A/N Smut. And it isn't pretty.
Everything about the witch reeked of sex.
And Loghain was horrified to discover that it was having exactly the effect on him that she intended. It had been a long time, but he had somehow hoped for impotence. Which was certainly the last thing he ever expected he might desire. But there it was. And he was mortified at his bestial nature overtaking him. But his indignance wasn't enough to stop his body from responding to her touch.
He was glad for the darkness. He didn't have to see her face then.
He felt the warmth of her thighs, one on either side of his hips. And the warm, moist heat that he'd thought he would never know again. He had resigned himself to a life of celibacy, but now that was over. He felt her flesh enfold him and he shuddered. Shocks of pleasure shot up his spine and he felt his hips buck up off the bed involuntarily. He heard her sharp intake of breath. It sounded as if he'd hurt her.
Which was exactly what he wanted. It was wrong, it was deviant, but all he wanted to do was hurt her.
With a growl, he flipped her on to her back. He fingernails clawed at his back. He felt her draw blood and it spurred him. She knew what this was. This was hate, not love. And she was feeding on it as much as he was. He heard the wooden posts of the bed creak and slam against the wall.
She gasped again, and her nails dug furrows into his skin.
He heard himself shout something seemingly incomprehensible. He felt her clench against him. She made a whimpering sound, like a dog that was being beaten. And it was too much.
The witch was right about one thing; it did not take long at all.
Loghain pulled away from her as soon as his body would allow it. He slid his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his discarded clothes where they lay on the floor. His hands fumbled ineptly in the darkness.
"Does she know?" the witch said. There was dark humor in her voice.
"Does who know what?" Loghain snapped at her as his fingers finally found his trousers on the floor. He stood and ignored the way the muscles in his legs were clamoring that he stay sitting. He yanked them on quickly.
The witch flicked her fingers and the candle beside the bed sparked up again. She'd draped the sheet over herself, but it was far from decent. Loghain busied himself with tying the laces on his pants to avoid looking at her.
"Unless I am mistaken," the witch purred, "It was name you said before, when your body was in more control than your mind."
"Did I?" he spat. "I don't recall."
"Don't you?" Morrigan said. She smirked. "You will even lie to yourself?"
Loghain glared at her. He grabbed his shirt and roughly jerked it over his head.
"Fine," he said, his voice a knife's edge. "What is it you think I said?"
"You said her name," she said. "Kya."
Loghain felt his mouth drop open for a second, but he recovered quickly. He mouth snapped shut with an audible click.
"And since I doubt it is only lust that drove you to say such a thing," she continued. "Perhaps you may want to speak to her, while there is still time."
Loghain grunted. "Was not this vile act to ensure there is more time?"
"It was, at that," she said. She paused and then her playful look fled. "It will prevent the Warden that takes the final blow against the archdemon from dying, 'tis true. But it will not stop a darkspawn sword from removing her pretty head." She sighed with what seemed like genuine remorse. "And though I certainly would not wish to see such a thing happen, there is little I can do to prevent it."
"After all this, I cannot imagine she would die before she faces the beast," he said quietly. "And there is nothing to say, no matter what fate awaits her. Or I."
"No?" Morrigan asked. "I doubt that, very much. But have it as you will, Loghain. What will come, will come, whether you speak or not. And whether you speak it or not, it will still be true."
Loghain refused to acknowledge her. He tugged his boots on and left without another word.
And that was odd in itself, since the witch was in his bed. But there would be no sleep tonight, not after that. And not when he was fighting very hard to convince himself that the witch was wrong.
She was wrong after all. Anything else was sheer madness. Repeating that like a mantra, he stomped through the hall, the click of his boots against the stones echoing in the dark.
Loghain found himself on the castle walls. And he also discovered quickly that he was not alone.
Kya stood staring out across the lake. Her hands were on the stone, flexing and relaxing again and again. She wore her armor, but her long hair was unbound over her shoulders. The slight glow of the crescent moon above tinted her in pale blue. She hadn't heard his approach. Loghain considered turning around and disappearing again.
Foolishness. Was he now going to be intimidated by a child?
As soon as he thought it, he regretted it. This was no child, standing here in the dark. This was no child playing dress up in armor that did not belong to her. This was a warrior; a mage; a woman. She wore the heavy plate with the ease of someone to whom armor was as much a part of her as skin. She was young, there was no denying that. But he knew those eyes had seen more in the last year than many a man would see in his entire life. She looked at him with a very old soul indeed.
He refused to disrespect her, simply because he had feelings he should not.
Gathering the shreds of his dignity around him like a shield, he moved until he was standing beside her. He mimicked her stance, putting his hands on the stone wall. The stone was cold and unyielding. He tried to look away, to gaze out over the water with the same intense focus as she. But he found his eyes continually flicking back to her. The moonlight glinting on the blue metal of her armor and to the curve of her neck where it shown through the veil of her hair.
She didn't say anything for a long while, did not even look at him. Loghain had the distinct impression that she did not want to look at him. He was about to turn and leave when she finally spoke.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, her voice hardly even a whisper.
Loghain felt his brow furrow. "For what?"
"You don't regret it then?" she asked.
"I may," he said. "But I have done worse things. I have done many wrong things."
"For all the right reasons, though," she said. "But perhaps this was just selfishness on my part." She sighed. "Shouldn't I be happy to die to save the world?"
"Only fools in storybooks are as such," he said. "Real men and real women cannot be. It is our nature to want to survive." He paused and took a breath. "But in this case, your death was not assured, so I do wonder at why, if it is causing you distress, that you insisted it happen."
She finally looked over at him then. Her eyes looked haunted. "Did you miss the part where I said I did not want you to die either?"
"No," he replied, chastened. "But I do not understand why."
She made a little sound, but he wasn't sure what it meant. "I suppose you wouldn't."
"For what it's worth," he said, "No matter your motivation, I do appreciate it. It has been some time since someone said such a thing to me."
Kya smiled sadly at that and looked away again. Her eyes sort of glazed over, with a far away look. It seemed suddenly like she was a thousand miles away. She looked again like she did in the tower. Stone. And proud. But there was something different in her now, yet he couldn't begin to understand what it was.
It really didn't matter. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, she had broken through the wall around his heart. He could deny it, but it wouldn't change anything. Just as the witch said, it would still be true, even if left unsaid.
But just what would saying something accomplish? He'd been here before.
He remembered a night, very long ago, when Maric had taken that elven spy into his tent. When he broke Rowan's heart, for the first time among many to come. Loghain had followed her then. He was young and the world had not tempered him as it had now. He spoke to her, and she rejected him.
It wasn't until Rowan thought there was no hope at all that she finally came to him. She claimed it was not because of Maric's refusal. She claimed to have loved him all along. But Loghain had never really been certain that it was the truth.
The thought of more rejection stayed his tongue. He was not fragile, but over the years, he realized he had become not only bitter but brittle. Like old steel, he would shatter.
No words then.
Instead, there would be action. Tomorrow, they would march to Denerim. And then, they would break through the hoard and face the archdemon. And Loghain intended to make damn sure that Kya lived to see it through. If he had to throw himself against everything that threatened her, he would do it. Maker help him, but he was going to be worthy of being her hero if it was the last thing he ever did.