"You have got to be sodding joking, and it isn't funny Morrigan," Kya said.
"Tis no joke," Morrigan replied.
Kya gave her a long look. Morrigan was silhouetted by the fire, her sleek form highlighted on the edges with gold. Yet there was just enough light to see her face and there was no mirth in her yellow eyes. She was deadly serious.
"Why aren't you talking to Loghain about this?" Kya sighed. "Why ask me?"
Morrigan laughed. "Because I doubt he would listen to me," she said. "But you could order him to do it; he is bound by his oath to obey you."
Kya rubbed her eyes. She had been so tired and so heartsick when she stumbled back to her room, but now she was more awake than she had ever been. Her heart thudded in her chest.
"You have many good reasons to save your own life," Morrigan said quietly. "And perhaps even a reason or two to save his."
"He'll never agree to it," Kya moaned.
"No?" Morrigan replied. "I think he might."
Kya gritted her teeth. "Fine, I'll go speak with him, but don't get your hopes up."
Morrigan had a strange half smile on her face, but said nothing.
The distance between her room and the one they'd given to Loghain was small, but each step seemed to take a great effort. Kya finally found herself staring at the closed door. She knew he was inside, and Morrigan was right, there were many compelling reasons. But as she stood there, she felt a pang of something behind her ribs that felt suspiciously like jealousy.
But why wouldn't he? He was a practical man, and if there was a way to have less of a sacrifice, then why would he not take it? Besides, Morrigan was beautiful and desirable to men – Kya wasn't blind after all. And neither was Loghain. Yes, he seemed to have no interest in Kya herself, but that was hardly surprising.
Kya knocked. The sound was entirely too loud and she looked up quickly, hoping there was no one there to see her. Slowly, the door clicked open. Loghain stood on the other side and he looked like hell.
"Loghain," Kya said softly. "We need to talk."
His jaw was clenched. He gave her an irritated look. "I'd ask if it could wait, but since we can now count our remaining lives in hours, I suppose it cannot."
"It can't," Kya said. "And that is what I want to talk about actually. Can I come in?"
Loghain gestured her in and closed the door behind her. When she turned to face him, his arms were folded across his chest. His face was cold and closed. His eyes were bloodshot.
"What if I told you there was a way for no Grey Warden to die tomorrow?" she asked.
"I'd tell you it doesn't matter," he replied. His words were clipped. "If it comes down to it, let me do it. I have . . . much to atone for."
Kya closed her eyes. "And if you fall before then?"
"Then you will do what you must," he said.
"I would at that," she replied. "And I will if you are there or not."
"What are you saying?" he asked. Kya wasn't sure it was possible, but he did look paler at that.
Kya turned to look at the wall; she couldn't meet his eyes. "I don't have any burning desire to sacrifice myself, but I don't want you to die Loghain."
He laughed, bitterly. "It might be a relief to do so."
Kya spun around. "What happened to 'a life of my own'?"
Loghain had nothing to say to that.
"Look," she continued. "You may even like what I'm proposing. I need you to take part in a magic ritual."
"And?" he replied.
"And you need to sleep with Morrigan."
Loghain frowned deeper. "I see," he said. He didn't sound impressed or interested at all. "And what kind of ritual is this exactly?"
"I won't lie to you, it will create a child." Kya forced herself to hold his gaze. It wasn't easy. His eyes were no different than the day they had first met at Ostagar. Cold and unnerving.
"What?" he said, once he found his tongue. "A child with me as the father and the swamp witch as a mother? Why would she want such a thing?"
"Perhaps you should ask her yourself," Kya replied. Loghain tuned away from her. His hand darted out and grabbed the post of the bed. He dropped his head.
"Is this an order?" he asked her, without turning back. "I am bound to obey."
"No," Kya said softly. She paused and discovered her hand was already reaching out toward him. She paused just a hairbreadth away, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body through the thin linen of his shirt. Her hand was trembling.
She set her hand on his back softly, and felt him tense.
"I won't force you to do this," she said. "It is your choice."
"My choice," he said. He still wouldn't face her, and her hand still lay on his back, unmoving. "And this ritual will ensure that no one must die to slay the archdemon?"
"Yes," Kya replied. "Not you, nor I."
He turned around slowly and Kya dropped her hand to her side. He stared at her for a long time. Kya expected to feel dissected under his gaze, but it wasn't like that at all. He blinked quickly a few times and closed his eyes.
"What does it matter if I live?" he asked. He looked up again and met her eyes.
Kya wanted to say something, but found that she could not. She just stared at him. She did not want to die. And even more, she did not want him to die. For a long time, she had said she did, but even then she had a hard time actually believing it. Loghain had occupied her thoughts for a long time, and now that she had come to know him, he had occupied her thoughts even more. She really didn't know if it was any different than the fascination she felt for him when he was just a name in a book. But if certainly felt different. Slowly, a tear welled up and spilled down her cheek.
