As they drew in sight of Redcliffe the next day, it became obvious that joining the muster there wasn't going to be just a simple case of walking across the bridge to the castle, perched on its island offshore. A pall of smoke rose high into the sunny autumn sky, and as they drew closer they could see flames licking up from the town's buildings, hear distant sounds of battle. Slaughtered oxen were scattered across the road near a broken, overturned cart.
A fleeing survivor told them that darkspawn had arrived just that morning, and that most of the mustering forces and townspeople had fled, retreating into the castle. He then fled as well, moments before a small force of darkspawn crested the hill and swept them into battle.
"Check the town for any more survivors first, then the castle," Right said grimly once they'd cut down the initial rush. They worked their way down the slope to the town, encountering clots of darkspawn here and there on the way, as well as occasional bodies that made it clear that not all of the townspeople had escaped in time. It took them over an hour of intense rolling fights to clear the town, killing off genlocks, hurlocks, emissaries, even a pair of ogres, before Right was satisfied that they'd done what they could and led the way back up the hill and across the bridge to the castle.
The castle, too, was swarming with darkspawn, or at least its courtyard was, the portcullis not having been lowered in time to prevent their entry. They ended up in a ferocious pitched battle in the courtyard, the cobblestoned ground awash in tainted blood and bodies before they finally slaughtered the last of them.
A soldier clattered down the stairs and stopped in front of them. "My lord! You're here! Thank goodness!" he exclaimed.
"What's happened here?" Loghain demanded.
The man gave him a nervous look, then turned back to Right. "I don't rightly know. Riordan of the Grey Wardens arrived this morning just ahead of the darkspawn. I was told that he has urgent news, and to send out patrols to watch for your arrival. Then we were attacked..."
Right frowned. "Are Arl Eamon, and Anora and Alistair all right?" he asked. "Did any darkspawn get inside?"
The soldier nodded. "They're all inside with Riordan. Some darkspawn made it in, but we managed to kill them and close the doors. We were organizing to retake the courtyard when you and your companions arrived. You seem to have taken care of most of them out here. That's... rather remarkable, really..." he trailed off, then pulled himself back together. "Shall I take you inside?"
"Sure, lead the way," Right answered.
Loghain tensed as they entered the castle. Arl Eamon's castle; he couldn't help but think of it as enemy territory, even if they were arguably on the same side now. The Great Hall, when they reached it, was packed with people, including numerous armed guardsmen and a force of dwarfs. The low platform at the far end of the hall hosted even more guards, as well as Riordan, Arl Eamon, Bann Teagan, Queen Anora, and Alistair. Loghain was only peripherally aware of any but Anora, his eyes glued to her face as he looked her over. She looked... well. Then her eyes met his, and a brief smile curved the corners of her lips, and he felt his own heart lift and ease. She was well.
He glanced at Alistair, and met a hard, cold, disapproving glare from the man, and felt his own jaw clench tightly in response. Dressed in that infernal gold-washed armour of Cailan's, and with Maric's sword slung at his back, he looked so very much like and yet unlike the two of them. The boy bent down and whispered something to Anora, then left the room. Loghain noticed then the emblem on the shield he carried; the Grey Warden's griffon insignia. He snorted softly. For all the boy had claimed to be leaving the Grey Wardens forever, he still clearly clung to his memories of his time as one of them.
Riordan smiled warmly at Right as the pair of them approached. "It is a relief to see you unharmed," he said to him, then turned his welcoming smile on Loghain. "And you as well, Loghain."
"Yes. What a pleasure to see you again," Loghain said dryly, trying not to betray just how much the man's strong Orlesian accent was grating on his nerves.
Riordan and Eamon quickly brought them up to speed on the latest developments; the darkspawn that had attacked Redcliffe were but a tiny part of the horde, the main body of it was even now marching on Denerim, led by the archdemon. At the speed they were moving, there was no chance that the army gathered at Redcliffe could catch up to them shy of the city itself. Messages had been sent ahead to Denerim, but there was no time or way to evacuate it before the horde arrived, and not nearly enough soldiers there to defend it against the numbers marching against them.
Worse, they couldn't even march at once themselves; the army was in disarray after the unexpected darkspawn attack, and it would take the remainder of the day to sort them out and prepare for a forced march to Denerim. The next morning was the soonest they could move.
Riordan asked Right and Loghain to speak with him later, before retiring for the night, then the group of them split up to see what they could do to speed the reorganization of the army and make plans for their march.
Loghain spent most of the day trailing in the diminutive warden's wake as Right visited and spoke with the leaders of the various factions making up the motley army he'd assembled, soothing ruffled feathers and calming shattered nerves. He had a surprisingly deft hand with diplomacy, and a real sense for how to approach people; blunt with his fellow dwarves, flowery phrases full of polite circumlocutions with the Dalish elves, warmly friendly and a patient listener with both the mages and their templar guardians.
It was only as supper approached that Loghain left his side for a while, after a page sought him out to say that the Queen wished to speak privately with him for a time. Right nodded permission and smoothly went back to calming down the nervous templar captain he was speaking to at the time.
Loghain followed the page upstairs, to where the family quarters and the better guest suites were, and was led into his daughter's presence. Not entirely alone, he saw; Alistair stood in a corner of the room, still in full armour, gauntleted hands clasped in front of him and glaring fiercely at him. He barely glanced at him before sinking to one knee in front of Anora.
