A/n NSFW, well maybe a little anyway.


There had been plenty of time on the road, but Loghain realized he was intentionally neglecting to teach Kya to ride. After all, there would be more time once they reached Amaranthine. Or at least that's what he told himself.

Of course, it wasn't quite the truth.

The truth is, he wanted to protect her. He couldn't deny that having her in his arms for hours every day had no other effect on him besides that, because it certainly did. It occasionally made riding more than a little uncomfortable. But more than any base desire, it felt like if she was close, nothing could touch her.

Kya was no fragile thing, and more than capable of looking after herself. And since she'd bested him, it was foolish to think he was going to be able to protect her from something she couldn't manage herself. But even Loghain wasn't always sensible.

It felt to him like she was his heart, outside of his armor and his ribs, where the rocks and blades of the world were all too much of a danger. He'd felt the cold steel of a blade through his flesh enough times, and close enough to nearly take his life. The mere thought that someone might do the same to her made him cringe. At the thought, he tightened his arm around her unconsciously. He felt her hand come up over the top of his with gentle pressure.

It was the sort of gesture that might have made a different sort of man smile. But Loghain discovered he was frowning. This was a precious thing; the sort of feeling that he had long abandoned any hope of finding. And the knowledge that it would be short lived at best took the air out of his lungs and replaced it with fire.

The Taint. There was no denying it. And he already had more years than most Grey Wardens ever see. It hadn't overtaken him yet, and there was nothing to say that he too wouldn't have another thirty years. By then, he'd be old and feeble and long past caring.

It was just as likely to take him far sooner. And tear his heart away from him. She would have thirty years; she was too strong for less. Loghain wondered if his own strength could compare. But it was folly to dwell on it. Now might be all they would ever have, and Loghain forced the thoughts away.

He'd already spent far too much time living in the past, and the future.

In his past, he'd traveled this road before. But this time not as a Teryn, but as a Grey Warden. Less than an hour to the estate that Howe used to call home. The estate that he'd soon be calling home, at least for a while. It was an interesting prospect. It would be an odd thing, calling that place home. But somehow, it didn't seem as unpleasant a thought as he expected it might.

He did, however, hope that they could manage to clear Howe's stench from the place before nightfall.


The logistics were a nightmare. If someone had asked Loghain how difficult it would be to settle a company of a dozen Grey Wardens, thirty or so workmen and assorted servants into an estate – one that was in rather good repair, since Howe's own servants were still there to manage things – he would have answered that it would be simple.

But he would have been wrong. There were some downfalls to all being equals. Turns out, being commander of the Grey Wardens was more a formality than anything. They listened to what Kya suggested, but they rarely agreed or complied. She would head up the recruiting and training, but they were going to do what they thought was right in regards to everything else. Maker help him, but he wanted to smash some heads together.

It wasn't helping that Kya kept giving him little glances, between all the arguing and planning. They were subtle, true, but he couldn't will himself forget what she said. And it seemed, neither could she.

Loghain wasn't sure if he was more thrilled or terrified that once the wrangling for quarters and sleeping arraignments was done. Kya was taking Howe's chambers, and he was given the ones that once belonged to Howe's son. Which meant they would be sharing the more private area of the estate.

However, for now, he was alone. He sat behind the desk in the outer chamber of his new home, pouring over maps of Amaranthine. He scowled at the poor quality of the ink that made it hard to read the faded descriptions. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling in frustration.

He was freshly bathed and trying very hard to not come up with a reason to seek Kya out. She had not sought him out, and perhaps that was for the best. He was quite serious when he told her it was a bad idea. And it was, in so many ways he couldn't even begin to list them.

Then there was a tentative rap at the door.

"Loghain?" her voice called. He got up from his chair like an old man, and moving as if he was underwater, he slowly moved to open the door. The faint scent of soap and Andraste's Grace floated in. Loghain stared at the floor; he couldn't bring himself to look at her, but he did notice that her feet were bare. He moved out of the way and gestured for her to come in.

When he finally looked up, his heart stopped.

He had walked by her side for long enough now that he assumed he knew what Kya looked like. She wore armor or mage robes, she wore darkspawn blood and once she wore a borrowed nightgown. Her hair was pale copper, in braids or tied in a knot on the back of her head. Her eyes were the color of cold blue steel. The Grey Warden he met at Ostagar was a girl-child and wore a look of awe, if only for a moment.

This was not her. She wore silk.

Her long hair was like a flame, loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were the color of the ocean during a storm and her skin rivaled the silk with the way she glowed, fresh and pink in the lamplight. And more than those superficial things, this was no child. Beautiful and strong; this woman looked at him with warm, languorous eyes that reminded him in no uncertain terms what he was.

Under layers of unending duty, unspoken regret and bitterness; within a well of cold practicality, Loghain was a man.

She smiled and cocked her head at him. Loghain sat down hard on the desk behind him, planting his hands on either side of his hips and gripping on to the wood for dear life.

"We're here at last," she said as she moved to stand in front of him. She stood close, but not too close.

Loghain nodded. "Yes, indeed," he replied with forced authority. "Now the real work will begin."

"Is that so?" she laughed. "I must have been confused by the whole 'end the Blight' thing as work, yes?"

"From experience, I can tell you that battles are easy in comparison to building an army from nothing," he said with a half smile. "But I have done it before, and I can help you now."

Kya gently set her hand on his knee. He tried like mad to ignore it.

"I know," she said. "One of the many reasons I asked you to come with me. Because if it was left up to me alone, we'd end up with ranks full of strays and odd cast offs. It seems to be my method of choice for recruiting."

