At the bottom of her pack, Kya found a small silver flask. She opened it as Loghain spoke, detailing his suggestions for tactics in the battles to come. She sniffed the liquid inside before taking a sip. It was what was left of the home brewed ale they'd found in Honnleath. It had a sweet earthy taste, but it tingled like magic on her tongue. Mage's ale. What did she expect?
"I believe the key is to not try to engage the horde directly," Loghain continued. "You have managed to assemble some impressive numbers, but we are still outnumbered at least three to one."
"I agree," she replied, wiping a drop of ale from her lower lip. "I was considering trying to find high ground for mages and archers, try to pin them down while the bulk of the army comes around from behind. Split their numbers in half." She considered. "Although that means they'll be fighting on both sides."
"True enough," Loghain said. "But wise. It will allow us and Riordan the time needed to reach the archdemon." He sighed. "Likely much of the army will have to be sacrificed, but I see no other way."
"Neither do I," Kya agreed. She held out the flask to Loghain and he eyed her dubiously. She gave him a tired smile and stood, coming around the side of the fire to hand it to him. He accepted the flask and took a drink. He made as if to hand it back to her, but stopped abruptly and brought the flask back to his face. He inhaled. A puzzled expression washed across his face.
"This is familiar," he said. "Where did you come across this?"
"In Honnleath," Kya explained. "Where we found the golem, Shale. It belonged to a wizard, apparently. A wizard with a penchant for brewing ale. We had nearly an entire barrel, but Oghren made short work of it."
"A mage with a golem?" Loghain said. He looked thoughtful. "You don't happen to know his name, do you?"
"Wilhelm," Kya said. "I met his son."
Loghain chuckled. "Wilhelm. That squirrely bastard. I thought this seemed familiar." He almost smiled at the flask. He held it up in a silent toast before taking another swig and handing the flask back to Kya. She looked at him questioningly for a moment, but then a realization dawned in her eyes.
"Andraste's flaming knickers," she said, sitting down next to Loghain. "He was that Wilhelm. I can't believe I didn't make the connection."
Loghain frowned. "You've heard of him?"
"Of course," she said. She took another long drink from the flask before pushing the stopper back into place and rolling it in her hands. The firelight glinted off the silver, highlighting the myriad of scratches and dents in it's surface. The ale burned down her throat, leaving a mildly fuzzy sensation in it's wake.
"I didn't expect to ever taste that again," Loghain said quietly. He sounded oddly wistful. Kya felt an urge to look over at him, but she kept her eyes on the fire. There was a stretch of discomfiting silence. Loghain cleared his throat. "So tell me Amell, how do you know of Wilhelm?" he asked.
"Kya," she corrected him. "Not Amell. That name is gone."
Loghain looked uncomfortable. Then he shrugged fluidly. "As you wish," he said. "But you did not answer my question, Kya."
Kya chuckled. "The Circle tower is boring," she said. "And when you cannot leave it in body, one finds other ways to travel. There is always the Fade of course, but it is perilous. And you can't sleep all the time. So I spent many hours in the library, living vicariously through others." She paused, thoughtfully running her thumbnail over the surface of the flask. She made a hushed sound, something like a sigh, but not quite. "I know more about you than you think."
"Is that so?" he said. The words were accusatory, but his tone was not.
"Well, what history records, anyway," she continued. "But . . . ." Her voice trailed off.
"But what?" Loghain asked.
"Nothing," she sighed. "I haven't had enough ale to just start asking inappropriate questions of the Hero of River Dane."
"It's just Loghain now," he said brusquely. "So ask away."
"I don't think you really appreciate how odd all of this is for me," she said, looking up at him over her shoulder. She blushed embarrassingly and looked away quickly.
"Apparently not," he said.
Kya opened the flask a took another drink. She offered it to Loghain again. He looked at it with a far away expression but waved her off. She stoppered it and set it on the ground at her feet.
"There is much debate," Kya said. "At least among the scholars who's accounts I read, about your motivations and your actions."
"Is there?" he asked. "Since I was there, I have never bothered to read the tales they wove about us. What do they say?"
