Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: T+

Spoilers: May contain spoilers for Origins, Awakening, Origins DL content, and Dragon Age II as well as the novels The Stolen Throne and The Calling.

Chapter Thirty-Six: Blood. Magic. GRRRRRRRR

"I don't give a damn what orders I gave you ten minutes ago: I need this scouting party in the Wilds now!"

Alistair pulled Elilia aside and whispered to her. "He is rather…Denerim-y, isn't he? What's going on?"

"Not a clue. But you're right, he's acting exactly the way he does in Denerim. Sketch says his blood pressure is too high, but he can't figure out why. This has never happened outside the city before."

"Wynne said as much herself. Must just be the stress getting to him?"

"I don't know," Elilia said. "If it was stress, I wouldn't think he'd be so interested in rutting."

Alistair's cheeks turned pink. Wisely, he said nothing.

Loghain stomped back across the camp toward them. His face suddenly turned an alarming shade of red and his eyes flashed cold blue fire. "Where the hell is that man? Maric! Maric!"

The King poked his head out from his pavilion. "Er…yes, Master?" he said, smiling.

Loghain was having none of it. "Get out of that bloody tent and get to work, damn it all. Do I have to do every damned thing around here?"

"Loghain, we've been working straight through for days. Together. Do you remember that?"

"I remember. I remember dragging you every step of the way, you worthless waste of meat."

"Loghain…I think perhaps you need a rest," Maric said, with knitted brow. People were staring. Elilia had her hands out, an expression of sheer horror on her face. Alistair could not believe his own ears.

"I think you need a rest, Maric. I think you need a rest…permanently." Loghain drew his sword and pointed it at the King. The tip wavered, and so did something in his eyes. Some of the livid color drained from his features and it seemed something broke through his rage. In a choked voice he said, "Please…stop me…"

He lunged at the King, who dodged and ran. Elilia tackled her husband around the shoulders and held tight while he did everything to throw her off. Alistair didn't know what to do: this couldn't be happening, the world must be ending. And then his helpless eyes glanced across to the mages' enclave, where the Circle enchanters were still "in the Fade." He ran over to the templar guards, who watched the scene impassively from beneath their buckets.

"Quick - you've got to stop the mages from casting their spells," he said, breathlessly. "I think one of them is making Teyrn Loghain do this!"

"Nonsense. If one of these mages were a blood mage, we'd know," the talkative guard said. He sounded bored.

"Bloody useless," Alistair said in a groan, and pushed past the guards and right into the middle of the mages' circle. He summoned his strength and cast the mightiest Smite he had ever managed.

"Sorry, sorry," he said to the knocked-out spell casters. "Couldn't be helped. And neither can this."

He began rummaging through their robes. Finally he stood up, and waved a tiny vial triumphantly overhead. He kept a tight grip on the mage's collar as he did so. "I found it!"

He dragged the unconscious mage out of the enclave, and waved the little phylactery under the templars' noses. "You'd know if there was a blood mage, eh? What in blazes is this, then, nimrod?"

"Maker's breath!" the templar said.

Elilia had Loghain flat on the ground. He wasn't struggling. "Let him up, dear," Maric said, "I think it's safe, now."

"Are you going to behave yourself?" she asked her husband.

"Yes, dear," he said.

She climbed down off his back and helped him to his feet. There was dirt on his face, which he ignored. He strode over to where Alistair stood and grabbed the vial of blood. He read the tiny, neatly-printed label in sheer disbelief. "Loghain Mac Tir" was written plainly upon it.

"Maker's balls," he said, in a voice that made the oath sound reverent. "This…this little vial of blood made me draw blade on my King - my best bloody friend?"

"Unless there's more of them floating around here," Alistair said. He shot a dark glare at the two templars. "I suggest you two make certain that there isn't."

"This begs the questions, where did he get it and why did he do it?" Maric said. "I should very much like to have his answers."

"You'll have them. He's waking up," Loghain said, and squatted down on his hunkers. He held the vial of blood in front of the mage's fluttering eyes. "Start talking, sparkle-fingers, or I will introduce you to hitherto undreamt-of realms of agony. I can make sure you hurt very badly without ever once making you bleed."