"It does at that," Loghain said. "Although I suppose I should be glad of it, being a bit of a cast-off myself."

"Never," she said, taking a step forward until she was standing between his spread knees. "I just wish we hadn't ever been on opposite sides. We shouldn't have been. Our goals were always the same, after all. Save Ferelden and end the Blight."

"I didn't give you much of a choice, did I?" he asked. His hands moved on their own accord until they were resting on his thighs. Kya put her free hand on his other knee, their finger tips only a hairbreadth apart.

"No, I suppose you didn't," she replied. She sighed and shook her head. It made her hair ripple in a loose wave and it shimmered in the dim light. "Despite how difficult it was," she continued. "I think it had to be this way. Otherwise, who knows what might have happened?"

Her hands slid forward just as his did, their fingers tangling together. Kya looked down at their entwined hands with a grin.

"What indeed," Loghain said. He let her hand go, and found himself softly touching the side of her face, tilting her eyes up to look at him. She took another small step forward, her now free hand sliding around his waist.

"It is funny, the way fate takes you in directions you never expected, don't you think?" she asked. Her fingers slid under the edge of his shirt, touching his bare skin with the most delicate touch.

Loghain shivered. "I have said it before, fate and the Maker have an odd sense of humor," he said, the corners of his mouth turning up, his lips parting just slightly.

"You are right at that," Kya said, moving until she was pressed up against him completely. Her breath warmed his cheek as she continued. "This, for example. Who would have guessed?"

"Certainly not I," he said, pulling away just enough to catch her eyes. "But I find that although the chances for regret here are high, I don't seem to mind."

Loghain wasn't sure if it was she that moved, of if he did. But either way, her lips were on his again, warm and demanding. His fingers slid through the mass of her hair. The world could be in flames just beyond that closed door. Orlesians might be at the gate and the damned archdemon back from the dead, but as far as Loghain was concerned, the Maker could have them. Nothing was going to tear him out of her arms.

Not tonight at least.

Loghain felt himself slide forward from his perch on the desk until he was on his feet again, his arms around her waist, pulling her up against him. The tips of her toes were on his, making her just tall enough to reach his lips still. He pressed himself against her, almost unconsciously, and she made a low sound in the back of her throat that spoke more eloquently than any words.

Both her hands slid under his the hem of his shirt, moved up the flesh of his back, over scars only slightly less obvious than the ones in his eyes. She drew away for a heartbeat, her hands insistently pulling at his shirt, yanking it off over his head. Her hands danced across the skin of his chest, pausing at a puckered scar at the junction of his shoulder.

"West Hill," he murmured, as her fingers traced the raised whiteness. "We all nearly died that day."

Any other woman and he might have to explain. But she knew his history as well as he himself did. West Hill where Maric's lover betrayed them.

Kya hushed him with a finger across his lips. "But you didn't," she whispered, a slow smile creeping on her face. "Because you are alive."

With an inarticulate growl, Loghain kissed her again, his hands fiercely grabbing her shoulders. His fingers tried to be tender, but he was like a man possessed. They both heard the distinctive sound of tearing silk. Momentarily shocked, he drew back. But there was no reprimand on her face, and he was entranced by the long tear he'd made in the silk, from the neckline, nearly to her waist.

Kya shrugged languidly and the shreds of silk slid to the floor. She crooked a finger at him, coaxing him forward, then turned and walked towards the bed. Loghain watched the roll of her hips as she walked and thanked the Maker for years of military discipline.

He followed, falling into her arms again like he'd always belonged there.

He could feel her moving him, inch by inch, until the backs of her knees hit the bed. She slithered out of his grasp, wriggling herself back on the bed and beckoning to him again. He knew he looked hesitant for a moment, because the suggestion of a frown made that little captivating line appear between her brows.

There would be no turning back from this. He could see that much in her eyes.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asked, knowing it was as foolish a question as a man had ever asked.

Kya smiled with no confusion, no hesitant stutter, no concern for the consequences. Kya smiled and said, "I love you, Loghain."

And then he was touching her again, somehow managing the divest himself of the last of his clothes as he fell into the bed beside her. The sensation of her flesh touching him as he hovered above her made him mad with desire. He had thought about this moment, and he wanted to be gentle. But he found he could not.

Loghain grabbed her wrists, pinning them over her head. His mouth was desperate on hers as her knees parted and he moved in between. He wanted to wait and go slowly; he wanted to be the sort of lover he'd been taught a woman wanted -- civilized, considerate and tentative. But Kya was having none of it. She moved when he did not.

Suddenly, maddeningly, he was buried inside her. She arched up against him, her body trembling and scalding hot. He buried his face in her hair, her name on his lips more fervent than any prayer he'd ever made to the Maker.

"Kya," he whispered. "I love you."

Those words had more impact on either of them than he expected. He'd felt love, but had never in his life said those words to anyone. Somehow, Kya knew this; the same way she seemed to see into his soul when she looked carefully enough. Her whole body reacted, clenching against him, tightening and fluttering in equal measures. Whatever control Loghain had vanished. He was acutely aware of the pressure of her legs curved around him as he spent himself. The world dissolved and nothing existed outside of the arms of this one woman.

The one woman who truly loved him.

He collapsed against her, too utterly satiated in both body and heart to question anything. He felt her hands move out from beneath his, wrapping around his shoulders. Loghain heard her voice in his ear, whispering and breathless. She said almost nothing coherent, just his name and the word love over and over until he thought that perhaps, he had never actually been happy before. Not ever until this very moment.

Loghain once thought that she overused the word love. He was never more exhilarated in his life to be wrong.