It had been a very long day. He stood under the small waterfall that fed the little lake near their camp. Ostagar had been an ordeal, not for the darkspawn, nor Wynne's constant jibes, but for what he had found in the royal chest. The thought that Cailan would even consider marrying that Orlesian whore Celene, after all he and Maric had done to drive the bastards out, had filled him with rage. He had ranted and fumed for the better part of an hour, until Vivenka had reached up, grabbed the edge of his plate and pulled him down to her level. So close their noses almost touched, her voice dripping with command she had hissed;

"What's done is done, Salroka. The man is dead and his plans all null and void. Get your head back in the game NOW." And strode off. He had then proceeded to spend the rest of the mission in thought, the subject of which ranged from Cailan's potential betrayal to what in the Maker's name 'Salroka' meant.

Once done at Ostagar, they had trudged to the hut of an old witch. The woman had made him very uneasy, with her riddles and eyes that saw more than most. It had been worst when she had gone into the cottage with Vivenka alone, leaving the others to wait outside. It had been a nervous wait, for Loghain at least, and he had relaxed visibly when Vivenka had emerged, a book in one hand and a robe in the other. When asked about Flemeth, she replied simply that she was gone, and the others had left it at that. But he could see that Vivenka was hiding something, something she had learned in that hut that made her very uneasy. But she had kept silent, going straight to her tent when they made it back to camp.

Too many questions. He trusted the Warden, but he couldn't help but worry. Turning his face up to the water, he ran his fingers through his hair, free of its usual braids. A splash announced her presence, but he'd felt her approach for some time. He was slowly becoming accustomed to the sensations darkspawn and other wardens created. Genlocks felt like nausea in his temple. Ogres were a strange pulse down his spine. Hurlocks were pinpricks behind his eyes and the emissaries were a whine at the base of his skull.

But Vivenka was a heat in his spine, gentle and soothing as she approached. He wondered if it was just her, or if all wardens felt that way. He found himself hoping it was her. He turned to face her as she broke the surface, gasping slightly at the cold. Water that reached just above his waist reached her chest, though he saw enough to know she wore nothing, just as he did. He stepped out of the water fall as she approached, folding his arms defensively. She had a look in her eye that was almost...predatory.

"What happened in the hut today?" He asked. "You gave Morrigan that book and robe, and it was as though feastday had come early for her. But it wasn't the gifts. It was what you did to get them. Or what she thought you did." he knew he was right. For her part, Vivenka seemed totally ashamed of the deception.

"We need Morrigan. If I have to tell her I diced Flemeth up and fed her to Vargo, so be it. She knew we were coming. Even if we did manage to slay her, at great cost most likely, she will have contingencies for just this occasion. I'd rather preserve our health and lie to Morrigan than risk my life on a fool's errand." He nodded at the logic of her decision. "Besides, Morrigan knows I didn't do it. She just wanted to see who far I would go for her."

"You're more observant than I gave you credit for. I doubt you will ever cease to surprise me."

"It's a talent." she replied as she dived under once more. Reappearing near the water's edge, shot him an almost shy smile before stepping out of the water. His eyebrows shot up at that. She slowed only to pick up the towel she had dropped earlier, then disappeared back towards the camp.

Strange, stubborn and evil, he decided, as the image of her naked form danced across his mind.

He stepped out of his tent to get warm by the fire, hoping that moving about a little would chase the feeling of his last nightmare away. He nodded to Shale, always on watch due to her lack of sleep, and sat down by the fire, adding a few sticks to build it up. He had neglected to redo his braids, and he could feel his hair was thick with the sweat of his nightmare. He ran a hand through it absently, but it got stuck in the tangles.

"You need to start at the bottom or you'll just make it worse." soft little hands threaded through his hair, followed by a familiar comb. He groaned slightly, closing his eyes. The feeling was exquisite. She stood behind him, gently combing his hair as he lent against her, enjoying the sensation. Soothing fingers encouraged his head to lean back, making it easier for her to reach the front. Warmth at the back of his neck told him his head now rested on her shoulder, and he heard it clearly when her breath hitched slightly. He turned his head, found wide silver eyes, filled once again with that strange emotion. It looked almost like ... wonder?

They held each other's gaze, their faces inches apart. Tentatively, almost shyly, she pressed a kiss to his lips. It was chaste and nervous, until he began to kiss her back. Then he got a taste of the sensual, feral creature he had only glimpsed previously. He opened his mouth obediently for her questing tongue as her arms wrapped around his neck, and she tumbled into his lap. She tasted of tea and honey, and her body pressed against his insistently, both a promise and a demand. With great effort, he gathered his senses and pulled back. He chuckled at her petulant whine, but his eyes bespoke his seriousness, and she didn't press the issue.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly, his eyes searching. "I'm an old man. I have neither the heart nor the time for games." she smiled.

"The only games I play involve cards and dice." she quipped, before matching his serious tone. "I don't have much time myself, Loghain. That puts certain things in perspective. You are a rare man, and a treasure and a pain. Of all the things I thought to find, a kindred spirit was not one of them." she was blushing furiously, and he gently raised a hand to stroke her cheek. She took his hand in hers. "I'm a dust town thug, doomed to a life of fighting darkspawn until the Calling takes me to the deep roads. And you are a war hero, former regent and noble, which I personally doomed to the same fate. At best, I expected you to hate me." he chuckled at that.

"You are sitting in a camp of people who would, and HAVE, followed you to the fade and back. You draw admiration and respect from every person you touch. And in some cases, love." she gazed into his eyes, every inch the frightened young girl. She'd kick an ogre in the bollocks without a second thought, but here, in his arms, she was terrified. "What are you afraid of?" he asked. She was speechless, for a moment, simply staring at him, her mouth open slightly. She bit her lip, and answered slowly.

"Hope. A future. I... I guess I'm afraid of finding something worth dying for... but not wanting to die."

"We are Wardens. The only future I can offer you is my shield at your back and my sword at your side, until I die. Because you, Vivenka, are worth dying for." she kissed him again, a deep kiss, full of promise. She pulled back with a smile.

"Yes," she finally replied. "I'm sure."

With her legs firmly wrapped around his waist, he lifted her up and carried her to his recently repaired tent.