Kya looked up at him again. He was looking at her earnestly, but his pale blue eyes were cold and hard. There was a wall behind those eyes. The lines at the corners of his eyes and between his brows deepened.
"They say that you were Maric's closest friend," she started. "And he was yours. But they also say that for the first five years of Maric's reign you never once came to Denerim. Some say you were simply rebuilding Gwaren, and starting a new life and a family. But there are other opinions."
"Seven," Loghain replied. Kya looked at him questioningly. "It was seven years."
"Hm," she hummed, but didn't continue. There was a story there, clearly. Seeing the look on Loghain's face, she wasn't sure that just coming out and asking for it would be effective. There was another long silence. In the distance, she heard Oghren snore and snort before breaking into a fit of coughing. Keiran, her Mabari hound, raised his head at the sound, but only blinked a few times before resting his head back on his massive paws. Oghren mumbled something that sounded like a curse and was still again. They were left with only the music of the crackling fire.
"I am not sure the truth is what you would want to hear," Loghain said finally. "Nor am I certain I wish to dredge up the past."
"I didn't intend to pry," Kya replied. "It's only . . . ." Despite feeling pleasantly warm from the ale, she couldn't finish.
"Only what?" Loghain asked. "Although it is fair if you do not reply."
Kya smiled sadly, watching the flames as they danced over the logs. The fire seemed to sputter a bit and she murmured under her breath. The fire leapt high again. She took a deep breath, and felt inordinately stupid. Usually, she was a confident woman, but Loghain made her feel like an inept child. At least now that her anger had worn away.
"Do you recall our meeting at Ostagar, before the battle?" she asked.
"I do," he said. "And later, I was surprised to discovered it was the young mage girl I met with the acerbic tongue that was causing so much havoc."
"Havoc?" she asked, giving him a sarcastic smile. "You could call it that, I suppose. But my point is. . . ." She paused and took another breath. "You are probably so used to the reaction I had that you did not even notice."
"I was rather preoccupied, at the time," he said.
"I can imagine," she replied. "So let me refresh your memory then. I was frankly in awe of you. I had read everything I could about Maric the Savior and the Hero of River Dane. Everything. And there I was, standing face to face with him. It was a humbling experience, to say the least."
Loghain gave a short, bitter laugh. "Awe, is it? I never understood it, not even a little."
"Can't you?" she asked. "You were born a commoner, and lived as an outlaw to the Orlesian government. You rose up from the humblest beginning to save us. Perhaps my life as a mage was less free than most, but without what you did . . . not only at River Dane, but helping return the Circle tower from an Orlesian plot years later. . . . You were a symbol that one person could change the world."
Loghain snorted, but didn't speak.
"After Ostagar," Kya continued. "I wept. Not only for all those that died, but because it turned out you weren't invincible and perfect after all."
"I never was, nor did I claim to be," he said bitingly. "Is this the part where you are going to berate me for quitting the field and accuse me of regicide?"
"No," Kya said quickly. "You couldn't have won that battle, I know that now. Severe though it may be, your decision was the correct one. Tactically, anyway."
"I expect there is a 'however' required here," he said.
"Yes, I expect there is. However," she said. "It was sad to realize that you were just a man after all."
"A man indeed," he said. "No more, no less."
"Oddly," she continued. "I find it comforting now. Since I am only a woman, and not a hero. But if a mere man could rout the Orlesians from Ferelden, perhaps a mere woman can actually defeat the Blight."
"I get the distinct impression that you are not a mere woman," he said. "I have known great women in my life, and you are their equal."
"I find that hard to believe," she replied.
Loghain sighed. "And now it appears I will dredge up the past after all." Kya looked up at him again, disturbed by the look on his face. She recognized that look and it chilled her to her core. It was the same expression Jowan's face had when she told him they'd taken Lily to Aeonar. A look as if the only thing worth living for was gone and all that was left was pain.
"There's no need," she said.
"There is," Loghain said. "And perhaps it is time that it is said. It was known, by some perhaps, but never spoken of. I have only said these things once, to Maric. And only because I knew if I did not, he would sink into despair and be of no use to anyone ever again."