Loghain watched it. She could see his eyes move as it tracked slowly across her face. Normally, she would have been mortified. But Loghain had already seen her tears. What was one more?
His eyes met hers again for a split second before he snapped his head up. "Fine," he said sharply. "Let us go speak with the witch and get this over with, before I come to my senses and change my mind."
Kya followed. He moved woodenly, but with large, seemingly confident steps. Kya stared at his back, and felt very small. And not because he was tall or broad, but because she couldn't decide if it was more selfish to let him go through with this or to die. Because those were her choices, after all. She wouldn't let him take the final blow. Atonement be damned. She would not be the cause of Loghain's death.
Of course, she already was. The Taint flowed through him now. She could feel it inside of him. And it would be the death of him, one way or the other.
"I see your talk is done," Morrigan said perfunctorily as they came into her sight. "And what is your decision?"
"Loghain has agreed to your . . . request," Kya said softly.
"Wait," he snapped. "First I want to know about this child."
Morrigan hummed in the back of her throat. "Honesty wouldn't have been my first choice."
"I want to be certain that this child," Loghain said, the word dripping like venom, "Will not reappear to harass my daughter and Ferelden. I do not want a little brother to appear and make claims upon her throne."
"Of that, you can be certain," Morrigan replied. "The child will not know of her father, and I will never return to Ferelden."
"So be it," he said. He sounded more like a man heading to an execution, than one headed to a bedchamber with a beautiful woman.
"Then let us find somewhere more private, Loghain," Morrigan purred. "This will not take long at all."
Loghain made an indignant sound. "You have great confidence in your abilities, witch. Don't."
Morrigan simply smiled and brushed past him. Loghain gave Kya a long look and then turned to follow.
Kya watched them go. Morrigan's hips swayed provocatively, but Loghain seemed oblivious. He walked behind her with his head held high, yet it looked suspiciously like forced bravado. That pang again, in the pit of her stomach. It was not unlike the burning of the darkspawn blood. It tore at her.
But that was madness. She had no claim on Loghain, beyond that of one Grey Warden to another. And if Alistair had taught her anything, that bond was tenuous, at best.
Kya knew she should sleep. But that was as likely as the archdemon changing its mind and heading back underground. She had managed on no sleep before, this would be no different.
She headed instead out to the curtain wall of the castle overlooking Lake Calenhad. The moon was only a sliver in the night sky, but its light glimmered on the still waters brightly. There were the dots of fires and torches in the courtyard and at the lakeshore. Thousands of them.
Her army. One gathered with blood and toil, sweat and heartbreak. And soon it would be over. Most of these men, mages and beasts would be dead before the week was out. But it was a sacrifice that must be made. If it was not, all of Ferelden and eventually, all of Thedas, would be as black and dead as the eyes of a darkspawn. Kya had no great love of the world; It had not been kind to her, but she had no desire to see it end.
For good or ill, she was a Grey Warden. For good or ill, she would see this through.
She expected she could preoccupy herself with the horrors to come. With the army that would soon be no more than carrion to fill the bellies of the crows, with the thought of blood on the faces of her companions, with the cold hard truth that the chances of her surviving to even face the archdemon were slim.
But instead, she could only think of Loghain.
He was a great man. And capable of great things. History told her that much. But the real man behind the tales was so much more than a stone figure of a warrior. She never thought that being a hero wouldn't be enough. But now that she knew there was more to him than that, she found it wasn't enough. Being a hero, or a King, that was only a facade. A face put on to protect from a cold world that didn't understand. Couldn't, or wouldn't understand.
A hero must be perfect. Beyond reproach, without blemish or stain. A hero did not shed tears, and did not feel resentment or regret. A hero was a servant to those that worshiped him. And servant was just a pretty word for slave.
Loghain was no one's slave, save his own. She could see it in his eyes. There were demons there, as powerful and dangerous as any intangible force from the Fade. There was regret and resolve in equal measure. There was pride and arrogance and vanity, but underneath, there was a well of self-hatred so deep that there seemed to be no end to it.
She knew how that felt.
All at once, it hit her. She didn't miss Alistair. It was so soon she thought perhaps she was heartless after all, but the burning in her chest told her otherwise. Alistair was a good man. He was decent and he was handsome. He was everything a woman was supposed to want. And he was a King.
But he was simple. It wasn't an insult, just the truth. He was uncomplicated and as clear as a summer day. There was always joy to be found in simple things.
It wasn't enough; it would never really have been enough. Kya was no summer day. She was a maelstrom, a thunderstorm, a dark ruin with treasure that took much toil to find. Alistair would have been content with the gilding she wore over that, but he would have never been willing to face the long, arduous task of finding the riches she had inside. It would take a man with resolve and a heart of steel to do such a thing.
It would take a man like Loghain. And what was Kya Amell to a man like Loghain?
Nothing at all.
But still, she hoped. Dark clouds and death and horror around every turn, but the diamond deep inside her that was her true self? It hoped, despite it all.
