He spun her about on the bed, and she clenched her legs around him, exulting as the movement pressed their bodies tighter together. They were still for a moment as her fingers clawed their way up his shoulder, and reaching his neck, her hands brushed again along the amulet, and she smiled as she tugged playfully at it. Kissing her, he rose with the Lady in his arms, the fire in his blood surging, and carried her to the balcony. He clasped her lolling head between his hands and asked, "Do you trust me?"
"Of course," she said. They kissed again.
"Father?" Called a new voice, thin and brittle through the heavy oak doors. Knocking followed. "Father? You've been in there for days!"
"Anora?" He looked, startled, towards the door, a keen frown of concern penetrating the haze of desire. "Stop," she said and wrapped her hands around his face to force him to look at her. He stared, uncomprehendingly at her a moment, then to the shuddering doors of his chambers. Her fine fingers struggled to turn his face to her.
"What are you doing? Stop." Her hands wrestled with him, her body writhing against the parapet. Loghain frowned, a deep sense of unease replacing the passions of the moment before. Her left hand rose as if to attack, and he intercepted it, halting the attack. Her right hand became a balled fist flying straight to his mouth. Loghain felt the crack of bone and tasted the iron of blood as her blow connected. He slapped her, the blood in his heart throbbing in his hands; hands shaking; she was shaking. Automatically the beast inside reared, reached up to encircle her throat, told his hands to tighten his grip, to choke the life out of her. Flushed and short of breath, the lady's face began to change. Her fingers lengthened into claws, while her eyebrows grow into devilish horns, and her blond hair sprouted purple flame. "Demon," grunted Loghain, and he pressed his fingers even harder into the slender throat.
The desire demon's hands beat on the stone, groping around for something, anything, to use as a weapon. Her claws found a vase to curl her fingers around. She hoisted the vase and bashed it against the side of his head, eliciting a howl. Loghain staggered, his hands loosening, but before she could press the advantage, he leveraged his body against hers, and lifting her legs, turned her body around and pushed her off the balcony.
"Father!" Burst Anora as the guards finally struck down the door and the girl came running in, blue eyes wide with concern. Her father's bloody, haggard face frightened her, but she refused to look away. She steeled herself to look into his eyes. Teyrn Loghain, the General of Ferelden, looked into the terror in his daughters eyes, and looked away. "Go," he said, and waved for his men to take Anora elsewhere.
"Father!" Her cry was as much a rebuke as an objection. The men looked uncertainly between their lord and the young daughter. Loghain said nothing, his hand clenched over his heart, his face impassive. Finally, Anora nodded to the men, and back held high, she turned and left.
In his hands, over his shattered heart, Loghain held the crushed crystal until the shards pressed into his scars and drew fresh blood over a decade's worth of wounds.
End.