"My Queen," he said, voice husky with emotion.
"Oh, father," she said, softly. "You don't have to do that."
"Yes, I do," he corrected her gently, before rising to his feet again.
She snorted. "Sit," she told him, and gestured at a chair set near to her own. "I wanted to see you, though certain people advised against it. I had to speak quite firmly to the Arl, or he'd have seen you clapped into his dungeons the moment you crossed his threshold."
Loghain snorted. "I'd have liked to have seen him try," he said. "He has no authority over me, and the dwarf is rather fiercely protective of his companions."
"Right, not the dwarf," Alistair growled from his corner.
"Alistair," Anora said firmly. "You promised not to interfere."
Loghain turned his head to look coldly at the man. "It is meant in a purely descriptive sense, not a pejorative one, no more then if I referred to Arl Eamon as the Arl or you as the bastard."
That drew a snarl from Alistair, and he actually stepped forward, hand going to his sword hilt.
"Alistair!" Anora snapped. "Father, please do not bait Alistair."
"My point, my dear, is that I am not baiting him. No more then I would be baiting you by calling you a headstrong woman or Bann Teagan by calling him an honourable man. It is a statement of fact, not a value judgement."
Alistair snorted, softly this time. "At least that's something we can both agree on." he said dryly.
"Which? That I am headstrong or that Teagan is honourable?" Anora asked him, and Loghain was surprised – and obscurely pleased – to hear a teasing note in his daughter's voice as she spoke to the man she was now promised to marry.
A brief smile crossed Alistair's face as he looked at Anora and answered. "Both," he said amiably.
In that moment, he looked so much like Maric and Cailan it took Loghain's breath away. That smile – the Theirin charm, full-force. He had loved seeing Maric smile like that, relaxed and pleased and pleased with himself. "You are so very like him," he said softly, not even realizing he'd spoken the words aloud until Anora and Alistair both turned to look at him.
"Who? Cailan?" Anora asked.
"No. Maric. Cailan too, I suppose, but only in that Cailan so closely resembled his father," he told her, then eyed Alistair thoughtfully. "If he must be here – I presume to reassure your allies that I'm not going to cut your throat or something equally foolish – I don't suppose you can get him to stop looming?"
Anora laughed. "Alistair... please, sit," she said, smiling warmly at him and gesturing to the seat beside her.
Alistair frowned, but carefully lowered himself down beside her, gingerly careful of the upholstery.
"Speaking of cutting throats, Right had some interesting thoughts about Howe that he shared with me recently," he said, and quickly filled Anora in on Right's speculations about Rendon's possible designs on the throne.
Anora was nodding in agreement before the end. "It would certainly fit in with what I saw of him during those last few days," she said grimly. "I'm lucky the wardens rescued me; I'd been a fool to think I could manipulate him. I'm lucky he did nothing worse to me then lock me up," she added, face hardening. "I've read Ser Cauthrien's reports of what she found in the dungeons there."
Alistair's face hardened. "And she didn't see all of it, since we did rescue some of his victims on our way to finding Howe."
"Bann Sighard's son?" Loghain asked.
"Yes. Among others," Alistair agreed.
"I should have cut his lying throat when I returned from Ostagar. I almost did." Loghain said. "I actually had my sword drawn and at his throat. I think I will spend the rest of my life regretting that I didn't carry through on it then and there."
"What stopped you?" Alistair asked, surprised.
"His lies. He had documents – forged, I now believe – that made it seem as if the Couslands were part of a conspiracy to betray Ferelden to Orlesian rule. Aided in no small part by the Grey Wardens," he added dryly. "I... was not at my most rational after Ostagar," he said softly. "I fell for his lies because I wanted to believe them. Wanted to believe I had not failed my king."
"And now? How are you now, father?" Anora asked softly. "You look... better, then when I last saw you in Denerim."
He managed to smile for her. "I am better. Being out and doing is far easier for me to deal with then being trapped sitting behind a desk in the palace. And I have only one worry, one goal left now. To see this blight ended, by whatever means necessary."
"Another thing we can agree on," Alistair said softly, giving Loghain a look equal parts surprised and appraising.
He ate dinner with them. It was a quiet affair, Anora doing much of the talking, mainly inconsequential gossip about the doings of the nobles since the Landsmeet. Loghain studied Anora and Alistair as covertly as he could, and was pleased to see that there seemed to be some level of ease, of comfort, in the interactions between the two of them. He'd been worried how well she'd be able to handle it, being engaged to Cailan's brother, when she'd loved Cailan himself so much.
After the meal Alistair walked with him out of Anora's rooms. The boy was silent until they were well down the hallway from her door. "How is Right?" he asked finally, quietly.
Loghain glanced at him. "Well enough," he said. "Busy smoothing down people all day. Tired. He took the elf to meet his mother when we stopped over in Orzammar."
That won a smile from the boy. "He would. I wish I'd... no, never mind. I'd better go."
"Alistair..." he said, then stopped, not sure just what he'd wanted to say to or ask of the boy.
"What?" Alistair asked, warily.
"Nothing. Just... be well. You and Anora both."
Alistair looked searchingly at him for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "We will be, I think."
"Good," he said, and turned and walked away.
Even after hearing what Riordan had to tell them about why a Grey Warden was required to kill the archdemon, he slept remarkably well for the second night in a row.