He looked away from her and looked up at the sky. Kya followed his gaze. Stars glittered against the blue velvet of the sky, silken wisps of clouds weaving delicate patterns in the expanses between. The moon was bright, but small and tinted the faintest blue. It was beautiful, but it looked so distant. Not so much unlike Loghain's eyes. She caught herself looking at him; his proud profile, the way the firelight lit his ashen skin in shades of orange and gold. He was so still, he could have been made of stone.
He closed his eyes, and she realized his eyes were framed with long and surprisingly thick black eyelashes. Which was an odd thing to notice, she thought. Pointedly ignoring her gaze, he slowly inclined his head forward again, staring into the fire with a blank expression.
"If I am understanding, I do not have explain the dry facts of those days to you," he said ultimately. "So I will tell you instead what history did not record."
"If you wish," she said.
"I do not," he continued. "But I must. It is hard to say aloud, even now. I am not a man that finds it easy to speak of emotional matters. Perhaps if things had been different, but then history would be different, and I expect I would not be speaking with you at all now."
He sighed again. "Maric was my King," he said. "And my friend, although there were times that I wanted nothing more than to forget that. He was quite literally dumped into my lap, along with all his complications and I did the only thing I could. I had ample reason to hate the Orlesians, long before I fought them with the rebels. But we spent years running and hiding and just trying to survive. And things happened that I never could have expected.
"Rowan Guerrin was Maric's betrothed. I knew this from the day that I met her. But I was young, and foolish. And Rowan . . . she was a formidable woman. In many ways, she was the strongest person I have ever known," he said. "She was a spirited warrior, a brilliant tactician and utterly beautiful and worthy of far more devotion than Maric ever was able to give to her. I . . . loved her." His voice caught in his throat.
Kya discovered she was staring at him with her mouth hanging open. Of all the things she expected he might say, a declaration of love was not it. All the pieces of the puzzle came together so fluidly in her mind. All the questions she'd had about why Loghain had done all the things she'd read about . . . so many years, seven as he said, away from Denerim, but then spending nearly the rest of his life not returning to Gwaren, except to bury his wife. A wife he did not see but for a few occasions for the last eight of fifteen years of marriage.
Loghain still stared blankly into the fire. "And yet I was the one who insisted that she uphold that promise of betrothal when the time came, although both she and Maric had accepted it was no longer required of them. Ferelden needed her; Maric needed her."
"What about you?" Kya asked. "Didn't you need her as well?"
"Perhaps," he sighed. "But you of all people should understand my choice." Loghain looked over at her. If Kya hadn't known better, she would have thought his eyes were damp. "Am I wrong, or do you not love him?" he asked.
"Alistair, you mean," Kya said. She felt a pang of regret in her belly as Alistair's face flashed behind her eyes. It had been easier to forget she loved him when she was so angry. But the late hour and the ale had blunted it now. Kya's chest felt hollow. "I suppose I do, although it is absolute madness. But it is not the same, I can see that clearly enough."
"Isn't it?" he asked. "Did you put him on the throne for your own benefit?"
"No," she said. "I did it for Ferelden."
"Then it is the same," Loghain said. "Those of us that are strong must do what others cannot. Even if it means giving up everything. Dying for what you believe in is easy, living with it is not always so."
Loghain was silent then, turning away from her back to the fire. Kya too looked into the flames, willing herself to forget the nights she'd sat here beside Alistair instead. He had been the foil to all her dark thoughts, chasing away of lifetime of morbidity and melancholy pondering. The man who sat beside her now was far more like her, she realized. He too took all the pain the world had to offer and stuffed in down inside, wrapping it in iron bands and forgetting that under all that weight, even a heart as determined as theirs could be crushed.
Kya felt distinctly crushed. But she never expected anyone would ever truly understand how she felt. But clearly Loghain did.
She glanced back at him just in time to see a single tear slide down the sharp corner of his cheekbone and land silently on the silver of his armor. The droplet glittered against the metal like a star.
