

At that, Cersei could no longer hold in her laughter. After a moment, Zevran began laughing as well. Loghain stared at them both for a moment, then turned toward his tent. As he walked away, Cersei was certain she heard faint chuckling coming from him.