The mage didn't break right away. It was easier to get him talking once a few non-vital extremities were broken. Then the man couldn't speak quickly enough. He spoke of a man who approached him on the march from Kinloch Hold, and paid him a great deal of gold.

"He gave me the blood, and told me to do whatever I could with it. I didn't know it was blood magic, honestly - I thought it was just the same power that the templars use to track mages that escape from the Circle. I didn't know it would hurt you, Ser, honest!"

"I don't buy it," Loghain said. "I couldn't control myself. I couldn't control myself. Do you know how angry that makes me? How that makes me want to hurt you?"

"All right, please! I'll tell you the truth! It was blood magic, I knew it was blood magic. The man that paid me was part of a coven, they operate in Denerim. Foreigners. He said if I did a good job they'd take me in. I was going to be free! Free!"

"A blood mage coven in Denerim, and they had a vial of my blood," Loghain said, summarizing in a slow voice that trembled slightly.

"They've got more! A lot more. You bleed a lot. They've been buying it, from healers, and from healers' assistants. He said they'd been working on you for years, just little things like making your blood burn a bit, so they wouldn't tip their hand too early. He boasted that they were the reason you can't stay in Denerim any longer!"

"Dear sweet Maker," Maric said.

Loghain took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly. "Where in Denerim?" he asked. "If you were going to join them, they must have let you know where their base of operations is. Tell me and I'll set you free."

The templars started to protest. Maric cut them off with a stern glare.

"In a back alley just outside the alienage. I'm not sure where exactly, but if you find one of the people who's sold them blood, they'll know. Will you…will you really set me free?" the mage asked.

"Yes," Loghain said, and drew his skinning knife and plunged it into the mage's heart.

"You said you'd set him free!" Alistair said, appalled.

"And I did. Free of pain. Bastard had fingers inside my head: he's lucky I didn't have him drawn and quartered."

Loghain stood up. "Alistair, Elilia; I've got a job for you two."

He turned so that his gaze took in wife and adopted son both. "I need you to go to Denerim immediately, and locate this blood mage coven. Don't go storming the place yourselves: alert the bloody templars and let them do their jobs."

"You're sending us out of danger," Elilia said accusingly.

"My darling, from my perspective it seems very much as though I'm sending you into danger," he said. "I have no choice: I can't go near these bastards without precipitating them to do something more drastic to me than they've been doing. Please; there's no one else I can trust to get the job done and done right."

He locked eyes with his wife. "Please, darling. They've been running my life for four blasted years."

She held his gaze a moment longer. "We'll leave at once," she said, and went to the pavilion to prepare. Alistair excused himself to do his own packing, and Loghain turned to Maric, shamefaced.

"You aren't hurt, are you?" he asked, more gruffly than he intended.

"I could use a clean pair of smallclothes, but other than that I'm fine," Maric said. "More to the point, how are you?"

"Livid," Loghain said, and stalked off in the direction of the gate.

Elilia was concerned when she learned her husband had taken off alone for the Wilds, but Maric brushed her fears aside. "He's gone out to kill nasty creatures until his mood improves. He'll be back, and he'll be fine. He just needs some time alone, is all. He's a proud man; it's hard for him to cope with the idea that someone else had control of his actions, however briefly."

While he was gone the King addressed the army. Those that hadn't witnessed the scene firsthand had heard the roaring, and the details spread quickly through the grapevine. Maric knew he had to calm the fearful men as best he could, or they'd never be able to fight.

"Loyal sons and daughters of this country, you see me before you, Maric Theirin, King of Ferelden. I have not been killed, maimed, or harmed in any way. Teyrn Loghain is also well and healthy. A blood mage, acting alone," he fudged, to allay worries, "temporarily caused His Grace your General to lose control of his emotions. This miscreant has been brought to justice, and all is now well. It was your General's strength of will that allowed the perpetrator to be caught, and saved my life and his as well."

Loghain returned in time to catch the tail end of this speech, and hung back until Maric finished and descended the platform. Then he approached the kennel master and tossed something at him.

"You wanted this herb for your sick hounds, correct?" he said. Without waiting for a reply he strode past the man in the direction of the war council area.